Lost, and then Found

I lost my phone yesterday. I was on the bus and when it reached my stop, I stood up in a tangle of bags and straps, and thought I heard a soft, light thud; I looked on, behind, next to, and under the seat, but saw nothing, so I got off the bus.
At home, when I realized my phone was missing, I texted Tri-Met's Lost & Found, and settled back to wait, figuring I wouldn't learn anything until Monday. But, Tri-Met is great; they sent a personal reply right away, even saying they knew which bus I had probably been on, and they'd call if they found it.
Then, this morning, we met Gery for breakfast at Fuller's, downtown. As soon as we sat down, I told Gery all about the phone, and before I had finished my tale of woe, he was looking at his phone and said, "It's in Clackamas." 
Not catching on yet, Eric and I both tried to explain just where the bus yard was, and that the phone was probably there, not in Clackamas. We could go to the yard after breakfast to see if anyone had turned it in. "No, it's in Clackamas," he replied, and showed me a dot with my picture right on top of a house in Clackamas, about 20 miles away.
I had forgotten all about the Find My iPhone app, but he hadn't. Then, being the positive, hopeful folk that we are, Eric and I told Gery we could go catch up with that bus and get the phone, that the bus must be back driving a route. I figured my phone must have slipped down into the apparatus of the seat I'd been sitting on as it was one that swings up when a wheelchair needs the space; it must have been well hidden since I had looked, but saw nothing, so it must still be on the bus.
We sat there and watched the little picture of me, waiting for it to move, but it never did; my phone must really be in a house and not on a bus. So now we have to go to someone's house, knock on the door, and ask for my phone.
And that's what we did; we piled into Gery's car and drove to Clackamas. What trouble were we getting ourselves into? Should we call the police or Tri-Met first? No, let's just get this over with.
The house was in a perfectly nice suburban neighborhood a mile or so south of Sunnyside Road. Eric stayed in the car while Gery and I walked to the front door. What could go wrong? Who would mess with a burly guy like Gery or a little, gray-haired lady like me? 
Nothing went wrong. We rang the bell, waited, rang the bell again, waited, knocked on the door, the dog began barking, waited some more, knocked some more, waited some more. 
Then, lo and behold, a car pulled into the driveway and out popped the homeowner. She was an RN who had just gotten off work. I don't know how long we would've waited there if she hadn't shown up.
We told her the app showed us my missing phone was in her house. She didn't deny it or react other than to say she'd check with her kids. She went inside and came back in less than five minutes with my phone. Said her daughter's friend found it and had given it to the daughter. Whatever.
End of story - I got my phone back.