First Thing's First

My first official action in Japan was to lose my wallet.

I had made it through customs and immigration, desparately missing my relinquished resident alien card that had allowed me to take the fast lane, taken a trip to the ladies', and found my way over to the "please overnight my heavy and gaijin-sized suitcase to the back of beyond counter". Everyone loves the takyubin, especially yours truly. I was in the middle of congratulating myself for being able to write my former address in Chinese characters on the address form, when the multi-tasking counter helper-lady told me the total for my transaction. Just a moment, I replied. Let me get my wallet.

It wasn't in my purse where I ALWAYS put it. It wasn't in the convenient side pocket where I ALWAYS put it when I don't remember to put it in my purse.

No need to panic. I don't lose things. Except my mind, my temper, and occasionally my sense of proportion.

I remember I slipped it out of my backpack while in the bathroom, as I had taken a few things out of my big suitcase and placed them in my backpack for my overnight stay in Osaka. Of course, I knew where it was, where it had to be. I had zipped it into one of the many pockets of my jacket.

Upon investigation, however, I found I had zipped a plethora of useful items into my pockets, including my phone, chapstick, an extra sleeve of airport-purchased tissues, the cookie from my last in-flight meal, a tube of Gardener's hand therapy, my passport, and the little notebook wherein I wrote the reservation number for my next flight. But no wallet.

Mayhaps it's time to panic. I do lose things. Like my cool, my calm, and a billfold containing 20000 yen, my (useless here) driver's license, and my (vital to surival) Mister Donut Customer Loyalty Point Card.

Now I am in a blind frenzy thinking I have to run madly back to the restroom so I can search the grimy stalls for where my wallet must have plummeted from my pocket/backpack/sweating palms to the floor. I am breathlessly trying to ask the counter lady if she has change for the only bill I have with me, but it comes out as "oh no, I can't believe it, no way, *snort*, *fearful choking sound.*"

She gives me my change and drags my suitcase behind the counter.

I turn tail and run to the toilet like I'm having a bad reaction to too much sake, tempura peppers, and possibly an ill-timed bong hit.

Normally, in Japan, I wouldn't worry about losing anything. It's pretty common for folks to throw their wallets or purses down on their seat in the train while they head to the loo. And this isn't Thailand - people don't steal passports and phones out of your bag. Nor is it China - where they make it personal by knocking it out of your hands. Here there are monetary rewards for strangers who find lost personal belongings of other strangers. Last fall, I found someone's iPhone on the sidewalk and turned it in to the local police station. They asked me to fill out a contact sheet so that when the owner picked it up, he could pay me $100 for returning it. Like a fool, I cheerfully declined, as though I was just in it for the karma.

And look what happened to me.

I searched the bathroom, the stalls, the sinks, and finally began to take everything out of my bag, just in case I had accidentally slipped it into my suitcase and I was now sending that off to be shipped somewhere by shadowy beings with vague impulses and uncanny senses of direction and organization.

Thank God, I found my wallet stuff deeply into one of those convenient inner pockets, where you can place things to keep them organized and separated, and whose main purpose seems to be hiding your folding reusable grocery bag until you've returned from the Whole Foods where the checkout guy made you feel like you personally burnt that hole in the ozone all by yourself.

I figured I had had the scare for the trip. We'd covered all the frightened bases, and now it would be smooth sailing.

I continued to think that until the concierge knocked on my shoe-box-sized hotel room door to return my passport, which I left at the front desk after they copied it for their records.

It's going to be a great vacation.