Thank you, Beantown ...

... for once again saving me from my own flakiness.

The scene: 9:25 a.m. Thursday, jury room at Suffolk Superior Courthouse. Having arrived at the last possible moment before the court session began--having had to forego the morning coffee run due to tardiness--I reached into my backpack for my wallet to take into court with me, in order to more quickly facilitate a bolt to Starbucks at the 11 a.m. break.

No wallet. Which meant no money. Which meant no coffee until lunch.

Oy. 90 minutes of testimony, 20-minute break, 100 more minutes of testimony. Head pressure continually rising. Then a bolt for my bike and a 20-minute ride back to Southie, a caffeine headache asserting itself on every asphalt bump on Tremont and Herald Streets. Into the apartment, searching.

No wallet. Which meant no money.

The night before I had been traipsing the Back Bay, shopping, when the wallet was last seen. Which meant it was somewhere out in great expanse of Greater Boston. Which meant I required 3 quick Advil for both the aggravation and the headache, since I had to get back to court, and there would be no coffee until ....

... the possibility of infinity felt very real.

So I couldn't then have guessed that after court, when I started the wallet search in earnest, my savior would be the head cashier at Barnes & Noble booksellers, Prudential Center. I called there to identify myself ... and she in turn identified my wallet as one they were holding behind their counter. Left there by me the night before. Which someone had seen and turned in. Which the staff had tried to get back to me by paging me, unsuccessfully, because I had already left the premises.

This is easily the 15th time my wallet has gone missing in my 10 years in Boston. And this is the 10th time someone has found it and turned it back intact.

Thank you, people of Boston, whomever you are.