Dear Low-Life-Scumbag-Who-Stole-My-Wallet-While-I-Was-Running,
First, I’d like you to know I do not wish you bodily harm. Let me rephrase that: I do not wish to inflict bodily harm on you. If you were to step in front of a train, well, I guess I wouldn’t be too broken up about it.
It was a beautiful day last Saturday, Low-Life-Scumbag-Who-Stole-My-Wallet-While-I-Was-Running, but you already knew that. You too were excited by the gorgeous weather and clear blue skies and thought spending some time by the river in Saint Paul might just be the cure for our collective winter blues. There you saw my adorably masculine little hatchback and decided that yes, today might be a good day to commit a little petty larceny.
Can I blame you for having such a positive attitude? No, Low-Life-Scumbag-Who-Stole-My-Wallet-While-I-Was-Running, I really can’t. You see, Low-Life-Scumbag-Who-Stole-My-Wallet-While-I-Was-Running, my run on Saturday was the absolute height of a rave run for me. It was cool, but not cold. The slight breeze off the river kept the brilliance of the sun overhead from getting too warm. As I ran from Lower Landing Park up the river toward the High Bridge I enjoyed river views, city scapes, and various other beautiful sights.
While I was enjoying the beauty of Saint Paul in spring, you were likely sitting in my car, rifling through my belongings. Undoubtedly, you saw my state employee ID badge and thought “Ah! A public servant! I should steal from him!” I don’t know how you got in my car, as I checked all the doors were locked before I left. I also don’t know why you would take my wallet and NOT take my Guardians of The Galaxy: Awesome Mix, Vol. 1, CD. Apparently a life of crime doesn’t leave much time for the development of good taste in comics, film, or music. Don’t worry, Low-Life-Scumbag-Who-Stole-My-Wallet-While-I-Was-Running, I understand priorities.
Coming back down Shepherd Road, I was enjoying the difference in perspective one has on two feet instead of four wheels. I must have driven that way 100 times, Low-Life-Scumbag-Who-Stole-My-Wallet-While-I-Was-Running, but running under the bridges and along the water brought such peace to my heart that driving through that scene never could. Zen, my malefactory chum. Zen like I don’t know if you’ve ever known. I felt utterly calm and happy.
Finding the door of my car unlocked and open broke through the cheerfulness. Finding my wallet gone and other belongings mussed with, having to file a police report and cancel my cards, explaining to the officer who arrived that no, I promise I don’t have any friends who would want to mess with me like this. These things destroyed my feelings of serenity. I could have floated on that goodwill for a week, but instead I only got an hour, Low-Life-Scumbag-Who-Stole-My-Wallet-While-I-Was-Running. That’s what you really stole from me. Well, that and all my identification, cards, any everything else I carry with me in my wallet on a daily basis. You took that, too.
Sure, I got my wallet back, Low-Life-Scumbag-Who-Stole-My-Wallet-While-I-Was-Running, so I can’t really stay mad at you. You’re welcome for the Thai deli food and whatever it was that important enough to buy with $9 on a stolen credit card at Target, BTW. Thankfully, you dropped or left my wallet on the light rail and a fellow named Fayzo was kind enough to get it back to me. There are good people in this world, Low-Life-Scumbag-Who-Stole-My-Wallet-While-I-Was-Running. But I won’t get that same serenity back until at least next Saturday when I have another chance at a long run.
In summation, I hope you get a really awful papercut this week and step on a tack and maybe even choke on some ill-gotten Thai food, you jerk.
xoxo,
Danny C.
