Adventures in Sliding

I'm not much of a technoid. We don't have a flat panel TV; we don't have a dish and we don't do TiVO. The last cell phone I had was about 4 years old (an antique in the cell phone world). Terrill had the same phone, and he joked that our phones belonged in the communications museum next to the two cups attached by a string. But we both loved those phones. They were simple - no bluetooth capability, no downloadable ringtones, not even a camera (gasp!!) When I would pull it out, people would look at me with pity and shake their heads. Outwardly, they would say things like, "Wow. That's an old cell phone." Or, "Gee, I haven't seen one of those in a while." But I could see in their eyes what they were really thinking: "That poor girl. How in this world does she survive without the most basic technological necessities?"

But the truth is, I was proud of my phone. I enjoyed the fact that it demonstrated that I wasn't a slave to the lastest new toy, that I was faithful to what had always served me well. Like a hound dog or an old truck, it was dependable, predictable and loyal. I would see folks with these contraptions strapped to their heads, hear their hip-hop ringtones and watch them take pictures and videos with their phones, and still, I was perfectly satisfied with my faithful phone.

Then the inevitable happened: I discovered that I could save some money by changing my rate plan and signing a new contract. I'm all about saving money, so I jumped on that. Well, you know what signing a contract means: a new cell phone.

It took me a while to get used to the idea. I mean, my cell phone's been through a lot with me: it's been my communication to and from Cook Children's for the last few years. It's been dropped, kicked, and lost. It's been yelled in and cried on. It's received countless text and voices messages, all with incredible dependability. How do you just get rid of something like that?

I'm sentimental, but I'm also practical, and I knew that this phone wasn't going to last forever. I reasoned that it was better to get a new phone now, when I could make an informed decision as opposed to waiting until "Ole Faithful" finally breathed its last and I was desperate.

Basically, I was enticed by the bells and whistles. I succumbed to The Slide. I saw it from across the store, all shiny and glimmering. I picked it up - it was so light! (Suddenly, Ole Faithful seemed so heavy and bulky). Then, I SLID it open... it SLID open, and it SLID close! I didn't even care that it had a camera, and video capability (as well as bluetooth, internet and a whole host of other junk I'll never use). But the slide feature was so... slidy.

So after handing over my credit card an signing my name several times, I was the proud owner of a brand new slider phone. I took it home and discovered that it was significantly more complicated than my old phone. Not a problem, I reasoned. I'm smart, I'm adaptable, I can learn and change. And I did. I even downloaded a couple of ringtones and took a few pictures. I was really enjoying all the fun features on my new toy, and only feeling slightly guilty by seeing Ole Faithful discarded in the corner.

And then it happened. After only 5 days, my life on the edge of cutting-edge technology came to an end. I pulled the biggest bone-head move of any cell phone owner: I washed my phone. No, I don't mean I got a soft, damp cloth and wiped the fingerprints off, I mean I washed it... in the pocket of my shorts... in my washing machine... on permanent press.

I did everything a desperate person would do. I did cell-phone CPR (the hair dryer), I tried repeatedly to find signs of life (turning it on with and without a battery), I prayed (to the Saint of Communication). When all that failed, I pleaded my case to the cell phone authorities. With various pieces of my dead phone in hand, and my tail between my legs, I entered the cell phone store. I was honest. I explained my plight. And, of course, all the cell phone representative could give me was his pity.

It was a long ride home as I thought about what I had done. Technology in the hands of irresponsibility is a dangerous thing. I guess I'm just not ready for all that power.

I came home and placed my SIM card into the back of Ole Faithful, which came to life immediately. I had to smile as I thought about how faithful Ole Faithful really was. I'm not sure, but I think it actually smiled,too.

Man, I'm gonna miss that slide.