Monday Memory: Losing It

I lost my purse the first time I went to Disneyland.

This wasn't some little coin purse, either. I was almost 18. It was my senior trip with five of my best friends. Inside was my ID, cash, traveler's checks, chapstick and I don't know what else. Maybe my camera.

But the saddest part of the whole story is the way I lost it.

One night after we ate dinner, we headed back to the park for an evening of as much of the Indiana Jones ride as we could get. Once we waited extra long to get on the front row of the ride car. I insisted that I be the one to "drive"--sit in the seat with the steering wheel. Once I sat down, I found that my purse was really inhibiting my ability to "drive." So into the car's storage pocket it went.

And when the fun was over, I was about a minute out of the exit before I realized. "My purse!" We ran back. They checked all the cars. We spent lots of time in the park's Lost and Found. Nothing.

I cried because all my things were gone. My friends bought me a Mulan balloon as a consolation prize. Surprising how much that helped.

I mostly cried because I felt totally dumb.

I mean, how do you explain to people that you lost your purse because you wanted to drive a ride at Disneyland?

When you were seventeen.

And it wasn't even real driving.

I'm still trying to figure that one out.