My daughter saved her money and asked her relatives for cash for her 12th birthday in June 23. She broke her first one dropping it on the sidewalk (more than once).
She carried it through Paris, in its brand new puppy protective case I bought her last week. She snapped photos of IM Pei’s pyramids.
Six flights. Two different airlines. Four hotel rooms. Eight days. Multiple continents.
She filmed video of trees in Russia. She recorded herself in airports making silly faces under time lapse.
She played her video games recklessly and typed notes in the Pages app and listened to music.
And as Air France flight 0054 between CDG and IAD landed, I suggested she put it away. I didn’t want her to miss touch down of the huge A380.
In the car, halfway to DC, she gasps, “Mom, I left my iPod.”
She searches her bag. I search her bag. M searches her bag.
We email Air France’s lost and found. It bounces. We try tweeting to Air France US. “My daughter left her iPod on 0054 between CDG and IAD 8/20. Email to lost and found bounced.”
We make the child call. The voice menu suggests using the Internet and directs her to a different number if she wants to talk to a person. She doesn’t have a pen ready so she has to call again.
She gets the number. She calls that. It’s an answering machine. She leaves a flustered message but she can’t remember her phone number. She gives mine rattling it off so quickly I can’t understand her.
I make her repeat it.
It will be a miracle if the iPod returns. But perhaps some good soul will find it. Perhaps someone will restore some of my faith in the human race.