This morning I did a stupid thing. I left my wallet on the train.
I know what you're thinking. 'Your wallet? Really? How did you do that? There were zero other people on your carriage -- didn't you see that you'd left it behind?'
And my answer to all of these perfectly reasonable questions is -- I don't really know. I'm pregnant, and fairly certain my baby is surviving on donuts and my brain cells. All I know is one minute I had my wallet, the next minute I was stranded in the office lift because my swipey-thingie was on its way to Liverpool, probably for life.
You might think I'm being dramatic. But let's face it -- no one just 'hands in' wallets anymore. Especially not if they are found on the train in peak hour. People are busy. They are important. They have meetings to attend and Pokemons to catch. My wallet was probably long gone.
At best, this was an annoying scenario. But as someone who has actually had their identity stolen before, I also knew it could be a freaking disaster. And, at 27 weeks pregnant, dealing with forms and red tape and cancelling credit cards was just NOT IN MY THIRD TRIMESTER PRE-BIRTH PLAN, OK?
It was going to be a major hassle and, unlike putting together IKEA furniture, not something I could make my husband do for me.
So you can imagine my surprise when I received a phone call from a random number. Like any sane person, I chose not to answer, which turned out to be a dick move because, believe it or not, it wasn't someone trying to sell me life insurance. It was Mary the train driver, letting me know not only had someone found my wallet, but they had gone to the trouble of passing it onto her. She found my number on my business card (seriously, if you don't have a business card in your wallet, put one in now) and was wondering if she could return my wallet to me. Today. At a time and location that suited me. Would I mind calling her back?
I know, right? And this isn't even a movie.
But it gets better.
After (the unsurprisingly lovely) Mary and I tee up a time to meet, she calls back to say she can't make it because a passenger has died on the train and she's being held up talking to police. She's actually super apologetic that I have to wait for her, Train Angel, to bring my wallet back to me, Pregnant Idiot, because someone has died.
Seriously, who is this magical woman? And why is all this crappy stuff happening to her on the one day?
When we do meet an hour later -- she comes to the station closest to my work, by the way, so I literally have to walk one block to meet her -- she's just the kind of legend I was hoping for. I'm not sure of her heritage but she's rocking a short spiky haircut and, recognising me straight away for the foolish hormone-ball that I am, gets me to double check all my cards and other important things are still in my wallet before letting me go.
She almost doesn't take the chocolates I bought for her, either, except I practically force them on her and I think she wants to avoid a scene. They aren't nearly enough to say a proper 'thank you' for all the hassle she's saved me, but I'm glad she takes them, even if it's just to give to her kids or share with other train legends (at this stage I'm starting to suspect there might be more than one).
But seriously. Chocolates aside, thank you, Mary, for being an awesome human being. And thank you, also, to the nameless commuter who handed my wallet in, you absolute legend.
In a day and age where internet trolling is a real thing, Pauline Hanson is back on the political scene and Trump is a legit Presidential candidate, thank you for being the kind of people who take the time out of their day to return a wallet some floozie left on the train.
This floozie, at least, really, really appreciates it.