Found a $50 Bill in a Banana Costume
It was the middle of July and the heat in the company parking lot was absolutely suffocating. The asphalt was shimmering under the unrelenting sun, and the air felt thick enough to chew. Our annual company picnic was in full swing, though 'swing' might be an overstatement. There were rows of folding metal chairs arranged under a thin tent that provided very little actual shade. The company had promised an extra day of paid time off to whoever showed up in the most creative costume. I had my eyes on that prize. I wanted that extra day off so badly that I was willing to sacrifice my own comfort for it. That is how I found myself stuffed inside a giant, foam banana suit. It was, without a doubt, the most ridiculous thing I had ever put on my body. The costume was heavy, padded, and completely air-tight. Within five minutes of putting it on, I was drenched in sweat. Every time I breathed, the inside of the banana smelled like synthetic foam and my own panic. I looked like a giant, overripe fruit wandering around a corporate gathering, but I didn't care. I wanted to win. My coworker Brenda, who was sensible enough to show up in shorts and a tank top, walked past me holding a paper plate with a sad-looking burger on it. She looked me up and down, let out a loud laugh, and shook her head. She asked me if I had completely lost my mind. I told her I was just committed to the win. She teased me about the heat, pointing out that my face was turning a shade of purple that clashed horribly with the bright yellow polyester of my suit. I kept my focus. I navigated the picnic area, trying to ignore the way the foam brushed against my skin. The food was exactly what you would expect from a company picnic. There were dry burgers that had been sitting under heat lamps for way too long and potato salad that was dangerously lukewarm. Everyone else was miserable because of the heat, but I was in a league of my own. I stood out as this massive, bright yellow beacon. People kept stopping me to ask for pictures or to make jokes about slipping on me. It was exhausting, but I felt like I was holding my own in the competition. By the early afternoon, I decided to try my hand at the ring toss game near the back of the lot. It was a simple setup, just a few glass bottles arranged on a crate. My costume made this a monumental task. The eye hole was positioned in a way that restricted my peripheral vision, and the bulk of the foam meant I couldn't really bend my arms. I felt like a toddler learning to walk. I waddled up to the game, took a deep breath, and leaned over to get a better look at the target. As I leaned, I felt a strange, solid lump pressing against my thigh from inside the costume’s lining. It felt like something folded up and tucked away. I reached down into the deep, dark pocket of the suit, thinking it might be a scrap of foam or maybe a piece of candy left behind from the last person who rented it. My fingers brushed against paper. I pulled it out, and my heart skipped a beat. It was a crisp fifty-dollar bill. I stood there, frozen in my banana suit, holding fifty dollars in the middle of a parking lot. I blinked a few times, wondering if the heat had finally gotten to my brain and I was hallucinating. I looked around. No one seemed to be missing anything. A few people were laughing at me because I was just standing there, unmoving, staring at my hand. I felt like a character in a bad comedy movie. I walked over to my coworker Dave, who was busy trying to keep his beer cool with a wet napkin. I tapped him on the shoulder, which was hard to do since my arms were essentially giant yellow cushions. I showed him the money and asked if he knew where it came from. Dave looked at me, looked at the bill, and just laughed. He told me I was probably lucky that I was sweating so much because it was clouding my judgment. He had no idea where it came from. I even went over to the guy who ran the rental shop. He was sitting in his van, looking bored. I asked him if there was a hidden pocket in the suit or if someone had left money in it. He looked at me like I was insane. He told me he hadn't checked the pockets of the costumes in months and had no idea how it got there. For the next hour, I turned into a detective. I walked around the picnic asking people if they had lost any cash. I felt ridiculous, a giant banana asking people about their financial losses. Nobody claimed it. The day dragged on, the sun finally started to dip behind the trees, and the contest results were announced. I didn't win. Some guy who had glued salsa packets to a taco suit took the prize. I was annoyed for a split second, but then I looked down at the fifty dollars still clutched in my hand. I felt like I had won a lottery I didn't even enter. The drive home was a blur of relief as I finally peeled the sweaty, disgusting foam suit off my body. I felt lighter than I had in years. I sat in my living room, still wearing the clothes I had worn underneath the suit, and stared at the money on my kitchen table. It was the weirdest day of my professional life. Most work days involved spreadsheets, emails, and meetings that could have been avoided. This day involved a banana costume, a mysterious windfall, and the realization that sometimes life is just plain strange. I ended up having a nice dinner out on that fifty dollars a few days later, still laughing about the absurdity of it all. It turned out to be the best rental of my life.