I’ve lost my phone.
Can’t find it.
I’VE LOST MY PHONE.
OK. You can panic now.
This pretty much sums up how I felt 5 minute after I realised that my phone and I were no longer in the same place. It happened several months ago but my pulse still races when I think of it. I was in Asheville, North Carolina. I’d driven an hour and half from Bristol, Virginia using the Google map phone app. It was a sunny spring day and I focussed on the Blue Ridge mountains shimmering in the sun rather than the route. I was singing along to Earth, Wind and Fire on the radio following the soothing voice providing directions without much thought.
A short while after arriving in Asheville, when I realised that I’d lost my phone, my brain lost its ability to think rationally. I couldn’t figure out how I’d get back to Bristol without it. Somehow I’d forgotten about the other sort of maps, or road signs. How could I find the police station without googling the location? I’d forgotten that I could just ask someone. I desperately wanted to talk to a reassuring friendly voice but how could I do that without a phone? My brain had no capacity to consider using a public phone. But I didn’t know any phone numbers because they were all in my contact list on my phone. Now that was a real problem.
I emptied my bag again, frantic to find a phone that wasn’t there the first time 3 times I looked. And then I remembered putting it on a table when I picked up a brochure in Asheville’s fancy shopping arcade. I went back but there was nothing on the table. My pulse quietened a little though.
In the store opposite the empty table, the owner said that someone had found a phone and had given it to a security guard. She pointed in the direction I should go. I almost hugged her.
I found the security guard a few minutes later and I did hug him.
Categories: An American Adventure