Thursday, March 13, 2008
A True Texas Tale
I was out at Teakwood's last night having a couple of beers, short stories and long laughs with some like-minded friends. Unruly Julie couldn't make it, so I texted her a question that needed answering. Immediately after hitting "send," my shiny new bluetooth capable cell phone died deader than Hogan's fuckin' goat (Whatever that means. A Staff Sergeant I worked with in the middle east in '76 used that phrase all the time).
Not to worry, though. I didn't drown this one. The battery just ran out.
That was too bad, because at about 6:30PM, I missed a phone call that would have been a lot of fun to get. The voice mail went something like this:
"Hey, this is Stephanie at (garble, gibberish) and we're calling (more gibberish and garble...was that laughter and glasses tinkling?) found your cell phone under a table here (static, crashing sound, laughter, music playing...Hell it's a BAR!) call us at 281-***-**** so you can get it back."
So, I have no clue where area code 281 is, but I know it ain't around here. Did my phone get cloned again or what? So I called.
Top Water Grill! Can I help you?
Yeah, someone named Stephanie called and left me a message that you had my cell phone?
Yep, we got it. Found it under a table.
I don't think I was there last night.
Didn't you come listen to the band? It was CRAWDAD night!
No, but I do LOVE crawdads...wait a minute...where are you?
San Leon!
California?
No! Texas.
No matter. I'm in Phoenix, I wasn't in Texas OR California, and my phone is in my hand.
Oh, well, we were calling all the numbers stored in the phone trying to find its owner.
So....you called Phoenix, Arizona looking for a drunk who left his cell phone under a table in a bar in San Leon, Texas last night?
Sure! We just want to make sure the owner gets it back.
Wait a minute here....music...in a bar....drunk enough to lose a cell phone under a table....you anywhere near Houston?
Yep, just south of Houston, on the water across the bay from Galveston.
OK, well, your cell phone owner is going to be Tommy Talley. Here's his number....
About two hours later, my phone rings again. It's Tommy of course, cell phone once again safely back in hand. His story is it was in his jacket pocket and fell out underneath the table.
Yeah, right. If you'll buy that, I have seven-mile long bridge just outside of Key West I'll sell you at a bargain.
Tommy got drank right under the table by somebody. Pass it on.
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Not to worry, though. I didn't drown this one. The battery just ran out.
That was too bad, because at about 6:30PM, I missed a phone call that would have been a lot of fun to get. The voice mail went something like this:
"Hey, this is Stephanie at (garble, gibberish) and we're calling (more gibberish and garble...was that laughter and glasses tinkling?) found your cell phone under a table here (static, crashing sound, laughter, music playing...Hell it's a BAR!) call us at 281-***-**** so you can get it back."
So, I have no clue where area code 281 is, but I know it ain't around here. Did my phone get cloned again or what? So I called.
Top Water Grill! Can I help you?
Yeah, someone named Stephanie called and left me a message that you had my cell phone?
Yep, we got it. Found it under a table.
I don't think I was there last night.
Didn't you come listen to the band? It was CRAWDAD night!
No, but I do LOVE crawdads...wait a minute...where are you?
San Leon!
California?
No! Texas.
No matter. I'm in Phoenix, I wasn't in Texas OR California, and my phone is in my hand.
Oh, well, we were calling all the numbers stored in the phone trying to find its owner.
So....you called Phoenix, Arizona looking for a drunk who left his cell phone under a table in a bar in San Leon, Texas last night?
Sure! We just want to make sure the owner gets it back.
Wait a minute here....music...in a bar....drunk enough to lose a cell phone under a table....you anywhere near Houston?
Yep, just south of Houston, on the water across the bay from Galveston.
OK, well, your cell phone owner is going to be Tommy Talley. Here's his number....
About two hours later, my phone rings again. It's Tommy of course, cell phone once again safely back in hand. His story is it was in his jacket pocket and fell out underneath the table.
Yeah, right. If you'll buy that, I have seven-mile long bridge just outside of Key West I'll sell you at a bargain.
Tommy got drank right under the table by somebody. Pass it on.
