The Mystery of the Cell Phone

No, this isn't a new Hardy Boys book, it's the tale of my lost phone.

I went to Philadelphia this weekend for a work-related seminar. On Friday morning while riding the blue line to O'Hare, I received a phone call. That's the last time I saw my phone.

I didn't notice it was missing until after I had been through security at the airport. I assumed at that point that I had lost it while going through the metal detectors. The TSA workers were incredibly unhelpful. They ran our bags thought the x-ray machine three times to see if the phone was still in my bag before they would look around the checkpoint for it.

After arriving in Philly, I had the phone shut off so that if someone found it, they couldn't run up my bill.

After coming back to Chicago, TSA was once again very unhelpful. I was told to call them Monday morning.

Luckily, I didn't have to deal with those bone heads. Waiting on my voice mail at work was a message from my step mother. She had received a call over the weekend from a guy that had found my phone. He looked in my phonebook and found the number listed under "Dad" and called it.

I was very relieved and met up with the guy last night. He was very nice and I appreciate the fact that he held on to my phone for me.

The oddest part of this whole thing was where he found it. Apparently, it was on the roof of a parked car at Adams and Michigan. For non-Chicagoans out there, this is a long way from where I last saw it. Trust me.

I've been running scenarios in my head of how it got from point A to Point B. I'm also holding my breath to see what kind of damage I'm going to see on my phone bill next month.

As for Philly, What great city. More on that next time...