OMG. Where the Hell is My Phone?

After landing home in Florida after a long 14-day trip, I settled into a nice Uber with a sweet, chatty driver. He was an easy fellow to talk to, and thankfully, the ride flew by.

By the time I walked into my apartment, I was officially done.

Fourteen days of planes, hotels, restaurants, packing, unpacking, repacking, Ubers, and trying to remember which packing cube I'd put what in. I was ready to be home.

I started my usual routine: opened the blinds, dumped my bags, and checked to see if perhaps something edible had miraculously appeared in my refrigerator while I was gone.

It had not.

No surprise there.

I decided I'd order dinner from a local favorite and walk over to pick it up.

Or so I thought.

Where the hell did I put my phone?

I retraced my steps from the minute I walked through the door. I checked the kitchen counter. The bathroom. My bedroom. I emptied every carry-on bag I'd just hauled home.

I even opened the refrigerator.

Don't laugh. After 14 days of travel, anything was possible.

No phone.

I walked back out to the driveway where the Uber had dropped me off, even though I already knew exactly what had happened.

I'd left my brand-new iPhone 17 in the Uber.

Perfect.

Since ordering dinner was now impossible — because apparently I no longer know how to procure food without an app — I walked to my local salad spot.

Closed for the day.

Of course it was.

I headed up Atlantic Avenue to a sushi restaurant, ordered something to go, and decided a glass of wine was now medically necessary.

And that's when something funny happened.

I sat there.

That's it.

I just sat there.

No phone in my hand. No texts to answer. No Instagram to check. No photos to edit. No email. No Google. No mindless scrolling while I waited.

When was the last time I'd sat alone in a restaurant and simply looked around?

I started watching the sushi chef.

He was cutting pieces of fish with incredible precision, and it was fascinating. He'd position the fish, make one perfect slice, reposition it, and make another. I watched the whole process.

He kept glancing over at me.

I'm pretty sure he was wondering why this woman at the bar was staring at him.

Or maybe he's simply not accustomed to a customer actually watching him instead of staring down at a screen.

For about twenty minutes, I had absolutely nothing demanding my attention.

And I kind of liked it.

Maybe the universe was trying to tell me something.

Slow down, Tracey.

Then I got home and remembered I STILL HAD TO FIND MY PHONE.

Any Zen-like lesson I'd learned over sushi disappeared immediately.

I needed to contact Uber to get a message to the driver and confirm that I'd left it in his car. I could do that from my laptop, but Uber wanted an alternate phone number where the driver could reach me.

Easy. My son.

Except...

His number was in my phone.

I had to email him from my laptop, explain what I'd done and ask for his phone number so that the Uber driver could call him about my phone.

I received an “smh” in response.

For anyone over a certain age who hasn't had the pleasure, that means shaking my head.

My own child was digitally judging me.

I considered putting the iPhone in Lost Mode through iCloud. It was brand new, and there was always the possibility another passenger could find it before the driver did.

Excellent idea.

All I needed was my Apple password.

Which was in my phone.

At this point I began realizing just how much of my life was contained in one small rectangular object that was currently riding around South Florida without me.

Phone numbers? In the phone.

Passwords? In the phone.

Uber? Phone.

Dinner? Phone.

Directions? Phone.

Photos from the previous 14 days? Phone.

Basically, if the iPhone went down, apparently so did I.

Thankfully, this story has a happy ending.

The driver found my phone and was kind enough to bring it back and leave it at my building's management office. Uber charges a $20 lost-item return fee, which I sincerely hope went directly to him. I'd already tipped him well after our ride, and after getting my phone back, I thanked him profusely.

And suddenly, the entire ridiculous incident was over.

Fourteen days of travel without losing anything important, and I managed to lose the one item I use for practically everything during the final few minutes between the airport and my front door.

There's probably a lesson here.

I could say I'm going to spend less time on my phone.

Let's not get carried away.

But I am going to put important phone numbers and passwords somewhere besides the device that contains all my important phone numbers and passwords. Maybe on my laptop.

Maybe even on paper.

How very 1987 of me.

And every once in a while, I might sit at a restaurant by myself and leave the phone in my purse.

Because watching that sushi chef was actually pretty great.

Although next time, I'd prefer to make that choice voluntarily.