Wow, I have been so bad at not hitting the shiny little publish button, and keeping these gems to myself. Please proceed.
Everyone warned me I would cry on the subway, I took it a step forward and walked around the city cursing at the sidewalk like I had turrets. Then I got lost and blamed the universe for my problems.
I forgot my phone, which usually isn’t the worst thing in the world, but apparently, unless you carry around maps the size of your mother’s linens then you will need Google Maps. (Or Apple Maps if you want to be told to drive into a river.)
I was meeting a friend at The Wing, a women and non-binary people coworking space. If I had my phone I would’ve taken many photos. But then I wouldn’t have this darling story for your viewing pleasure.
I realized I didn’t have my phone when I stepped off the subway. I was meeting my friend ten minutes from then and couldn’t turn around. I rushed into the nearest coffee shop to steal their WiFi because luckily I had my laptop.
I thought I was a genius, I thought I had hacked the system of forgetting your phone at home. I was deeply proud of this and scorned all of the articles about millennials and their lack of #streetsmarts.
I tried to memorize the map on my laptop before closing it and running down the street. I vastly underestimated how hidden offices can be, tucked away between retail spaces. Construction crews lingered in the sidewalk. I continued to walk up and down to no avail.
This is when the cursing began. Close to tears I sucked it in and used it as fuel for my rage. Strangers gave me a wide berth on the crosswalk as I spoke loudly of my horrible turn of events as if someone would stop and ask if I needed help.
I was lost and sweaty and in a business skirt.
After many runs back and forth to steal WiFi from unsuspecting business owners, I found the entrance. It really was a utopia. Mainly because no one gave a shit that I simply couldn’t have worn enough deodorant to mask my defeat. I stank. All was good again as I sipped water from my personal carafe only an hour late. Not bad.
***
Except, that wasn’t the end of this tale! I managed to get lost ON THE WAY HOME! Because it wasn’t my home, it was one of the many AirBnBs we were crashing at while awaiting board approval for our apartment. Therefore I didn’t remember the address and used landmarks to retrace my steps like I was on the Oregon Trail, with less disease and more WiFi hotspots.
I still didn’t cry though. However, this shame is probably deeply embedded in my skin and will appear in the form of a mole 20 years from now.
The End.