Panic On Second Avenue

I lost my phone.


You would have thought it was my mind, and it was, for 15 minutes.

Where were you…retrace your steps, and as you travel backwards, look down in case it’s lying on the sidewalk like a wounded animal.

The irony is, I’m not a phonaholic by any means, like the rest of the universe propelled forward by its every command.  Yet the thought of it missing left me naked and trembling, in front of a Baby Gap store.

I ran to Toys R Us where I had just bought a blue, stuffed elephant for my bed, I named Ike.  The two little Latino girls who sold it to me, were so upset while searching through the dogs and cats, offering to call my number, knowing they’d only get a voicemail the way I have it set up for my hearing needs…or lack of.

When it wasn’t among the animals, I flew to the gourmet store hoping it was with the tomatoes I fondled earlier, deciding whether I wanted Beefsteak or Cherry.

Harry the grocer said, he didn’t see me on my phone, so how could it have been left if I didn’t use it while I was there?

I suddenly saw myself at Apple waiting in line to buy another when the one missing isn’t even paid for yet.  I have to have an iPhone because it hooks up to Max and Min, my trusty hearing aids that I need, in order to hear over the phone.

I felt my panic rise when the tomatoes knew nothing, recommending I consult the Bell peppers, see if they know anything.

Now what?

I guess I’ll just sit on this orange crate and cry, that’s what I’ll do…then berate myself for being so dotty and distracted.  I’m tired from a job I did knowing full well, extreme fatigue means, paying more attention as if you were moving through fog.

“Are you hungry,” asked Brian the deli man, offering to stovetop a little linguine, just for me.

Food, that’s supposed to fix everything, even the loss of an object you wish you didn’t come to rely on, oh so much.

After declining pasta in a bright red bowl, I went home to get my AMEX before proceeding to the Apple Store.

I took my bag I had rifled through 6 times and shook it good and hard, watching its contents spill every which way, and there, in the little front pocket I never use, my phone came tumbling out, never remembering putting it there.

I called Harry, Brian and the stuffed animal girls to tell them, now wishing, when offered, took that linguine, to-go, since all that hysteria made me rather hungry.

Ike and I, then sat on the couch counting our blessings, promising to do better, the next time.

“Don’t worry Susannah,” Ike said, ”l’ll remind you.  Remember, an elephant never forgets.”






About Susannah Bianchi

I'm just a girl who likes to write slightly on slant. I've had a career in fashion, dabbled in film and to be honest, I don't like talking about myself. Now my posts are another matter so I will let them speak for themselves. My eBooks, A New York Diary, Model Behavior: Friends For Life and Notes From A Working Cat can be found on Thanks.
This entry was posted in animals, Gratitude, humanity, humor, New York City and tagged , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

21 Responses to Panic On Second Avenue

  1. Never turn down the food! It always makes you feel better.

    Liked by 1 person

  2. joanneolson says:

    I love this blog…It reminds me of the time I went to the grocery store, returned home and couldn’t find my wallet. Oh yes, It was in the freezer with the bag of groceries so destined.

    Liked by 1 person

  3. Kate Howell says:

    Love good stories with happy endings👍

    Hal Rubenstein from my iPhone



  4. What a jolt! Would you have heard the phone if the salesgirls had called it???? I would have been in a panic and not thinking as clearly as you did. I like Ike. I’m glad you have him for commiseration purposes.

    Liked by 1 person

  5. skinnyuz2b says:

    Susannah, I’ve had my purse hide things in invisible folds or pockets, too. Is this their way of getting even for being set down on dirty floors?
    I love your elephants name. My Bochi had an ‘I Like Ike’ campaign button in her top dresser drawer.

    Liked by 1 person

  6. So glad you found it. Phones have the double whammy of being both small and extremely important. I’m always misplacing mine, although usually at the house where at least you know it’ll turn up eventually. Love the elephant, by the way. 🙂 I like Ike.

    Liked by 1 person

  7. Patricia says:

    I can relate. I spent quite awhile looking for my purse and getting very upset that maybe I had left it at a store. Then I looked in a mirror and there it was. Hanging on my shoulder like a good purse should. If it was a really good purse it would have wallopped me and let me know where it was hanging. All’s well that ends well as they (whoever they are) say.

    Liked by 1 person

    • I love how you write…like a good purse should…episodes such as these unnerve me Patricia. Thinking I’ve gone round the bend with neither a phone nor purse who could be in a conspiracy. 🙂


  8. The calories I’ve burned looking for my phone are ridiculous. Hiding someone’s phone could literally be a new workout rage.
    I LOVE little Ike! He sounds very wise too.

    Liked by 1 person

  9. And we are all just like that. Haven’t lost my glasses on top of my head just yet (never put them there, anyway), but I can certainly understand losing the phone in your purse. My sister bought me a Murse, which I have renamed “Satchel” (sounds better to me). I love it and don’t know how I ever got along without it. I have lost my phone in it many times, however. But nothing beats Mom and I taking several open boxes to Goodwill, me throwing the satchel in the back seat so Mom could sit in the front, then screaming when I saw the man at Goodwill taking the box with my satchel sitting on top!!!


  10. micklively says:

    Maeve sent me to the local shop for wine and milk on Wednesday. I only managed to remember the wine. She was most understanding. 😉


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