Ammo Grrrll continues her travelogue with Visiting My People– Part 5, Lost in America. As always with her weekly column, previous installments of this series can be accessed by inputting “Grrrll” in our search engine. She writes:
I was unable to leave any of my worldly goods strewn across the Heartland, like breadcrumbs pointing the way home. But not for lack of effort.
I have previously mentioned leaving my Nexus in Guthrie, Oklahoma –- charging merrily away on the desk in my hotel room — with its Candy Crush and many beloved book titles on it –- Donald E. Westlake in abundance, John D. McDonald, Vince Flynn, Lee Child – plus Power Line, Iowahawk, The Weekly Standard, Steynonline and Ace of Spades. I realized my error an hour down the road and considered returning but was loath to lose two hours in the effort. I called the hotel; they retrieved the Nexus from my room and held it in their safe for my return. Problem solved. It was undoubtedly a subconscious attempt to break the heroin-like grip that Candy Crush had on me. Sounds better than carelessness or stupidity.
Steeled in a new resolve to look after my belongings, I was baffled by the next mislaid object which happened to be my eyeglasses. Oh well, I reasoned, since I now had nothing to read anyway, to quote Madame Secretary, “What difference does it make at this point?” Besides, I had two backup pairs with me, only slightly more out-of-date than the lost pair. I tend to have annual medical exams of all kinds roughly every 8-10 years except for colonoscopies which I schedule without fail every 50. At least at eye exams they don’t weigh you.
My distance vision is 20/10. If I hang the menu 21 feet away like a target, I can read it just fine. Alternatively, I could ask the server for his opinion and then I could be the one to say “Excellent choice!” with enthusiasm. Not to brag, but, I’m batting 1.000 in making “excellent” choices in restaurants.
Apparently the glasses fell out of my always-attractive fanny pack (it’s black and goes with anything…) when I inadvertently left a pocket unzipped. This occurred in the Ft. Worth Renaissance Hotel. They were not in the Lost and Found. But the next day, they just appeared on a table in a common area on the 8th floor! By that time I had picked up my travel companion for the last leg from Texas back to Arizona and she noticed the glasses and said, “Are these yours?” Woo-hoo! Two for two!
A Protestant minister acquaintance of mine had a devoutly religious mother whose zeal made him look like an atheist. Which judging by the number of SJW ministers I’ve known, he probably was. Anyhow, his mother believed fervently in all the saints and prayed to them regularly. She never traveled without St. Christopher, loyal even after his humiliating demotion. I learned that St. Anthony is the patron saint of lost objects and his mother would routinely look heavenward and yell, “Tony, Tony, look around! Something’s lost and must be found!” Evidently, she was on a first-name, and even nickname basis with several of your top saints: Tony, Joey, Terri, Aggie, Francie, Petey, etc.
Well, Tony is a very ecumenical fellow, because he was on the look-out for a nice Jewish lady for 4500 miles.
Tony barely broke a sweat with the next incident. At the Smokestack Restaurant in Thurber, TX (pop. 5), my brain was bloated with THE best biscuits and gravy I had ever tasted. That, and possibly global warming, cooling, whatever, caused me to leave my cellphone on the table for only the second time in 10 years. But the waiter caught up with me before I had even finished paying at the cash register. Good gravy!! (Literally.) I was beginning to fear I could not travel any more without constant supervision. When I was a kid, I had all my mittens on strings. I need some kind of tether with everything attached and a taser to zap me gently when an item is off the string.
There was one final disturbing example wherein I THOUGHT I had left a favorite hoodie from my C2 Tactical Range in a restaurant just 200 miles from home – soooo close! – but it turned out I had put it in the trunk after all, so I choose not to count that one. In fact, I’m sorry I mentioned it, painting me as it does not just as distracted but slightly demented as well. Now don’t you feel good about yourself? You’re welcome.
If you guessed that when my BFF left Arizona after four more fun days of gabbing and shooting, she left HER cellphone in my car on the way to the airport, you would be correct. And she is eleven days younger than I am, though 8 minutes older than her twin. At the time of this writing we were on Day Three of a popular “overnight” carrier attempting to reunite her with it in a comedy of errors and incompetence, for once not mine. Saint Anthony, who was stressed out and fed up with us, was on a well-deserved vacation in Vegas. Luckily, nobody ever loses anything there. But watch out for the exercise equipment in Nevada. It’ll put your eye out.
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