Yep, I pulled a Michael, but at least I did it stateside. And in a dark, dingy dance club called Rotture on a crazy fun night called Soul Night. It’s one of the few nights where the kids stop worrying about their bangs and get all sorts of sweaty and funky, sometimes in vintage sequined dresses (stealing that idea next time). I was dancing up a storm, wallet in pocket, and I guess the sudden influx of soul pushed all things monetary right out of my life.
Anyway, maybe they have it. The phone recording explicitly says not to leave a message about lost items, to just come and get it. If not, my biggest losses are my coffee punch cards to Stumptown. I save them up and surprise friends with free drinks. So too bad for you all, no free drinks.
Update: I take it back, the biggest loss is the wallet itself. My crafty friend Brandy made it for me from oilcloth, and she sewed in tiny pictures of naked men from 70′s era Playgirl mags. One was hidden under a secret flap, and one was tucked in at the top of the money well. I would always pull out cash and accidentally flop out this image of a sultry 70′s sailor dude. Which I found totally hilarious and never once explained to miffed shopkeepers. The mystery flashing was better. I’ll miss that wallet.