Where's Waldo?

Okay, now I am getting worried.

My friend, John, and I have an app on our iPhones that let's each other see where in the world the other one is.  As an example, as I drove from California to Tennessee, unbeknownst to me, John was watching as I crossed over the California border into Arizona, but I found out when suddenly a text sprung up from him - "You escaped!"

My daughter claims he and I are each other's stalkers.  That's why I changed my iPhone that whenever a text comes through from John, it plays the "Suspense" tone, which sounds cool and ominous.

But's here where the worry comes in.  Right now, John is somewhere in Europe.  The app we use reports a "stale" location whenever the person's iPhone GPS is unavailable.  And for the last four days, John's had a stale location - the train station in Schwindratzheim, France.  That was the last time he got wifi and we exchanged texts on some news regarding a mutual friend that I had to get to him.  He was on his way to Paris - and the GPS has not been updated since.

Now, it could be a case of non-access to wifi (even though the GPS may be on, the app requires wifi to report on locations).  But I know he was due in Paris and then London.  Both places have plenty of free wifi - heck, even McDonalds overseas provides free wifi.  Maybe he lost his iPhone, as he did in Mexico just a few weeks ago (okay, it wasn't technically "lost", let's just say it became "non-functional" after coming in contact with chlorinated water) - but he has his iPad with him, and that becomes his backup when the iPhone isn't working.

Okay, I'll admit it - parts of Europe have become Eurabia and that is why I am worried.  A single, White guy by himself in two of the more "Islamicized" cities does not make me happy, especially if that guy happens to be someone who has the status of "baby brother" with me.

This Thursday, when I am back in California, I am due to pick him up at LAX when he flies back in, so we get a chance to see each other.  He had better walk off that plane . . . or I'm calling Interpol.

Where's Waldo?!