Instant Karma

Tim and I flew from Seattle to St. Louis to Reagan National last week. When I arrived in DC, I opened up my suitcase to find my jewelry case opened. Each compartment was unzipped.
“How strange,” I thought. “Why would I have packed like this?”
Of course, I didn’t.
Reaching inside the pockets, I realized that almost all of my jewelry had been stolen. Oh, a few things were left. The thief had obviously take her time and picked out what she really liked. I say she because choosing particular pieces is only something a woman would do. And this, for some reason, makes me even madder.
And it’s not like I’m dripping in diamonds, you know? The things she took were mostly inexpensive, but truly sentimental pieces. She took the Tiffany bracelet that Tim gave me for my 30th birthday. And those of you that know me well know how much I wanted that bracelet. I may not wear it as much these days, but still. It’s engraved with my initials, and it’s so special to me. Tim does not buy jewelry, ladies. This was a big frickin’ deal that he went to Tiffany and picked this out for me. A big deal.
She took a beautiful silver chain that I got on super amazing sale last year. She took pendants that I had picked up while traveling in Thailand and Malaysia. They were cheap. But they cannot be replaced. There may be more. I honestly can’t remember what I packed, and I’m afraid that as I go to wear things, I will realize they are gone.
I am trying to keep a positive mind about all of this. I am trying to remind myself that these are just things, just objects. And I am trying not to place such an emphasis on things anyway. I remember the way that Tim looked when he gave me that bracelet. I remember feeling heady from Thai whiskey when I bought that charm. I have those memories, and no one can take them from me.

But still. Karma’s gonna get you, bitch.

The Golden Rule

Last weekend we went to Sasquatch. For all of you non-Pacific Northwesterners, it’s a giant, three-day music festival at a gorgeous outdoor amphitheatre called The Gorge in Eastern Washington. We went last year too. You’re guaranteed gorgeous weather, good music, fun camping. All in all, a fabulous time. Except for one thing. The ridiculously overpriced $9 beers. Yes, I said $9. And that’s for Coors Light! Now I know that when you go to a baseball game or something you’re paying the same price. But look at it this way: 1 day at the festival costs $60, and many people go for all three days. Gas to get there and back, well, probably $40 or so. Maybe more. Weirdly, I never seem to know what gas costs. The show begins at noon and pretty much runs til midnight. Even if you don’t get there when the gates open, you’re still going to be there for at least 6 hours. If you drink just one beer an hour, you’re looking at $54. And you’re probably gonna wanna eat so that’s another $20! Good lord, you’ve spent ONE MILLION dollars in a weekend.
At any rate, we only went for the one day. We had a few drinks before we left the campsite. We had another before we entered the show. But we still managed to drink a few beers inside. Lushes? No, just vacation. And it was hot—we needed to hydrate. Toward the end of the night, I turned to Tim and asked him if we had enough money left for another beer. “Nope’, he said sadly. Oh, boo. And then all of a sudden, the guy walking next to me hands me a $20 bill. “For beer,” he says. I honestly can’t believe it. I didn't have to flash him or anything. “What? Really? Why?” I stammered. He says, “You seem like a nice person.” And he walks away. I sort of yell thank you after him, still kind of not believing. Now I totally believe in karma, and I like to think Tim and I do nice things for others. But this was definitely not expected. We hopped over to the beer line though and truly enjoyed our last Coors Light.
Clearly, I’m going to continue putting this good beer karma out into the world. So from now on, everyone just be nice to everyone cause you never know. You just might be standing at a bar, sad because you have no money and you have no beer, and there I’ll be, handing you a $20 because you look like a nice person. No flashing required.