The New Misadventures in Gaming #12

By Dan Bosley
February 8, 2006

Throughout the entire weekend, I am champing at the bit for Monday morning to arrive.  The Name the News Leader radio contest is not played during the weekend, so I have to bide my time all though Saturday and Sunday.

I have this dread feeling all weekend long that more and more people are learning that the answer to the contest is “Bob Rich�?, and that any advantage I may have had at the beginning of the contest is dwindling away to next to nothing.  I am anxious for Monday morning to arrive so I can once again get back into it and win this contest.  For once, I want the weekend to speed through quickly.  I want Monday morning to be here now.

And finally, at long last, it is.  Unlike the previous Friday, I have decided NOT to get up super-early and go into work.  Instead, I will go in at my regular time, and enjoy the rush hour into work.

Monday nights are my gaming group’s weekly game night at my office, so each Monday morning I pack my game bag full of games to take with me to work, to play later in the evening with the game-group once the workday is over.  The bag I use to contain the games is actually a large black sports bag, with big carrying handles and side pockets, and is big enough to easily hold ten to twelve fair-sized games, and a few card games as well. 

So Monday morning it is, and with the game bag in one hand and my lunch bag in the other, I head out the door and get into my Ford Ranger truck to head into work.

I place the game bag on the passenger seat beside me.  I place my lunch bag, also black, on top of the game bag.  I dig my cell phone out of my pocket and place it on top of the game bag as well, beside the lunch bag.  In case the radio station plays the contest during my trip into work, I want to be able to have easy access to my cell phone, and I figure it will be a lot easier to grab my phone from on top of the game bag than to be trying to squirm around and get it out of my pocket.

It is 6:00am as I leave home in the pitch black to head to work.  The interior of my truck is totally dark, other than the glow from the dashboard. 

I drive down 264th Street, go over the overpass, and take the cloverleaf onto the freeway, heading west.  With no traffic, it normally takes me 28 minutes from driveway to driveway between work and home.  During rush hour, it is usually closer to 50 minutes. 

The radio is on, tuned to CKNW.  I am ready.  They NEVER play the contest at exactly the same time each day.  Instead, there is more of a “window�? within which they play the contest.  For the morning play, it seems historically that they always play it somewhere between 6:30am and 7:15am.  You never know for sure exactly when they are going to play the contest - other than at some point between 6:30 and 7:15.  Of course, this makes one listen to the radio for a longer period - which is of course what they want.

Rush hour on the freeway is something of a misnomer.  Once I get to somewhere between 176th and 196th on the freeway, the start of the rush hour line-up begins.  This line-up converts the freeway from a 120kmh vehicle race-zone to 5kmh hey, I can walk faster than this zone. 

Sometimes, for no apparent reason that I can discern, the line-up will suddenly speed up and then just as suddenly slow to a crawl.  And speed up again.  And slow to a crawl again.  I am used to this.  If you take this particular route in, you learn to expect the sudden changes in speed.

However - on this morning of all mornings - the change in speed is even more drastic and abrupt than usual.  I never normally have to slam on my brakes.  But this morning I do.  A guy in a Honda Civic has cut in front of me, and then, because the car in front of him has suddenly stopped, he slams on his brakes.  And I do too, in order to avoid a dreaded rear-end collision.

I stop safely - in that I don’t hit him.  But there exists a thing called inertia.  And my game bag, lunch bag, and cell phone all decide to keep moving forward while I am stopping the truck in a hurry.

My right hand flashes out and slams on top of the game bag, preventing it from falling into the floor-area of the passenger seat.  Unfortunately, my cell phone and lunch bag keep going, and disappear into the darkness of the passenger floorboard area.
I am stopped for the moment.  The car in front of me is not moving.  I peer into the utter darkness of the passenger floorboard area.  I am amazed.  I don’t normally pay any attention to the passenger floorboard area at all when I am driving.  But it is incredibly dark down there.  A big black dark void.  I can’t believe how dark it is down there.  I can’t see anything.  Obviously, if the sun was up, it wouldn’t be dark down there.  But it’s early in the morning, the sun is still down, and there are no streetlights on the freeway where I am.  I cannot see my lunch bag or my phone at all.  They have vanished.

The vehicle line-up starts to move again.  Curses, I think.  Just my luck, I am sure the radio contest will start any moment now, just because my phone is no longer at hand.  There’s a commercial on the radio right now.

The line-up stops again.  I take the opportunity to flick on the interior light.  I can see my black lunch bag in the far corner on the floor.  My black cell phone is nowhere in sight.  It must be under the lunch bag, I decide.

I flick the interior light off again, as traffic starts to move again.  We quickly get back up to 80 kmh or so.  Great, I think.  The only way I’ll be able to reach over and lift up the lunch bag and get the cell phone from underneath it is to undo my seatbelt and reach way down and way over and get it.

Well, although I do my share of stupid things from time to time, I am not about to be that stupid.  Leaning waaaaaaay down there while I am driving 80kmh is asking for very bad things to happen.  Visions of death and mayhem convince me to leave the lunch bag and phone where they are until a better opportunity presents itself to get them.

And that opportunity comes up shortly.  Once again, we come to a complete stop.  I put the truck in neutral, flick on the interior light, undo my seatbelt, and lean over.  It is a bit awkward, because the game bag on the passenger side takes up a lot of room, and the gearshift on the floor in the centre is in my way as well.  I can barely reach the lunch bag.  I can’t really get a hold of the lunch bag, so I sort of give it a flip up so I can see what’s underneath it.

There is nothing but floorboard there.  The phone is not there.  The lunch bag falls back into the same spot.

I sit back up, flick the interior light off, snap my seatbelt back on, and put the truck back into gear as the line starts to move again.

Great, that is really great, I think.  The phone must have either bounced to the side of the passenger seat beside the door, where I can’t see it, or else it bounced beneath the passenger seat.  Either location will require actually stopping the truck and getting out of it and actively looking for the phone. 

I’m only ten minutes or less away from work now.  As badly as I want that cell phone at hand right now, I know I’ll only have to wait another ten minutes to get it.  As long as they don’t play the radio contest, I’ll be O.K.  I guess there are advantages from time to time of being a Borgman.

Those ten minutes are filled with anxiety, as every minute I’m listening to the radio, I keep expecting to hear “It’s time now to play Name the News Leader.�?  But I don’t.  My luck holds.

Finally, I pull into the shop driveway, and park the truck.  I leap out, and run around to the passenger door, and open it up.  There’s no phone between the door and the seat. 

So that means the phone must be under the seat.  I lean in on the floor and look under the seat.  It is TOTALLY black under there - I can’t see anything at all.  I reach my hand in and start feeling around blindly.  I find a rag.  And a pen.  But no phone.

This is ridiculous.  I’m going to have to get a flashlight.  I know the phone is under the seat somewhere.

I grab my game bag and my lunch bag, and go open the front door.  I turn the alarm off, and race upstairs.  I put the game bag on the floor by the table, I put the lunch bag in the fridge, I switch the radio on - good - it’s in the middle of the news - I’ve got a few minutes yet! 

I run back downstairs, and open up the back shop.  Now I need a flashlight.  I know we have one.  I just don’t remember where it is.  I run around looking in all the obvious places.  The flashlight is not in any of the places I look.

I decide I’ll look for the flashlight later.  And I don’t need my cell phone right now, either, for that matter, since I AM at work.  I run back upstairs into the office.  I hear the radio saying “and next, the weather.�?

I sit down in my chair and catch my breath.  Then the weather is over, and I hear them say “Now it’s time to play the Name the News Leader Game.�?

And once again, my finger stabs the speed-dial button.  And it’s busy.  Oh no, oh no!  Again I hit the button, and again it’s busy.  Oh no, deja vu!  I can’t get through!  All I hear is that cursed busy signal.

I give up.  I wait for the current commercial to be over.  I am on edge.  And then the commercial is over, and I hear Frosty say “Okie-dokie, we’ve got Brian on with us to play Name the News Leader.  Give a listen to this, Brian, and tell me who you think it is.�?

And he plays the clip: “We’re not going to sacrifice - “

“Any guesses, Brian?�? asks Frosty.

“I have a hunch,�? says Brian.  “I’m not really sure, but I have a hunch,�? Brian says, prolonging my agony.

“Well, hunch us, Brian, hunch us.  Who is it?�? inquires Frosty.

“Would it be Brad Pitt, by any chance?�? Brian guesses.

“Not by any chance, Brian,�? Frosty informs him.  “Thanks for playing, but you’re a loser!�?

And I’m very happy about that!

With the pressure off for a couple of hours now, I head back downstairs to find a flashlight.  After I find that, then I’m going to go find my cell phone.

I go into the back shop and look at the wall of tools again.  And there, right in front of me on the shelf beside the wall of tools, is a flashlight.  I knew I had looked there only a few minutes ago, and I could swear it hadn’t been there then.  So my panic had made it invisible.

I shake my head, grab the flashlight, and head back out to the dark shop bay where my truck is parked.  I open the passenger door and lean in on the floor again.  I switch the flashlight on and shine it underneath the seat. 

And there’s no phone.  I turn the flashlight off and back on again, as if that’s going to make any difference.  And I look under the seat again.  There is no phone there.  I try to change angles, and contort my body into unusual shapes to see into different areas under the seat.  Still no phone.

I am having a baffled moment.  This doesn’t make sense to me.  Surely the phone didn’t bounce under the driver’s side seat - it wouldn’t make sense for it to bounce that far.  But where else can it be? 

So I crawl out, walk around to the driver’s side, open the door, and lean down and peer under the driver’s seat.  The flashlight illuminates everything there - some more rags, and a mini-air compressor for filling up low tires.  But no phone.

I get out of the truck and stand up.  Did I leave my phone at home?  Did I imagine bringing my phone with me?  This is too weird.  Did my phone literally fall into a black hole when it fell off the game bag?  The phone has to be here somewhere.

I go back into the shop and put the flashlight away.  This is very mysterious.  Very other-dimensional.  I go back upstairs to the office area, and sit in my chair.  I am really, really puzzled.  I can’t concentrate on work, because I can’t imagine what happened to my phone. 

My phone.  My phone.  My phone......

Suddenly an idea comes to me.  I will phone myself!  I will call myself from my office phone to my cell phone.  Then I’ll hear the cell phone ring, and I will be able to locate it by sound!

I run back downstairs to use the extension phone down there.  I need to be close to the truck - my cell phone will only ring a few times before it switches over to voice mail, so if I get back out to the truck too late, I won’t hear any ringing once it does switch to voice mail. 

I open up the back door of the shop, and open both the driver and passenger doors of the truck.  Then I go back into the shop and punch in my cell phone number.  I listen on the extension phone a moment to make sure that there is a connection and that it is ringing.  It is.  Now all I have to do is run outside by the truck and listen for the actual ring of the cell phone.

I scurry out to the truck.  And I listen. 

Nothing.  No rings.

Now it is truly getting bizarro.

I run back in to the extension phone, hang up, pick up, and dial myself again.  I listen on the extension phone.  It’s ringing again.

I run back outside to the truck.

No ringing.

I run back to the extension phone, and repeat the whole procedure. This time I listen until the voice mail kicks in.  It IS me on the voice mail, so I know I’m not dialing the wrong number.  I am indeed phoning myself.  I leave myself a message.  “Hi, this is me, where am I?�? 

I noticed that it took four rings before the voice mail kicked in.  More than sufficient time for me to get out to the truck and to hear ringing in my ears.  .

I try it one more time.  Out to the truck again.  Nothing.

Now I am really beginning to doubt myself.  Maybe my cell phone is sitting at home, all lonely and ringing forlornly.  Maybe I don’t even own a cell phone.  Maybe I’m not really here.  Maybe it’s the weekend and I am dreaming all this.  Maybe I’m overworked and overstressed and I am hallucinating.  Maybe there isn’t even a radio contest.

I close the doors on the truck and go back upstairs.  Some of my employees arrive, and I tell them about the case of the missing cell phone.  They all agree it is strange.

Finally, I convince myself that I must have left my phone at home, and only thought I had brought it.  There’s no other explanation.

For the next hour or so, I sort of concentrate on work and get some stuff done.  Or try to.

Around 9:00, Dave shows up.  Dave is the guy who picked up the rush banner on Friday.  He has the banner with him now.

“Hi Dan,�? he says.  “I have a problem with this banner.  There’s something really weird about it.  The vinyl is all faded or something, you can’t read the phone number at all.�?

“That’s odd,�? I say.  Hmmm.  More weird stuff relating to phone numbers.

“Let’s unroll the banner and have a look at it,�? I tell him.

Dave holds onto one end while I unroll it.  My jaw drops when the banner is unrolled.  All across the top of the white banner are the blue words “NOW LEASING�?.  So far, so good.

But the phone number on the bottom half of the banner is white.  I am looking at a white phone number on a white banner.  If your face is about 6 inches away from it, you can tell the phone number is there because of the different textures of the lettering and the background banner.  But from any normal viewing distance, the phone number is totally invisible.  Even if you’re not in the sign business, I think most people would be aware that white on white is not exactly a recommended colour combination.
I am shocked, to put it mildly.

“See?�? Dave says.  “It’s really hard to read.  It’s all faded or something.�?

“No, those aren’t faded.  Those are white letters on a white banner,�? I say, still stunned.

I am really, really dumbfounded.  For the life of me, I can’t figure out how we could ever put white lettering onto a white banner and think that it looked good.  Hey, look, an invisible sign!  That will make our customer happy!  Nothing like a sign you can’t read! 

That’s just crazy.  That’s just insane.  There’s no rational explanation for it.

Oh, wait a minute.  I can think of one explanation.

It begins with “S�? and ends in “tupidity.�?

To be continued....

© 2006 Rick Thornquist

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