"Not again!" I said pleadingly. "No!"
A couple weeks before, I had left my phone on a Trax train, so I already had PTSD about this. "I can't do this again," I thought. But really, what choice did I have? This time, I left not just my phone, but my entire purse, with my phone and all my cards.
I should point out that I love UTA employees, especially the early morning train host who rides between Lehi and Provo at 6:00 a.m. Her hame is Chris. She's probably in her late 70s(?) and just the nicest person. She is so wide awake and happy each morning, greeting people warmly, welcoming them onto the train. I've decided I wanna be her when I grow up. Twenty years from now, when they tell me I'm too old to teach English, I'm gonna be a train host. Like Chris! She has so much fun, and she doesn't have to wear one of those ugly hair nets like the old ladies at Costco do. Win/win.
But I digress. This past Tuesday, I left my purse on the Red Line train up at the U. I couldn't even connect to the internet because the U. has dual authentication, which requires me respond to a "push" to my phone. So I had to teach two classes with zero technology, and I had no idea what I was doing in either because I never check until I get there. (If you're wondering why that is, remember I'm teaching eight classes. It's all I can do to show up!)
When I was finally back on the train headed home and could connect to the internet, I texted Shulamith from my computer and told her to start calling my phone. That she did, and after many attempts, someone answered, a guy at the UTA Daybreak Station. He said he had my purse and would keep it there for me to come pick up that night.
Should have been easy peasy. Like last time. Except that my car battery had died that morning, and Shulamith had already jumped it twice for me at the Lehi Station, once at noon and once at 7:30 p.m. I didn't want her to have to come do it again, so I headed off to Daybreak to retrieve my purse, determined to leave my car running no matter what! I was barely out of the Lehi Station parking lot when my gasoline light came on. What else could possibly go wrong? Well just you wait.
I parked across the street from the small shelter where the UTA employees hang out and where my purse would certainly be. I left the car running and sprinted as fast as I could in the pitch dark to rescue my purse and drive home before my car ran out of gas. Inside the shelter was another awesome UTA employee, Aaron. Out of breath, I quickly recounted my sad story, and together we looked around the small space. No purse. "Are you sure they told you it would be here? At this station?" he asked. "Yes, yes, I'm positive." I had Shulamith's phone with me, so I tried calling my number. Immediately, we heard my ring tone coming from the giant, black, metal safe in the corner, with a secure padlock and the words "Lost and Found" painted in white across the front.
"Oh, I'm sorry," Aaron said. "Someone must have thrown it into the lost and found."
"Do you have a key?" I asked, in a tone of simultaneous hope and despair.
"No. Hardly anyone has a key to that. Not even our supervisors."
"Then how do I get my purse?"
"Every two or three days, a guy with a key comes around and collects whatever is inside. He takes everything to the main office up in Salt Lake City, so you'll probably be able to go pick up your purse by early next week."
<SIGH>
I was pretty distraught, and Aaron sensed my angst. "So your phone is in your purse and all your credit cards too?" he asked.
"Yes," I managed to whisper, on the verge of full-on ugly crying. "And my car is across the street, almost out of gas, with a dead battery. I just need my purse, so I can get some gas and go home."
Aaron looked me squarely in the eyes and said, "Okay, you didn't see me do this." He reached into the drop opening as far as his hand would go, trying desperately to grab my purse. No luck.
"I'm sorry. I can't reach it."
"What if you turned it upside down?" I suggested.
"It's so heavy, though."
"What if I helped?" (Cuz, you know, I have so much upper body strength, haha.)
And together we turned that big safe on its side, and then upside down. "Plop!" We heard my purse fall, and instantly Aaron reached in and pulled it out.
I wanted to cry. I wanted to jump for joy. I wanted to hug Aaron. I did none of the above. Instead, I tried to express the depth of my thanks while bolting out the door and across the street to my running car. Then I drove to a gas station and prayed I wouldn't blow up if I added gas while the car was still running. Prayer works!
And that is the end of Part 2: "And who is my neighbor? Good Samaritans among us."
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