Dear My Right AirPod,

Well…

We meet again.

Less than a year ago I buried your brother after he took an unexpected dive into the blue waters of an airplane lavatory.

I told myself it would never happen again.

I learned nothing.

This morning, somewhere between Dallas and San Francisco, I managed to send you to the exact same watery grave.

At this point I’m not losing AirPods.

I’m feeding them to commercial aviation.

I don’t even know how I did it. One second you were safely in my ear. The next you were performing a solo dive worthy of the Olympics directly into the aircraft lavatory.

For approximately half a second I considered rescuing you.

Then I looked into that toilet.

God looked back.

Absolutely not.

The flight attendant could have offered me a free lifetime of first class upgrades and I still wouldn’t have reached into whatever ancient chemical soup was swirling beneath me.

Somewhere over Northern California there is now a Delta… American… honestly I don’t even care anymore… lavatory that has claimed both of my AirPods in separate incidents.

Statistically this shouldn’t even be possible.

Apple should honestly be studying me.

At this point I don’t need AppleCare.

I need adult supervision.

If anyone finds a single right AirPod floating somewhere between Dallas and San Francisco, please know he was loved.

Briefly.

Sincerely,

A Passenger Who Is Officially Banned From Taking Electronics Into Airplane Bathrooms

(Currently listening to silence… which, ironically, is what the AirPods were purchased to avoid.)

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