Getting to the heart of what matters...and tales from my journeys there.
Tuesday, March 29, 2011
I was at Haymarket, and I think I know the very moment it happened, when I felt someone way too close, touching me, and I moved over to the side—out of the flow of foot traffic—after flipping him a dirty look, to check that my purse was still zipped. I didn’t know then that my wallet was already gone. By the time I figured it out, he (they? was the woman who stopped short working with the man that was at my back?)had already made it over to the Tufts Medical Center T stop and bought 3 T passes at $59 each. I wonder if they had already spent the 100 cash that I was carrying—uncharacteristically.
I know it could have been worse. Much much worse. They only got that hundred dollars cash and made those three transactions on my debit card before Visa sent up a fraud alert and blocked my card—the only card in that wallet. (I guess it becomes suspicious when someone tries to buy 4 subway passes. 3: not so much.) But there was only that one card. All the frequent shopper cards that filled the other slots in that wallet can be replaced. All my other cards— my license and credit cards and another ATM card— were in another little yellow leather ID holder at the bottom of my bag. I can’t imagine having to replace all of that, and I couldn’t be happier that I didn’t give in and give Liz that ID holder, as much as she wanted it. Simply because it’s yellow. All of my cards and license would have been stolen then, too.
I wasn’t held up, or hurt, and the financial damage was minimal in the grand scheme of things, but I was violated. At a place that has always been magical to me. On a weekend that was supposed to be perfect: celebrating Donna’s birthday in Boston.
I will relive that moment over and over again. I will second guess so much—why I went back to the market for berries instead of going back to the hotel, why I changed purses, why I had so much cash on me when normally I carry none—and I will wonder why it had to happen, why it couldn't have been the perfect weekend after all.
And I will be forever disappointed that Haymarket will no longer simply be that magical place it used to be. As soon as I stop being angry.