Lament to a Lost Phone

My friend (a set designer I am working with) lamented to me just the other day that he took a cab ride home after our tech rehearsal and he accidentally left his camera in the cab.

Now, if you are a set designer, a camera is a VERY important tool of your trade. In order to continue to market yourself (which you must do constantly in order to pay your bills) you have to have documentation of your work. A resume just doesn't cut it in the visual arts. Replacing the artist portfolio these days is the website. It is a very useful tool. My husband has a great site (www.adamriggar.com), you should definitely check out his work. There will be more to come as he's done almost a million shows since he last uploaded pictures to it (or at least it seems that way). But I digress.

I was sorry to hear that my friend had lost his camera. But he did convince his wife to let him purchase a sweet new one, so I guess it worked out.

But it made me think, what do you really do when you leave something in a cab? I've ridden in many cabs and I honestly can't name any of them. Some are yellow, some are white and red, some have green on them. They are all the same on the inside. It was right then and there that I decided to make more of an effort to notice more about the cabs I take, since I am a little forgetful (remember that $50 bill for my summer camp deposit, or those Rockets/Bulls tickets Mom and Dad?).

You wanna know how well that worked out for me? I treated myself to cab ride home this evening (I'm on day 10 of a 14 day/12+ hours per day tech shift) instead of taking the bus. I left my cell phone in the cab, I took it out to send a text message to a colleague and I THOUGHT I put it back in my pocket. It wasn't until I safely reached home and tried to pull it out to text Adam to let him know I had made it home safely (it is our version of the Dunn Family 2 ring system). Of course the cab was WAY gone by that time. Did I make that extra effort to pay attention to my cab? No, of course not. It was raining and I was tired, and I knew that Molly was desperately trying NOT to pee on the carpets. So I was just happy for the ride. I know it was yellow, and I think the light on top might have been green, it also might not have been. perfect!

Now, my phone to me is like my friend's camera. I might as well have left my right arm in the cab. As a production manager I am constantly on the phone, and rarely at my desk. I do a lot of my work on my cell phone running around the theatre or at home on nights and weekends.

I have now spent the last several hours going back and forth from panic to pining.

What if a designer needs to get a hold of me? What if something happens to an actor and we need to put and understudy on tomorrow morning? What if someone from my staff is sick or in trouble? Or, God forbid, what if something happens to Adam? That last one worries me the most, we don't have a home phone, so if something happens to him I will be the last to find out.

And then there is the pining. My favorite picture of Molly in a party hat was my wallpaper (she was so freakin cute that day she came to work with me and joined the Go. Dog. Go! dog party). I had pictures of Serena and Adam in a teddy bear hat from the last time she visited our house. I just got my Grandmother's new phone number put in, now I don't know how to call her. Along with countless other photos and phone numbers that will be really hard to replace.

Oh how I miss my phone. Sigh. I guess it is a good thing that Adam insisted on the deluxe protection plan. Honey, I don't remember if I fought with you on that one, but you were right.

Hopefully I will go and get a new phone tomorrow. If anyone needs to reach me between now and then I suppose they could try smoke signals or carrier pigeons.