Soon after I posted my first blog entry I did something I rarely do, I checked my voicemail on my home phone. There was a message from the cab driver I last saw when he dropped he off in Times Square. He had my phone, it had been dead but he charged it. Where could I meet him to retrieve it? After a little coordinating, and unreasonable favor asking I managed to get a friend to retrieve it for me. The cabbie seemed creepily disappointed that I was not there to retrieve it personally but he did deliver it after all.
When I received my phone in the mail I was excited, nostalgic. I quietly introduced her to her replacement. Her clunky windows interface frowned at the elegant and snobbish iPhone. She was in pretty good condition, considering her journey. When I finally got her all juiced up again and saw what had been going on, I felt bad. She had clearly been violated. Pictures were deleted (though most were fine), games were tried and failed, the weather and news in Isalamabad was displayed on her screen. Text messages were read and...gulp...attempted to respond to by heavens knows who.
She has now been cleaned and laid to rest but not without giving up some of her memories at least.