Sometimes it briefly feels like fate is real.
Two weeks ago I Uber drove a delightful young couple from Palo Alto to San Francisco International airport.
The pick up was confusing. I waited a few minutes on the opposite side of the road. It was a quiet, leafy, narrow road. Finally I decided to U-turn and wait outside their house. Mid-turn they appeared, from where I just was. I think I'd actually passed the guy getting out of his car when I arrived. I stopped Old Bluey awkwardly, double parked. Then I disembarked, to load their single suitcase.
Being in the middle of the road, as I was, it was a rush job. I quickly dropped the luggage handle, half-tossed it into the boot, and jogged back to the driver's seat. Then I confirmed the destination and carefully sped off.
Two blocks later something felt strange. I glanced at my ring finger. No wedding ring. Had it slipped off on the suitcase handle? Was it lying in the road? Had I even put it on that morning..?
"My wedding ring..." I said out loud, "I don't know if I had my wedding ring."
I never usually engage my passengers cold, but I was in panic.
"Are you talking to us?" said the guy.
I explained the situation. The girl said she leaves jewellery at home all the time and forgets if she's put it on. The guy told me they could stop the ride if I needed to deal with the situation. I said thanks but it's ok.
I convinced myself the ring was at home, perhaps because I felt a professional duty to fulfil a transportation contract; perhaps because I knew a search in the road would be long and fruitless.
As we approached the airport I raised my concern again, for some reason. I think I needed reassurance. I was devastated that I'd potentially lost my wedding ring, six days after our third wedding anniversary no less.
The guy told me I could say these words to my wife:
"The ring was just a symbol. My love for you will never fade."
I asked if he wrote greeting cards. He did not. But he said he did know a man who could make me a new ring, or something. I can't remember exactly. I didn't want a new ring anyway. I wanted my wedding ring.
I dropped them off at the airport. They were cool.
I arrived home a few hours later and checked the spot where I leave my ring overnight. No ring. PANIC.
My wife was there. I apologised. I explained. I apologised some more. I think I was more upset than she was.
I told her I was going back to Palo Alto to check in the road. And I did. I spent a good half hour on my knees, kicking leaves, looking under cars. It was bin day too so there were myriad nooks and crannies where it may have nestled. I checked potholes, curbs, tree trunks. I moved Bluey to the other side of the road. All the while I was dodging cars, trying to look not weird.
I called my wife to apologise again. Said I was giving up. Sorry. So sorry. She said stop apologising.
I searched for another ten minutes then drove home.
Later that day I was out Ubering again. Heading home over the Dumbarton Bridge my phone lit up with a strange number. I answered.
"Hey, Bart?"
"Yes?"
"This is Cory."
Cory...
Cory!
"Cory!! Hi!!
Cory was the guy's name from earlier.
"Did you find your ring?"
"No... did you?"
"What does it look like?"
"Titanium. Plain..."
"We just landed in Mexico. I think I have it."
"Whaaaaaaa?????" (I may have said this. Not sure.)
It was hard to hear him because I was traveling quite fast and Bluey does not have much in the way of sound insulation. But I gleaned the following information.
After dropping them off at the airport, they had checked their suitcase and gone through security.
The suitcase had undergone god knows what complex system of baggage handling. Probably something like in Die Hard 2: Die Harder but with less killing. It'd been thrown on a plane, travelled however far Mexico is, then been thrown off and onto a luggage truck, then onto a baggage carousel. Then Cory had seen his suitcase and pulled it off.
And then...
Cory had heard a little tinkle. He had looked on the floor. There was a ring. A ring that had somehow clung inside a little unzipped telescopic handle pocket (I believe it had been unzipped the whole time), travelled on an international journey, and finally been found by the only two people who could understand its significance.
And then Cory had called me. Probably an expensive call! I gave him my real phone number—he had called me through the Uber system. I told him I loved him. And I did. A good man. A pure soul.
A few days later Cory texted me. I wanted to take my wife to meet him, to thank him personally, to bring him craft beer. Alas that did not work out.
But he did mail it to me. FedEx dropped it off two hours ago.
Thank you, Cory. Thank you from the bottom of my heart.
Epilogue: There is a valuable lesson to be learned from this. Talk about your problems. Tell someone. They may be able to help in the most unexpected way. People are good people.
Thank you for reading.
Main photo © 2014 Sebastian Ho