no teléfono

Sometime on Thursday evening I lost my mobile. I know I had it going to Troika because I talked to Kennedy when I was a couple blocks away. I also remember turning it off before the shows started. What happened after that is a mystery.

When I got home much later that night, I retraced my steps. I had it at the Ric-Rac. I know that. But did I leave it there somehow? Did I not put it in my bag or in my pocket? This I do not know. After Troika a bunch of us caught a ride with AJ down to Sal's on 12th to go dancing. Recon reports that the phone did not stow itself away in his car. Both phone calls and physical day trips to Sal's produced fruitless results. They about laughed at the idea that someone would turn in a mobile phone.

Come to think of it though, if that phone was lost at Sal's, I don't know that I'd want it back. As the night grew late, water began to collect on the dance floor and in front of the restrooms. The floor drain became clogged and levels started to rise. It was not pretty. If my phone was swimming in that water... never would it touch my ear again.

Repeated calls to the phone confirms that it is indeed off (perhaps destroyed by now). My online account shows no usage.

So c'est la vie my little phone. You tiny little thing. Who knows where you are at. You and your backlight that worked 10% of the time. You who were smaller than my hand. I prefer to think that you are off somewhere, living a good life. A nice place in the country, with room to run and a good family. How cruel it is to think that this simple pastoral place that brings you so much joy is probably out of network.

Mr. Samsung SGH-S307 frolicking in brighter pastures.