Somehow I smashed the screen on my fancy and fairly new Samsung sliding-touch phone to kingdom come, and over the next few weeks slowly watched the light behind the screen die from where I cracked it outwards... malignant cancer of the phone. I remember the sinking feeling in my stomach as my text messages, contacts and favorite Star Trek adventure game faded away into nonexistence. Now I'm stuck with this antique pile of shit flip phone, with a half-assed camera and T9 prediction for texts. I remember clutching a similar one while scurrying around the halls during the early years of high school, but at that time they were the cat's meow, the cool thing to have.
Now, instead of flipping my phone out at a party and showing it off in all its modern glory, I cringe every time I hear its cheesy out-dated Cingular ring and shamefully flip it open in some secluded corner. If only my poor slide-phone hadn't taken a bullet for my thigh, shielding it from some incoming hard object aimed at my drunken legs. Damn that selfless Samsung.
The relationship between phone and owner is one bound for tragedy in one form or another. Just think about the amount of phones you've had since your parents entrusted you to just a coveted device. I started with a pay-as-you-go phone, the kind I was only supposed to use to call either an ambulance, my family or the national guard if I were in the middle of some sort of freak accident or emergency scenario. From that point things get hazy, as phone after phone fell one after the other to whatever end.
Water always seems to be the bane of the modern-day cell phone. The toilet took one of mine, and the merciless washing machine took another. In fact, one of my nicer Blackberry type of phones is residing in the depths of Lake Superior, chilling with the luckiest goddamn salmon alive, one that I dropped in a vain attempt to salvage the situation. One got run over in a church parking lot after some failed parking lot acrobatics, and another may still be in a bar in Belfast today, though I'm sure a local drunk took advantage of my careless American ""disposable possessions"" mentality that they all seem to hate over there. The funny thing is that every time stupidity plays a factor in my cell phone's untimely demise, I promise myself I'm going to buy the tempting cell phone warranty package they offer you, but convince myself after looking at the ridiculous price that I'll be ""extra careful"" with this one. Bullshit you will, man.
If it's not physical damage that claims your phone's life, I guarantee it will be that your phone becomes as obsolete as Windows Vista, which unfortunately I'm also stuck with. Now, after using this relic of a communication device for over a week, I can assure everyone that this natural process happens for a reason. But when I look back at all my tech devices, including more cell phones than you'll probably find in all of Africa, I don't see a great progression of technology. All I can see are the wads and wads of hard-earned benjamins I've essentially, and in one case actually, flushed right down the toilet.
I miss the days where movies were only offered at an unfair price in two dimensions, the days where people actually used their landlines, and instead of measuring my cardiovascular health, all an iPod could do was play music and maybe a game of Block Breaker. My whole collection of modern technology is threatened. The Xbox will soon be some lame thing your uncle still has lying around his house and iPhones will be used as coasters. Technological purification is nigh!
...By the way if anyone happens to have any phone lying around more advanced and/or newer than the one that I described earlier, I would be willing to toss you 20 bucks for it, because I know you're not going to get jack for anything close to this thing on eBay.
E-mail aplahr@wisc.edu with phone offers.... photos would be nice... and please don't try to kill or kidnap me during the transaction.
