Closer Than My Cell Phone (standard:humor, 905 words)
Author: Godspenman	Added: Sep 13 2014	Views/Reads: 2221/1593	Story vote: 0.00 (0 votes)
My comfort rests in the fact that God is closer to me than my cell phone.

Traveling, especially by air, is not my favorite pastime. I know some
people who just delight in flying from one point to another point. If 
you would count all of those people who do, I would be nowhere on that 
list. 

Recently I had to travel involving changing planes, which involved
spending a night at the Orlando airport. I could have come home, which 
is about two hours away, or I could spend the night and catch the plane 
the next day. It would cost me about the same to stay overnight at the 
airport as it would to travel back home and then return to the airport 
the next day. So, after all of my meticulous calculations, I decided to 
spend the night at the airport. 

I determined while there to get the most of my night's stay at the
airport. The hotel at the airport was one of those big international 
hotels. It had more stories than a politician on the campaign trail. As 
is usually the case, my room was on one of the top stories of the 
hotel. 

Checking in at the front desk, I then went to my room and settled down
for the evening. I was not going to waste my time huddled in my hotel 
room, rather, I was going to look around and experience the “nightlife” 
at this international Airport. 

Have you ever made a decision, then looking back on it you thought to
yourself, “Self, we are never going to do that again.” Such was my 
case. 

I decided to get some supper around 8 o'clock in the evening. This, I
found out, was the time high society folk eat. Why they eat so late, I 
will never know. But, since I was with high society, I decided to act 
and eat like high society. 

The restaurant in this international hotel was one of those highfalutin
restaurants where you really do not know what is on the menu. The menu 
was in every language except English. Fortunately, they had some 
pictures and fortunately, my index finger was still in good working 
order. I ordered my supper, set back and observed the high society all 
around me. 

One thought that stumbled through my brain at the time was, “I wonder if
these people in this restaurant know that I am not part of high 
society?” 

About this time the wine steward, I guess that is what he is called,
came by to take my wine order. The only wine I know is spelled with an 
H. When I declined the wine, people began to suspicion I was not part 
of high society. I guess you cannot be part of high society unless you 
wine a little. 

I finished my supper and decided to wander around in the huge lounge
area on this floor. Everybody there was talking and so I got an order 
of coffee, went to a couch, sat down and just observed what was going 
on around me. One thing I noticed was that most people seemed to be on 
their cell phone. What would happen in our society if cell phones 
suddenly stopped working for three minutes? There would be such a panic 
across our country that nobody would actually survive. 

I decided I should call someone on my cell phone. After all, I am trying
to fit in with this high society. My dilemma came when I tried to 
figure out who in the world I should call at 10 o'clock in the evening. 


Then it dawned on me. I will call the Gracious Mistress of the
Parsonage. I do not know why I did not think of this before. So, I 
pressed the speed dial and the phone started ringing. 

As soon as the phone started ringing, a thought danced in my mind. What
in the world am I calling her for? What in the world would I talk 
about? 

Before finishing all of the questions floating around my cranium my wife
answered the phone. 

The first words out of her mouth were, “What did you forget now?” 


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