Wheelin' Benjamin Franklin

Prologue

I bought my third Moleskine notebook today- the classic black one, because my second is gone. It sucks that I lost my precious notebook, for that is what I call ‘J-1: The 2nd Season’.

It’s been a habit for me to jot down my life’s precious moments every Saturday, whether at morning, afternoon, or evening, all good and bad things happened in my life the whole week. Mostly good. I exclude the how-I-taught-my-students on those journals because those details are stressing me up. However, I write there the lessons I learned from my special education classroom and students, and my outside-of-work happenings. My first Moleskine notebook- ‘J-1: the 1st Season’- is green. Not my favorite color, but I chose that to signify myself as a greenhorn in United States. I entered 20 weekend journals on the green notebook, which included my first US tour at California during the 2016 Fall Break. My Weeks 21-39 are on my second Moleskine notebook which is… well. Poof!

As I mentioned, my second notebook is gone, so I bought this third at Target- Lincoln Park North, the store closest to Chicago Getaway Hostel where I’m booked to stay till my birthday week is over.

Geez. Birthday. It’s my first time celebrating birthday in America, yet I’m about to face the odd-venture of my lifetime. I say, this is my special journaling episode because, instead of writing every detail on weekend, I’ll write on every chance I’ve got while staying in The Windy City, especially that I unexpectedly wind up into something. I had to take notes of how I shall come up with the solution to this black wheelie bag I’m bringing now.

But not tonight. Ciao for now!

LennieGirl80

----- O-o-O -----

“Hey Chicago, are you excited? Well I am, too! I used to watch you at Perfect Strangers when I was a kid in the Philippines. I saw how Larry and Balki danced with joy at every awesome thing they’d done successfully in your land. This time, it’s my 37th birthday, and it’s my turn.”

Two men wearing leather jackets found the details funny, so they chuckled. “She wish,” the thick-bearded guy said.

“Or maybe we can give her the dance,” the clean-cut macho said colloquially.

A deep male voice startled them from nearby. “What dance?”

Those guys stunned and suddenly stopped reading the journal written on the classic black Moleskine notebook.

“That’s not part of our plan,” that same voice continued as he stepped his way towards them near the Buckingham Fountain.

The readers faced him, and relieved to see that guy was their… “Boss,” said Bruno. “we are aware that’s not part of our plan, but maybe…”

“Maybe what?”

“Make her an explosive bonus to blow up?”

For a minute, The Boss shared his glances to the Italian Bruno and Latino Pancho as he tried to consider their proposal, until he made his decision. “No.”

“Aw, come on! She’s fresh, as in new in the States! A tourist of Chicago,” Pancho stated. “Easy to spot on every sidewalk, like one of those female folks taking selfies and photography on every corner of this city.”

The Boss pressed them with a hint of ire, “If only you pulled our wheelie bag, that LennyGirl80 would have been out of our business!”

“It’s Pancho’s fault,” Bruno pointed out.

“Whaaaaat?” the other denied. “You were the one holding the wheelie bag at Starbucks.”

“I was, yeah, and I made sure those Benjamin Franklins were still there.”

“Until they weren’t.”

The Boss aghast to Pancho’s remark. “What is the brand name and color of the wheelie bag you used?”

“American Tourister. Black.”

“Bruno, Pancho, try to remember the last time you had that wheelie bag before it was switched.”

And they did.

----- O-o-O -----

So was the tourist. Lennie remembered that after-flight meal she had at Starbucks- Jackson Boulevard. She drank a cup of cappuccino and ate Cheese Danish, and Ham and Swiss Croissant there for dinner. She planned to check-in at Chicago Getaway Hostel right after meal for she got tired from her flight and her first day bus tour along Lake Michigan. In came the duo with their wheelie bag, sat at the table beside Lennie, then Pancho volunteered himself to give orders at the counter. Bruno stayed on seat, patiently waiting. Minutes after, Pancho returned with a receipt on hand, asked Bruno to take his place on queue because he needed to go to the restroom. Bruno disagreed because nobody’s gonna guard their table, so he would just wait for the number to be called out by a Starbucks staff. Pancho agreed and moved on. However, due to the fast and efficient service of the staff, meals were served for Number 347 while Pancho was still in there. Bruno approached the counter to pick up their meals the same time as the exhausted Lennie read the Uber notification that her ride had arrived and it’s parked outside the building. Lennie pulled the wheelie bag that she thought was hers, only to find out at the hostel that she had her luggage tag Road Trip was already missing.

The next day, inside a shared female dorm-type room, Lennie was looking at those Benjamin Franklins inside the black American Tourister. She was brainstorming using all the possible wh- questions to formulate her hypothesis regarding the bag switch. The entrance of a bath robed dorm-mate disrupted her, made her zip the bag immediately to avoid unwanted attention.

However, that drastic action made the dorm-mate intrigued. By then, instead of abrupt inquiry, she started it with a genial greeting. “Hi there.”

“Hello,” Lennie said.

“Welcome to Chicago.”

“Thanks. Same to you.”

“Thank you. I’m a Chicagoan, actually.”

“I’m from Yuma.”

“Oh, Arizona!”

“Philippines, originally.”

“Oh, in that case, welcome to America, haha!” The lady in bathrobe walked to her bed, sat down, opened her luggage bag to pull out her clothing. “What brings you here in my country?”

“I’m a J-1.”

The stranger had not heard that code before. “J-1?”

“It’s a non-immigrant cultural exchange visa. In my case, teaching exchange participation.”

“Ah, you’re a teacher! What grade and subjects are you teaching in Arizona?”

“Reading, Writing and Math for Special Education students.”

The lady was amazed of Lennie’s profession. “Wow. Salute,” she remarked with her hand gesture. “I admire SPED teachers. You and hundreds of others are the most patient people I’ve ever met, considering the things you are enduring for those students to become successful in their academics.”

“Thanks.”

“So you’re residing at Yuma? I was in Phoenix before. I used to live there like since high school until an agency hired me here after college.”

“Nice.”

After collecting her clothes, she closed and locked her luggage.

“Mind if I ask something?”

“Okay. What is it?” She came closer to Lennie.

“If you are a resident of Chicago, what made you decide to stay here in the hostel overnight?”

“Let’s say I just wanna… cool down the situation.”

“Something happened at home?”

“Yeah, and I’m pretty sure you don’t wanna hear it, coz it’s pretty nasty.”

“I understand. Sorry that I asked you something personal.”

“It’s alright. It’s non-offensive. You have not known me well just yet. By the way,” she offered her right hand. “I’m Vanessa Harris.”

She received the hand of the African-American dorm-mate. “Lennie Mariano. Pleased to meet you.”

“Same. By the way, I’m heading back to the shower for a change. Have you eaten your breakfast yet?”

“Yeah, I have. It’s sumptuous.”

“Great. See ya later.” Vanessa went out of their dorm.

Lennie hurriedly continued checking the contents of the wheelie bag she brought by mistake. “Wow. Two hundred Benjamin Franklins wrapped in newspaper and carbon paper,” she confirmed after counting two bundles. She also found pairs of shirts, pants, underwear and personal hygiene at the bottom. “I think I need to put the pants on the top while the rest of items remain down there.”

The moment she pulled out the folded pants, 5 small sachets of crystal meth and a little black book fell out to the floor. “Oh my God… the owner is a drug dealer!” Lennie ghastly commented. She picked up those meths, and checked the full characteristics of the little black book: black soft cover with rounded corners, having elastic closure, matching bookmark ribbon, expandable inner pocket in the back, reusable paperband B-SIDE featuring additional printed tools, and the history of Moleskine. “It’s the same as mine,” Lennie mentioned. “But mine’s larger like 5 x 8.5 inches.” Looking through pages of ivory-colored, 70 g/m², acid-free papers, Lennie read several plans and notes. Pretty nasty notes. The final written page was in the middle of the petite-sized Moleskine classic black notebook which quoted: “Meet him at mah king cub in Chicago.”

Lenny put back the pants and the little black book over the money bundles inside the wheelie bag. She took out her iPhone 7 and Google searched the word Mah King Cub, which she relates to the famous NBL Team Chicago Cubs. She was thinking it might be a name of a sports bar, but her online data search only led her to thousands of linked articles about the Cubs team, its players, and the plays.

Vanessa came back to their dorm wearing denim pants, rubber shoes, and a Cubs shirt. “Any tour plans you have today, Lennie?”

“Yeah,” Lennie answered while still trying to unlock the message. “Though I have the itinerary all planned out, I am rooting for a sports bar where fans of Chicago Cubs usually gather.”

“I certainly know exactly where those bars are: Murphy’s Bleachers, The Sports Bar and Grill, Skybox, Dugout Bar, Sluggers, and The Cubby Bear. All located around the Cubs’ official Wrigley Field.”

“Do you know a Mah King Cub?” Lennie asked curiously.

“Mah what?”

“Mah King Cub.”

“No. There’s no such bar named Mah King Cub. Ah, by the way, for your tour today, may I recommend a nighttime bus tour and be dazzled by the sparkle of the city!”

“Okay.”

“Especially at the Buckingham.”

“Oh I was there yesterday.”

“But you have not seen its shimmering splendor, have you?”

Lennie nodded. “I haven’t yet. Okay, I’ll take note of that.” Lennie wrote the word Buckingham at the last page of her Moleskine notebook. Then she noticed the word king in the middle of its syllables like the way she has taught phonics skills to her elementary SPED students. So, as she tried to unscramble the letters and swapped the 1st and 3rd syllables like the way she’s trained her learners in spelling, she finally got what mah king cub meant. “It’s the fountain at Grant Park… the point where the turn-over of twenty grand should take place,” Lennie whispered to herself.

“Or, if you want, would you like me to give you the tour tonight? I’m needing a company, you know.”

“Sure, Vanessa. At least I have a new pal celebrating with me.”

Vanessa astounded on her dorm-mate’s declaration. “Wait… hold it. Is today your birthday?”

“My birthday was last May 7th, but celebrating it this week because it’s now our school’s summer break.”

“Alright! But right now, I have to go to work. See you later, Lennie!”

“Where can I see you later?”

“Just let me know where you are, girl.” Vanessa wrote her phone number on a sticky note, then handed the info to her. “Here. Text me later.”

Lennie received the note. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome. Gotta go, Lennie Girl!” Vanessa walked out with her own backpack.

The birthday celebrant could not help but wonder: how did Vanessa know she is the Lennie Girl?

----- O-o-O -----

The night has fallen. Pulling her wheelie bag, Lennie was carefully walking towards the shimmering showers she can’t look away from. She paused to stare in awe at the most magnificent fountain she’d ever seen. Having remembered their agreement, Lennie texted as she spoke along, “Hi Vanessa. I have just arrived at the mah-king-cub… I mean the Buc-king-ham. Please join and celebrate my 37th birthday with me.” She pressed send.

A deep male voice startled her from nearby. “With a dance of joy?”

Lennie was stunned. Uh Lord…

“So you are the one who has that $20,000 in my wheelie bag,” that same voice continued as The Boss, Bruno and Pancho stepped their way towards her, and stopped in front of her.

Lennie saw the wheelie bag being pulled by Pancho. She was entirely sure that’s hers because the Road Trip tag was still hanging on. “And you are the one who has my Moleskine notebook.”

“Yes we are,” Bruno confirmed. “And it was funny,” followed by chuckles from the trio.

“And why should you have to save your notebook anyway?” Pancho asked Lennie. “It’s just a pad of paper.”

“It’s not just my pad of paper. It’s my life,” Lenny quoted.

“Aaaah right, because you wrote your entire life on each page, noh?” The Boss told her.

The trio had no idea what’s happening behind them, but Lennie noticed a number of uniformed people discreetly moving towards them.

“Because that’s my journal, yes,” she agreed while looking at the familiar person she had just met.

Vanessa vertically blocked her right index finger on her own lips, and rolled her right hand.

Lennie understood her message. “And, you know what, I can say your little black Moleskine is your lifesaver, too. If I have not found that, if I have not read the message, there’s no way I could come here and return your money, right?”

“Yeah right,” The Boss admitted. “Money is my life. So, give me my money and my wheelie bag now.”

Vanessa suddenly shouted as a cue for her team. “NO, LENNIE, DON’T!!!”

The Chicago Police immediately took action against Bruno, Pancho and The Boss. “Freeze, you’re under arrest!” one of the members of their raiding team announced. The police also took away the drug dealer’s wheelie bag.

Meanwhile, it’s Vanessa who retrieved Lennie’s wheelie bag from Pancho, and turned it over to her new friend. “Happy birthday, Lennie Girl.”

“Thank you, Vanessa. Or should I say… Detective Harris?” Lennie smiled in relief from the pressure created by that unexpected encounter.

“You’re welcome, Ma’am. And thank you, too, for helping us bringing these jerks to justice.”

“How did you figure out that trio have been hot on my trail?”

“It was my off-duty that day. I was in my personal car when I saw you, heard you telling your name to the Uber driver, and that you’re going to Chicago Getaway Hostel. I sighed and said to myself, another tourist, another day. Minutes after, I overheard Bruno and Pancho blaming each other about their bag they lost, and they mentioned your name Lennie Girl, that they plan to search around the city at once. That’s when I said, Oh no, here comes another pretty nasty happening in my home. I need to check in to check on her.”

----- O-o-O -----

Epilogue

... I became speechless that moment, and my only reply was a long endearing thank-you-so-much hug for Vanessa. And yes, we celebrated my 37th birthday together with the detective and the Chicago PD Team. Right there and then, their agency granted me the reward for the service I gave to their community. The celebration ended with the dance of joy.

Well, I say, this is the best birthday celebration I’ve ever had, for I fully realized the significance why I was born. This experience made me a stronger person, to be always prepared for more challenges I might face on my journeys ahead. I shall cherish my first birthday in America for the rest of my life.

LennieGirl80

P.s.

Thank you also, Moleskine, for being part of my journey.