Yesterday on Route 19 in Upper St. Clair, one of those armored bank doohickeys had its rear doors come open somehow and over one hundred thousand dollars went flying into the windy Pittsburgh day to be scooped up by various Burghers who apparently had been praying for moneyrain.
MONEYRAIN! Great rapper name.
So, bags and bags of money falling into the street and a hundred grand of it is now missing at the hands of opportunistic drivers who now have a two-week grace period to return their ill-gotten gains.
First, this feels like a Burn Notice episode. Second, had you been driving behind the armored vehicle when this happened, what would you have done?
Me? If I had taken one single dollar that floated in the breeze, I would never have slept again on account of my conscience beating me senseless with its bitchslapper. And I can blame my father for this, because he raised us with a zero-tolerance dishonesty policy, so much so that as an adult if I leave a store and realize that something wasn’t rung up or that I forgot something on the bottom of my buggy, I will go back into the store, get back in line and pay for the item. For sleep’s sake.
I’m not saying that to brag. I’m saying that so you understand how much of a dork pilgrim I am.
So had that been me driving behind the car when it started raining money, I’d either have kept driving or would have stopped and helped the armored car drivers recover the money.
Now my husband? He would have had to fight the very strong urge to tar himself and run yippee-ki-aying into the moneyrain.
Yin. Yang. N’at.