My (briefly) missing cell phone


kayla-pongrac (January 25, 2013)

My grandfather thinks that I spend too much time on my cellphone. So does my other grandfather. Two against one. Maybe they’re right.

I use my cellphone to text my friends, call my cousins, check my email, read my horoscope, respond to Facebook notifications, play Angry Birds, calculate my next college loan payment, spend money on eBay, compose my To-Do list and more. Much more.

Recently, when I went to see a movie at our local movie theater, I sat down with my bag of popcorn and reached for my cellphone. It wasn’t in my pocket.

I panicked. If I were to have swallowed a popcorn kernel, the tension in my stomach would have been enough to pop it.

Since the theater was dark, I had no choice but to blindly run my hands across the floor. Nothing.

My first thought was that I had lost all my contacts and all the little memos that I used to record some ideas I had for plays and poems. I was doomed.

I asked my friend if she had a flashlight in her purse.

“A what? Do you think I carry the whole entire world in my purse or something?” she asked. “Geesh.”

This wasn’t the time for an argument. I needed to find my phone. Visions of me trying to exist without my phone started to flutter around my brain like a dirty, annoying moth. There I was, sitting at Panera without my cellphone, looking lonely. There I was, sitting at Starbucks without my cellphone, looking lonely. There I was, shopping around The Galleria without my cellphone, looking lonely.

How could I possibly survive? My cellphone is like a baby in my pocket that I look after every single day. My cellphone loves me, and I love it back.

I kept searching on the floor with my bare hands as the opening credits of the movie began to play. Thank goodness my friend and I were the only ones in the theater.

“I’ll be right back,” I said. “I’m going to look in my car.”

I sprinted out of the movie theater the way I would sprint if someone made me watch the first scary scene of a scary movie.

I ran as fast as I could into the parking lot, feeling queasy as I spotted my car. What if my cellphone’s not in there? Then what? Huh? Huh? Huh?

I unlocked the driver’s side door. Yes! Yes! Yes! There it was, sitting in my cup holder, looking lonely and abandoned.

I wanted to hug my cell phone — give it one of those “I’m so happy we are reunited!” hugs. Instead, I took a deep breath and slipped it back into my pocket, right where it belonged, and I vowed to never leave my phone in my cup holder again.

Oh, and just in case you’re wondering, the movie was good, just like the “Flixster” app on my cellphone told me it would be.

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