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There are moments in life that humble you, and then there are moments that dunk you into the metaphorical waters of humility. In my case, the waters weren’t metaphorical at all—they were the murky depths of Istanbul’s Golden Horn, and the humbling came in the form of my phone sinking to the bottom of it.
I was in Istanbul for the SATW conference, surrounded by incredible opportunities to explore, connect, and, naturally, compete. The conference app had a contest to rack up points through posts, comments, and photos. I was already in second place, trailing a gentleman whose strategy of rapid-fire one-liners and emoji-laden updates was keeping him just ahead.
That morning, I had joked with my group, “This afternoon, I’m taking him down—with real posts and meaningful comments!” We all laughed as I confidently plotted my app domination, little knowing the universe had other plans.
A Sail to Remember
That afternoon, I embarked on a sail around the Golden Horn with a guide and a small group in a six-passenger boat. Rain drizzled over Istanbul, but we were equipped with waterproof gear and life jackets, ready to embrace the adventure. The skyline shimmered in the misty light, and I busied myself snapping photos, capturing the city’s beauty from the water.
We had barely left the pier—maybe 15 feet out—when I heard a soft knock on the deck next to me. I turned my head, curious, just in time to see my phone slip over the edge of the boat and vanish beneath the surface of the Bosphorus Strait.
For a moment, I froze, unable to process what had just happened. My phone. My photos. My connection to the SATW app, email, social media, and—let’s be honest—life as I knew it, was gone.
Laughter in the Face of Disaster
Then, I started laughing. Not a quiet chuckle, but full-blown laughter that left the crew staring at me in shock. “Why are you laughing?” one of them finally asked, confused.
“Because crying won’t make the phone float back up!” I replied between gasps.
In that moment, I was convinced God was tuning in to keep me humble. I could have sworn I’d put my phone in the pouch around my neck after taking my last photo. But instead of racking up points and claiming my app victory, I was suddenly stripped of all digital connections.
As I would soon learn, the fallout wasn’t just about losing my phone. Two-factor authentication became my nemesis. Every code I needed for computer access, to access email, social media, or the internet was sent to my phone—my phone that was now resting at the bottom of the Golden Horn.
Enter the Diver
Our guide mentioned that divers were available for hire. “Six thousand Turkish Lira,” he said, which worked out to roughly $180 USD. Knowing the water was only about 15 meters deep, I figured, “What the heck? Let’s go for it.”
Later, I would wonder just how many people lose things off boats in the area if they have divers on call.
The diver arrived, cheerful and confident, and suited up knowing what had happened. He assured that he’d do his best, then slipped into the water and disappeared below the surface.
As the minutes stretched on, I imagined him triumphantly resurfacing with my phone in hand, somehow miraculously unscathed and still logged into the app.
Spoiler alert: that’s not how this story ends.
No Phone, No Problem?
After an hour or so of searching, the diver emerged empty-handed. The water was too murky, he explained, and there were too many obstacles to locate the phone.
He was thanked for his effort, because really, what else could I do? My phone was gone, and with it, any hope of winning the app contest—or accessing my email, social media, or anything requiring two-factor authentication.
Samsung to the Rescue
Later that same day, I found myself at the Samsung store in a nearby mall. With the help of a wonderfully patient salesperson, I picked out a new phone. While I wouldn’t be able to connect it fully until I returned to the States, at least I had a device for photos and videos. After all, I had a trip to Sicily coming up, and my work as a travel writer couldn’t pause for long.
I got it for less than I would have paid in the United States PLUS got it tax-free. I guess that could be counted as a win? After all, the week before my trip, Verizon let me know I was eligible for an upgrade, LOL.
Shout-Out to My Hero
A special shout-out goes to Craig from Travel Wisconsin, who was my hero that day. He let me borrow his phone to text my husband and helped me pay the divers (I paid him back, of course). More importantly, he made sure I was okay later that night, checking in with kindness and humor that helped turn a frustrating day into a memorable one.
Lessons Learned
Looking back, I can’t help but laugh at the absurdity of it all. Losing my phone wasn’t ideal, but it was a reminder to stay humble and find humor even in frustrating situations. It also gave me a newfound appreciation for backup plans, waterproof pouches, and the kindness of colleagues like Craig.
Would I hire a diver again? Absolutely. Not for the guarantee of success, but for the adventure—and the story—that comes with it.
So, here’s my advice: If you ever find yourself in Istanbul, sailing around the Golden Horn, and hear a mysterious knock on the deck, hold onto your phone. Or at least be prepared to laugh when it takes an unscheduled swim.
And, for your information, I came in third place in the app contest. {giggle}
