Steven Weissman

I didn't need your money, and I'm hoping you didn't either. Did it fall out of your pocket? Were you on a bike and left your backpack open? Were you running from a drug deal gone bad? I really hope you're just a careless yuppie or, better yet, a drunk partyer "making it rain" out the sunroof of a rented limo. It couldn't have happened too long before I came along and spotted the rectangle of green that turned out to be a dollar. Once I found the first bill, my eye picked out the next and the next. The money was on both sides of the street, and even on the next block. Singles, tens, a couple twenties. I crammed them into my pocket. The people on the sidewalk and in the passing cars didn't seem to notice. No one even asked what I was doing walking around the middle of a busy avenue. Then a stranger crossing the street spoke to me, choosing me as the audience for a joke about how his friend was dragging him around. My mind, which had sort of turned off when I picked up the first bill, started up again. There was probably some money left, under cars or down the street, but I got on my bike and got out of there. You're probably someone who couldn't afford to lose that cash, and I'm an asshole who didn't wait around for even 10 minutes to see if you came back looking for it. To get rid of some of that bad karma, I'm giving the cash to YouthCare. Sorry you had a crappy night.