Bay's Travel Blog

I don't travel much any more. Resist!

Monday, February 13, 2006

Day 7 Las Vegas -- The Lost Cell Phone

[Totally cheating here -- I had to write out this story for friends of mine long before I finished the trip report, so I'll just repost it here. With some minor editing. And just so you know "dirty w" doesn't really mean *dirty* dirty w. It just means mildly tramplike.]

[And yes, it's a good thing.]

[Editor's note after the initial posting: I've edited out words that might trip censor filters at your average school computer. I can only hope this will fix the problem for some of my regular readers! If you need to know what language was edited, please feel free to email me.]

Wednesday afternoon, I was all bummed out because I was leaving the convention and because I was using up my last ride on the monorail. Those tickets are expensive. Las Vegas residents can get really cheap tickets (20 rides for $20), but they have to go to this one office that's way out of the way -- they're not selling the residents' tickets at the monorail stations *yet*. Yamy spent $35 on a ten-ride share-able monorail ticket. We used up four rides on Saturday, and I used up the other six rides for the trade show. I would park at the Sahara and ride the monorail to the convention center, because parking at the convention center cost so much.

So. OK. Wednesday afternoon. I'm bummed out. I wanted to say goodbye to Kathi, but she wasn't answering her cell phone (because she was demo'ing in the QuicKutz booth, a dream of hers, and you gotta be happy for her because she finally got to make an impression on the QK people in person, but I didn't *know* where she was, and that show was freaking HUGE).

And I was really going to miss the monorail. I rode one train that was advertising Monster Energy drinks and it had TV's inside the cars, and there was another one that was Star Trek themed and the Borg were always threatening to assimilate you if you didn't get off at the Hilton and ride the Star Trek ride. Are ya with me? I just like monorails, and the last ride meant that I was going to be leaving Las Vegas, and I was going to miss being there. I'm amazed at how comfortable I got with Nevada this trip. I just really knew where I was and what I was doing. Y'know?

Just as I got to the monorail boarding platform, my cell phone rang, and it was Kathi, calling me to see where I was. I said I was getting on the monorail, and we wailed, then we realized we were both going to be at the airport at the same time on Thursday, so I was jumping through the monorail doors as we were making plans to meet Thursday morning to say g'bye to each other.

So I got on the train, and I was going to take off my show badge and get out my car keys. I was using Yamy's backpack, and as I took it off my shoulders, my headset cord got tangled up in it, so I took off my cell phone to arrange the stuff in my backpack. Then I put everything back together again, and two stops later, I was getting off at the Sahara monorail station. I stood up, pulling the backpack on, and I deliberately turned around and looked at where I was sitting to make sure I had gotten everything. I didn't see anything on the bench, so I got off the train.

Now -- you have to understand -- the whole time, I was waving at every security guard and maintenance worker I saw and saying goodbye, I'll miss you, this is my last monorail ride for this trip, sniffle, sniffle.

And -- I was wearing this FABULOUS top. I wish I had a picture to show you. I bought a camisole at Lane Bryant on Tuesday night with my gift cards, and people loved this shirt so much that they were turning around to come and tell me how much they loved it. I might be fat, I might be middle-aged, but this camisole is so funky that I was a *hot* mama and everyone wanted to be me. Heck, *I* wanted to be me. This is a beautiful top. It's not on the Lane Bryant website yet, or I would send you a link. But it's got panels of crinkled green, crinkled cream lace, and crinkled pink-and-brown-floral-patterned material, and each panel meets in a funky point at the bottom. And it has beads and sequins sewn at the bodice. I am HOT in this blouse. And I got a pink shrug to cover up my bra straps and pretend I have *some* modesty.

Krisi, you would love me in this outfit. Seriously. I am so gorgeous, I am a dirty w. The camisole says, "Ravish me," and the shrug says, "But gently, because I don't want to mess up my hair."

So. I got off the monorail from my very last paid ride, and I waved at a security guard, the same guy I had seen for three days, and we said goodbye. I exited the turnstiles, and I said goodbye to the Sahara security guard as I was making my way to the escalator. And then I reached for my pocket to see what time my cell phone said it was, because I was *hoping* that I was early enough before 5:00 to make it back to Yamy's house before she got home at 5:30.

And my cell phone wasn't there.

Now -- to my credit -- I didn't TOTALLY panic. I don't know why. If I were five years younger, I would have been frantic. But for some reason, I was pretty calm and businesslike. Something in my brain said, "I will get my cell phone back. But Amy will have fits when she calls me and I'm not there to answer it."

I whipped around and almost ran back to the turnstiles. I couldn't go through them, because my monorail card was used up. I hollered at the security guard I had just said goodbye to, "I think I left my cell phone on the train!!!!!!!!"

I guess everyone heard me, because both that security guard (who turned out to be Hispanic and English wasn't his first language) and a maintenance guy both jumped to attention. While the security guard opened an exit turnstile and backdoored me onto the platform, the maintenance guy radio'ed ahead to the next few stations to search the monorail car that I had been in for my cell phone. We waited several minutes while that was going on. I sat down on the floor and dumped out every pocket of Yamy's backpack, hoping to find my phone. No. It wasn't there.

I listened to the crackling radio on the maintenance guy's chest while the Hispanic security guard tried to reassure me that everything would be all right. I laughed and said, yes, it would be all right, but my sister's phone number was programmed in my cell phone, and I didn't know how to call her to tell her what had happened. I *knew* that she would be calling me any minute, and she would freak if she didn't get hold of me.

The Hispanic guard tried to hand me his cell phone to call her, and I kept having to explain that I didn't know her number. I know!!! That's stupid of me!!! But all I know is that the area code is 702!!!

Then.... this beautiful man in a security uniform joined me and the Hispanic guard and the maintenance guy.

OMG. He was so beautiful. Angels burst out of the sky and sang. Light seemed to shine from his gleaming visage. He was not tall. He was about my height as I struggled to stand up from the platform floor with my backpack. He had blond hair and blue eyes that looked deep into my soul and seemed to say, "You are the only woman I see. Ever. I only have eyes for yooooooooouuuuuuuuuu." He was wearing the *whole* uniform, too. Badge and everything. Even the ranger-style flat-brim hat. I could hardly breathe and look at him at the same time.

Really and truly, y'all, he looked a lot like Toby the Fireworks Cruise Captain, only if Toby were devastatingly, classically, breathtakingly handsome. I don't know how old he was, but if I had to guess, I'd say he was 25. And beautiful. Let me make this really clear: This guy was *gorgeous*.

And he kept looking at my dirty w camisole and my churchlady shrug, trying to figure out exactly what kinda gal I was.

[When Amy read this email, she wrote back, "It's impossible to camouflage a dirty w top. He knew EXACTLY what kinda gal you are!"]

I babbled incoherently about what an idiot I was to leave my cell phone on the train, and the maintenance guy gave me the bad news that even though they were searching every car, my cell phone was not at the Hilton platform, the convention center platform, or the Harrah's platform. He went to an office to get a "lost item" form for me.

*All* of the guys were telling me that often, some passenger will pick up an item from the monorail and turn it in, either to the monorail security at each station, or to the security at whatever casino is closest to their stop.

Hispanic Security Guard was asking me when I would be leaving Las Vegas, thinking that if I was going to be there a few more days, I would have a better chance of getting my phone back.

I said I was leaving the next day, and Beautiful Guy's face actually *fell*. OMG! Hottie!! I wanted to console him, I swear!!! I wasn't half as worried about my phone as I was about Beautiful Guy's disappointment!!!

The next thing I know, Beautiful Security Man was holding out his very own cell phone and saying, "Call your phone. Maybe someone will hear it and answer it."

I protested that it was long distance, and he said, "That's OK. I have unlimited long distance."

So I called my phone, and sure enough, some stranger answered!!!! I said, "Hi! Is this the person who found my phone?"

Whereupon the guy on the other end started babbling incoherently that he was Ray, and he was staying at the Sahara, room 800-something, and he would be in Las Vegas until Sunday,..... blah blah blah.....

And Hispanic Security Guy, Beautiful Security Guy, and Maintenance Guy were *all* saying, "Tell him to leave it at security! Tell him to leave it with Monorail Security!"

So I interrupted the earnest guy who found my phone, told him to leave it at security, and then hollered, "WAIT! What station are you going to get off at?"

He said he was getting off at Bally's/Paris. OK!!

So I thanked the stranger on my phone about 80 times, and I said goodbye, and hung up, handing the phone back to Beautiful Security Guy, and thanked him and the other guys about 80 times, and I turned around to exit the station and go get my car. I was going to drive down to Bally's to get my phone, when Beautiful Security Guy grabbed my arm and said, "No -- just ride the monorail down there!"

OK. Take a few milliseconds to feel the tingles of electricity running through my arm. For about a half a second, I thought, "Hey, maybe I can get a hug out of this." No. Nothing doing. Maintenance Guy opened a chain to let me through to the boarding platform, and Hispanic Security Guy shouted stuff in an accent that I didn't understand. I thanked them all many more times, and then I went down to the boarding platform to get on the monorail -- FREE OF CHARGE!!

It is a long ride from the Sahara station to the Bally's station. In fact, I think the Bally's station might be the next to last stop on the monorail line. I rode and rode and rode. I got off at Bally's, went downstairs, and a whole new Hispanic Security Guard Two had my cell phone. He gave it to me, and I went back upstairs to wait for a north-bound train. I called Amy first, who informed me that Ray had gone through my menu and called HOME to tell EMILY that he had my cell phone. Emily had totally freaked out, accused Ray of raping and murdering me, and had called everyone she could think of, including Wesley. So I had to call Emily and Wesley to tell them that I had my phone back, and everything was OK.

By this time, it was, like, 5:30, and I was wigged out from the stress and the trauma and the great exertion of willpower that I experienced when trying not to tackle Beautiful Security Guard. I knew traffic was hell on the Interstates and the Strip, so I told Yamy that I was going to go back to the Sahara, get my rental car, and go to the Hilton to go to the bar there and have myself a nice, relaxing adult beverage. She thought that was a splendid idea, and she was on her way out of work anyway, so she was just going to go straight to Quark's Bar & Restaurant and meet me.

I determined to get Beautiful Security Guard's name when I got back to the Sahara platform, because I was going to write to the monorail authority and tell them how fabulous ALL the monorail guys were in my experience.

Unfortunately, I guess the shift change happened at 5:00. By the time I got back to the Sahara, there were a bunch of strangers on staff at the monorail platform. I left the monorail system entirely, got my rental car out of the Sahara garage, and drove over to the Hilton to meet Yamy.
I have no idea what any of their names were. But they were all fabulous. They all reassured me. They all helped me. It's just that... the Beautiful Security Guy improved the scenery.

There. That's my story, and I'm stickin' to it. I'm just sayin'. Is all.


At 13/2/06 3:02 PM, Anonymous Anonymous said...

¡Oh no! x 2!

¡Oh no! #1: I didn't realize it was MY fault that you had lost your phone! But, on the bright side, my phone call raised your pulse rate, bringing color to your cheeks, so that when you met Mr. Hot Security Guard, you looked even more ravishing in your ever-so-beautiful slut shirt (which wasn't very slutty at all).

So, I'm sorry that my call caused the resulting mayhem, but I'm not sorry because your story caused me to lol several times. And laughing is good for you!

¡Oh no! #2: I can't believe you went back to the Quarks Bar. We never got out of the Hilton that night and ended up back at another bar there and could have seen you and Yamy again.

However, at least I got a chance to see you Thursday at the airport!


At 13/2/06 4:12 PM, Blogger Bay in TN said...

Kathi, it is *so* not your fault! It's my own fault! I think I must have stood up, and the cell phone slid off my lap and went under the bench on the monorail. I don't know, but I would have gotten it if I had seen it when I turned around to check.

And besides, I should thank whatever quirk of fate made my cell phone disappear -- I would never have even seen Beautiful Security Guy if I had left the monorail station as I had intended. And he was worth lookin' at! Trust me!!!!

At 14/2/06 7:19 PM, Blogger Gwyn Calvetti said...

Bay, I don't think even my professional storyteller badge could ever top your retelling of this story!

Take the show on the road, slutty top and all! ROTFL


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