Not So Smartphone, Part 3

| Dublin, Ireland | Friendly | May 24, 2016

(It’s the end of my hen weekend (bachelorette party) and my sisters and I are a little hungover. The last thing I have planned for the weekend is afternoon tea with all the ladies in my family. We are in my sister’s apartment waiting for my mam to pick us up, chatting with her flatmate.)

Sister: “I’m so glad Mam is giving us a lift; I am dying after last night.”

Flatmate: “Seems like you’ve had a good weekend, all right!”

Me: “Mam’s here, time to go.”

(We say bye to her flatmate and head in to afternoon tea in a fancy hotel in town – about a 20 minute drive. I visit the bathroom before sitting down to tea and then take my phone out of my bag. But I can’t unlock it and the lock screen pic is wrong.)

Me: “I can’t get my phone to open.”

Sister: “Show me.” *tries phone* “What’s your pin?”

Me: “I don’t have one and the last one I used isn’t working either.”

Sister: “That’s weird.”

Me: “Oh, my God, I just found my phone in my bag! I’ve stolen someone’s phone!”

(I think back but can’t remember where I might have picked it up. I remember putting it into my bag but that could have been mine, and I can’t remember where I was. Eventually:)

Me: “It must have been in the bathroom on the counter and I thought it was mine. We haven’t been anywhere else since we got ready at your place, and I didn’t have this bag last night. It must belong to someone in the hotel. I’ll drop it down to reception.”

Sister: “Are you sure? Isn’t there a way to call emergency contact numbers or something?”

Me: “I’d say reception staff probably have a better idea of how to do that than I do. This must happen all the time.”

(I drop the phone to reception and think no more about it. My mam drops us all home again after afternoon tea. When my sister goes home her flatmate is still in their sitting room.)

Sister: “Hey, did you get my text?”

Flatmate: “No, I can’t find my phone. Can I borrow yours to ring it?”

Sister: “Sure.” *hands phone over*

(Flatmate rings the phone.)

Flatmate: “Okay, thanks. I’ll come pick it up.” *hangs up* “That’s weird. It’s in [Hotel]!”

Sister: “That’s so weird. I just came from there.”

(A few seconds pass while the penny drops.)

Sister: “D*** it, [My Name]!”

(My still very hungover sister then had to drive her flatmate back into town to pick up the phone.)

 

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