Today, I sent out a mass email to all my peeps letting them know I needed their phone numbers because I dropped my cell phone into a water puddle and it got fried. This, however, is not the full, complete, wholely- accurate story. The entire truth is a funny story, or at least, the telling of it is funny.
I have a habit of turning my cell phone to silent/vibration mode when I enter a bathroom for business purposes. My reasoning is that the last thing I want to hear when I'm droppin' some bass* is the theme to "Monty Pyton's Flying Circus" or "The Imperial March", or whichever song is my current ringtone, blaring out of my pants. True, what are the chances of someone calling my cell phone in the brief minutes I spend in the bathroom? Well, it happened once and I rather not be apart of that scene again, thank you.
So, I walk inside the bathroom at work and realize I didn't turn my phone to silent on the walk over. I had just entered the stall and reached into my pocket for it. Once I switched it to vibrate, time slowed down and all hell broke loose. As I tried to return the phone to my pocket, it got caught on the pocket's edge and slipped out of my hands. Like a scene out of a Keystone Cops flick, I flailed about to catch it before it hit the floor. But, it proved to be as slippery as soap in the shower.
Each time I was able to get a hand on the phone, it fumbled away from my grasp. I desparately thrashed and flapped for my phone, until It happened. I failed my dexerity check and rolled a one on the D20 of life. With a barely audible, "plop," my phone sunk like an anchor to the bottom of the toliet tank. My heart sunk like that, too. Thankfully, the person before me flushed.
I stood there heartbroken for what seemed like 30 minutes, though barely a second had passed. I knew what I had to do. And even a day later, ladies and gentlemen, I can't shake the feeling that my hand isn't clean. I've gone through nearly an entire bottle of hand sanitizer since. I've stopped typing this 10 times to bath my hand in anti-bacterical goodness. My mind continues to fool me into thinking there is still a faint odor on my hand.
Is there a moral to this story? Likely, not. But if there is,(*Battle Hymn of the Republic plays softly in the background*) perhaps it's that we all need to stop using cutesy songs and ringtones on our cell phones. Sure, it seems like a good idea at the time - to have that distinctive signal so you know it's YOUR phone annoying the movie patrons. But, in reality, it's just not worth the shit you have to deal with.
*Note: "Droppin' some bass" is indeed a euphamism for #2**.
**Note: #2 is a euphamism for what you think it is.