Wednesday, September 9, 2009

The Saga of The Lost Camera

Vegas was a little rough. No details necessary, other than to say that I felt, as Dana aptly put it -- like I couldn't catch a break. The happy shiny spots were captured on my Mom's small camera, borrowed so I wouldn't have to lug around my big one. The camera I borrowed promising I would take good care of it. Te camera with hysterical video and pics from our adventures in Vegas.

The camera I lost in a taxi cab.

Let's back track.  Things are looking up for a GREAT final day. We're checked out. Luggage handled. Weather beautiful. Dana safely at airport, ever-present iced coffee in hand. I'm sipping a cocktail bought for and delivered to me by my incredibly fabulous boyfriend. We've played our free slot credits, and I'm up at least $20 when we decide to head to the Bellagio & Caesars Palace.

When I walk into the very cool foyer of the Bellagio, I reach into my hoodie pocket to find fuzz. No camera. I drop my bag to the floor and dig around furiously, sending Eric running after the cab. I burst into tears (who cries in VEGAS?). The hotel staff try to help, but we don't have the cab number or driver's name. They can't tell us if they have security cameras, but say they'll "look into it".

I am just sick. For an hour and a half, I go from cab to cab to see if I can find the driver. We contact security at both hotels ... every cab company that uses SUV type vehicles ... and even God. Seriously -- I got down on my knees for a little shout out to the man upstairs for help ...


(Dana, where are you with your hand sanitizer when I really need it?)

Distraught is not even adequate to describe my condition. Pissed isn't adequate to describe my Mother's. But what can we do? We pack up the car and get on the road. I call the cab company and Bellagio security every hour for updates. Finally, several hours later, the Bellagio comes through. They call with the right cab company, the cab number -- and exact time we arrived. (Lily ... I love you. Thank you thank you thank you.)

So I call the cab company back. They are reeaallly annoyed with me at this point. I tell the woman I've spoken to three or four times already the new information. She says there's still no record of a camera being found. I lay on the honey, hoping to catch a fly -- explaining what is on the camera. Nothing. I ask for the drivers name. She says no -- he's off the shift, anyway. She impatiently adds that the drivers check the cabs when they leave and the new driver checks it again when he gets in.

I ask for a supervisor.

She still tellsa supervisor can't help me. I ask again. No. I explain that I know I am inconveniencing her, but could she pretty please with sugar on top have the current driver check just one more time? She sighs.

This woman hates me.

I'm on hold for a long, long time. I'm sure she's hung up on me and has blacklisted my number, but she comes back and askes where I am.

They found the camera. They'll sent it to me via FedEx tomorrow.

I kneel on the bathroom floor of our hotel -- the same one a bug just crawled across -- to say a prayer of thanks.

1 comment:

  1. Howdy Ladies! Hope your Happy Trails are mosey-ing along! What happens in Vegas, will be fully disclosed on! Hee! Hee! I sent you an email regarding Flat Stanley's final destination! Love to you, your Mom, and Grandma (the illegal one!)...ha! ha! I love it! What a belly aching laugh I got from that one!