Next time I might find a spot in the third container, a spot I imagine no other phone-stasher would have found with the skill and location-aware precision. “That phone belonged nowhere else but in that pocket of my bag.”
Other times I must be more limber, more improvisatory. That’s where the outside pocket, stuffed mostly with napkins and receipts, comes into play. All other pockets keep the phone safe from thieves but the outside one not so much. That is why, when moving with the moment and being nimble require me to sacrifice opening the bag and depositing the phone as safely as possible I follow the flourish by securing the bag to my person as securely as possible. The phone itself is pressed to me, preventing thievery. Or so I like to think.
It’s more about the needless notion that my acts of flipping the phone into a bag are some kind of artistic, athletic flourish. Worthy of commendation and self-praise. Imagining that mmy bag is such a complex puzzle that it must take several brain cycles for one to capably process the logistics and mechanics of getting the phone in there securely.
What am I talking about?
