What started as an easy-breezy Sunday Funday that began in the afternoon ended up becoming a gradually menacing Sunday evening.
There’s something refreshing, and humbling, about being reminded that you are, in fact, far from perfect.
Here’s the story.
Long ago, I established, at least among my friends and family, that I was the responsible one. It came effortlessly. The organization in my mind was my oxygen. My need to keep everything in order was…well, okay, obsessive-compulsive.
But I was self-aware.
I had a decent sense of spatial awareness. I was alert. I generally knew where my things were. At all times.
Well, as it turns out, last weekend was one of those reality checks life casually throws at you when you least expect them. I had a flight to catch out of Philadelphia International Airport. As it has happened more often than I’d like to admit, I was running on a tight schedule, so I essentially ran to my gate — only to find out minutes later that my flight was delayed for nearly two hours.
But my peace of mind had already been disturbed. All the rushing and tiredness I’d been feeling earlier hit me at once. My mind felt like a maze. So I scanned the airport for a quiet corner. I sat back and rested my eyes, just minding my own business among a small crowd of other exhausted travelers.
I thought I had everything under control. But apparently, my memory didn’t.
I don’t know exactly where the time went, or where my mind went with it. Or when I took out my laptop. But apparently, I did. (And I could not piece it together since.)
I started getting anxious about having to wait around for a delayed flight. I wanted to write, but my memory of everything happening around me was already becoming a blur, so I decided to focus on the present. And by “focus on the present,” I mean I started scrolling. And forgot everything beyond that point. Everything after that is now a blur.
Back at the airport, it was time to board.
I got on the plane, and at some point, one of the flight attendants brought my bag to my attention. She asked me to put it underneath the seat instead of leaving it in the overhead compartment because it was “small.” I did what she asked, with a wandering mind. There was this nagging thought in the back of my head that my bag was indeed lighter. It looked smaller, too.
But I couldn’t figure out why.
A little while later, I moved the bag underneath my seat. And that’s when I started having doubts. This bag. I knew something was off. I just couldn’t pinpoint exactly what. I didn’t open it because nothing quite rang a bell. My brain apparently decided this was not an emergency.
Two and a half hours later, I landed at my final destination.
I grabbed my bag and still had that nagging feeling that it was too light. That something was missing. I sat on the shuttle for the three-minute ride and exhaled. Suddenly, I needed to reach for something in my bag. And that’s when I finally noticed what was missing. My laptop!
Needless to say, the same anxiety I’d felt at the Philly airport earlier that day came roaring back in full swing.
Except now I had a new problem. I knew exactly what was missing. And that alone was a deadly thought.
As writer, your first thought is: all my work! (that’s before you remember the Cloud, of course). And then it’s just the privacy of it all. I had absolutely no idea where I left it and that made it worse.
My first instinct was to retrace my steps mentally:
The gate.
The quiet corner.
The scrolling.
The waiting.
The boarding.
The flight.
The bag.
My brain went through the timeline of its life — like a detective reviewing security footage. Except the detective was tired, the footage was missing, and apparently the suspect was me.
I contacted the PHL airport Lost & Found department as soon as I noticed my mistake. I tried to remember where I had been sitting. I replayed the entire afternoon in my head.
Nothing.
Then came the part where technology became both my best friend and my biggest tormentor. Find My!
Of course — how didn’t I think of it right away?
So I opened my Find My App — one of Apple’s greatest features ever — and an enormous sense of relief came over me when I found out that, although it was nowhere near me, my MacBook was looping around between gates back in Philly.
Watching that little dot sitting there and then move, hours later, was torturous, though. Because there is something uniquely maddening about knowing exactly where something is while being completely unable to reach it. And boy, did I need to reach it.
But my laptop was alive, it seemed. Somewhere in Philadelphia, as I watched from Miami. But there, alive and well.
How it was rescued is a story for another day. But for now, I am grateful.
It’s now been almost a week since my laptop and I parted ways. A week. That’s at least a year in writer’s years. I thought about having it mailed back to me, but after family asked me if I wanted to keep risking it, I thought I’ll just fly back to get it.
It’s been a lesson though. So much for spatial awareness. But seriously, I’ve had to accept that sometimes being the responsible one doesn’t mean you’ll never lose anything. Apparently, lost items don’t always find you, but luckily mine did.
Sometimes, you have to Find My them. Sometimes, you’re just caught in a haze. Literally. Because life forgives no mind.
Still, there is a happy ending. My laptop and I are planning to reunite soon. And until then, I’ll be writing these long notes on short devices that tire my eyes. Because such is life!