I had a friend from high school visiting here a couple weeks ago. What I remember most about that visit centers on our memories. Not memories from times in high school—I mean our memories. We’ve lost them.
We spent half of our time together trying to remember if we had our cellphones with us—and by the end of the weekend, we both lost things—her sunglasses and my iPad.
I didn’t identify her; (just call her “D”) but I wrote a post about this. And another friend from high school, Gail, emailed me to ask who it was. When they saw each other afterwards, they had a few laughs at D’s expense.
So now coincidentally Gail happens to be out in California, too. (It sounds as if everyone from my high school is suddenly visiting California, I only wish it happened more often.)
She’s in town tonight; so I pick her up at her hotel and we go out to dinner. I won’t even go into how great it is to connect with old friends—but it is.
Anyway, after dinner I drop her off at her hotel, I drive home, and I get a call from her hotel room 15 minutes later. “I think I left my cell phone in your car.”
So I get my keys and go out to check the car. I also take MY phone to call hers in case it’s in the car. (I have a feeling this little routine might sound familiar to some people reading this.) I turn on the lights inside the car, check under the seat, check everything. I don’t make a sound in case it was set on vibrate so I can hear it. Nothing. It’s not in the car.
While I’m checking the car, Gail is calling the restaurant. We had looked at her pictures at dinner so we know she had the phone then. They claim it’s not there.
This is getting confounding. Gail retraces her steps from where I dropped her off until she got back to her room. Meanwhile I go back outside again to the car with my phone. And I go through the same routine I just did—turn on the lights, check all over the car; and call her phone again while I’m out there. Nothing.
I call the hotel again to tell Gail the bad news. And then I try the restaurant. By now it’s late and they don’t answer. But I feel terrible about this and slightly guilty that it happened on my turf.
I call her hotel again (I’m now on friendly terms with the desk clerk) and I tell Gail I’m driving back to the restaurant where I’m sure they must still be cleaning up and I plan to go in and look around myself.
So I go back out to the car and the first thing I do when I get in is to call Gail’s phone again.
And then a miracle happens. I hear it ring—-so loud and clear as if it’s right next to me. And it is.
HER phone is in MY purse. (which I did not take with me when I went out twice before to check the car).
The great news is that unlike the iPad and sunglasses; this story has a happy ending. For Gail, who got her phone. And for me, who showed up at Gail’s hotel just now with the phone and found her waiting for me with some chocolate.
But there are still some lingering questions.
Which one of us put HER phone in MY purse?
I know Gail thinks it’s me.
Which friend is more embarassed right now—Gail or D?
And: exactly how much did we drink with dinner?
The biggest question is whether any other friends from high school will ever want to visit me again now that I’m like a memory Typhoid Mary.
Probably that’s a moot point. At the rate I’m going, pretty soon not only will I not remember what happened to my friends’ phones, I won’t remember them.