The Day the Cell Phone Died

I'm sure it's been said a million times (actually, I know it has since I've said it about 900,000 times), but losing your cell phone or it being incapacitated for any period of time can cause a great deal of anxiety. A friend of mine –- we'll call her Mandy -– had her cell phone die on her today, so she had to IM me to get a phone number she so desperately needed (looking for drinking buddies). But what if she didn't have the convenience of IM at hand. She'd have to think real hard for anyone's number. Hopefully that person would know someone that would know the number of the original person she was trying to reach. It's the Kevin Bacon game only not fun. She could have been stuck drinking alone or even worse, not drinking at all.

Another friend - we'll change her name to Hiana, to protect her true identity – left her cell phone at my apartment one evening. It was a total bitch trying to get a hold of each other. I didn't know her land line number (or if she had one to begin with) and she didn't know mine, being it was buried in bag the entire day. She had to resort to coming directly to my place to see if I was home (I wasn't), then calling from a pay phone (a what?) to try to reach her phone which I didn't hear.

Damn you, progress. Damn you.