Indirectly Speaking: The Law of Threes

They say things happen in threes, usually bad things. I’m typically a skeptic of such mojo, yet of late I am becoming a believer – with some hope. Let me explain.

My last couple months have been a triad of weird misfortune. The first of the hiccups I’ve already documented; the lost-or-stolen-at-the-airport laptop debacle. I’ll return to that later; there’s a twist.

The laptop nightmare upon take off in San Diego enroute to New Hampshire in early May was a month later eclipsed by something far more serious. Let me set the stage. It’s mid-June. I’m working at home and the blissful advent of summer in New England is upon us. I ask my eldest daughter to run a quick errand for me. As a senior, she’s done with her high school classes, hanging at home and awaiting graduation a mere three days’ later. It was a pretty routine errand, close to home at about noon or one in afternoon.

She goes. Twenty minutes later I get that call. “Mom (tears), I’ve been in a car accident.” Panic. Heart beating. Voice-cracking, I ask if she is alright. She says yes, “but the car isn’t.” Then the real horror; she confesses she rear-ended another motorist. Ugh. My heart sank. I got a ride to the scene a mile from my home and pulled up to full-on fire department ladder trucks, police lights blaring and a sobbing daughter standing on side of the road.

Everyone is OK. Relief is not a sufficient word. The car was totaled though, and, as a result, I drove to my daughter’s graduation ceremony three days later in a rental (a pretty nice Hyundai Sonata). I rode around in it for the next two weeks before biting the bullet and buying a new car. Insurance is valuable, especially if you have a teen driver.

So, third leg of the stool. Fast forward to July 4th weekend. We are invited to a family party at the beach in York, Maine. It’s an annual summer event and curse me if I’ve not secured a hotel for the night given all the other nuttiness that has been going on. So in a bid for at least one night’s accommodation, I go on a last-minute Hotels.com quest. A fairly nice place is still available for next night even though it’s high season. I call, give my debit card and book a room for July 3. Score!

I was happy for 15 minutes. That’s when I get a call from said hotel manager saying my debit card was declined. Huh? That’s not possible. So I freak out, access online banking to decipher what’s up and find badness.

Bottom line is that $14,700 had evaporated from my account for what was supposed to be a $270 per night hotel charge. I call the bank. Helpless on hold, I give up and drive like a crazy person to a bank branch that’s just about to close for the holiday weekend. Two hours later, the unfailingly generous tellers resolve this insane charge made by the hotel operator, whose excuse was this: “You know how computers are.” Seriously?

And yet while bad things might indeed come in threes, I feel lucky. My bank account is restored and most importantly, my daughter and the other motorists emerged from the accident unscathed. Life’s a funny thing.

And on a funnier note, two months after the San Diego trip I got a postcard in the mail. American Airlines might have something of mine. Hmmm. I call. Yep, laptop recovered.