I kid. I'm not that uncertain. But today was the first time I found somebody's wallet on a sidewalk. The N. Mississippi sidewalk, steps from the Mississippi Marketplace food cart pod. I'd driven up to treat myself to a Big-Ass Sandwiches special that's only offered this weekend and only at that cart. I'd parked a few blocks away, where on-street parking isn't as tight as on that main drag, and walked up. I scanned the sidewalk, as I do, looking for change; it's a habit. I didn't expect to see some folded pieces of black leather.
I picked it up and opened it. Washington State driver's license; a somewhat older permit that the license had replaced, a credit union debit card, and some other cards. (Including a high school I.D. Class of 2013. Whoever this person is, this person was born the year I graduated college.)
Email is my friend. Later when I was online again -- after I'd started to eat my sandwich, eaten half of it, driven back to SE Portland, and gotten to my office and its wifi -- I found the Washington State Department of Licensing, and emailed them saying I wasn't 100% sure if they were the right ones to talk to. And to my thankfulness, someone replied quickly: Mail it to the license holder, mail it to us, or give it to the police.
So for my exciting night post-work, I went to the cops. ("Goin' out for a night on the town," sings Bruce Hornsby...) The Central Precinct downtown, which I'd found was the only office open to the public 24/7. There's a "found item" form to fill out, and I did so. I resisted putting in that the wallet had had no money in it when I found it. Didn't want to seem like I protested too much. (Especially since I've found unattended money before.)
Me around cops. It could be funny.
So, at some point if all goes well, that wallet heads a few hours north and gets back to its owner. Unmolested.