|"Everybody likes new inventions, new technology. People will never be replaced by machines. In the end, life and business are about human connections. And computers are about trying to murder you in a lake. And to me, the choice is easy."|
It hasn't killed me yet . . . hence I'm not dead . . .
But the other day it failed me rather spectacularly. See, there's a long string of streetlights all up and down State Street. They shine brightly all night long so that people can see where they're going without the aid of the sun. Except right above the bus stop I use every day. It's also dark right at the time of the morning when I generally catch the bus. Long story short: I wave my cell phone frantically in the air every single morning as the bus is approaching, so as to avoid the very real possibility of the bus driver not seeing me and passing me by. I get up too early in the morning to allow that to happen.
The other morning, as I assembled my various effects and accoutrements in preparation for my embarking out into the cold, dark world, I realized I had not charged my phone the night before. Oh, well; too late now.
Once the 200 appeared in view, I got out my phone and checked it to make sure it was still on. It was. I commenced frantically waving it in the air.
And then I heard it. The turning-off noise.
My phone had died right when I needed it most. The bus continued barreling down State Street. No sign of stopping. So I did what I had to do. I began frenetically flailing my right hand in the air instead.
Fortunately, I come from a long line of pale people, and I was in school all last summer (read: DID NOT GET TAN). I glow in the dark. The bus driver saw my flailing hand and stopped.
When I got on, he said, "Forgot your phone, huh?"
I replied dejectedly, "No, it died."
So, if in the next few days you call me and I don't answer for days, it's not because I'm mad at you--it's because I'm mad at my phone. Or it died again. One of the two.