Replacement missive

Yesterday's missive was supposed to be about the Fourth of July fireworks, which I enjoyed from the vantage point of the tower cab. However, for reasons as yet unknown to me, the essay I composed on the Mac at home can not be opened by either of the iBooks that I currently have operating. Curious, since all are running the same versions of all the relevant programs. Oh well.

Lacking my pre-prepared remarks, I'll have to come up with some extemporaneous ones. As I mentioned last week, I managed to lose my phone while out on my lunch-time walk around the airport. The following shift, I tried calling it while I was in the union office, which was the one place I thought that I might have left it. No such luck. As it was about three in the morning, I imagine somebody got a surprise wake-up call! In the morning, I called the LAX airport police, as they're in charge of the airport lost-and-found. They'd had two phones turned in the previous day, but neither of them met my description or had gone off at three in the morning. The next afternoon, on the long chance that I had actually dropped it in the car, I got a friend to call me while I stood next to the car with the doors and truck open. Again, no luck . . . except that somebody answered! He gave the phone to me, and I found myself talking with a child who said that he (or she, I couldn't tell which) had picked it up yesterday and had been told by somebody or other that they could have it. When I attempted to explain that it had been my phone and that I'd like to get it back, they hung up on me and wouldn't answer it again. So, off to the phone store to see about getting another.

Seven o-clock in the evening is not the best time to go to the cell phone store if you're expecting any sort of expeditious service. About an hour later, I managed to walk out with my new phone. When it finally got to be my turn, I explained to the girl what had happened and said that I needed a replacement phone. Naturally the one I'd had was no longer available. My hope to find a replacement that could utilize the chargers that I already own was soon dashed as well - so I'm now the proud owner of three or four chargers with nothing to charge. After navigating the myriad choices of text messages, mp3 players, cameras and video, full keyboards and the lot, not to mention the various iPhones, Palms, and Blackberries, I was eventually able to walk out with what is essentially a newer version of what I had previously. My general impression is that I could get a phone that has more ability than the Space Shuttle - minus that rocketing into space bit.

The final (I hope) segment of this saga has been the reconstruction of my phone book. A few I remembered (9-1-1), but the whole idea of saving them in the phone is that then you don't have to remember them - as long as you've still got access to the phone. I used to think that my memory was the second-shortest thing I had, but nowadays I'm not so sure. So, I pulled up a previous month's phone bill and started looking at the numbers listed. Any that looked familiar I called, to verify that they were who or what I thought they were. Some of you have no doubt been blessed with calls or messages from me for that purpose. If you think you should have gotten a call and didn't, then give me a call - I know there are a bunch that I've lost. On the other hand, this could be your chance to steal away into phone never never land, so consider carefully!

Other than feeding cats, cleaning cat boxes, and talking to airplanes, I'm starting to feel like I don't have any particular purpose in life. According to the averages, I'm half-way through my expected lifespan, and I don't feel as if I've really got a lot to show for it. I seem to have spent most of the last several years (and am still, for that matter) trying to be somewhere else. The problem with that, as someone (although I forget who just now) once said, is that where ever you go, there you are. As a result, I've put lots of things on indefinite hold for when I'm settled somewhere. I suppose this malaise could be the beginning of a mid-life crisis, although I thought that was supposed to happen a little later - say my next decade, assuming I make it that far. Along with this, maybe I should be shopping for a Corvette, Porsche, or Ferrari, but I haven't progressed that far yet. A Jeep, perhaps, but no sports cars. I feel like I ought to be achieving or doing something, although I've no idea what. Getting out of debt would be worthwhile, but that A: Seems hopeless; and B: Doesn't sound appropriate for a mid-life crisis anyway. Besides, it's not the American way.

Oops, break time's over - Gotta go entertain the pilots some more.

CV