Protected: Once you go black… October 21, 2010
true life: i need my own reality show May 10, 2009
We were at Lava Lounge last night for Talia’s going away party (we’ll miss you, T!) and around 1:30 Keith and I left to come back to my house. As I’m walking up to my apartment door, I reach for my keys and I find they’re not there. And then suddenly I had a flashback. I had unhooked my keys from my purse to take the garbage out earlier and upon coming back in, I just threw them next to my purse thinking I’d just remember to grab them later. Except not.
“I effing forgot my keys in the house. Shit shit shit.”
As it was nearly 2am calling my landlord was not really an option. I mean I could have, I guess, but I would have then not only felt like an idiot, but guilty for waking them. Keith assured me that it wasn’t a big deal and we could go stay at his place, off we went.
Not really the end of the world, right? People get locked out all the time. My first lock-out is free, I had a place to stay, so really no biggie. But this is my life, so of course it gets better.
We wake up this morning and plan to go to lunch, so while Keith is in the shower, I go to grab my phone out of my bag to waste time. Except it’s not in my bag. Figuring it’s in his car, I watch tv instead. (sidebar: he has the coolest remote ever. It has a touch screen that says “watch tv” when the tv is off (which thank the FSM, because I doubt I’d have ever been able to figure it out otherwise.))
But anyway, a little later we go to get in his car and can’t find my phone. Back up to his apartment to tear the couch apart, no phone. Back to the car, calling and calling it. It’s ringing, but nowhere to be found.
And then I start to cry. There is no way I can afford a new phone, let alone a new iPhone. And to top it all off, I’m locked out of my house. My landlord’s phone number? In my phone.
I thought I had given my mom a copy of my lease (with the number) so I call her up and explain everything to her, crying the whole time. (Happy Mother’s Day!) She left work and went home and luckily found a copy. We decide just to drive back to my place and call the landlord.
Through all this, I can’t remember at all the last time I had seen my phone. I only remember reading a text after we left the bar, so I knew it wasn’t there. We had stopped twice between leaving my house and getting to his so I could go to the bathroom, so on the way back we stop and I run in and ask if they’ve found a phone.
“What kind?” the lady asks as she reaches in the drawer.
“An iPhone? It has a pink case?”
“We just have this one” she says, as she pulls out some Samsung phone that is neither pink nor mine.
I get back in the car and pretty much continue to weep the whole way back to my apartment. Keith was a total sweetheart and kept assuring me that it would be okay but all I could think of was the fact that it would be months before I could afford to replace my phone.
We get back to my apartment and park and I get out of the car with a tiny bit of hope that maybe I lost it when I got out of the car ~12 hours earlier and it would still be laying there. I mean it was ringing so it hadn’t been run over?
Walking up to the apartment I see something pinkish on the ground and my heart leaps, only to get closer and see that it’s a piece of plastic. We walk back and forth a few times and there is no sign of it.
We sit on the steps and wait for the guy to come let me in and I pout. The guy shows up a few minutes later and unlocks the door and we follow him into the basement to my apartment. He unlocks my door and I thank him and push the door open.
And see my phone.
Laying on the floor, right inside the door.
“Oh my god!” I screamed and quickly retold the saga to the maintenence guy.
“Man, and it’s an iPhone?”
“Yea, I figured it was gone forever, no one’s gonna return an iPhone.”
Except someone did.
I guess when we came back to my apartment last night, I somehow dropped it. Someone that lives in my building found it, somehow looked through it and found my name (facebook? text messages?). Then found my name on the mailbox and slipped it under my door.
I don’t even have the words to explain how shocked I was to see it laying there on the floor. (Little did the person know that I was locked out and couldn’t get to it, but they still did an amazing thing.) I wrote a note to them and stuck it by the mailboxes telling them to please let me know who they are so I can show them my appreciation in the form of baked goods. I really hope they let me know instead of chalking it up to a random act of kindness because I would love to repay them for saving my sanity and not keeping my phone.
People never cease to amaze me. And at least this time I say that without any sarcasm. I’m the luckiest girl in the world.