A Recent (mis)Adventure - Part 2
I was in a quandary. My friend was in desperate need, paralysed by distress, and had called on me to save her. But doing so demanded a journey into mysterious lands as unfamiliar to me as the jungles of the Amazon, or the deserts of the Sahara. What to do, what to do?!
There was, of course, little choice. I simply had to gather my wits and step into the unknown, braving whatever perils the journey may dash across my path. After all, a precious item had been lost and must be retrieved at every cost. And I, it seemed, was to be the hero of the day.
Except, even Batman had a sidekick. I needed a Robin as my backup, someone I could rely on to be my second pair of eyes, ears and frontal lobes. There was only one person for the job – the most dependable, practical and quick-witted friend a girl could ever want. And she conveniently lived just downstairs. But would Daniela be prepared to join me on this impromptu adventure?
“Elle has lost her phone.” I said to her down the line. “She’s begged me to go and get it, but it’s thirty minutes from here in Area 14.”
“Area 14?! Are you sure you want to go there!?”
“I must! But I know it would be foolish to go alone. Will you come?”
A pause during which I prayed to St Jude, the patron saint of lost causes, having dredged him up from the sludgy recesses of my Catholic-inculcated brain until...
“Give me five minutes!”
Brilliant! Ever-reliable Daniela, I knew she wouldn’t let me down!
In the car we strategized while Betty II, the oracle of Google Maps, navigated us to what I hoped would be the site of a small miracle.
“The Find My Phone app is locating the device at this address, I think we’re off to a good start if there’s a cab parked nearby.”
“What’s your plan if there is?”
“Knock on the door and hope for a kind welcome??”
Soon we pulled into a nondescript outer suburban street. It was shrouded in the quiet of a slow morning. Silently we stepped out of the car like a pair of cat burglars tip-toeing our way down the street, scanning the area for the unmistakeable markings of a Sydney taxi.
“This is the address where the phone was pin-pointed.” I said, standing in front of an old 1960s red brick California bungalow, ubiquitous in the era and area, and looking like it hadn’t seen any action since. “But I don’t see a cab.”
“There’s one at the end of the street.” Observed Dan, nodding her chin in the general direction of a silver cab parked nonchalantly about twenty meters down the road.
“So maybe Find My Phone isn’t accurate?” I conjectured.
“Only one way to find out!”
…to be continued…