It was a hot summer day, god only knows what possessed me to
go to my storage unit in Warrenton, VA, 50 miles away from where I live in the
suburbs of Washington, DC, but there I was in a garage sized tin can unit
baking in 93 sweltering degrees, moving boxes and examining content dating back
to 1997. By 3pm I was absolutely sweaty, grumpy and hungry. Although I didn’t
know why I was there that day, I knew I could relieve my hunger even though I couldn’t
satisfy my stubbornness.
Don’t even ask “why,” but I finally got on my motorcycle
heading to the main strip hunting for something to eat. I pulled into a Wendy’s
parking lot with conviction, as if I was craving their square patties on those round
buns, what is that all about anyways? As soon as I walked in and placed my
order I reach for my smart phone and start texting my girlfriend. We’ve been
having a prolonged back and forth since I got to Warrenton earlier that morning
talking about her rough day at work. A warning message interrupted the flow saying
“Low Battery 10%” which means I barely had another 15 minutes of texting before
the phone turns from smart to dead. I sent her a text saying that I might not
be available for much longer. She understood, but I knew better.
I asked the server if he has an iPhone 5 charger to lend me.
Sure enough he reached into his pocket and pulls out the charger; who keeps a
charger in their pocket? I plug the phone into the only outlet by the counter
and and place it on the floor hoping no one would notice and borrow it
indefinitely. I find a seat. Three minutes later there was nothing but crumbled
wrappers left on the otherwise empty tray. Now, what do I do with myself until
the phone is charged?
A young couple, maybe in their early 20s, sat a table away.
My guess was wrong it turns out they were high school students apparently
attending summer school, which explains the next thing I hear coming out of the
girls mouth “what is that guy doing there by himself doing nothing?” she said
in a snarky tone. Her male companion dismisses her observation saying “he’s a
biker, who knows,” but followed up quickly by saying “if I were him I would pretend
to be cool and text someone.” I was feeling the heat, my eyes were looking
every which way further making myself uncool to the rest of the patrons, like a
creepy middle-aged man without a child at an elementary school picnic. I racked
my brain thinking of what to do with myself without a device.
I came up with one thing to do, and that is to come up with
a good idea to think about. It was harder than I expected in the absence of my entertaining
device prompting me of things to do and think about. My smart phone kept me busy
responding to emails, texting my girlfriend, reading the news, or, when all is
quite on the instant communications front, playing a mindless game. I couldn’t
believe it, after all I am a prolific daydreamer. I am constantly consumed by
ideas despite my best efforts. I typically find myself lost in thoughts without
noticing, especially when I am supposed to be paying attention. This happens
without fail when I’m driving or in a work meetings or when listing to a family
member talking to me about their day’s experience, you know those other parts
of life when caressing the device is frowned upon.
It seems that as devices get smarter I get dumber. I can’t
remember anything anymore because I rely on the phone’s calendar to remind me
of what to do that day and on yelp to tell me where my favorite Indian restaurant
is located. I don’t even need to know anyone’s phone number anymore as long as
I can remember their names, and even this simple task of remembering names is
challenging at times. Nor do I need to know how to get anywhere because I use
google maps to navigate the city. When I have a question I simply ask Siri and,
voilà, the answer is revealed. I insisted that my device empowers me, but in
reality it makes me, for better or worse, dependent on it.
I am shamed as an adult who experienced a pre-Internet world
that I was unable to figure out what to do with myself for half an hour without
a cell phone. That wasn’t the half of it. It got worse as I realized that I had
separation anxiety. My fingers twitching in a repetitive jab as to type on an imaginary
keyboard and my left hand was frozen cupping an invisible smart phone. I was
calming myself with breathing exercises; time passed. I was there for a very
long time, but was unable to gage how long. Surely it was at least 30 minutes
if not more. I walked up to my makeshift charging station turning on my trusted
lifeline only to find out that it was a mere 8 minutes since I plugged in the
device and it got up to 19% battery charge; what a disappointment. So, I did
what any sane person would do, I stood in line again only this time to order a
shake. I go back to my table to sit down moving the jacket from the back of the
seat I was sitting in across to the seat in front of me and placing the helmet
on the seat next to me hoping that it makes me look as if I belong to a pack
and not a “deviceless” lonely guy.
Another couple walked up
the isle and sat on the opposite table. The boy and girl had a similar comment about
me. This time around the guy explained to his female companion “he must be
taking a breather to cool down.” I was relieved by his comment and found myself
smiling at my milkshake miming the words “thank you.” By the time I was done
with my shake it was time to unplug the charger to finally get back online.
Happy to be reachable, excited to have access to my world again, and thrilled
to be able to support my girlfriend. But that joyful anticipation disappeared once
I held the device in my hand and I became doubtful if my girlfriend was in fact
deriving comfort from her device rather than from my typed words of support.
