A Small Freak Out
It was a mad rush to the airport, my alarm didn’t go off, my bags were not packed, I ran through security, was the last person on the plane, crammed into my seat, they closed the cabin door, I took a deep breath, I made it, the stewardess announced to turn off all wireless devices, and I reached into my pocket to turn off my phone, and it wasn’t there.
My new Blackberry 8830 which was no more than a week old was sitting in a gray plastic tray at the security check point because in my frenzied state to make it on the plane I got distracted taking my computer out, my shoes off, crumbling my jacket in a tray, removing all my metal, the plane about to leave, the passengers behind me angry that I’m slowing up the line, and I had 4.2 ounces of illegal toiletries hidden in the bottom of my bag that needed to be checked for explosives.
And because of it I left my phone in that little fucking plastic tray. And now, I’m sure some TSA agent has already claimed it as his own, wiped out my contacts, and was making drug deals and calling his 16 grandmothers in the Dominican Republic.
And now here I am, the plane about to take off, and my phone is back there, like it was a four year old son I left in the mall. How fucking stupid am I? I should get off the plane, get my phone and catch the next flight. But I don’t want to make a scene, after all it’s just a phone. But what if it’s something more? What if it’s a sign that my plane is going to crash and getting that phone is going to be the thing that saves my life. I want off the plane. It’s going to crash. I can’t breath. I’m sweating. I’m going to die.
I can’t calm myself down, I’m scaring the passenger sitting next to me, who clearly knows that there’s something wrong with me because nobody ever trusts the passenger sitting next to them anymore.
I want off the plane. And now I can’t because we’re already rushing down the runway and lifting off. And everyone is watching Direct Tv and nobody knows what I know the plane is going to blow up. We’re all going to die. I left my phone at security, and it was a fucking sign from God that I shouldn’t be on the plane, and I didn’t listen.
The stewardess is walking down the aisle, the seat belt sign is still on. She’s looking at me, like she knows I know. She stops at my aisle, her face says it all. She withdraws something from her pocket.
“Sir I think you dropped this when you got on the plane.” She hands me my phone. I can’t believe it, I didn’t leave it at security. I breathe easily, the plane isn’t going to crash. I passed out for the next 5 hours.
