Sometimes my faith in humanity is restored. Now granted, I don't really believe in faith or karma. I think things just happen; there's no reason behind anything. I guess these beliefs were shaped in me after reading Nietzsche in college. I just don't think there's an afterlife, or a God for that matter. But then there will be times where I'm pleasantly surprised with things.
I lost my bus pass last Friday. I have this routine set up where I get my pass out, show the kindly driver, and then put it back in my messenger bag and grab a seat (usually at the back because lately my bus is now averaging 40+ passengers a day). The routine is something I don't think twice about. But on Friday, I guess the planets weren't aligned or the fat lady sung, because as I got off the bus at that ridiculous hour to head into work (I get a 6:10 into New York to be at work by 7:30. I'm always early though), I went into my bag to grab my pass, and lo and behold, no pass. I went into panic mode instantly. I frantically searched the ground while what felt like thousands of people trampled over me like Simba in "The Lion King." I thought, "Maybe it's still on the bus. Surely it couldn't have gotten far." So I asked the nice driver if I could check and immediately I tried to scour where I sat, searching for this ridiculous piece of laminated paper. Now looking back, I should have just stayed on the bus and looked for it, and let the driver tell me time was up. I was worried about being late; the whole thing is, there was roughly about $200 in passes (one month) in that ID holder, so I really wanted it back. After looking for about two minutes, I went to the subway, dejected, but mostly annoyed and angry. I went into work in a bad mood, more so than I usually do.
Then began my hectic Friday of running back and forth, trying to secure a new pass. My job didn't make things easy. The kind receptionist who spoke little to no English informed me I could get a replacement one the same day, but it required me to go back and forth between their office and my own, eventually having to get a statement notarized saying I wasn't lying about losing it. Yes, notarized. They may as well have asked me to put my hand on the Bible.
After I took care of that, and proceeded to take one of the worst ID pictures ever (blurry, eyes half closed, crooked head) I went to see about the NJ Transit situation. I hoofed it to the Port Authority and went to the Customer Service window. I was met by a guy behind what looked like bulletproof glass, probably because he knew people don't come here in the best of moods, and attempt to attack him. He informed me I couldn't be issued another pass because they weren't "responsible" for it. Even though I'd be paying for more passes in the future, it was no dice. Dejected, I went to the NYPD to see if I could file a police report. Now I wanted to file a report saying my pass was stolen, but unfortunately there were too many "variables" as the officer said to make that decision. He was right. I had already pseudo frauded my company by telling them it was stolen; that way if it happened again (which I will make sure it doesn't) it would be the "first" time I lost it, not the second. Sneaky? Yes. But, it took me coming to my job to learn these tricks of the trade. Anyway, Officer Caruso (like the "singer" he said, though I was unsure of any singer by that last name) was nice about it, and offered to write me a report for a lost pass anyway. I obliged, mainly because I was there anyway. I brought this story back to NJT, who denied me again. Frustrated, I went back, knowing I wasted an entire day just to straighten this out.
I had already accepted the fact I'd have to buy another pass. I had contacted NJT's lost claims department and essentially put out an APB at the PANY also. I wasn't too sure it'd ever show up; there was a full February pass in there, the equivalent to finding free money for commuters. I pleaded my case to a NJT rep. I'd dealt with before, figuring it wouldn't hurt to ask. I had been a valued customer for all of 4 months. He later wrote me back saying he forwarded my inquiry to the bus ticketing supervisor. Finally, a break. Long story short, due to my honesty in saying it was lost, they granted me a "once in a lifetime" refund for the pass. These refunds are usually reserved for passes that weren't mailed, theft, or bribery (well, maybe not the last one, but I never asked). While I still will be paying the money anyway, it won't have to be bought twice. So sometimes people and things can surprise you. While it may not make me a believer, it was enough to restore some faith in humanity. It was like the time I lost my wallet in K-Mart, when I was buying really expensive Christmas gifts (isn't knock off gold and Thom McCann shoes considered "classy"?) and dropped my wallet. I had a decent amount of money in there, at least for a 12 year old, and it was a decent wallet, something I obtained through my parents' Marlboro cigarettes (see kids, it does pay to harm your body! You too can get free stuff like me through these point systems). While I went home, saddened in knowing my family and friends would likely be shut out of bath towels this Christmas, I received a phone call from a stranger. "Is this Daniel?" He asked. "Yes," I replied, not knowing if this was Ed McMahon or a bad man from "To Catch a Predator." "I found your wallet. You can come pick it up." I couldn't believe it. I had no identification in it, besides some type of membership to National Geographic Magazine. I later found out this guy had searched the entire phone book of my last name, calling each name until he found the right one. Unbelievable. I picked it up and asked him if he wanted the money, since everything was still in there. He didn't accept it. I remember sending him a Christmas card the next year, thanking him again for his unreal honesty. I'm reminded of him when I think about this past Friday. Maybe that's why I thought something good could happen; after experiencing that incredible show of kindness, anything's possible, I guess. It just gives you enough hope that maybe we can survive as a people. But then I see these talentless hacks on TV, exposing their naughty bits and acting every bit as "Hollywood" as they shouldn't be, and I realize...our kids are in for some real shit soon.
New addition: a random site/observation I'll dub "It's the End of the World as We Know It," a take on the classic R.E.M. song that seemingly only has the lyrics of that title and Leonard Bernstein in it.
First entry: Hearing my former supervisor (a guy I'll have to tell you about soon) say in response to hearing the name "Mohammed Hakeem": "You think he's an Al Quada operative?" Then laughing hysterically twice, but not in succession.
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