Things We Own: Part Two - I Am An Idiot

Never mind.  I found the iPod.  After looking through my bags four times and telling everyone in the hotel it had been taken, the damn thing was in one of my pants pockets (the pair I was wearing at the time) that I had already checked ten times.  It was nestled up against a small notebook of about the same size in such a way that I didn't notice it until the eleventh time I checked.  I couldn't feel any more elated or any more stupid.

I was tempted to keep the discovery a secret.  The hotel manager was horrified that a theft occurred on his watch, told me it was his problem too, and that he would conduct a full investigation, assuring me that he was an expert in these matters.  He even gave me some evidence that made me suspect one of my roommates, advising me that a man I consider my friend had tried to sell him an iPod to pay for his stay last week. All of my hotel friends were concerned, wondering if their own property was now at risk.  Everyone was commiserating, telling me how much my loss really really sucked.  After raising such a ruckus, I was ashamed to tell them that it was for nothing, that I was actually just this foolish.

Of course, I had to tell them.  I made the rounds, telling everyone it was a false alarm.  I found out my friend had been lightly interrogated, and slightly offended, making me feel worse.  Even so, in the end everyone was just as relieved as I was, but perhaps rolling their eyes for just a second as I walked away.