Forty-eight phoneless hours

Like most things – it happened in an unforeseeable flash. One second my cell phone was sitting on the edge of my sink. The next, it was in the water. In half of the next, I pulled it out.

I’ll leave the details of the middle of the story out — the two trips to my local Apple store, one round trip to my sister’s house as she offered me the phone she had recently replaced with a newer version in case mine was permanently waterlogged, and the part about letting my little darlin’ sit in rice. I’ll skip all the fear, horror and alone-in-the-dark parts, and slide right to the happy ending:

On my second and final trip to the Genius Bar, my phone came to life. Perfectly intact as she was before, all info still in there, able to do all the tricks she had always been able to do. As if her brief dunk in my sink had never happened. A non-event.

So why am I bothering to write about this at all? BECAUSE I WAS TOTALLY FREAKED OUT!!!! WHAT IF SOMEONE WERE TRYING TO REACH ME? WHAT IF I HAD TO CHANGE MY PHONE NUMBER? WHAT IF ALL THE INFO – THE PHONE NUMBERS, ADDRESSES, EVERY SINGLE THING ON MY PHONE – WAS LOST AND GONE FOREVER? I was THAT kind of freaked out.

On the surface, not so much: I maintained my outer cool. I was polite to the cashier at Whole Foods where I bought a bottle of water (it’s across the street from the Apple store and I had forgotten to bring water as I was somewhat discombobulated). I was fully dressed, and appropriately so, given the 68° weather in February. The fly on my jeans was zipped. I clearly remember having showered and brushing my teeth.

But inside? I was a mess. I realized the cliché dependence I had on my phone. I already know how tied I am to my laptop, but I can excuse that because I do my design work on that. It IS a lifeline. I get paid for what I do on that piece of equipment. So I make excuses for its omnipresence, even though I think a greater attachment may be to my electronic bridge game. [Sidebar: Yes, I take my laptop on trips with me, including overseas. Had I not taken it to France, I could have not saved the day with a last minute ad for a client, for which they were SO grateful, an ad that I designed and sent directly to the printer from my aerie bedroom in Marsanne, France. And yes, of course I also had my phone – all internationaled-up for the trip.

This afternoon as I left home for my second Genius appointment at the Apple store I went through my habitual out-the-door pre-check: keys to house and car? Check. Wallet? Check. Glasses? Check. Cell phone?
NO CELL PHONE! Awful. My left hip pocket was empty for two whole days.

I hope you never know what that feels like. Unless, of course, you are choosing to go on a self-imposed phone detox. In that case, you will feel virtuous and pure. And, as with many detox experiences, as soon as you’re out, you’ll go right back to your old habit of needing your cell phone as if your life, well-being and eternal happiness depended on it. As a member of a (currently) first world country in the 21st century, it apparently does.