Phone-less

I left my cell phone at home yesterday. I realized this only after arriving at work and searching for it in my purse for three minutes, in order to turn the ringer off. There it wasn't. I felt somewhat empty, incomplete, as if I forgot my pants at home or a hair tie. What if something happened while I was driving home? What if I urgently needed to call someone? What if I needed that text message Meg sent me three days ago regarding our utility bill?

My students thought it was crazy that I didn't have a cell phone while growing up. I tried to explain to them that they hadn't been invented yet, but that wasn't a decent enough excuse. How was I to call my friends? I would call them on their land line. What if they weren't there? I'd leave a message (one of which their parents might hear!) and wait for them to call back. What if I wasn't home when they called back? They'd leave a message and we'd repeat the whole process. The truth of the matter is, the phone didn't really hold me back. My best friend lived right up the block so rather than calling, or waiting for a call, I'd just ride my bicycle up there, throw it on the freshly mowed lawn (their yard was always freshly mowed), and knock on her door. If she wasn't home, I'd ride back to my house, or maybe take a lap around the block. And if she was? We'd spend time together. It was easy. And, really, it kept me in shape.

I started going out a lot my junior year of high school. Every day after school I'd have a late night theatre rehearsal and sometimes I'd even go with my older friends who could drive out to dinner afterwards. I had a life. Because of this, my parents bought me my first pager. It was large, about the size of a pack of cigarettes, and deep green. It had two buttons and displayed tiny digital clock black numbers. My mom would page me and I'd have my 25 cents ready to call her back from whatever pay phone was near. Usually, though, I'd just run into my drama teacher's office and use her phone - she never minded. She had kids of her own with pagers. I remember getting the typical pages (0ll34, 911, 143). I was the first to know that my friend's band won Battle of the Bands because I received a page saying simply "11111." I had to leave their show early, in order to get to a play in time. Backstage, I was pleased to know the results.

Before leaving for college, I was given my first cell phone. It was large, not Zack Morris cell phone large, but a little bigger than my wallet. It was purple Nokia phone with big white buttons and an antenna. Rather than having the internet and a camera, it simply had an address book and the game Snake. I loved it. I felt so cool that summer, calling people from my very own line and answering calls right away. No need to wait for me to call back, I was instantly reachable.

It came in handy at college, I was able to call my friends back at home whenever I wanted. I was able to reach my roommate at a moments notice if I was stranded on campus in the rain. I started to wonder what life was like without this little phone. As the years went on, I exchanged cell phones multiple times. They became smaller, thinner, had more games. Mine's now thin and red with a camera. It's no iPhone or Blackberry, but it'll do.

After a long day, I returned home and found my cell phone tangled in my sheets. I must have lost it while turning off its alarm. Holding it in my hand, I felt content, complete. After looking back on a time when cell phones were imaginary and the internet wasn't around, I realized how utterly sad that sentiment was. Maybe today I'll visit a friend without calling first. Park my car next to their freshly mowed lawn and hope they answer after I knock.