Saturday, November 17, 2007


I have, apparently returned from a place that many have visited, but few have returned from. Last weekend I was wearing a hoodie. I had my Blackberry in the 'roo pocket. I walked up to the toilet (throwing an Ace, not a Deuce), lifted my hoodie and . . . and then it happened, it really happened (extra credit to anyone who knows the chorus of that song). My Blackberry tumbled out of the 'roo pocket, hit the bowl, the battery flew out, and it all landed in the toilet water.

As luck would have it, I have the reflexes of a cat, and am quick as a mongoose after an espresso. I used these gifts to simultaneously swear and reach into the toilet and pull the phone pieces out. I immediately wrapped all of it in towels and contemplated every snarky comment I had ever made about people dropping their phones in toilets.

Over the next four days I went through the stages of grief. You know, first I hoped it would work. Then I prayed for it to work. Then I despaired of it ever working again. Then I started scheming to replace it on as much of Verizon's dime as possible. Our tech guy at work even told me that Blackberries that are completely submerged are generally "toast."

On Friday I stuck the battery in and threw the phone in my bag. I was not sure if the Verizon people would want/need it back. My bus was late and I got bored, so I pulled the phone out. I could see massages, but already knew I could not reply, since the two buttons on the side did not work. I opened a message anyway, and then out of habit hit the button to delete it. And it worked!?! I tried another mail, but the buttons crapped out on me. I pounded the buttons against my hand like smokers do to a new pack.

And now, for the rest of the story. This post was typed on, and posted from, that Blackberry. It seems to work perfectly. Truly, I have been to the Other Side and have returned to tell the tale.


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