Serendipity...?

I must have walked past the outdoor Strand Books on Fifth Avenue at the Central Park entrance hundreds of times. But I never stop. Not until tonight at least.

It's a perfect summer night: mid-70's, low humidity. As I'm leaving the park, the sun has fallen behind the Central Park trees and if I were further into the park, I might see a firefly or two.

I see a sign to the effect of half off used books at the Strand stand and am intrigued. I finished a book weeks ago and lately have just been reading the news. As much as I love reading about Obama's healthcare plan and the Fatah conference, I could use a little fictionalized escape. I settle on two: Salman Rushdie's Fury and Ernest Hemingway's The Garden of Eden.

Now the Rushdie book's price is listed on the back in Pounds. I'm not sure I've ever seen this before. Usually the price of the books I peruse are listed separately in US and Canadian Dollars. So clearly it is a book that was originally sold in the UK, which seemed a bit odd to me. Before I could give it much thought, I make my purchase and head down to the subway to catch the N train home.

I begin reading on the train and next thing I know, I'm two chapters in and at my stop. I stuff my receipt just before chapter 2 and meander onto the platform to exit the station.

A few hours and several evening activities later, I settle onto my couch to continue reading. I'm mid-chapter 2 and shift the position of the book ever so slightly and out slides a small piece of paper from inside the book.

Puzzled, I hold up a London Underground 1 Day Travelcard from August 16, 2003. Huh?

I am so intrigued at this moment.

Whose ticket is this? I suddenly realize someone else owned and read this book. Well, duh, of course, it's used. But, now I have actual evidence. And they read it on "the tube."

What in the world does this ticket mean? Who does it belong to? As someone who tends to overthink things, I immediately wonder what I was doing on this date and its relation to me. Not wanting to lose my place in the story, I finish the chapter. Next I follow to peel through an old journal of mine. Rats, I started writing in it in November 2003. Next I realize I went to my first John Mayer concert in August 2003. I dig out the t-shirt I bought from the concert to look at the list of cities visited with the corresponding date. Rats, that was August 18, 2003. So what was I doing? Thinking perhaps a little historical context might help to remember, I google, "August 16 2003." I learn it is a Saturday. That was the day that power was restored in the blackout that struck the northeast for three days; but while the power went out in Niskayuna, where I now recall I was at the time, the power had gone back on Friday in Nisky. I don't think I was doing anything more than being a lazy bum that day. It was summer and I had finished an internship and a summer math class not too long before this, if my memory serves me right. Hmm. Perhaps I'll have to simply accept its connection to me isn't apparent for now.

And so, I have decided that once I finish reading the book, I will put a used up Metrocard inside, with the London Underground pass, and sell the book in a foreign city. Where should I go?