My wife and I are in a large skyscraper hotel. We just arrived in Florida and want to go out as soon as possible. So I offer to take our big suitcase up to our room. The elevator is full and fast. Because of high winds, at time it feels a bit odd, even scary, going up and down between the high floors. I realize that I am enjoying this special elevator ride, and have forgotten to get out at my floor. But what was our floor number again? I think it was 17 and a nice hotel lady presses it for me. She gets out at the same floor, and I confide in her that I am not sure this is my floor, but that a quick message to my wife will resolve this.
The hotel lady watches as I take out my iPhone to text my wife. She says she will keep me company until this small matter is resolved and comments that I have a nice Apple Watch. I tell her that I also have an iPad in my shoulder bag, and how great I find these new communication tools.
Somehow I cannot find my wife’s phone number. Is my iPhone freezing again, or is it my clumsiness? Thank God for the fingerprint unlocking, but unless you have stiletto fingers, which I do not, this keyboard can be a pain. Especially in this half-lit corridor.
I am not getting there, and the lady is still watching. No worry she says, she is not in a hurry. In fact, as soon as I have contacted my wife she would like to tell me about some of the beautiful hotel apartments they have available for time share sale. I think how I have looked at that years ago and have no interest, but keep quiet. If I cannot text her, then a quick email to my waiting wife might work.
The email is not working, and I begin to realize it is not the phone, but I. Why is everything so small and difficult? I take out my tablet and try again. The hotel lady turns to another elderly man, mumbling that maybe he is still “on it”. I feel stressed, sweaty and so so helpless. I cannot reach my wife, who must by now be so worried down there. I feel so helpless.
Then I wake up. Birds herald a new day after clearly a stormy night and my wife is breathing peacefully next to me in our warm cosy bed.
It was just a dream. But because of this experience, albeit dreamed, now I get it. My old father who got lost in an airport on one of his last trips. My mother’s despair that she cannot use her iPad any more to send us children a picture of the painting she just made. The homeless patients looking so lost with the paper in their hand. A confused and scary future that awaits most of us.
I have felt it now. So different from knowing. After feeling this experience I get it. Experience is the true teacher. And I know what to do. Do you?