I forgot to take my cell phone with me the other day. Left it on the counter. Just walked out of the house like it was 1989.
No. Cell. Phone.
Actually, to be precise, I forgot to take my shirt pocket computer with a built-in phone.
I was mapless. Facebookless. Googleless. And helpless.
About ten minutes into my drive to the airport, and too far gone (in many ways) to return, I habitually patted my belt where my iPhone lives only to pat my belt.
No phone. No computer.
Just belt. Just panic.
For an instant I thought that I had put the iPhone in the console as I often do, but the console was empty save for some parking receipts, a few pennies and an empty Tic Tac.
What to do, what to do?? I couldn’t check on traffic conditions. I couldn’t check on the weather. I couldn’t call that high school friend I’ve been meaning to call for the last 30 years. I was helpless.
How did we survive 1989? Srsly!
Finally, at the airport, I picked up my passenger and my first words were not “Hey, how was the flight?” or “Hey, you must be exhausted, do you want to grab a coffee or a bite to eat?” or “Hey, good to see you!” rather it was “I can’t believe I left my iPhone at home!”
My friend, sensing alarm, proffered her Blackberry and asked, “Do you need to make a call?”
I looked at the Blackberry and had a quick fantasy about grabbing it and licking the display in some sort of techno-orgy kind of moment, but snapped out of it (realizing it wasn’t an iPhone) and replied, shakily, “No thanks, it can wait.”
We drove home in silence.
My iPhone was there at home in its dock fully charged and somewhat sad that it didn’t get a ride to the airport. For my part I promised not to leave it Home Alone again.
1989, pffft! No wonder we moved on!