True story: On Monday of this week I realized that I'd left behind a bag of guitar gear at some point on the previous Saturday night between leaving the gig and getting home.
Panicking, I ran to the club to see if it was there. No dice.
Disconsolate, I shuffle home in the rain. It's not been a good year for me, in terms of equipment being lost or stolen -- this was the last thing I needed.
I got home and saw a note on my apartment door; it's from the cab driver who drove me home Saturday night, telling me he's got my gear. Left his cell number and the number of the cab dispatcher in the Bronx. This guy -- Winfred's his name -- actually remembered my damn apartment building, and tracked me down in order to get my stuff back to me.
Wow. I am blown away.
Some people go to ridiculous lengths to do the right thing. Easy to forget sometimes.