Where There's Smoke...

Sure, we can save ourselves. But would we rather someone else come to our rescue?

The ladies are on a journey to new lands. A mission to learn about creatures unknown. Their persons of interest: firemen. Their destination: Staten Island. Their ship: The Staten Island Ferry. As a local celebrity, (I guess in today’s terms that would be a niche online celebrity) Carrie has been asked to be a judge for the FDNY Calendar Competition. Also on the judges panel is Bill Kelly and he’d like your vote for New York City Comptroller. He’d also like to take Carrie on a date but she’s “not into dating right now.”

Charlotte was uncomfortable ogling the firemen and Miranda “doesn’t have Steve” but Samantha was right at home on the hunt for a bit of man. He’s tall, he’s big, and he’s dumb as rocks. Ladies, here’s Ricky!! This whole show is giving Magic Mike and I think that’s beautiful. Anyway, after the dancing and competing is over, Samantha makes her move. Their conversation is some of the most harrowing dialogue in the entire series. She’s putting in her best work -eyes, body, flirt- and he is just there. I wouldn’t be able to do it but Samantha is a better woman than me. She does get to live out her firehouse fantasy (after a bit of a rough start) but it gets even worse when the men are called to action. They suit up while she’s left in her birthday suit.

On the way home from Staten Island, and a few too many Staten Island Iced Teas later, Charlotte declares that she’s going to get married this year. So a few days after the competition, she and Carrie go out to find her a husband. At a ritzy bar on the Upper East Side, Charlotte has her eyes on some guy in a suit when J.J. approaches them. Charlotte isn’t into him and they move away but here’s the thing, he finds them again. He clearly can’t take a hint and the guy in the suit comes to save the day. His name is Arthur and he punches J.J. out. It’s kind of great but also, why? Charlotte thinks it’s chivalrous and goes on a date with him the following week where she learns that it has nothing to do with chivalry. He just likes fighting. 

Miranda has decided to go under the knife for 20/20 vision. She’s getting Lasik and Steve offers to bring her home but she’s going to ask Carrie. It’s not the last time Carrie doesn’t come to Miranda’s rescue but thankfully Steve (guys. STEVE!) comes through for her. And Carrie decides she will go on the date with future comptroller Bill Kelly. (Don’t feel bad if you’re thinking about googling what a comptroller is. I had to do it too. Basically, they’re a government accountant. They look into department spending and see where there’s waste and what not. Will the comptroller ever look into the NYPD?) When she misses the last ferry back to Manhattan, he rolls up to give her a ride home. Firemen, fist fighters, and knights in shining Buicks, oh my! Carrie can’t help but wonder, “Do women just want to be rescued?”

Season 3 Episode 1: Where There’s Smoke…

Last week I went out with friends after work. I’d been noticing some symptoms of depression (mostly allowing my room to become a Cave and isolating) and I thought time with friends would surely help that. And it did! You’d be surprised what good friends do for your soul. The laughs flowed as much as the beer and soon enough the time to call a car home was upon us. We called it to Patrick’s apartment and I was all smiles as I walked the few blocks back to mine. 

I drunkenly heated up leftovers and turned on the rest of The Wedding Planner. I’d started it a few days prior and as far as RomComs go, I wasn’t impressed. J-Lo is supposed to be Italian (like, change the script or change the casting. There was too much disbelief to suspend) and Matthew McConaughey should have said something about his hair. The color was awful. The cut is just so unattractive. As I shoved day-old dumplings into my mouth, I reached for my phone to text someone, anyone about the nonsense I was watching. I went through my coat pockets. I emptied out my bag. My phone was nowhere to be found. I have to admit, I wasn’t worried. Things always turn up.

The next morning I went for my usual chai and chat, still not worried about my phone. I was convinced I left it at the bar. I even checked its location (Thank you Mr. Apple for connecting all our devices. I have never said anything bad about you and I pledge fealty to you.) but clearly I hadn’t looked all that hard at the map. I even went to the bar and when I got off the subway, I realized I had no idea where it was. I had to go into a store and ask someone for directions. In my defense, I was just around the corner and if I had stumbled around Williamsburg a little bit more, I would’ve found it on my own. So here’s the thing. My phone wasn’t at the bar. I was the one who called the [REDACTED] and we absolutely checked the license plate before we got in the [REDACTED] and when I got back home and looked at the map again I discovered that my phone was in Bensonhurst. Benson-motherfucking-hurst. 

Let me just say, if [REDACTED] had a phone number for customer service, I would’ve had my phone back in 43 minutes flat. But no, it’s not that easy anymore. Immediately, I went to the website to try to login to my account from there so I could notify my driver of my lost phone but you need a verification code to login. And they text that to you. I still tried it because if I can get my Seamless notification sent to my laptop (again, thank you Mr. Apple for connecting iMessage) then surely I could get a verification code. Nope. No such luck. Didn’t stop me from trying a dozen more times. From there, I searched the FAQs about lost items and they even have a section specifically for lost phones. Follow the link below to ‘Contact Us.’ So I did even though it’s a super generic help form. When they hadn’t responded two days later, I went to the place all weary travelers go for help. Twitter.com

In the seedy underground of Twitter DM is where I started to get somewhere. They could see my account and would contact the driver about my phone and he would reach out to me. Praise Jesus! Hallelujah! I could see the location of my phone for a time. I watched as it went around Brooklyn, near McCarren Park and then over to LIC. For days it’s final location was near MSG and still I hadn’t heard from my driver. Every day I DM’d [REDACTED] and they assured me when they heard from him, I would be the first to know. Last night, I DM’d again and now they were telling a different story. A specialty team was working on my case because they were working to schedule a delivery and I could contact the team via email or the app (lol). I also saw that my phone was back online and moving around NYC. Someone was charging it!

All week long I had been hoping for [REDACTED] or my driver to come to my rescue. For something to click and all the pieces fall into order. It kept not happening and my frustration only grew. It seemed like the only chance I had at ever getting it back was going to Bensonhurst and using a friend’s phone to call it. When it came back online, I thought, let me just go down there and knock on doors until I found it. I had the location. I’d already looked at the street view on GoogleMaps. I even called Murphy to come with me since we had always shared locations. Look, I’m obviously a crazy person and this didn’t seem like a terrible idea but she was so right in saying that we shouldn’t do that. 

At this point, I’d like to say that if we were men, it would probably be different. 

This is maybe the first time in my life I have wanted a man to come along and save the day. For them to say, “Yeah, let’s do this. I got you.” I’ve felt so helpless this whole week and even when I wanted to take matters into my own hands, it wasn’t really an option. I still can’t say if women just want to be rescued but it sure would be nice if we didn’t feel like we had to rely on men to do that. As I’m writing this, I still don’t have my phone, I don’t have any updates about this “scheduled delivery,” and no man has decided to be my personal vigilante. All that considered, my sleep has been so great. Maybe I can take something away from this. When I get my phone back (and I will get it back) I’ll consider not using it last thing before bed and first thing in the morning. 

And if you’re wondering, no, I don’t have it backed up to the cloud.