She elbowed me while running up the stairs at 86 n Lex to catch the downtown 6 that clearly was in the ‘stand clear of the closing doors please’ phase. She caught the train but dropped her (work tote?) bag on the platform but did not seem to realize it. By the time I could call out to her, the train with her in it had left the platform.
The (work tote?) bag had an inset with an address which I looked up. It was a fancy doorman type building. I decided to be a good Samaritan and drop the (work tote?) bag off.
The building (let’s call it Tormentie Square) spans an entire block and happens to be moderately close to the subway stop where I was at. (+10 streets) Undeterred, I walked up to the doorman and explained how I came to be in possession of Jane Doe’s bag and asked him to return it to her.
Doorman: “I cannot collect or hold anything here. You have to drop any packages for the tenants in the mail room.”
“Which way is the mail room?”
“Two Blocks down that way.” (I’m sure I detected a glee in his words)
I walked the two blocks and arrived at the mail room.
There were four mail rooms. And all of them close in the next ten minutes.
(running hurriedly from counter to counter.)
Counter 1 : “oh apt xy ?? maybe it is counter 2.”
At counter 2: “oh apt xy ?? maybe it is 3 or 4 but definitely not 1 or 2.”
(THANKS for clearing that up for me CHAMP.)
I decide to try my luck and go directly to 4 and it turns out to be the right counter but, “If a tenant is not expecting a package and has not left explicit comments for the mail room we cannot receive anything from a non-USPS/FEDEX/UPS person..who knows what YOU’RE trying to sneak in!”
Exasperated at this point I give up, but decide to go to counter 3 anyway, where the person shutting down her booth looks kind.
She lost her shit.
“Who let you into the mail area? How do I know you are not some psycho ex trying to slip something into Ms. Jane Doe’s Apt.”
At this point I don’t even care anymore and walk out of the establishment.
Retracing my steps back to the subway station while formulating a plan to hand over the bag to MTA’s Lost and Found (I should have done this the first time around..I’m so dumb sometimes) I pass the doorman on his smoke break. “I thought you found that bag and were returning it…doesn’t look like you are.”
I ask him what I’m supposed to do if the mail room did not take it.
He says,”I don’t know man..this is the building where she lives…they have their stoopid rules, but…I can stow the bag in my desk and give it to the tenant when she arrives…if it’s worth my time.”
I tell him to hold the bag for a minute so I can go to the ATM in a bodega down the street and withdraw some money to compensate him for his trouble.
He says OK and “It’s cool that you care so much about this bag returning to its true owner.”
I walked down the street towards a bodega with a ATM. Walked past the bodega with the ATM and continued walking. Arrived at a bus stop, took the arriving M103 bus going downtown and began typing this on the bus while being elbowed by the fellow straphanger next to me.