I remembered while I was hanging out with KT that I hadn’t told her about losing my wedding ring. Which means that I also hadn’t written it up here. Which means I should do that, since it’s a pretty good story.
The other Friday I was packing my bags in a hurry. I was catching a 6:15 train to Tacoma, which meant that I had to quit work early. I didn’t want to quit too early, though, so I was packing in a hurry. Plus it had been a pretty crazy day at work, so I was frazzled.
I managed to get packed in time to catch the bus to the train station, where I got into a huge line, because some freight trains were screwing up the schedule, so our train was packed to the gills.
I finally got on the train and managed to put my bags away and sat down to try to unwind. My seatmate was a young guy heading to Seattle to go drinking with his friends. He was very chatty, and the little bottle of Jack and the other little bottle of white wine that he bought didn’t help that at all.
I did my best to politely let him know that I didn’t want to talk to him for the whole three hour ride. I politely responded to him, but never initiated conversation. I put on my headphones and listened to music. I opened my book and read. I read my book while listening to music. All to no avail. He continued babbling away about his job and the party he was going to, and how hot the girl who just walked by us was.
Mercifully, they announced the movie after awhile was going to be School of Rock, which I hadn’t seen. Chatty McChat (who was quickly becoming Drunky McDrunk) took a swig of Jack and washed it down with some white wine, grimaced, and asked if the movie was any good. I told him I didn’t know, but that I liked Jack Black, and he agreed, and got out his own headphones.
As the movie played, Drunky eased up a bit and just laughed at appropriate moments. I started to relax.
Over the last couple months I’ve developed an unconscious habit of playing with my wedding ring. I do it without thinking about it, or even noticing I’m doing it. So I didn’t immediately notice my ring was missing. I was sitting in my seat, looking at the screen, smiling at Jack Black showing kids how to rock, and a small part of my mind said “Something doesn’t feel quite right. Something about my hands.”
Of course, I didn’t say that out loud, but that was the thought that echoed through my mind. I had a sinking feeling in my stomach as I felt around my seat. The ring wasn’t going to be there, and I knew it.
I got down on my knees and looked under my seat. As I crawled around, Drunky asked what I was looking for. I told him, and he said “Shit, dude!” and handed me his lighter to aid my search.
The ring wasn’t under the seat. I sat down for a second to figure out what to do next.
“You should ask the people around us! I think I heard something hit the floor earlier!” Drunky loudly proclaimed.
I retraced my steps to the bathroom, and the ring wasn’t there. Drunky suggested I tell the conductor, which was actually a pretty good idea, given that this was the same guy who though Amtrak-brand white wine would make a good chaser for Jack Daniels.
I wandered up front and gave my name and number to the conductor, and told him I knew it was unlikely anyone would turn it in, but asked him to call me if anyone found it, just in case. He was very nice about the whole thing.
When I got back to my seat, Drunky said I should make an announcement to the car, and it was all I could do to keep him from jumping up and telling the whole car all about his trip to Seattle and his friend he met along the way whose lost his ring or something and if you found it, that would be super cool!
After an hour of sitting in the dark and trying to enjoy the rest of the movie, I had to admit that I probably should make an announcement. So right after the conductor announced my stop, I stood up and told everyone I’d lost my wedding ring and if anyone spotted it to please turn it in to the conductor.
I got a lot of “poor guy” looks, and a couple suspicious glares.
As we pulled up to Tacoma, I bid Drunky farewell and wished him luck with his party. He told me it was a bummer that I had lost my ring, and said that if he ever got married, he was going to get his ring as a tattoo.
Dave met me at the station, and I told him my story on the way back to his house, and repeated it to Rose when we got there. Rose suggested that I may have gotten my ring too large, but that you can’t get titanium rings resized.
I was dreading calling Annie, since I knew she was going to be angry, so I decided to kill some time playing X-box.
I opened the bag and pulled out the tangle of cables to hook it up, and there was a loud thump as my ring fell onto the carpet.
I swear, time just froze for a second, as I just sat there staring at my ring lying on the floor in front of my. I don’t think I could have been more shocked if it had just fallen out of the sky.
Of all the dumb luck, the first time my ring falls off since my wedding day, it falls right into my X-box bag.
There’s probably some cosmic importance about the connection between my wedding ring and my X-box, and some jokes I missed comparing my wedding ring to some Tolkien-esqe epic story, but all I know is that now approximately 30 billion times a day, I panic that my ring has slipped off again, and have to squeeze my fingers together a little to reassure myself that it’s still there.