Submitted by deke on 21 October 2011 - 12:15am.
So there I was with my esteemed friend and colleague, Colleen Wheeler. We were on foot, en route to a wine bar along one of Ventura, California's lovely beaches, on the other side of the scenic interstate 101 from where I had parked my car. After passing a "No Pedestrians Allowed" sign---at which I thought, don't call me a pedestrian you racist!---we were unexpectedly confronted by a busy and treacherous highway exit ramp. (Hello, State of California, walking people and exit ramps don't go together!) There is no stop light, which means the rapidly exiting automobiles are permitted to slam into the dainty endoskeletons of unsuspecting bipeds at full speed. So we did the only thing sensible: We scurried across the exit ramp like daring road-kill squirrels.
As we enjoyed our wine (yes we survived), Colleen thought it would be fun to show me every photo she had ever taken on her iPhone. Which added up to about 700. And much as you love someone, reviewing that person's photo album makes you a bit catatonic. And so as my eyes fluttered, I had this ill-formed thought that I had photos on my iPhone, too, and I should, there was that one, right, which? So I felt my right-side pocket, and then the other one, and my jacket, and, hold the phone, no iPhone!
I explained my lack of phone to Colleen. She called my number and it went right to v-mail. We retraced our steps. I saw something that looked like a flat pack of cigarettes in the exit ramp. I watched it get run over once, then twice. I squirrel-scurried in, scooped it up, and sure enough, it was my iPhone.
The phone was face down, its back marred by multiple tire tracks. I turned it over and this was what I saw. (Click the graphic for a high-res image that you can use, free of charge, for any of your cracked glass compositions.)
The phone was, and is forever more, dead. Read more »