I danced the night away several days ago in one of the popular clubs in Malate in Manila where the music thumps, bass pounds, and people slam.  It was a great night of dance and fun.  The dance floor reeked of its young crowd, all busy with each others groping in the dark.  Until I felt–or unfelt–something: my phone was snatched out of my pocket.

Thus, I lost my Smart Amazing phone, that phone that amazingly hangs and processes information as slow as a 386 computer model.  I was calm though, thinking that getting an obsolete phone robbed was a good reason for a hastier processing of getting a different mobile unit [I have recently changed my company and I am waiting for a new Nokia phone].  At any rate, I danced the night away without lament on the loss of my phone.  Until I realized that several contact numbers of people I find special went with the loss of it.  Alas, I lost the number of X, the person I met just recently.  The one with whom I should have gone badminton, ate dinner, and drank a cup of coffee. 

The night was beginning to turn into a nightmare. The music angrily beat, the rythm pounded with angst, the crowd grew wildly rowdy.  Aaarggghh! Sigh. Let’s just dance to the beat of the drum.