Courage
I was in line to board a plane, and my iPhone was ringing.
I had it in my hand, as I had just been texting. My ringtone is “Amelie,” a definitive, haunting, accordion-forward composition. But though I was definitely hearing “Amelie,” my iPhone was definitely blank.
I stared at it. I poked at the Home button. I furrowed my brow. I shook it. Nothing to undo.
The woman next to me in line pulled out her phone. “Amelie” suddenly became louder. She pressed a button, and the accordion stopped. I stared at her in disbelief.
“Is your ringtone ‘Amelie’?” I asked her. She was taken aback. “Um, yes,” she said. “Oh, that’s so weird! Mine is too!” I said. She stared. It got uncomfortable. I continued, “I thought it was my phone that was ringing.” She clearly did not think it was as remarkable as I did. But then she asked, “Why did you choose it?” “Oh, I take accordion lessons,” I told her.
Blink.
Blink.
“You take accordion lessons? Really?” she asked. “Yes,” I said.
The man in front of me slowly turned around and regarded me. “Playing the accordion,” he mused. “That takes a lot of c -“
Now, here I thought he was going to say, “coordination.”
He didn’t.
”- courage to admit.”
“I’m secure in my instrument of choice,” I told him.
We boarded.
