If I had a nickel for every time one of my friends asked me, “When are you gonna get a cell phone?” I’d have at least enough money to buy two Dick’s Deluxes by now. “When I get a job (a paying job), I’ll get a cell phone,” I tell them. But I’m lying. I never want to get a cell phone. I feel too free.
The following two scenarios involve cell phone ownership. The first discusses the possible “bad” that can come out of owning a cell phone, and the second discusses the possible (and rarely-explored) “good.” Indulge me…
Scenario #1: Horror Floats
You’re driving across the I-90 floating bridge after hiking Rattlesnake Ledge in the Cascades with your friends. The evening sun struggles to stay above Beacon Hill but is quickly losing the battle. On the water, tiny wave rivulets sparkle in the late-summer crespusculence. You’re on your cell phone texting, though, so you don’t see any of this. Texting and driving. You know you shouldn’t be doing it—it’s illegal, even—but your buddy is messaging you about some party in the U-District later with “hella” girls and “hella” Key Light. Besides, you’re in the slow lane. You’re keeping tabs on the road.
Without noticing you drift into the shoulder towards the Jersey barrier, the only thing that separates traffic from the lake. Your friends yells, “Hey!” and you drop your cell phone and jerk the steering wheel back to the right. But you overcompensate. Your car begins to fish-tail out of control, and you slam into the concrete barrier at sixty-five miles per hour. Your car flips upside down, skids briefly on its roof, and crashes into the surface of the lake.
Two weeks later a team of search-and-rescue scuba-divers find the remains of you and your friends. Your cell phone is broken due to water damage. AT&T will not replace it.
So that’s what can become of HAVING a cell phone. Allow me now illustrate one of the many scenarios in which NOT HAVING a cell phone would pay sweeping dividends and possibly lead to years of great sex:
Scenario #2: Emotional Love
You’re at a party on Capitol Hill talking to some emo-hipster chick that caught your eye the minute you walked in the door. She’s radiant. She lights up the entire room. You cannot take your eyes off her. Somehow, by the grace of God, you engineer a scenario that actually allows you talk to her, but you tremble throughout the entire conversation. She is even more stunning up close. You would literally hack off your right arm and use it to bludgeon a baby seal to death if it gave you the chance to sleep with her. Suddenly, someone walks by talking loudly on their iPhone and almost spills her drink. She scowls.
“God. I hate cell phones. They ruin everything.”
“Yeah, I hate them, too,” you say. You’re salivating.
“Really? You have one though, right?”
You almost lie and say “yes.” You figured lying would be necessary to get this girl into bed, but then you realize you don’t have to.
“No, no, I don’t have one.”
“Bullshit, everyone has one,” she says. She’s sassy.
“Seriously, I don’t.”
“Let me see your pockets.”
You turn your pockets inside out as quickly as you can, in the process spilling your keys to the floor and also a pile of quarters, some Canadian, some American. But no cell phone.
“Wow,” she says. “You’re an anomaly.”
Later that night, you make a baby anomaly.
Again, as you can see, not having a cell phone is the way to go. I know this, bushmen on the plains of Tanzania know this— but do you know this?
It’s never too late to find a sewer drain and change your life forever.
-Wetzler
This entry was written by , posted on January 10, 2009 at 6:47 pm, filed under My Lack of Cell Phone and tagged beacon hill, Capitol Hill, cell phone, i-90 floating bridge, key light. Leave a comment or view the discussion at the permalink.