In the fancy bar, I reached into my bag. Foursquare check-in time. Empty space. I was already not feeling it at the bar—and almost felt relieved to have an excuse to leave. A few scenarios went through my mind—I can use this to leave…I can excuse myself…I can use my loss as a way to return to the hotel.
And oddly enough, I didn’t panic, but in almost automated mode I turned to Cindy who drove us and calmly said, “I think that I left my phone in the car. Can I look?”
She and I walked to her car. I peered inside to the dark backseat only lit by the streetlamps. It was not there.
“Maybe it was in the hotel lobby,” I said slowly. “But it’s ok…we don’t have to drive back—I don’t want to keep you.”
“But your phone!” she exclaimed. “We have to get it!”
Slightly relieved, we drove back to the hotel—only 5 blocks away. For some reason, I was on automatic and I strolled to the lobby. And there it was. In the soft comfortable large lounge chair in the lobby that I had been sitting in only 15 minutes prior. It was in its cyan glory. Big. Impossible to miss. I swooped down and picked it up. Mine. Relieved that nobody turned it in…that nobody took it.
Then I wondered if the hotel people thought for a moment that I was taking something that wasn’t mine. But I was so happy that I didn’t have to think about it.
I got back in the car, satisfied. A little bit more happier that evening. And we went back to the bar. Where I checked in immediately.
hey world! I am here!