Indiana Jones and the Raiders of the Lost Boulder

The Cast: Cindy (smacker of stuff), Myself (loser of stuff).

For our 23rd anniversary, my wife thought it would be fun to go to Disneyland. Sure, why not? Just us? Just the two of us? I can get on board with this. So we went. Because my wife has one addiction: Disneyland.

We spent a few days enjoying just walking around, taking our time, going on the rides we wanted to—when we wanted to, and passing up the ones we didn’t—whenever we wanted to. Just us, no children, we did whatever we wanted to. Now, don’t misunderstand, I have loved every trip to Disneyland with our children (I love my children and enjoy time with them). Even when I was exhausted and pushing around strollers and wheelchairs. Because it was not about me, it was about us—the family, and I loved every moment (even the stressful ones).

But this time, this time it was just me and my Bitsy Pookums* (our first solo trip since our honeymoon). One of the best activities we devised was pressed penny collecting. While on every trip my family had done this activity for simple souvenirs, this time Cindy had an app for it, and in the weeks before our trip, we would lay in bed at the end of the day and plan our routes to find the pennies we wanted to collect. We ended up spending around $20 in quarters and pennies and about 60% of our time was invested in finding those penny press machines. So much fun!

The purpose of this story, however, is to tell you about a boulder on the Indiana Jones ride at Disneyland. For those that don’t know, on the Indiana Jones ride there comes a point when a large boulder dislodges and comes rolling at you—like in the first movie. This story isn’t about that boulder. No, this story is about my cell phone, model name:  The Casio G’zOne Boulder.

On our anniversary day, we had planned on having a very special never-done-it-before treat. Cindy made reservations at The Blue Bayou. Here’s another, if you don’t know, when you begin the Pirates of the Caribbean ride at Disneyland, there is a large, dark courtyard where you can see real people eating real food in a real fancy looking place. Apparently, that is The Blue Bayou restaurant. And Cindy and I had our spendy, fancy romantic lunch for two there.

It was dark. Very dark. The Bayou was tightly packed, that’s fine (if you don’t have social group issues). We sat across from each other (Cindy had my six, I watched the doors—I have the issues), the waiter brought yummy bread on a small cutting board. There were candles that gave off soft glows from the tabletops. Overhead stars twinkled (fake stars or just a little romance memory, but remember it’s noon). And the menus had little lights attached to them so you could read the words printed on it (and the prices). It was one shlick deal alright.

Me and my beautiful bride of 23 years in The Blue Bayou.

Well for whatever reason I took my phone out of my super cool Boba Fett backpack—there are two small yellow pockets near the top that could fit my phone perfectly and place it near my head when I was wearing the pack, this way it could never fall out of my pocket and hear it when it rang, and I used it to try and take a picture of my wife. After I was done I—operating totally out of character—put the phone in my pocket, where it possibly, maybe-could, on a one-in-a-million chance fall out (but surely it would not, it’s a pocket not a hole). After we dined we headed to Adventureland and the Indiana Jones ride!

The super cool Boba Fett backpack. So. Many. Pockets.

I love this ride—remember Indiana Jones is cool. I love the interaction. I love that there are secret messages written on the walls. I love that Sallah is in the safety video. I love that the ride throws you about enough to give you a thrill but not too much that you hate yourself afterward and want to share your food all over the other passengers during the ride. Great stuff! Well after that little bone-jarring jaunt we headed to the potty. When you gotta go… So we went.

The nearest toilet is a little ways away, but only as the crow flies. While I waited for Cindy—the lines at Disneyland can be long even at the bathrooms—I wanted to check the time and reached for my phone. Duh, it’s not in my pocket. It’s in my super cool Boba Fett backpack. So I checked my super cool Boba Fett backpack. It’s not in my super cool Boba Fett backpack! Oh no… My phone is somewhere in Disneyland… I’m never going to see it again… I even double-checked the deck of the ride as I disembarked the jeep in case something did fall out, just as I always do, incase something falls out, and didn’t see anything. noooo… Inside I was falling apart.

While Disneyland is noisy, it’s not I-can’t-even-hear-my-own-thoughts noisy. But my phone could have been anywhere. Calling it wouldn’t do much good. After the toilet pause, Cindy and I headed back to The Blue Bayou to see if it fell out in there and had been turned in. They informed us about how lost items are handled and I must say the system is impressive. But they didn’t have it. Great. If it fell onto the ground it could have been kicked or picked up or carried away by who knows what? Oh, the stress that was going through my mind. I loved that model of phone (still do). Sturdy and almost indestructible. Watertight. Dustproof. It makes calls and texts—and more, but I don’t care—which is all I need/want. All my contacts are in there. Photos. ArrrRGHH!!!

We returned to the Indiana Jones ride and let cast members know of our plight. They directed us to where we needed to go to ask. The people there informed us about how at the end of the day they sweep the track to see if they find any lost items and hand them over to lost and found. Great, I’m going to have to wait until tomorrow to find out if they might have it. My heart fell. Cindy mentioned how unique (old) my phone was, and the lady’s eyes showed a glimmer of recognition. “Orange?” “Yes.” “And the screen said ‘Batman’?” “YES! That’s my phone!”

Remember, in the Indiana Jones ride there is a point where a boulder dislodges, rolls at you and then crashes through the ride while you narrowly escape. My Boulder (phone) apparently thought it should do the same thing and broke free of my pocket and attempted to remain behind with its namesake. My phone was almost an Indiana Jones artifact! In my head, I could hear my wife teasing me with, “It belongs in a museum.” Or maybe I heard it because she said it.

The phone still worked. It still does to this day. However, the battery was low, almost dead, and so I plugged it into the solar charger (brought along for just this situation) I had attached to my super cool Boba Fett backpack. But the connection cable when plugged in and put into one of the many the pack’s pouches, kept wiggling loose—I know because I could hear the beeps and blorps of the connect/reconnect. Rather than take my pack off—because I had just put it on—I asked Cindy to check on the phone to see if it was connected properly. She obliged. She checked it by hitting the pouch that held my old but newly found, phone. Repeatedly!

“What are you doing?!?” I yelled.

“Trying to get it to connect.” Came her calm reply.

“By hitting it?” I asked with disbelief.

“Yeah. Why? What’s the problem?” Was the confused response.

“Well stop it.” Was my only rebuttal. I took off my super cool Boba Fett backpack and checked on the phone. It wasn’t staying connected. The charging port had broken. How it broke I can never know for sure.

See, the port plug, when opened, applies pressure to the cord when it is plugged in. So it is possible that Cindy did the damage when she hit it (hard, repeatedly). Or maybe it broke when pressure was applied to the connection cable from the port cover when I put the phone into the pack’s pocket. Or maybe it broke when it fell out on the ride. Which is possible with a phone designed to withstand bumps and bonks. Sure.

The port and port plug.

So, I just can’t charge it with the cable anymore. No big deal. The phone still phones. It takes and makes calls. It can send and receive texts. That’s all I need and want.

And that is the story of how a Boulder became dislodged, got loose, went out of control, got lost, and then found, on the Indiana Jones ride at Disneyland.

It still works.

*Bitsy Pookums. Google image search it. Seriously. It’s funny.

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