Dear Guy who picked up my stuff in Penn Station:

This afternoon,  I was running as fast as my feet would carry me through Penn Station.

The All aboard was being called for my friend's train.  While I'm not a fast runner, I'm faster than she is. I was hustling to get to the gate when my backpack spewed its contents all over the Amtrak arena of engagement.

And you, Mr. Nice, picked up my scarf and sunglasses, which had fallen out about 100 yards back.

Thank you. Thank you, Thank you.

My friend missed her train, but Amtrak put her on the next one without charging her the difference. A lovely weekend during which I accomplished very little but watching bad sci fi. It was some good times.