Life: Idiotropic

So it's a regular Friday night and we're meeting a bunch of friends for Wall E, the new Pixar film, at the Foroxity Theatre. I love the Foroxity because there is a narrow table right behind each row of chairs, so you have a nice ledge in front of you for your popcorn, bitter lemon, or cappuccino... in Tiara's case, the Ben and Jerry's ice cream.

I have my huge purse with my little wrist purse tucked inside... I take out my little one when I go get drinks for the kids, then set it down on that convenient little ledge in front of me. The movie starts. There is no dialogue the entire first half of the movie. The kids love it, but I'm ready to pull out a book and a pen light. For a good movie I'll stay for the credits, but by the time this one was over, I was ready to bolt for the door. Elise was sleeping in my arms. I grabbed my purse, my girl, and headed out. My little red wristlet sat on the ledge in the dark.

So the next day I'm getting ready to go to Schinnen... the kids are ready, I'm ready, I have the list... it's time to grab my keys and go. Keys in hand... purse. No red purse. Gone. Checked the car. Emptied my big purse. And then the terrifying AH-HA moment happened when I knew exactly where I left it. 2 debit cards, 2 credit cards, 2 military identifications, 2 driver's licenses.

I called the Foroxity. They checked the Lost and Found. "Sorry, Ma'm."

So I went into this auto-pilot crisis management mode. Files came out, and the phone was in use. I triaged the list of creditors and called them in order of importance to protect. Canceled one, then two... Asked Kirk to call the base. I was to file a police report with the Dutch and German police, file reports on both bases, then go through the grueling process of getting new IDs. That's more painful than the credit cards.

The kids were rerouted into play mode. I spoke to the Dutch police and had the station address. Tiara was set to babysit for however long it would take for us to get this done. We were minutes from walking out the door and I thought... let's check just one more time. I called the Foroxity again and got the same girl on the phone.

A man had called the Foroxity a few minutes ago. He was Dutch. He found my purse, but since it was an American's purse and had "important papers" inside, he decided to take it home instead of trusting it to the theater staff. The theater employee was incensed. She said she yelled at him telling him they had a safe. He didn't leave a name or number. I'd have to wait.

Late that evening the base called to tell us that the Geleen police had it. The left a number which led me to another number... and I eventually tracked it down. They are closed on Sundays, but I could pick it up at 3 anyway. He spoke little English, so we spoke mostly in German, then English, and a bit of Dutch for pleasantries.

Sunday Kirk is working. I have the kids. We drive to the police station - arrive 15 minutes late. I stand at the locked door and call with my cell phone. "You're late," he says in English. "Yes, I know. My GPS took me a strange way." In German he replies that because I'm late I must hand over my oldest daughter. I paused, then laughed and he laughed too, then opened the door.

Everything is there except for 10 Euros cash. Glad I didn't have more. "Thank you." We're speaking German again which surprises me because the Dutch usually speak English extremely well. Then he tears the piece of paper that had photocopies of all of my ids. Written on the back is a name, an address, and a phone number. Mr. Schlemmer. This is the man who found my wallet and so here is his address. He lives just a few blocks away. If I'd like to stop by and say thank you. He started to draw me a map.

Is this normal?? Do people normally visit the honest folks who return lost or stolen things? I'm a woman alone with 4 daughters... but I'm in the Netherlands... it won't hurt to drive there. May be he won't be home.

We got there, parked, and got out. Followed the numbers around to 149, looked up and saw a man smoking on the top floor balcony. I waved my little red wristlet. "Did you find this?" I yelled up. "I just wanted to say 'thank you." He smiles, stands, then asks if we'd like to come up. All those safety alarms go off. What would Kirk say. Is this safe? "Oh, no thank you. I just wanted to thank you." "I'll come down." Deep breath. Tiara is worried. The little ones are oblivious, but I can see that look in T's face. And then he's there, a tall, thin, middle aged man with the darkened wrinkled skin of a smoker. Loose clothing, but not horribly dressed. Smiling. He says he found it on the floor with the contents spilling out, so he scooped it up and took it home. He invites us up again. Come have a drink.

How do I get out of this? I don't. "Ok, just for a moment. I can't stay long." The entry is filthy. It's an old disheveled building. There's a sink covered in grime and some buckets on the ground. We're walking up extremely steep narrow stairs and I'm thinking about how I could run down these with a kid tucked under each arm if I needed to. We get upstairs and he opens the door to an absolutely beautiful, completely modern apartment. And it's clean. His old dog licks us. The girls are taken with him. He points to his computer. "I tried to find your phone number on google, but couldn't find it." He tells me about his search and all the people he called to try to reach me. We make small talk about family and jobs. He has a wife and two teenage kids. They're building a large home nearby. "This is temporary," he repeats several times during our visit. I don't have a drink and don't stay long. Within 15 minutes, we were making our way again down those stairs. Thanking him again.

We turned the corner, saw my van in the near distance, and I let out a deep breath. Relief. Not that my wallet is back, but we're walking casually away from what ended up being a very benign encounter.

I wonder how normal this is. The policeman seemed to think it was routine. This is not America.