So true to my usual form, I had plans to tell you all about my continuing adventures, but then got tarred (that’s tired with a hillbilly twang, in case you don’t read hillbilly, Reader), and choose bed instead because I have been a Bizzzzzyyyy Bang Bang and needed mah sleep.
I’ve left you with a bit of a cliffhanger from my last post wherein I was going to be an early riser and get up and spite eat all the bagels from the free continental breakfast at my crappy-manager hotel. I know you want to know how that all went down in the morning.
Well.
Because the breakfast was served from 7 a.m. – 10 a.m., there was very little good chance that I was actually going to be up and at’em to eat all the foods at 7 a.m. My laziness saved breakfast for all the other guests, so you’re welcome, other guests.
After a decent night’s sleep in a rather comfortable new and updated room, I wasn’t feeling nearly as froggy about the situation and decided to instead just use my room up til checkout and then scadaddle on down the road. I had places to git to. And I didn’t want to start my day on a negative, as no good would have come from my actually meeting the hotel manager. Overnight I had found my zen again. Sometimes people make it hard to be a nice human all the time, but lawd, I’m trying.
Since breakfast needed to be the first thing on the agenda, I asked Almighty Google to find a neato diner and she delivered, just a hop, skip and a jump away.
I had a good enough turkey club sandwich, bypassing the New York “garbage plate” thing because I didn’t need to eat something called garbage with a three hour trip ahead of me. Or ever, frankly.
I peed and got on the road.
Except.
Somewhere between my peeing and my getting on the road, my phone froze up.
Reader.
I am dependent upon my phone. We all are. You realize how much so once you don’t have it.
The front screen was stuck on something that I’d never even looked at – some Albany airport terminal information – it was as if it had been possessed by a mean road spirit and was just going to deny my getting where I needed to go in a timely manner.
I tried all of the hard-resetting, but the Gods of ‘Lectronics just laughed rudely in my face.
I entered the bartering phase of panic.
“Dear Garth, remember when I was a good person this morning and didn’t eat ANY of the free breakfast, didn’t steal the toilet paper, left my room clean AND tipped the maid?? Remember all that goodness toward being a NICE HUMAN that I was doing?? Then WHY are you fucking with me right now???”
Garth didn’t respond, but DID allow me to use “Hey Siri” voice commands to call My Mister back home and Jody Girlie to try to figure out if I was near an AT&T store to help get my ‘lectronic fixed.
Because I needed it for my Waze map to get where I was going as I didn’t do any actual map looking because I have Waze.
After Dear Garth decided I had suffered with anxiety enough, she delivered me right into a really schmancy fancy mall area called Eastwood in the town of Victory and there was an AT&T store, with a no line and someone there to solve all my problems, I hoped.
He took the phone and said no problem, it just needed a hard reset. I smirked and said in my head, “yeah, good luck,” but out loud I said, “I tried all that, I can’t get it to reset.”
He pressed and held some buttons and some sirens went off on my phone.
“Um, is that my phone making that noise? Why is it siren-ing?”
The Guy seemed nonplussed and shrugged it off, but he didn’t know how to reset it either.
The Other Guy walked out from a back room just at that point and Reader, this is where I’m TEACHING AGAIN and giving you a lesson you may not know, just like I didn’t know, nor did the Guy at the AT&T store. So listen up.
To reset an iPhone 8, it’s not the normal power+home button hold. Oh, nosirree. It’s all tricky and meant to panic young – go with me on that, Reader, we’re friendies, remember? – solo travelling girls. First, you have to press volume up. Then, press volume down. THEN hold the power button until it resets.
Who. The Fuck. Would know that??
I said as much to The Other Guy. His reply, “Well, no one, that’s why you have to come here.”
In the middle of doing my happy-my-‘lectronics-is-fixed dance, I had a No Caller ID call come through on my now-working phone.
“Hello?”
“This is 9-1-1, are you in an emergency situation?”
TBB: “Uh, no, I’m at the AT&T store getting my phone fixed, The Guy must have called you accidently.”
The Police: “Ma’am, are you safe?”
TBB: “Yes, haha, it was just an accident.”
TP: “You’re in the store right now?”
Yep.
TP: “Are you in an emergency situation where you are unable to respond?”
TBB: “No, really, I was just getting my phone fixed, all is well. The Guy didn’t know how to reset it.”
They finally took my word for it, and we hung up and then I needed to just shush myself down and so I treated myself to a Starbucks cold brew and a cookie, looked at all the cute things I couldn’t buy at Anthropologie & Kate Spade, used the restroom and was on on way, finally, only two hours behind schedule.
Now, I really did appreciate the attention The Police was giving to the situation, in case I was actually in a mall emergency situation. Thank Garth I wasn’t, but they seemed to have it under control, except they should have given me a safe word, like Pineapple, to say if I was really under duress and unable to speak about it. So there ya go, Police, a little lesson from Teacher Bang Bang. And that’s why reading all of the 50-Shades-of-Grays was a valuable use of my time, Reader. Because I care about my continuing education. Ahem.
I was finally able to get on the road towards my destination and everything was smooth-sailing, and I arrived at the Haggart Oasis* sometime that evening, where I was greeted with a cat, a doggie, and a cake. 
Because it’s the Summer of Trixie Bang Bang, and we will NOT be thwarted by an unsavory hotel experience, a non-giving-me-directions iPhone or even two calls to the police.
And I still have the Jello Museum to look forward to on my return trip home.
*this right here is why it’s called the Haggart Oasis. Because yes, thank, you.
