Back To The Future. Is That Taken?

We live a new world. That is obviously a metaphorical statement since Earth is exactly the same shape it was when we were born, but stop parsing words. I know you want to. When I was growing up we had these things called pay phones where you would make a collect call to your parents to pick you up at Woodbridge Mall because you and your friends had spent your last dollar on 20 Bazooka Joe bubblegum for the comics. At some point during the process you became smart though and put your whole location in the space where the operator said, "Say your name after the beep" so that your parents didn't have to incur the charge of a collect call.

"MOM, pickmeupin5minutesoutsidethejcpenneyonthesecondfloorthanksbye."

I would be lying if I said I didn't miss those days. Ok, well, that's I lie. I don't miss those days at all. Sitting on the side of the road and waiting for your parents to pick you up is one of the most emasculating things that can happen to a human. Not only are you depending on someone to do something for you, it's your parents. And if it's not YOUR parents, it's my parents like my goofy dad in his Jets game day attire which included a Jets hat, sweatshirt, and sweatpants. On a Wednesday. Football is not played on a Wednesday. If at some point the Jets needed a 50 year old 5'6 Indian man with a potbelly to run onto the sidelines and call plays he could find the appropriate dressed individual at my house every weekday after 6pm and every weekend all day.

Consistency. The mark of a champion.

I can't even imagine not having a phone nowadays. When I was 15 and at the mall we would have rendezvous points if we got separated and 98 percent of the time it worked out. One time there was that unfortunate incident with the German Sheppard at Pets USA, but we prefer to not bring that up for fear of 'Nam style flashbacks. Don't feed a dog Cinnabon.

For an inordinate amount of time I had a flip phone. It served its purpose. The purpose being that it would send inappropriate text messages at 2:30AM to other people. You really think the cell phone companies would figure out a way to fix these ghost texts since I don't recall sending any of them. 3 years ago I decided to get into the land of the living and upgrade my social standing to a smart phone. In today's world no one can take you seriously if you have a flip phone or a phone without internet capabilities. The only way you can get away with it at this point is if you are over 55 years old or Marty McFly.

When I first got my Blackberry 97 trillion my mom warned me not to be checking my phone every 30 seconds for a new e-mail because I would get addicted. "Who gets addicted to stuff? That's dumb!" I said. Then my mom said my uncle became addicted to gambling in 1981 and had to see specialists. Awkward. After I opened the package and plopped all my info into the cell phone machine I was ready for my new life. No more being the last to know which celebrity was at Whole Foods at 2pm. No more having to run to a computer to check if I got an update in that unimportant e-mail chain that I was mistakenly put on. No more not seeing a status update from that person I stalked that one time that read "Doing laundry and mixed a color in with my whites. MLK approves! L.O.L"

We can all dream.

The first couple weeks were great. I was getting e-mail, being informed on social media, and I even wrote some hilarious tweets from my mobile device. Tweeting on the go?!!? Is there anything machines can't do? Everything was coming up Rahul. After a while I noticed that I was checking my phone more and more often. The red light would flash and I would immediately check it. "It must be important," I thought. I had to know who it was. I was becoming addicted. My mom was right. (Aside: For some reason I am astounded when my mom is correct. She is a wonderful woman, but I never expect her to be right about anything. This is a woman that thinks Texas is west of California. She pluralizes feet as "foots." She e-mailed me last week to complain that I wasn't answering her phone calls and when I asked her if she was calling the wrong number she was incredulous and upset at the insinuation she was "stupid." When I called her right back she said she had been calling my office phone number. From 4 years ago. With all those things not in her favor she somehow came through on this one. I would put my mom being right about cell phone addiction somewhere between Truman defeating Dewey and Hammer pants not being a viable clothing option in 2011 as one of the bigger upsets of all time.)

You see that red light is one of the worst things to happen in our history. Whenever it flashes you think it’s something really important, but it never is. It’s usually a Groupon. “Light is flashing, someone loves me! $10 for $50 worth of pet grooming! What? I’m depressed.” That red message light has caused more depression than any single thing in our nation’s history.* I would wake up in the middle of night, see the light, and realize Men’s Health was sending me a health tip at 3:30AM. It was ruining me yet I kept my e-mail on my phone and persevered. With no sleep.

*unconfirmed

In May my phone was stolen by some street toughs at Bally’s Total Fitness. I’m assuming they’re street toughs because when you go to a place with “total fitness” in its name it would be bad marketing if it was a scrawny dude. Bally’s Ok Sometimes Fitness wouldn’t work out. This was the perfect time to get rid of the e-mail off my phone when I got a new one. I told a few friends that I didn’t have e-mail on my phone anymore and they looked at me like I was Mr. T. The old crazy Mr. T, not the cool Mr. T that did (insert cool things) back in the 80s. I tried to explain to them why I don’t and most of them nodded their heads in agreement while checking their phone for important e-mail. It’s a sick cycle. In some ways I’ve reverted back to the days of the flip phone. I still have Facebook and Twitter because removing those would be crazy talk, but no more spam e-mails giving me the false hope that I’m popular. Only my mom gives me that hope now.

I’m going to start calling her collect more often.