By Merlin Lessler —<\/p>\n
My friend Rick lost his cell phone the other day. I won\u2019t mention his last name, but if you want your wood floor refinished I\u2019ll give you his number.<\/p>\n
He was in a panic. Well, not actually a panic; he\u2019s pretty even tempered. Let\u2019s just say he was concerned. He went through the house and his truck. No luck! Then he extended his search to the places he had been that morning. First the grocery store. Nobody had turned it in. Over to Home Central; not there. Then across the tracks to Scott Smith and Son where he had gassed up. Nothing doing! He knew he had it when he was there because he remembered checking his messages.<\/p>\n
He did a lot that morning; a week\u2019s worth of stuff for me. Finally he went back home and gave it an FBI search. Nothing! He stood there scratching his head, \u201cWhat am I missing?\u201d<\/p>\n
Then it hit him, the chest freezer in the basement. He had put some groceries in there. Without much hope he pulled up the lid. There it was, peeking out from under a package of ground beef.<\/p>\n
We\u2019ve all had this experience, usually with a similar outcome. But not always! Sometimes it\u2019s gone forever.<\/p>\n
I lost one on a train ride to Florida. I\u2019d discovered it was missing when I got to the room we had rented. I knew I\u2019d lost it on the train. I used my computer to track it down. Sure enough, it was on the train traveling north through Georgia.<\/p>\n
I called Amtrak. In hopes they could check the seat I\u2019d been in and get it. I won\u2019t get into what a nightmare that process turned into. Bottom line, I watched the phone go north to the auto-train station in Virginia, and then head south again. Then it disappeared. Lost forever. Wedged down in the seat cushion on an Amtrak train.<\/p>\n
I like Rick\u2019s story better.<\/p>\n