Leaving the dabba behind

The time has come.

We've been through good times, my cell phone and I, but now it is hanging on by a thread (or scotch-tape, if you want to be literal about it), and I think I'm strong enough emotionally to finally cut the cord.

The thing about an ugly phone, is that no one wants to take it from you. I've left it in dozens of places and it has never been stolen. And though I've had to deal with some very snide and sometimes funny comments about my archaic choice of technology (including: Oh no, she can't give up her phone. What dabba will she carry her lunch to work in?), it served its purpose well. I could make calls, send texts, and in some truly great moments, even check my email on it.

So for the past few weeks, I've been asking for suggestions regarding the impending upgrade to a phone that actually looks like it's not prehistoric, and the overwhelming response has been, 'The Blackberry'. Points in favour include:
-Messaging is free! Your phone bills will be much lower.
-You can send pictures, etc, at the drop of a hat.
-All your emails are at your fingertips.
-It's cool!
-Everyone has one.
-Rinse and repeat all of the above.

All of these are true, and I have to admit that I was sorely tempted. After all, I'd had a smart phone before. And as frighteningly addictive as it was, perhaps the day had come where I could actually be cool. Who doesn't want that?!

Turns out, I don't.

And the decisive factor was actually the very people who wanted me to get a Blackberry in the first place. I recently spent a few evenings with some BB friends (yes, I'm categorizing them now) and an afternoon with another. And I found that no conversation lasted longer than 30 seconds (I kid you NOT!) without something pinging or buzzing or ringing, and simply had to be replied to. So I'd be left mid-sentence, or even worse, they would stop talking in the middle of a story, so that the the seemingly-critical message/email could be dealt with.

I realize this is the norm now. And yes, that not everyone does it. I know a few people who can actually put their smart phones away and have an uninterrupted conversation. Kudos to them.

But the truth is, I don't quite trust myself. What if I become one the shifty-eyed BB-owners with no ability to concentrate on the real-life conversation I'm having because I'm so compelled to continue the virtual ones?
I don't think I want to risk finding out.

The dabba remains for now.
And in a few days, I'll look around, and find something that's not quite falling apart. A cell phone that lets me make calls, and send texts, and if I'm really adventurous about it, will also give me access to the Internet.

It turns out I may not be cool after all.
Ah well. 

Flying Irony

When we're kids and our bladder control is... limited, we always want to bag the window seats on airplanes. The view (of clouds, no less. Just endless oceans of clouds) wins out over a clear route to the toilet that doesn't involve jumping over people and upsetting trays of half-eaten food.
Which is just silly, as the view will never be good enough to justify peeing in your pants.

But as adults, when most of us can hold on for quite a while, we have little or no interest in the view and an aisle seat takes priority. No more jumping over grumpy-middle-seat-person for us. Oh no, when we need to go, we're going to do it with dignity.
Of course, once we have this unobstructed path to the loo, we probably don't need to go as badly as we did when we were kids.
But then, there's the irony for you.