But What About the Lottery Ticket?!

You're probably wondering, what happened with the lottery ticket?

You know, the one that the man placed carefully in my guitar case during the hour that I was busking for UNICEF (when I wasn't supposed to be).

Needless to say, I had the story all worked out in my mind.

Despite having my noble charitable campaign shut down (by a perfectly reasonable regulation, I might add) I would have, miraculously, been busking for the one precious hour that was required for a generous stranger to donate THE lottery ticket that would turn out to be worth millions.

I would of course donate the proceeds to the tsunami relief effort and become known as The World's Most Honest Busker.

A movie would be made about the experience (Julia Roberts would be cast as me) and the substantial buyout would be enough to support our family in fine style for the rest of our lives (while also financing several more CDs).

Breathlessly (and flinging off my fashionable scarf while tossing my auburn curls as only Julia could do), I rushed into the house and burrowed into my backpack to find the precious ticket. (I had been too cautious to risk looking at it in the subway, lest it be spirited away by the subterranean wind.)

Now, I'm the first to admit that I don't know how lottery tickets work.

Part of the reason I've never bought one is that I've been too embarrassed to ask the clerk at the convenience store what exactly I'm supposed to do. (Pick? Scratch? Give up now?)

But even I could read.

And so I read, in plain capital letters on my Ticket to The Most Generous Ethical Choice of All Time (And Movie Deal), the following words:

THIS IS NOT A TICKET.