Miraculous iPhone Survival Story
5 August 2011
It never occurred to me to secure my pockets as I boarded the roller coaster. Numerous successful rides of the past had taught me to trust my life and possessions to the fully-concealing lap restraints on "Wicked" at the Lagoon amusement park.
It began as all other rides do: casual conversation and reassurance to other passengers, the search for familiar faces amongst bystanders as the car glides beneath the bridge, and then, the expected, but oh so unexpected nearly 5G launch up the 110 foot vertical tower, followed by the 180 degree U bend and 110 foot vertical drop. Swooping and swirling, stinging from the collision of rain to face, my heart raced with the thrill of the upcoming twisted-track inversion. I raised my hands into the air. The car corkscrewed.
And I watched, lost in a state of vertigo, as my iPhone drifted upward beyond my reach toward the ground. My racing heart stopped. 5Gs became none. 55mph became zero, and I watched the whole disaster unfold before me. I felt as though I could release myself and float to its rescue as gently as is was now escaping my sight. I was spared its final blow as the car righted itself just before my iPhone met the gravel. "Dude, your iPhone!" the six-year old boy commiserated to my left. Was there more roller coaster after that? If there was, I have no recollection. It may just as well have stopped dead at that moment, because my next sensation was standing in a daze just beyond the exit. My friend, Brad, met with equal fright and concern at the news.
For an hour I agonized over her condition, whether she'd survived or succumbed. If she pulled through, would our relationship ever be the same? Would she forgive me after lying there in the rain and gravel for so long?
Lost goods were to be claimed at the close of the ride, when the final "phone run" of the evening was orchestrated. I was not alone in my plight. Of my two fellow lost-phone hopefuls, I alone was able to offer information about location of his phone. I had seen my phone fall. They had not. But why?
Slowly, lost items began to trickle in: a Volkswagen key fob, sunglasses, a season pass and . . . a phone! A Samsung smartphone, disassembled, broken-faced and dysfunctional. More long minutes passed. More keys, a couple baseball caps, an unclaimed phone. Then, an announcement. Did I hear it right? "I found the iPhone!" YES! Relief was replaced quickly with dismay as he revealed my iPhone, its broken back toward me. He depressed a button and a glimmer of light reflected off his fingers. "What is your unlock screen?" He controlled. Can you even make it out? I thought. "Buzz Lightyear" was my hopeful reply.
With a smile he returned her to me. Facial glass fully intact, I began my gentle examination. Vital signs good, responsive, able to vocalize, optical sensory reactions normal! Brad joined in my loud celebration. My hearty baby, despite a 50 foot plummet into a bed of rocks, lives to fight another day with need for only modest cosmetic surgery.
"It may surprise you," the attendant quipped knowingly, "of all smartphones, iPhones survive best. Droids always shatter to pieces." I only smiled and thanked him as I walked away. It was no surprise to me at all.
Do you have a good iPhone survival story? Leave it in the comments!