I have been in country almost two months and within these two months I have had three different phones and two different phone numbers. I had multiple problems unlocking my iphone and then it relocking again and me having to pay to get it unlocked AGAIN. My newest phone adventure happened today. I woke up with a text from Emily suggesting lunch. Friday, I walked by a Mexican place in the city center that had also gotten really good reviews on YELP so I suggested that. After the half hour walk I arrived to the place to meet Emily and we realized that there was a cooking class going on in the restaurant so it was closed for the time being. We decided to pass the time walking around Temple Bar and through the various crafts and food markets while we waited for Azteca to open up so we can eat some oh so missed and craved mexican food. (I have learned that no matter where I go within Europe, the Mexican food is just a sad feeble attempt and is rarely up to my liking). Anyways.
We wander back to Azteca and find that it is still closed so we slowly start moving down the street and get our phones out to search for other places to eat. As I lift my phone out of my pocket, it slips out of my hand and drops. It didn’t just drop to the floor. Oh no. That would make my life WAY too simple. Instead, it falls between a grate into a 6foot deep shaft. GREAT! I gasp and then just starting laughing and thinking WTF am I supposed to do NOW?!?! I go into the coffee shop that we were in front of and tell the workers to see if they know of any way we can get access to the shaft below. The guy tells us that there is a door that leads to it but it is only accessible through the parking garage of the building next to us which is a private condo association. After about 10 minute stalking the door, someone finally comes out and he kindly enough leads us into the parking garage. I manage to get to the door only to see that there is a metal square-grated door with a padlock separating me and my cursed phone. We go back to the lobby and call the management emergency line and the very snotty woman, after only caring that I am in the building unaccompanied, tells me that there is nothing she can do until Monday when the caretaker is back on site and can get my phone out. I thank her and start praying that it doesn’t rain until Monday. Emily and I go back outside and are just staring at my phone below our feet with defeat when the worker at the cafe comes back out and says “I have a long stick, if you find some tape or something maybe we can stick it and then pull it up.” I respond with “great idea! We’ll go look for some tape!”
Emily and I head off down the street to look for a pharmacy, convenience story, grocery store, anything that could possibly sell duct tape or something of the sort. After going to several places and toying with the idea of possibly using denture adhesive cream, we come across a Tesco where we enter, split up, and start looking for tape. I find a salesperson and ask him where they keep their tape. He shows me but only scotch tape. I tell him my story and in the meantime i see his colleague giggling at my misfortune a few feet away. The Tesco employee ends up being really nice and goes in the back to see if he can find some duct tape for us and get the number for the Dublin City Council to see if we can get them to remove the grate somehow. He comes out with a roll of duct tape but can’t give it to us so he unravels a 6foot strip and gives it to me.
Emily and I head back through Temple Bar to the cafe as I am carrying this ridiculously long piece of duct tape and stretching it out trying to not let it fold in on itself/run into the hordes of tourists that are aimlessly wandering the streets. We make it back to the cafe is a near sweat and I walk in triumphantly holding up my tape when the girl looks at me, smiles and says “yeah so we used a stick to get it out shortly after you had left. Here is your phone.” I stood there in shock. I had no idea how they managed to get it out and was even more in shock that there was not a single scratch, dent, or break on it anywhere (it wasn’t in a case).
Since about 2 hours had passed at this point, we decided to try our luck with Azteca and, low and behold, it was open. The first 10 minutes of our meal was spent by me still being in shock as to how the phone didn’t crack or break, how the hell the cafe employees managed to get it out, and how amazingly friendly and helping Irish people are (except for the lady at the management office but I am willing to overlook that). I’m hoping that this is the end of the drama with my phone but for some reason, I have a feeling it’s not over. I wonder what my phone’s next adventure will be…