Some Friday in March 2009.
I left at 9:00 am for the BNP Paribas Open with 3 tennis friends. The BNP Paribas Open is played at Indian Wells out in the desert (near Palm Springs). It's a great tournament. It's the 5th largest in the world, right after the four Grand Slam tournaments. We were excited to be going.
I was riding in the back seat of my girlfriend's super cab pickup. As we approached the tournament, I decided to move the essentials from my handbag into pockets of my backpack, so that I would only need one bag inside.
I reached in and pulled out my sunglasses, my blackberry, my wallet and a pen. Then, I noticed there was a set of keys floating around in the bottom. I thought, "that's weird" because I have a little pocket on the side of the purse where I stash my keys.
I pulled the keys out and realized to my astonishment that I had never seen the keys in my life. My tennis friends came to the only conclusion possible. Someone must have dropped the keys in my handbag during a tennis match or tennis practice. We do tend to pile our tennis bags and purses over to the side. It would be really easy to do.
I was puzzling about how I was EVER going to find the owner of the keys. I was even more puzzled by the mystery of how someone could lose their keys in MY purse without discovering it! But there was tennis to be watched. I promptly stuck that thought in the back of my mind for later.
Later that day, while sitting watching a match, I received an email from my school. It was from someone named Stephanie. She sent an email to the entire school! She announced that she lost her keys in Burkle Hall. Well, I was in Burkle Hall the previous night!
I emailed her back and said "I have them". I gave her my phone number. Well, she tried to call me right away (of course, who wouldn't?). Problem was, I was still sitting in a tennis match. One doesn't take phone calls in the stands at a tennis match. It is simply NOT done! I thought everyone KNEW that!
I didn't answer the phone of course. I waited until the changeover between odd games. I called and just managed to get out my name and describe the keys before the match started again. I said, "I've got to go. I'm at a tennis match".
She said, "Oh, are you playing?"
"No," I said, "But I have to hang up now. I really have to go" She kept talking. I hung up. It was more "right" to be rude to one person than to be rude to the dozens of people sitting around me trying to watch the match.
We tried several other times to discuss the keys. It was difficult because another time when I called her she didn't have time to talk to me. She kept leaving me message saying she needed to talk to me "as soon as possible" and get the keys back "as soon as possible". I kept trying to explain to her that unless she had a ride out to Indian Wells, there was no way she was getting her keys back until the next day. I guess she was a bit panicky, but I just couldn't seem to get her to understand that I wasn't right around the block.
She asked me more than once in a bit of an accusing tone how I had come to have the keys. Honestly, why would I "take" her keys? What motive could I possibly have?
Well, anyway, she kept telling a disjointed story involving the drinking fountain in Burkle Hall. Something about how she dropped her keys and when she reached down for them, they weren't there. I couldn't make the connection.
The only possible explanation was that my handbag was indeed a wormhole and it had sucked the keys right out of the alternate universe in which we shared the space by the water fountain at Burkle Hall.
Stay tuned until tomorrow's exciting conclusion (er, prequel?) to the story.
I left at 9:00 am for the BNP Paribas Open with 3 tennis friends. The BNP Paribas Open is played at Indian Wells out in the desert (near Palm Springs). It's a great tournament. It's the 5th largest in the world, right after the four Grand Slam tournaments. We were excited to be going.
I was riding in the back seat of my girlfriend's super cab pickup. As we approached the tournament, I decided to move the essentials from my handbag into pockets of my backpack, so that I would only need one bag inside.
I reached in and pulled out my sunglasses, my blackberry, my wallet and a pen. Then, I noticed there was a set of keys floating around in the bottom. I thought, "that's weird" because I have a little pocket on the side of the purse where I stash my keys.
I pulled the keys out and realized to my astonishment that I had never seen the keys in my life. My tennis friends came to the only conclusion possible. Someone must have dropped the keys in my handbag during a tennis match or tennis practice. We do tend to pile our tennis bags and purses over to the side. It would be really easy to do.
I was puzzling about how I was EVER going to find the owner of the keys. I was even more puzzled by the mystery of how someone could lose their keys in MY purse without discovering it! But there was tennis to be watched. I promptly stuck that thought in the back of my mind for later.
Later that day, while sitting watching a match, I received an email from my school. It was from someone named Stephanie. She sent an email to the entire school! She announced that she lost her keys in Burkle Hall. Well, I was in Burkle Hall the previous night!
I emailed her back and said "I have them". I gave her my phone number. Well, she tried to call me right away (of course, who wouldn't?). Problem was, I was still sitting in a tennis match. One doesn't take phone calls in the stands at a tennis match. It is simply NOT done! I thought everyone KNEW that!
I didn't answer the phone of course. I waited until the changeover between odd games. I called and just managed to get out my name and describe the keys before the match started again. I said, "I've got to go. I'm at a tennis match".
She said, "Oh, are you playing?"
"No," I said, "But I have to hang up now. I really have to go" She kept talking. I hung up. It was more "right" to be rude to one person than to be rude to the dozens of people sitting around me trying to watch the match.
We tried several other times to discuss the keys. It was difficult because another time when I called her she didn't have time to talk to me. She kept leaving me message saying she needed to talk to me "as soon as possible" and get the keys back "as soon as possible". I kept trying to explain to her that unless she had a ride out to Indian Wells, there was no way she was getting her keys back until the next day. I guess she was a bit panicky, but I just couldn't seem to get her to understand that I wasn't right around the block.
She asked me more than once in a bit of an accusing tone how I had come to have the keys. Honestly, why would I "take" her keys? What motive could I possibly have?
Well, anyway, she kept telling a disjointed story involving the drinking fountain in Burkle Hall. Something about how she dropped her keys and when she reached down for them, they weren't there. I couldn't make the connection.
The only possible explanation was that my handbag was indeed a wormhole and it had sucked the keys right out of the alternate universe in which we shared the space by the water fountain at Burkle Hall.
Stay tuned until tomorrow's exciting conclusion (er, prequel?) to the story.
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