When I was nine years old I boarded a city bus knowing that I was not allowed to travel on city buses by myself. I got terribly lost and ended up stranded at the downtown bus terminal which was… right across the street from the police station.
So, my dweeby nine-year old mind thought the best plan out of my predicament was to go to the police and tell them I was abducted by two men. These men, I cried, abducted me at knifepoint and stole the 50 cents I had in my pocket and then dropped me off right in front of the police station. Unharmed. Right. How convenient for me and so very stupid of them. If the Darwin Awards existed in 1984, surely these dudes would have placed near the top.
But wait… The detectives were rightfully suspicious of my story. Hmmm. So they checked around the station for my 50 cents. I really have no idea how they knew to do this, but lo and behold, they found my two quarters stashed in the garden just in front of the station, exactly where I threw them. Drats. Busted.
I was grounded for the entire summer… and by the way, this happened exactly one day after school let out. At least I had Duran Duran to comfort me during those long, dreadul days.
So the moral of the story is (besides how seriously awful I think it is that a nine year old has already internalised our culture’s “woman in peril” fetish) don’t throw your quarters in the bushes.