Everything
was going so well. I was on my way to Wednesday
lunch with my theater peeps. The sun was shining. The birds were singing! Happy, happy, happy!
And it was
going to be a fabulous Wednesday Lunch! We were trying out a new
pizza place downtown.
Life was
good!
I was on
time for once! And I found a parking
spot in front of the restaurant! I even had
change for the meter!
Certainly a trifecta of good fortune!
I was
singing a happy show tune as I jumped out of my car and headed toward the
parking meter, unaware that my Blackberry (actually, my employer's Blackberry), had tumbled out of my purse.
Allow me to
shift gears for a moment. Have you ever
played Foosball? I've never been particularly good at
it.
In fact, the only time I manage to get a
ball into the slot is when I am playing defense, and I accidentally kick the ball
backwards into my own goal.
I was good
at Foosball on that particular Wednesday.
Imagine my cell phone as the ball.
And the opening in the curb, that leads toward the bowels of Columbia,
SC as the goal.
The slow
motion instant replay would go something like this: I kick something with my foot. I look down in horror, just in time to see my
phone slide toward the goal, about to score 2 points. I scream.
H-O-L-Y-S-T-I-N-K-I-N-G-C-R-A-P!
C-O-M-E-B-A-C-K!
I tried to
follow the phone into Never-never-land, but I could only get half of one foot into it. I
knelt down and looked in.
It was very dark down there.
I imagined
rats. Rats with friends in China making
long distance phone calls that would be charged back to my cost center at work.
At
work! Holy Crap! What would I tell my boss? "I've got some bad news and some good
news...and some bad news. I lost my
Blackberry. But I know exactly where it
is. Under Gervais Street."
No. That would not work.
At the risk
of dragging out an already long blog, let me just say that I noticed a Columbia
fireman leaving the pizza place. His
name was Michael. Strong, handsome, Michael. Did I mention Michael's muscles?
I took Michael to the scene of the debacle. Strong, handsome and resourceful Michael borrowed a crow bar from the driver of a pick-up truck parked across the street, used it to
open a man hole, and jumped in.
Did you hear
me?
He jumped in.
And he disappeared under the street.
The next
thing I saw was a hand poking out of the manhole, holding my Blackberry. Then he rose out of that manhole like he was
Mary Stinkin' Poppins.
Now if I had
climbed into a manhole, I would need an elevator to get out. Or a pogo stick. And it would not be pretty. I would be covered in dirt. My clothes would
be destroyed.
There would be blood everywhere.
But
thankfully, Fireman Michael came to my rescue. Strong, handsome, resourceful, sweet Michael.
I thanked him profusely.
And asked
him if he would carry me to my car.
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