Every now and then you make a mistake and then find yourself entirely dependent on the actions of others to get it fixed. As much as you might want to make things right yourself, you’re forced to sit back and hope for the best from someone else. Such was the case this past Labor Day, when my wife was so eager to deplane from our return flight home that she left her iPhone in the seat pocket in front of her. When you realize the magnitude of this kind of mistake – and it hits you after you’re long gone from the airport – it kind of takes your breath away.
Let’s be fair. Leaving things on planes is not my wife’s specialty; it’s mine. I’ve left everything from reading glasses to a Kindle e-Reader to a really nice pair of Bose headphones behind, a sort of “Merry Christmas” to those who clean the planes. So my wife would be forgiven for her audible gasp when she realized her out-of-character mistake. And my mind promptly went to the consequences of her actions: a) A trip to the Apple Store more than an hour from our house, b) The purchase price of a new iPhone, and c) The likelihood my wife hadn’t backed up her left-behind phone (and all those precious granddaughter photos).
As it almost always does, the problem-solver in me shifted into high gear. I realized my wife had shared her (iPhone) location with me, which meant my phone could see if her phone was still on the plane. So I had her check my phone (since I’m a responsible driver) and guess what? Not only was her phone not on the plane anymore, it was moving. Down the airport concourse, away from the plane, boldly in the direction of the free world beyond.
At this point two more thoughts entered my mind. One (sadly, the first one), whomever cleans the plane pocketed the phone and was casually on their way out the door, with hopes of breaking through the passcode and wreaking havoc. Or two, an employee of the airline was carefully shepherding the phone to the front counter, where maybe-just-maybe they’d make an effort to contact my wife.
Why wait for either scenario to play out? I told my wife, “Call your phone”. Which she did, and guess who answered? Honest Jane. Okay, Honest Jane wasn’t her real name, but after the conversation that followed it really could’ve been. “HJ” was walking down the concourse towards the front counter, phone in hand, where she intended to check the flight record for contact information for my wife. Pretty sure this long stroll from airplane to counter wasn’t part of Jane’s regular job description. But she made it sound like a walk in the park – happy to do so. Were we still at the airport (and with my wife’s approval), I would’ve kissed HJ on the cheek.
Instead, more options. Do we turn the car around and go back to the airport, rescuing the phone but adding another three hours to our drive home? Or do we ask HJ for a more convenient solution? I chose Door #2. HJ thought for a minute as she continued her walk and then said, “Well, you could set up a personal FedEx account, create a shipping label addressed to yourself, overnight the label to here, and then you’d get your phone back in a day or two.” Well bless your heart HJ, you’re a problem-solver too!
As of this post I’m happy to report my wife’s phone has been reunited with its owner. All means of texting, social media, and exchanging of granddaughter photos has resumed. But a question remains: What to do about HJ… or more to the point, how to thank Jane for her Honesty? Trust me (and trust HJ while you’re at it), I’ll come up with something. After all, Honest Jane’s a rare breed. She deserves an attagirl.
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LEGO Neuschwanstein Castle – Update #6 (read about the start of this project in Fit for a (Fairy Tale) King)
Normally I’d update you on my latest efforts of castle construction, followed by a brief commentary on the movie soundtrack I chose for my background music. Today I must cover both topics together. For the second Indiana-based movie in as many weeks (alongside Rudy), we have Breaking Away (1979). This “little” movie and its heartwarming story will always be one of my favorites. Now if only I could say the same about its score.
Bags 11 and 12 (of 23 bags of pieces) started out innocently enough, with the creation of one of Neuschwanstein’s spectacular towers. But like Breaking Away‘s soundtrack, things went quickly south. After finishing the tower I realized I’d left off an entire level, which meant deconstructing almost back to the bricks at the base to get it right. At the same time I realized several windows from prior construction were out of alignment, which meant even more deconstruction.
Normally I’d take these missteps in stride but the Breaking Away soundtrack was really, really getting on my nerves. I forgot one giant detail about the music – it’s all opera, and it’s all in Italian. Words of advice: don’t try linking foreign language operatic soloes to particular moments you remember in movies – it doesn’t go well. Well, except for M’appari tutt’amor from Act III of the comic opera Martha. It’s the film’s signature solo and the song the lead character chooses as a serenade to a college girl he can never have. This captivating scene, and so many more like it, is what makes Breaking Away an unforgettable film. Just don’t bother with the soundtrack afterwards.
Running build time: 6:33
Total leftover pieces: 43
Life In A Word 