E. T. Phone Home

When I was about seven years old I tried to make a phone call to my mom from a public pay phone at the Tinley Park Roller Rink. Every time I dropped the coin into the slot, nothing happened. Finally I went over to an employee of the roller rink and told him that their phone was broken. He came back over with me and told me to try it again, which I did. "You little idiot, it takes ten cents to make a call", he said, and then he walked away. So I learned two things that day. First, it takes two nickels to make a phone call, and the second nickel my mom gave me wasn't for me to spend on candy. Second, that throughout my life I will encounter many assholes who think they're better than me.

Last Monday I traveled for the first time in many years without a cell phone. That turned out to be a mistake. Besides the fact that my brother and Mark couldn't get a hold of me to warn me not to get on the plane because I would be stuck in Atlanta, I was reduced to using public pay phones again. The last time I used public pay phones was eighteen years ago, before I got my first cell phone. In the gate area of Atlanta Hartsfield Airport, I found a bank of pay phones that sat there like an old west ghost town, forlorn and unused. Half of them were broken, and all of them were filthy. What astounded me, was that when I dialed 411 for directory assistance, a recorded voice came on and requested one dollar and fifty cents to continue. A dollar fifty for information, I wondered, how much for 911 emergency calls?

I didn't have any coins, but in the back of my memory was a number that I hadn't used since 1990, my telephone credit card number. With all of the problems I have with my memory, for some reason I can recall certain numbers easily. In fact to this day I still remember my best friends phone number from 1955. Kellogg2-4157. So I punched in my credit card number from 1990, and to my surprise it still worked. The phone rang and at the other end was Mark. It was as if Natalee Holloway had called home . "Oh my god, where are you? We've been trying to find you all day." Mark screamed in that voice that can only be described as the sound of an alley cat fight. Mark is an expert at over-reacting. After I calmed him down, I let him know I'd be home on the next flight and to come pick me up at the Fort Lauderdale Airport.

So I'm not so sure I did the wrong thing, traveling without a cell phone. Yes it caused the inconvenience and hassle of getting stuck in Atlanta, but the time spent in peace and quiet, without Mark haranguing me was nice.