“Look at my new i-phone, Aunt Margaret!” squealed my three year old nephew as he burst through my front door.
That’s it. It’s official. I’m the only adult left in America without a cell phone.
(In my nephew’s parent’s defense, his phone was a hand-me-down and did not receive cell service–just lots of fun apps.)
I used to have a cell phone. Heck, I used to have a car phone. But last summer I lost my beloved cell phone while on vacation. It never turned up, and we were feeling poor, so I canceled the service all together. I have to admit, it was liberating. I was unplugged, off-line, and in tune. Old school, baby. But after months and months of asking complete strangers for directions and begging random drifters for a chance to use their phones in emergency situations (you can’t find pay phones anymore,) I’m ready to go back on the grid.
Paul, on the other hand, is, has, and always will be, perpetually tethered to his phone. He just got the new 3GS i-phone. His company pays for his gadgets, so nothing is too good for our little salesman. Since the 3GS, he’s been acting like a 16 year old with his first set of keys. Soooooo cool. He pulls it out for everything. Movies, directions, light saber duels, math flash cards for Andy, you name it. I gave him a hard time about not putting it away during church services, and what did he do? Pulled up the hymn book on it so he could sing along. Wow. That thing really is cool. In fact, his phone has become the most coveted toy in the entire house. It entertains toddlers, moms, and businessmen alike.
Here’s the problem: now that I’ve been exposed to the coolest phone ever, I can’t go and get some rink-a-dink, teeny bopper phone at a reasonable price. Oh no. It’s the 3GS I crave. I need one. But what I don’t need is the accompanying hefty monthly invoice threatening to gobble up my grocery allowance. Food. i-Phone. Food. i-Phone… But just think of all the fits and tantrums at the checkout line I could diffuse with a delightful little matching game app.
You see, this is why I’ve never flown first class. This is why I’ve never eaten at a Ruth’s Chris. Never tasted caviar. Once acquainted with the finer things, it’s too hard going back.
Darn you, 3GS. Darn you…