Dear Editor,
While performing my usual arriving home ritual: placing packages on table, coat, and keys on hooks, I realized my cellphone was no longer on my hip.
I became consumed with terror, as I raced out the door to begin retracing my route, but found nothing.
My next thought was I have to report it lost and suspend my service.
I was close to the 91原创 Library, so I went to the desk, explained my problem, and asked to use the phone, which was met with a no.
I explained it wasn鈥檛 a social call, I only needed to report a lost phone and suspend service.
Still no.
Walking out, it seemed odd during the planning and recent transformation of the building, no thought was given to an emergency only phone.
My next stop was in the Coast Hotel, at the Casino.
I waited patiently while the man at the desk finished his call, explained my situation, and asked to use the house phone.
He said they didn鈥檛 have a house phone. Our eyes glanced down in unison to the phone he鈥檇 just been using. Then back at each other. Then with the pacing of someone who may or may not be having a stroke, he stammered on, 鈥� oh... that phone... no... no... you can鈥檛 use that phone... that phone doesn鈥檛 work like that...鈥�
鈥淵ou can鈥檛 just dial 9 or something and give me an outside line?鈥� I asked.
鈥淣o... this phone doesn鈥檛 do that,鈥� he countered.
I turned and walked away mumbling an expletive which may or may not included directions to where he could put his phone.
I stopped a casino podium, explained my situation, and asked to use the courtesy phone, only to be told they don鈥檛 have one.
鈥淲e used to have one,鈥漢e said, 鈥渂ut we had to take it away because people were using it for 鈥榦ther things鈥�. There鈥檚 a pay phone at the Greyhound station, you can use that one.鈥�
鈥淭hanks,鈥� I said.
Despair washed over me, as I stared through the locked door into the inky blackness, to the bus depot.
With all hope of finding my phone fading, along with daylight, I decided to check behind the building, where I stumbled on a nest of 鈥楧eploreables鈥�.
I studied their habits for several minutes, before approaching what I assumed the dominate male, since the stickers on his skateboard were all still intact.
(At 56, I have no need for the things they sell, and in most cases don鈥檛 even understand the lingo).
He handled the pay phone with skills of a journeyman, stopping just long enough between calls to fish a series of phone numbers written on tiny scraps of paper from various pockets.
The whole time leaving the receiver dangling by the cord.
鈥淎re you done?鈥� I asked.
鈥淥h do you want to use the phone? Go ahead,鈥� and he stepped aside.
It only took a couple minutes to suspend service. I hung up and said 鈥渢hanks, man.鈥�
鈥淣o problem,鈥� he replied.
I walked into the night wondering how odd it was the most courteous person I met all day was a drug dealer behind a bus station.
Tim Attwood, 91原创 City
