Page 17 - ARRS #582 - The Mystery of the Lost Wallet

Another Random Road Story #582

This time I did chuckle out loud. My memory painted a picture of the
drunk man in the island shirt, getting in the car after his fall, undies visible
and mud in his hair.
“Montague-like-Shakespeare,” I said to him. “Yeah, I was your driver.”
What the hell was his name??
“Good!” the man said with a tone of relief. “Maybe you can tell me what
happened last night. I woke up covered in mud today, I mean it was in my
hair. And I can’t find my wallet. And your card was on my dresser.”
I couldn’t help but to laugh into the phone, even as I was apologizing for
laughing. I told him that I could indeed relay what happened between the
Velveteen Amatista and his house.
“Velveteen Amatista??” he asked. “Are you sure?”
“Yes I’m sure of where I picked you up. The bartender called me.”
The last thing he remembered he was with three buddies, on the way to
Trendy Town to grab some food before going home from the Hens game.
They were supposed to go to Saturn Burger for sliders, not the Velveteen.
I gave him the details about his ride, none of which he remembered.
He did not remember falling into the ditch on the side of the interstate,
where we stopped for him to take an emergency leak AFTER I noticed his
jumpy leg.
He apologized several times and seemed genuinely mortified at his own
behavior – done in front of a woman, too!
I told him that it was fine, that I’d seen much worse, and that he’d actually
been a perfect gentleman the whole way.
He was relieved to hear that.
Anyway, I told him, it was no big deal to me. It’s my job to help people
get home after the bar. However, I did feel bad for him falling in the mud.
When the story was done he asked if I’d found his wallet in the car, or if
I’d seen him with it. I recounted how he had to go inside for money to pay
me, and that he did look like he’d lost something. I told him that nothing was
left in the back seat – I check it after each passenger – but I would double
check the crevasses and let him know. Before I hung up to re-check the car, I
told him that he probably lost it in the ditch or before he got in my cab.
Sure enough, upon inspection of the car, there was no wallet hiding there.
I called him back to relay the disappointing news. He asked if I
remembered where we stopped, and I said yes. He asked if I could come and
get him, and take him there to look for his wallet.
I hesitated before answering the last question.
“Do you remember how much your cab fare was last night?” I asked.
“No.”