Damnit, they're everywhere. No matter how hard you try to relax, pay attention in class, watch a movie, or anything else, a cell phone is going to screw it all up. Kind of like that crying baby that follows you around or the fat woman who always insists on reserving the plane seat right next to you. Cell phones are a huge problem.
It has now become necessary to keep in constant communication with people. And depending on how many people you know, the minutes start adding up on the bill. Sure, this new communication phenomenon is great, but the constant chime of unnecessary calls in the backdrop of everyday life has to stop.
It comes in classes, either making people laugh or teachers pissed off. It disrupts the most intense scene in your favorite movie, and the jerk actually has the nerve to answer his phone in the middle of the theatre, and when this happens you find yourself singing The Beatles' Happiness is a Warm Gun rather than actually taking action. And how about those people who pretend that they don't know whose phone it is? You know that girl who sits there while her purse is vibrating and sending some dissonant frequency through your eardrums, or her friend who thinks it's necessary to carry everything she owns with her at all times in what looks more like an overnight bag than a purse and just can't find the phone to turn it off. Then there's the blasphemous morons who bring them into church with them -- it's okay. I'm sure whoever is calling you is more important than The Almighty.
And of course since everyone in our little college town treats their cell phone like a teenage girl treats the Swatch phone she has in her room, there is never any service. Usually around 6-7:00 p.m. every night "All the circuits are busy," and your clenched fists can't keep that terrible man's voice from telling you the bad news over and over again. Well, I guess we could get some more towers. "Gee! What a great idea Brett! Putting up more cell phone towers in a college town that per capita probably has the highest amount of cell phone frequency than any other of its size in the country, how brilliant!" But no, we'll just let everyone re-dial until it finally connects and you get screened by the person on the other line.
That's right. Caller-ID. The worst and greatest thing ever. Second-Year College student Mike Resnick boasts that he uses his self-proclaimed "F@$% You Button" all the time. So instead of communicating, we get to listen to whoever we are calling's personalized answering machine. And I am just as guilty, because mine is a quote from a movie. My dad was utterly confused when he called and heard Vince Vaughn telling Jon Favreau how money he is instead of me saying I can't get to the phone right now.
They keep getting smaller and more ridiculous too. Personally I miss the Zach Morris, huge, grey machine of a phone that made you feel more like you were calling in a Vietnam air strike than your parents to ask for more beer money . . . BOOKS! I mean money for books.
How necessary is it that your screen's in color? Probably about as necessary as having a camera in your phone -- features that seem really cool in the store, then you realize that for the price you paid, the phone should be able to blow-up third world countries.
And if the constant ringing of some terrible MIDI recreation of Puff Daddy's latest single isn't enough, then I'm gonna have to talk about Virginia's tower system a little more.
See, my service is Cingular Wireless, which although great in Memphis, does not have a contract for most of the Virginia area. So I have to be re-routed through AT&T or whatever other mega corporation controls that stuff. The only problem with this is that during long weekend binges, cell phones, because of their sleek designs, slip out of sweaty hands. The last time this happened (Isabel), I had my step-father send me an old phone of his, easy enough right? Of course not!
I have to have my own "SIM Card" for his phone to work on my account.
"Mom, will you buy me a SIM card and ship it to me?"
Done.
"Oh I'm sorry, your phone can't download the software unless you're in a Cingular service area."
I go to Washington, D.C., a Cingular Service area.
"I'm sorry, our system isn't recognizing that SIM card."
Oh my GOD!!!!
"We can't get you a new card here, we only have ones for the D.C. area. You'll have to change your number."
So after trying really hard not to climb the nearest clock tower, I had to get my parents to buy a new phone and get it activated in Memphis, then ship it here. Great, my problems are over.
Two days later, my father neglected to pay the bill -- "You have been re-directed to Cingular Wireless due to non-payment on your account."
There is just no hope. Try to keep your head above water, and attempt to restrain the overwhelming rage building inside. What ever happened to phones that worked? Let's just go back to using strings and paper cups.
Whatever. As unnecessary as our new need for constant communication is, it's not going away. Cell phones are going to keep ringing all over the place, and we are all going to die from brain cancer.
Have a nice day.
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