Nervous Nellie here! So many things make me anxious, but let me focus on just one for this post, so I can segue it into republishing this story I originally published on Medium.

I don’t have OCD, but being able to multiple-check things abates my worry about being unready and ill-equipped for eventualities. Like Principal Mullins (School of Rock), I also think it’s best to over-prepare.

I’m making myself sound Type A when I’m not. I just feel the need to check if I’m all set for things a couple of times. We all do a mental checklist before leaving the house, or a quick run-through of our bags to see if we have everything we need. I do the same, but, if I can, I just have to do it over to be extra sure.

However, there are times when I’m pressed for time and can’t calmly go through checklists. When this happens, I usually have to go through a teachable moment, and the lesson is one that I already learned a long time ago: the importance of doing checks, at least once, especially since I tend to be forgetful and absent-minded.

Here’s one of those teachable moments, but with a mysterious plot twist.

Of Miracles, Mysteries, and Myopia

It couldn’t have been there, but it was, and I’ll never know how.

image created using Canva

As soon as my Madrid-bound bus rolled to a halt at a Lerma rest stop, I hurried out in search of a bathroom. Thankfully, my near-exploding bladder astutely homed in on the nearest one. My heart sank, however, at the sight of the throng spilling out of the door.

Mustering all my willpower, I fell in line and resolved not to have an accident. When it was finally my turn for a stall, a friend I’d made that summer emerged from the next one.

“Katie!” We both squealed in delight at our accidental meeting. “Wanna get together in Madrid?” I asked.

“Sure -”

“Let’s talk more after! I gotta pee real bad!” I heard her laughing as I slammed the door to my cubicle.

Since I had my jacket wrapped around my waist, I had to take it off and hang it on a hook behind the door. I wasted no time doing my business, washing my hands, and then getting out of the restroom so I could catch Katie before her bus left.

Thankfully, I immediately found her and we were able to flesh out our plans. I returned to my bus, feeling relieved that we were able to arrange something. We had become close during our summer course, but we knew that we probably wouldn’t see each other again since we lived in different countries. A last dinner would have been nice.

As I took my seat, something started niggling at the back of my head. I only had my purse with me. It felt like I should have been carrying a paper bag as well. And then I remembered. The paper bag had a bocadillo. I’d finished it earlier and thrown out the paper bag. Assured that I hadn’t forgotten anything, I settled back and started to doze off.

A little later, I began to feel cold. I had been wearing a jacket upon leaving rainy and nippy Santander. However, the difference in temperature when I arrived in Lerma had me taking off my jacket. The AC in the bus was on full blast, though, so it was time to put the jacket back on.

Except my jacket was hanging on a hook in a Lerma restroom cubicle.

I began to panic. I liked that jacket, but it wasn’t a huge loss. The loss of what was inside the pocket of that jacket was a catastrophe though.

Just in case, I checked my purse for my wallet even though I knew it wasn’t there. It held most of my money, credit cards, ATM cards, IDs, and a bunch of things that had sentimental value for me. It also held the address and telephone number of the apartment I was going to stay in while I was in Madrid.

I may not remember the telephone number or know for sure which floor the apartment was on, but, having stayed there when I had first landed in Spain, I thankfully had a good idea where the building was.

Also, I had known enough to scatter my money in different pieces of luggage. I even had a couple of bills in my sock, so I wasn’t completely strapped for cash. As I began to logically attack each challenge elicited by my predicament, I began to calm down. I could get off the bus and bring myself to the apartment, where I could then regroup.

My mind continued humming, however. All those cards! It meant a lot of calls. I’d have to buy multiple phone cards (this happened in 2004) to pay for all those minutes I’d be put on hold. What about my IDs, especially my student one? Good thing my passport was safely in my purse.

The longer I thought, the more I remembered why I needed my wallet. My distress grew as we neared Madrid. It certainly didn’t help that I felt incredibly stupid for losing it of all things! And to top it all off, this disaster was happening to me when I was far away from home, and nobody who loved me could come to my aid and take care of me or comfort me.

Plus, I had planned to spend four days in Paris before going home. I knew I didn’t have enough money for that. I was going to charge most of my expenses there. I would have to eat ramen the entire time I’m there, forget the souvenirs, visit only free places, walk everywhere… and maybe my remaining cash still wouldn’t cover all that.

That wasn’t how I’d expected my first visit to the City of Lights to go. It had been my dream for the longest time. I was seriously considering just ditching that part of my travel, even though my plane tickets had already been paid for. It was a bummer and a waste whether I went or not.

Trying to get a grip, I reassured myself that I’d be fine. I had my passport, some more money, and my cellphone. In any case, I had a way of getting home and out of this difficult situation.

In Madrid, I walked out of the station, feeling even more lost and scared. I hailed a cab since I simply wasn’t equal to figuring out the metro or the city bus routes. I gave the address that I remembered, but the driver wasn’t familiar with the street name I mentioned. Sounding like a total idiot, I started describing the area. “There’s a McDonald’s a block away and a Corte Inglés nearby…” That was probably true for many places.

The driver shrugged, letting me know I had to give him something better than that.

“Hang on.” I rummaged through my purse, hoping against hope that the paper with the address was in it, but knowing for sure that it was in my wallet.

There was my hanky, my makeup pouch, my passport pouch, my wallet, my wet wipes… but no loose leaf of paper.

I gasped. Was that my wallet? What the heck? I immediately took it out and inspected its contents.

The driver cleared his throat. With trembling fingers, I fished out the slip of paper with the apartment’s address and recited it to him. Apparently, I had been saying Juan Menendez Alvaro instead of Juan Alvarez Mendizabal. The cabbie rolled his eyes and started the car.

I stared at the wallet. How could it be? Had I unconsciously moved it to my purse at one point?

The last time I had used it was to pay for my bocadillo. I distinctly remember intentionally putting it back in my jacket pocket for easier access. Also, I’d hefted my pocket to confirm that my wallet was there when I got off the bus in Lerma. I’d meant to get a snack, but ended up not having enough time.

And I’d checked my purse earlier! I may have missed it in my panic, but that just didn’t make a lot of sense.

My wallet wasn’t supposed to be there, but it just was. I consider it both a miracle and a mystery, but it could very well just be myopia, perceptual in my case. I couldn’t explain it, so what else was there to do but say a prayer of thanks? I also promised myself to have the most fun in the trip to Paris that almost didn’t happen.

Has anything similar happened to you? You were so sure about something, but, apparently, you were wrong; you just can’t figure out how you could have been.