About two months ago, my phone broke. Unfortuneately, it was 1 month before I was due for an upgrade. And knowing the tight ship Verizon runs, it was not going to be an easy task in getting a new phone. So, after work I made my way over to the local Verizon store, ready to give the first poor unsuspecting sales guy that approached me a piece of my mind.
Luckily for me, the Verizon sales guy passed me off a nerdy tech guy. Fabulous! I can totally flirt with a nerd. Flirt with a hot guy? No. Flirt with a nerd? Easy.
So there I am - flipping my hair, leaning over the counter, laughing at his lame jokes and all of a sudden, I am not just getting a new phone, but I am being allowed to upgrade. Awesome. I should try this more often. I can use my sexuality to get ahead in life.
Anyway, I love my new phone. It's a crackberry, I mean BlackBerry.
Now that you know of the trouble (and by trouble I mean degrading myself by flirting) that I went to obtain this phone, I am sure you can sympathize with me as I tell you this next tragic event that nearly caused me to burst into tears at the Jazz game. I will tell you that it did cause a minor freak out and that it entails screaming, momentary stupidity and a lot of strangers looking at me.
I went to the Jazz game a couple of weeks ago. The Jazz game that we lost. I personally think that I jinxed the Jazz by purchasing and wearing that stupid jersey. But that is clearly another post.
Anyway, so there I am on the 9th row of the upper bowl pissed that the Jazz lost. My phone was clutched tightly in my hand. Now, my phone came with this cool pouch to protect it when not it use. I had been warned by a good friend that this pouch was going to loosen and sooner or later, would not hold my phone tightly and that it would soon slip out if angled in the right direction. I did not heed this warning. For when a crazy LA fan passed me going down the stairs yelling who knows what, I held up my hand and pretending like I was throwing my phone at him. But in reality, I really threw my phone at him. Because before I knew it, my phone flew out of its protective pouch and went flying down 1 row, 2 rows, 10 rows of people.
And what did I do? I started screaming, “MY PHONE! MY PHONE! MACKENZI, MY PHONE!” Yes, clearly Mackenzi was going to be able to do something that I couldn’t. People were now staring. And do you think I cared? Nope. I just kept screaming. You’d think I just lost a child or something.
Eventually, Mackenzi turned to me and goes, “Nat, just go and get it!” Clearly, this thought had not entered my mind. Yes, yes – that made sense. Mackenzi is so wise. I knew she was my friend for a reason.
I booked it down the stairs pushing people out of my way. And there, at the bottom of the stairs, was my phone - placed nicely on one of those cushy fold out chairs. There was a man standing over it and when I picked it up he goes, “Don’t throw your phone!” I looked at him like he was a complete moron and said, ‘I didn’t mean to throw it!” I wanted to add, "you moron" to the end of that, but I was more concerned with my phone than I was yelling at the mean man next to me.
By some mystical force, my phone came away with only a scratch. I am thinking that my phone might have hit someone first before landing on the ground. And for that, I say "thank you" to whoever that poor, unsuspecting person was. I hope you weren't seriously harmed - only because I don't think the $5/month insurance I have on my phone will cover your hospital bill.