Finding Humanity on Platform 21

Having just alighted the train and eager to head to our first adventure, my companion and I made our way out. 

Then it all spine-tinglingly began.

As my equally intrepid explorer friend and I were about to exit the station, I went to grab my phone, on which I had my credit (and most of my life), to scan out.

“My phone, my phone. Where’s my phone?” I frantically demanded as I patted all my pockets and everything in between.  My friend’s voice reeled me in from my panic. “You’re ringing me. You’re ringing me.” 

“What???” I cried, spinning towards them. As they held out their phone as if it was lava, we both stared at it in disbelief.

“Answer it, answer it,” I incessantly urged. Cautiously, they did. With the phone not on speaker, I was left to make sense of the one-way conversation. 

“You’ve got Pam’s phone. What are you doing with Pam’s phone?” they demanded. Pause. “Yes, Pam is with me.” 

With all the ramifications of losing my phone competing at once, I blurted out, “Who’s got my phone? Who’s got my phone?”

Believing it to be the “shady” character we shared the carriage with, the worse scenarios caused my heart to race, my skin to become clammy and my stomach to churn. How much was it going to cost to get my phone back?  What blackmail would follow?  How was I going to get home?

“Yes, we just got off the train.” Pause. “Where are you?” Pause. “Platform 21.” In unison my friend and I cried, “We just got off at platform 21!” Unable to contain myself or my manners, I snatched the phone from my friend (sorry!) and we said, “We’re coming back. Don’t move.”

In the haste that followed, I made times that would have left Cathy Freeman reeling in the starting blocks, but not before I learned that my left-behind phone had been handed in by some kind-hearted soul to the conductor.

Jumping up steps three at a time, I made my way back to platform 21, my trolley case clasped in one hand desperately trying to keep up as it bounced all the way. My less-enthusiastic friend trailed somewhere behind. Racing up to the first conductor I saw, who happened to be talking on a phone, I demanded, “My phone, my phone, you have my phone.”

Clearly, I uttered the wrong code word, as I received a puzzled look and a snarly response, “What?”

Undeterred, off I sprinted to find the correct rendezvous point and eventually I found  “my man”.

“Yes, yes, I have your phone,” the smiling, yet “phoneless” conductor beamed. “Where? Where? Where is it?” I desperately enquired. “You’ll have to wait until I send this train off, and I will get it for you. It is down there,” he said, gesturing towards the remotest office on the platform.

Suspicions rose in equal proportion to the distance to that office.

Still not convinced of the purity of it all, I desperately waited for my friend to appear, lest the last sighting of Pam Ahern would be on platform 21.

Waiting for what seemed to be an eternity for the train to depart, it was just enough time for my now-breathless companion to catch up as we endeavoured to piece together what had just happened. 

And the cheery conductor filled in the blanks. I had left my phone on the seat in my eagerness to get off. Someone saw it and handed it to the conductor. The astute conductor, familiar with this folly, checked the last number dialled – I had called my mum. Thank heavens the phone did not have time to lock. Calling her, they learned I was with my friend, whose number was relayed in the quickest phone conversation with my dear elderly mum. Said friend was then called, and the rest makes for one colourful chapter in my life.

But it did much more than that.

After the confusion of losing and finding my phone, I realised many things.

Don’t put all of your eggs in one basket – or, more specifically, don’t store all of your information on your phone.

Stay fit; you may one day need to run for your life. Or your phone.

Life goes on; phones do not always do so. Learn to live without them.

Don’t always expect the worst from people, because the best of humanity can be found everywhere. Look for the good instead. Because, chances are, you will find it.

A huge shout out of thanks to Omar, the kind conductor, and to the person who handed my phone in. I will never know your name, but I do know who you are – kind, and that is all that counts. You both affirm the best of humanity.

The rest of my time away was, too, filled with adventure. But that will have to wait for another story ☺