Noel and Christina's Subway Misadventure

The night air was chilly. Christina and I hurried up the hill from our dorm, eager to reach her car in the parking lot. Once inside, we waited for the car to warm up, talking about life and silly things. We were about to embark on an adventure. We just didn't know it yet.

After traveling the long and winding road, dodging crazy Derry drivers (you wouldn't think so, but they're here) we reached our destination: Subway (eat fresh).

There were two young men working behind the counter. Christina called them Sweetheart and Doof. The one called Sweetheart, she confided, is usually the person who makes her subs when she comes in and he's always a "sweetheart," hence the name. Doof, on the other hand... well, you know how you talk to someone for a few minutes and you realize they have that far-away look that says they're just a few spades short of a full deck? Doof was one of these people. In the process of making Christina's sub - roasted chicken with swiss cheese - Doof asked her at least four times what kind of cheese she wanted. FOUR! It didn't even take him four minutes to make the sub!

The food mission having been accomplished, we sat down so she could eat. And then we left and decided to drive around down roads we hadn't traveled yet. We passed the prison (didn't know we had one) and quite a few sketchy houses, and ended up in Manchester. We were just about to go into Hollywood Video when I patted my pockets. My keys jingled in my left pocket. The right pocket was empty.

Panic began to gnaw at the back of my mind.

"Fuck. Where's my phone?"

After standing up, checking and re-checking my pockets, feeling up the seat and the floor, I turned to Christina with what must've been a hideously pained expression. She called my phone and we waited.

Ring, I thought. Ring!

No such luck.

Back to Subway we go. Subway closes at 11. It is now 10:35 and we are in downtown Manchester. And we hit every redlight on the way. Visions of me pounding desperately on the glass pane in the Subway door and making wild hand gestures at Doof in an attempt to plead with him swam through my mind. Christina and I started talking, for some reason, about Mark Wahlberg. We tried to remember what Marky Mark and the Funky Bunch was all about. We got there with fifteen minutes to spare and retrieved the phone from Sweetheart.

From now on every time I need something to go right I'll think of Mark Wahlberg.

Oh, and a one-sided AIM conversation I found when I got back.
Mom: Noel
Me: [Away Message]
Mom: Noel are you there
Me: [Away Message]
*sometime later...
Mom: Noel did you go to Subway in Derry? They have your phone.

Yeah. What a night.