I’ve got to hand it to Motorola’s engineers.

On the night before I left for Paris, I decided to do some laundry. So as to get everything clean at one time, I decided to wash the jeans that I had been wearing earlier in the day. Everything went smoothly until I went to move my clothes from the washer to the drier.

All of my clothes were in the drier when I checked the washer for any laggards. I noticed something dark, relatively small, and apparently hard sitting on the bottom of the washer. “D’oh! I must have washed my wallet!” I thought. No, that couldn’t be — I don’t carry a wallet (I use something akin to a money clip, except without the clip part). Hmmm… what could it be? I reached in and retrieved the mysterious object. When I saw it, my heart sank.

It was my cell phone.

My poor little StarTac, having taken so much abuse (and numerous broken antennas) appeared to have finally met its demise. The phone must have been in one of my jeans pockets when I threw them into the washer, which means that the phone was certainly powered on during the wash cycle. The phone gave no indication of life following the wash; no beeps, no lights, just nothing. It was unresponsive to the power button. The LCD had water in it, which flowed back and forth as the phone was rocked.

The phone was almost certainly dead, but I felt a need to make a desperate attempt to revive it. It wasn’t that I needed the phone per se but rather the 90+ phone numbers stored within. Like so many people in today’s society, I have become completely dependent on my cell phone for remembering phone numbers. If I were to lose my phone, I would only be able to call numbers imbedded in my psyche from those damn auto insurance television ads.

I moved the phone to my room and surrounded it with silica gel (a desiccant).

Overnight I did wait, hoping in my dreams that the gods of technology would take pity on my poor phone and grant it resurrection.

In the morning, I looked at my phone, hoping to find it dry and happy. I cautiously pressed the power button, hoping for newfound electronic life. But it was not to be. The phone remained silent as ever.

At that point, I reasoned that perhaps only the battery was destroyed, so I cautiously plugged the phone into the wall charger. Seeing no sparks, I tried again to power on the phone. It awoke! With a melodious beep and a bright LCD, it sprang back to service, supported by power from its electric tether.

Pleased with the triumph, I unplugged the phone and left it to dry out for the week while I was in France.

Upon my return, I attempted to recharge the battery. To my pleasure, the battery started accepting a charge after a few hours indicated its readiness.

As I write this now, the phone is sitting behind me, happily waiting at the ready for communication. Battery life seems not to have been impacted and the water has disappeared from the LCD. The only lasting reminder of my heinous electronics faux pas is a slightly more broken antenna. That, I can definitely deal with.

——–

I’m pleased that the phone worked, or else I would not have been able to hear an amusing voicemail message left on my phone while I was in Paris. The message was from my Brothers down at Panama City Beach – specifically Dinger, Stu, and Nagel. They were gently chiding me (in a good-natured way) for not being down there with the rest of the Pike seniors.

I do somewhat regret not going to Florida with all of them, but that doesn’t mean I regret going to Paris. I really enjoyed Paris, not only for the sights and experiences, but also for the quality time it allowed me to spend with my little bro Tyler. I’m very happy that I went, and even more pleased that the whole thing went extremely well.

Ah, the sights. Over the time we were there, I saw Notre Dame cathedral, Pompidou modern art museum, the Seine river, the Arc de Triomphe, the Louvre, the Eiffel Tower, the gardens and chateau at Versailles, Luxemburg Palace, the Catacombs, and the outside of the Royal Observatory. I wonder where I’ll go when I return in the spring?