Today, when I was at the Historic Eagle Hotel, in the former banquet room, there was a knock at the inner door. I opened it. A woman on the far side asked if I might unlock the locked bathroom door; by way of explanation, she said that she thought she left her cellphone in there. I did not ask her why she thought she left her cellphone in the bathroom. This seemed like an odd place to leave it. Plus, the bathroom is seldom cleaned, making it a grody bathroom. I go in there only when nature is screaming in my ear.

Rather than say the above, I said that I’d have done the same thing, well knowing that skanky bathroom is the last place in the world I’d enter with cellphone in hand or pocket.

I was heading back to work when I heard a yelp of joy. I turned around to see the woman come out of the bathroom – she was hugging her cellphone close to her chest. Not a wise thing to do, I thought, thinking that she should have first disinfected it.

But right then, I felt envious, and in fact wished that I was her. The reason was because I’d misplaced my cellphone the night before or early yesterday morning. I felt what she felt, like I’d lost something extremely important.

I don’t have a love/hate relationship with my cellphone. I just hate it. I have one because others have one. I wish we’d all agree to part company with them. I’d suggest tossing them into the ocean, but marine life has no use for them. Oddly enough, they communicate just fine without them, so why not us?

The new normal (and I dislike that cliched phrase) is to text others or talk on the phone. This new normal is very, very rude, but we don’t consider our addictive behavior to be rude because everyone does this.

So tonight, I found my cellphone in the pocket of my quasi backpack, in the side pocket. I never put anything in here because the zipper is busted. I had looked high, low, and sideways for it. I’d convinced myself it was gone forever – and I had finally accepted the consequences, which was to tell Pete that I needed to go and get a new one. Gulp. This would have gone over like a killer whale jumping backwards.

I thought before I lost it that I’d have to call Pete and get a ride home from the hotel – I’d stayed late, and because it was dark out. I didn’t want to drive home. I ended up borrowing another late night volunteer’s phone.

Now if Pam hadn’t been there, I would not have connected with Pete, and I’d have ended up spending the night at the Historic Eagle Hotel; either that, or I would have attempted to drive home. Neither option was good.

Odd, we can’t go back in time to a time when phone calls were made at the corner booth. I do wonder – what happened to Dr. Who and the Targus

I now have the phone in hand, and again, again, again, I have vowed not to lose it. But I will again, again, again, lose it and find it. Maybe someone will someday envy me.

Next: 294. 10/26/23: Good Health