Last Friday started out to be a beautiful, easy-going summer day, but what I thought was going to be a routinely happy weekend changed with a few unforeseen setbacks — a destroyed phone and a destroyed car.
We had finished the paper that morning, which around here sometimes means we can start celebrating the weekend. Mandi, our associate editor, and I were off to lunch at Iowa’s Best Burger Cafe in Kellogg, but first I had to get gas and stop by Skiff to get my mom four orders of oven-roasted vegetables. She just can’t get enough of those things.
I stopped by Rick’s Amoco to fill up my tank since it was pay day. I was wearing this pretty little navy dress and a jacket with no pockets. I get bored easily, so I thought I’d do something productive while I fill up my tank (besides check Facebook) and pay my phone bill over the phone. I have Sprint, which I’m not too fond of, but they have the easiest pay-over-the-phone service — of course they get that right.
My car was still filling up when a motorcycle pulled up behind me. He smiled, which was nice, but I felt as if he was eagerly waiting for me to move so he could fill up his bike and hit the highway. Who could blame him? The pump stopped. I rushed to close the gas release and off I went in my car. Besides, I had another errand to run before I could eat the best burger in Iowa. Today was looking good.
I sat at the stop light thinking I had forgotten something, but I talked myself out of it. Two blocks later I suddenly remembered that I had left my phone on the top of my car due to a lack of pockets. I panicked. Wanting to get out of the car so badly, I nearly pulled over on Fourth Street, but the traffic was too heavy. I had to pull off on a side street.
I looked and there was nothing on the roof of the car. My heart sunk. I rushed back to where I came from, and there it was, a beautiful shattered mess right in the middle of the street.
It appeared to have fallen off when I had turned onto the street, leaving the gas station, and it also appeared that I had hit it myself.
I don’t know about you, but I’m sort of attached to my phone. After I ran the errand for my mom and picked Mandi up at work, my only next priority for the day was to get a new phone.
We took Highway 6 to the burger cafe and talked about how society, including ourselves, have become dependent on these little electronic devices.
Wouldn’t it be wonderful if we weren’t always so accessible every minute of the day?
We missed the days where if you wanted to get a hold of someone, you called their house or workplace in emergency. You were patient. You were understanding.
We talked about how hard it is for younger generations to refrain from using their phones and join a conversation that doesn’t revolve around a post, photo or video.
We got to the burger cafe, and I made a call to Sprint with Mandi’s phone. They informed me that with Apple Care (insurance) that I could get a new phone, I just had to go to the nearest Apple Store to get it. Thankfully, Iowa has an Apple Store in West Des Moines.
We left Kellogg, I dropped Mandi off at the office and hit the interstate.
I felt lost without my phone — to check the time, to see if I had a message. I couldn’t call anyone to tell them what happened. It was a strange, lonely feeling. I felt lost, but it was temporary. Thankfully, I could go back to days without using my phone, and it was comforting.
I turned up the radio (kept it on the classic rock station the entire way) put the window down and forgot about everything else. It was pure bliss, pure freedom. My day just got a lot better.
Suddenly, I remembered that Mandi and I had left lunch without even paying — an unintentional dine and dash. We ate, talked and walked out thinking about how satisfied we were. It didn’t even occur to us that we were forgetting anything. I couldn’t call Mandi or the burger cafe to inform them of our mistake, and I laughed at the series of events. (Mandi called and paid over the phone.)
Nothing was going to ruin this sunny summer weekend, I thought.