I was raised to be polite. To have social skills. Etiquette was a requirement, not an option.
A month or so ago my husband and I were in New York City. We have been there a million times. I feel safe in New York City. I mean I would avoid dark alleys in neighborhoods I’m not familiar with at midnight, but I’m not an idiot.
We had brunch with my son and his fiancee, then had to rush to get to Grand Central in time to catch our train home. We lucked out hailing a cab almost immediately.
God forbid I spend 5 minutes without grabbing my iPhone to check every app I have and text my son thanks, we had a great time (there goes that etiquette again).
The cab pulls up in front of Grand Central while I’m texting something like “At GCT gotta go.” I shove the phone in the outside pocket of my bag, jump out of the cab, and dash across 42nd Street.
Tons of people were doing the NYC combination of rushing by, milling around, taking photos, speaking 400 languages and being lost. Navigating this crowd like a quarterback looking for an opening, I felt someone bump into me.
“Oh I’m sorry.”
We made the train with a few minutes to spare, and I reached for my phone.
I searched the pockets of my purse. No phone.
I asked my husband if he had my phone (why on earth would he have my phone?).
He gave me that you lose everything look He said “No, check your bag again.”
Then I remembered being jostled just before I entered Grand Central.
And apologizing to the thief that stole my phone.