miracles do happen...on airplanes

let me just preface the following story with the mere fact that my life is filled with weird and awkward moments.

i was on the plane heading back to new york from los angeles and the oddest thing happened. i began my journey to the los angeles international airport when i arrived an hour before my flight was scheduled to depart. i've flown plenty of times and i've never missed a flight. i always get there just in the knick of time. let's not jinx it. i approached the american airlines check in to well, you know, check in. a nice asian woman named helen (also my mother's name) helped me. i was 10 pounds over. not me, my bag. surprise. surprise. in order to avoid an outrageous fee of $75, i decided to quickly take out my jeans and four pairs of shoes. all were placed and when i say placed i really mean stuffed into my carry on. according to helen, i was boarding in 18 minutes.i wasn't in any hurry. i took a slow and steady stroll to my gate. but first i had to go through the dreadful security check. me, my purse, and my heavy "carry on" headed to security. for the first time in a long time, i wasn't stopped. almost every time i travel, i get stopped. "we do it to everyone." so, they say. yes, i'm pretty positive that everyone who has to strip off their belt, shoes, jacket, and dignity is questioned several times about an item you deem "suspicious." i digress.

gate 49A. all the way at the end of the terminal. i had to 10-1 before my departure. went to the water closet, washed my hands of course (what am i sick or unsanitary?), and was one of the last people to get on the plane. i was shvitzing at that point. black tights, sandals, and a long sleeved top dressed accordingly in full airplane attire. yes, in 100 degree LA weather. i had a carry on in addition to the carry on with all my wannabe carrie bradshaw shoes. i walked to my seat. it was an aisle seat. i only sit in the aisle. sometimes the window. so i attempted to put my oversized bag in the teeny tiny compartment above my seat. first off, in my defense, the bin was barely within my reach. i'm too short to even get it in there. clearly, whoever designed this aircraft didn't think of the billions and trillions of people in this world (over exaggerating obviously) who aren't as tall as the average woman. according to several reliable and credible sources, the average height for an american woman living in the united states is 5'4. i'm under average by about two inches. i was fighting an uphill battle. losing at this point, i've succumbed to standing on my tip toes. i tried shoving my bag in there. fail.

i headed to the back where the flight attendants had congregated. i asked one of them, the one who seemed most pleasant, if someone could help me. she said my bag was too full to fit, so she gave me yet another bag to throw some of my "extra" items in. so, here i am emptying my bag into yet another bag. total of three bags. one on my seat, one being stuffed, and the other is the main culprit that caused all the ruckus in the first place. a male flight attendant (not sure if I should call him a stewardess, steward, stewie?) came to the back at that moment. i asked him to help me since i was too short to reach the bin above my head. i was on the ground making sure my bag was lightly packed and as soon as i got up, i realized i was slightly taller than munchkin man. how is that even possible? the man had a heart, so he helped me. he was short, but sweet. (no pun intended). after a few attempts, he finally got my bag in the compartment. i was relieved.

I sat down in my seat, 35G. I had all my mags aligned. Us Weekly, People, and Life & Style. As I dug into my purse to find my phone to turn off "all electronic devices," I noticed it was missing. the one thing i hold near and dear to my heart was gone. just like that. poof. disappeared without a trace. i just sat there, thinking and doing that inner monologue we all do. "i knew i left it in the bathroom. i knew i left it on the counter when i decided to dry my hands on that obnoxious sounding dryer. the sound and power of that dryer must have somehow hindered my thinking and possibly my memory.” i mean, i was upset. but, shockingly not as upset as I thought I would be since that phone is a prized posession. always with me. day and night. i wasn't too upset about it. for a split second, i did contemplate getting off the plane, running to the restroom, and running right back just in time for the plane to take off. but, i knew that was merely a fantasy that would never pan out properly. i'd be questioned, i'd be reprimanded, and i'd probably get arrested. it just wasn't worth it to me. so, i sat there. waited for the plane to take off so i could forget about my irresponsible behavior.

my poor phone probably felt neglected and unwanted, I thought. as i sat there, a few minutes went by and i saw an officer walking through the aisle. what's Ponch doing here? the blue collared man was coming towards me and stopped right at my seat. i was scared i was in some sort of trouble for putting my carry on in the much too small compartment. he looked at me and said, "excuse me, is this your phone?" he whipped out my phone after he posed the question. i said "yes." he handed it to me and the words "thank you" barely made it out of my mouth. i was shocked. in awe. how did a police officer, and no he was not security, (he was LAPD) find my phone and hand deliver it to me on a soon to be departing flight? how did he find me? i wanted to jump out of my seat and give him a great big hug, but I was already buckled up. wow, my hero. he walked away. farewell officer. the woman next to me turned to me and said, "wow, you're lucky." indeed lucky. thanks cop for making my day a lot brighter. i looked down at my phone. reunited and it felt so good.