Two Cell Phone Stories

Cell phones. You think everything is OK. You've calculated all the figures and you've researched all the plans and you've spoken to the very nice sales agent and she's been SO sweet, and you've made the decision that is right for you. And then you get your bill and it's at least $50-$100 higher than it's supposed to be.

So you call them back. You present your case and try to understand the incomprehensible bill they sent you and they're very, very sweet and take away the overage that really wasn't supposed to be there, and they're sorry for all the inconvenience, and is there any other way they can be of service to you? and no, there isn't, and you hang up and you say to the Duck: "Mission Accomplished!"

And then the next month's bill comes and it's still $50-$100 higher than it's supposed to be. But you've already called the very nice sales agent and she has been SO sweet, and you're less insistent this time because you've got that sinking feeling that you are being sucked into a deep, stinking hole surrounded by orcs and balrogs. So you say to yourself: Cell phones. Are they really worth it?

And the answer, dawgblastedpoopoohead, is yes. They are. Cell phones have changed the way we live, the way we communicate and the way we keep in touch with each other.

Families, anyway. Plotnik just this morning signed up for unlimited texting on all three lines. $30 MORE freaking dollars a month, but now he and Duck and BZ can text each other and every other person on the entire planet as much as they all want. They can send messages like: "How's Belly?" and "Did you get the pictures?" and "I'm n the housewares sec" and "where are u?" and "beautiful sunset" and "going to dinner" and "we're at a play call u later."

Does this matter? Yeah. People are busy. Nobody has time to make an actual phone call. But everybody has time to say: "I L Y c u later."

Would you rather have "I L Y cu later" or nothing? That'll be $30 more a month. Fine.

TRUE CELL PHONE STORY

The Great PD has an I-phone. It's a very snappy looking little black rectangle. The other night in Brooklyn, Plot and PD were driving around looking for a particular pizza parlor. PD whipped out his I-Phone, got coordinates off the internet like they were planning a well-coordinated terrorist surge into the Park Slope Canneloni Triangle, looked at the map, now well-displayed in bright colors on his little black rectangular screen and drove straight to the shop. He could even look up the menu.

Fast forward one week. BZWZ is driving in Providence, but every street is closed off or under construction or one way the wrong way. She needs to know where the brew pub is, so she whips out HER little black rectangle, pulls up the map, well-displayed in bright colors on her little black screen, and drives straight to, sort of, with only a few circles, the restaurant.

However, as she leaves the car she hands Plotnik her little black rectangle, so she can arrange some stuff in her pockets. Plotnik tries to give it back to her, but her hands are full, so he stuffs it in his jacket pocket, saying to himself as he does so "Don't do this. You are going to be really sorry if you do this. Don't do this." He does it anyway.

Great beer, great burgers, great fries. BZ drives Plot and Duck back to the hotel and they say goodbye, see you tomorrow. Plot walks upstairs, reaches into his jacket pocket for his room key, also a little plastic rectangle, and pulls out BZ's little black rectangle.

Now then. What to do? She's gone. He's got her phone. She doesn't have a land line. She'll need her phone, but he has no way to tell her he's got it. He's afraid she'll realize her phone is gone and take off for the restaurant where she's sure she's left it, and she'll be unable to ask Plotnik if he's got it, because he's got her phone.

She might realize Plot's got it, and drive back to the hotel, where Plot will not be if he takes a cab to her house. He can leave Duck at the hotel, but he'll have the cell phone, or he could take a cab to her house, leave the phone with Duck, but if he does that...

Also, what if her house burns down and he's got her phone? Yeah, yeah, I know.

This is encapsulating fifteen angst-ridden minutes into thirty seconds. Finally, he sends her an email, that he knows she won't read, calls a cab and tells the cabbie to take him to BZ's apartment.

But she lives on the top floor, in the back. It's cold. The windows are closed. He rings the doorbell. No answer. He pounds on the door. No answer. The cabbie is waiting, revving his engine from time to time, honking the horn every few seconds. "Look up her roommate's name on her cell phone," he says. "You can call her and she can tell your daughter about her phone."

Good idea. Except he knows her roommate isn't home. Still, he takes the little black rectangle out of his jacket pocket and turns it on. All he sees is a screen. No numbers. Where the HELL do they put the numbers on these $*&^)# phones?

He's into clenched lips mode now. He walks around to all three sides of her house and yells: "BZ!" "BZ!" "BEEEEE ZEEEEE!"

No response.

"BEEEEEEE ZEEEEEEEEE!" Mo no response.

The cabbie revs his engine. Plot pounds on the door again. He rings the bell again. He calls again. "BEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE ZEEEE!"

Finally, someone comes out from the second floor apartment, with headphone cable dangling. "I've got my daughter's cell phone, I have to go upstairs and..." The kid shakes hid head pitifully, leaves the door open, Plot walks up the stairs.

He taps on BZ's door. She answers, surprised. "Dad?"

He holds out her phone. She stares at it. "You left it with me. I thought you'd need it tomorrow, so I..."

"Why didn't you call me?"

"Call you? Because I've got your phone! How am I supposed to..."

She takes her cell phone out of her pocket. It looks just like Plotnik's cell phone. They bought them together. Duck's too.

"This is my phone, Dad. Remember?"

"But...then...what's...?"

"That's my I-Pod, Dad."

"But...but...you got directions...the map...you used the internet...you..."

BZ laughs. "No, I can download maps onto it from my computer. I did it before we left so we'd know how to get to the brew pub."

"You mean...this isn't..."

"No, Dad. I was practicing my guitar with my headphones on. That's why I didn't hear you."

"Oh."

"Thanks, Dad. Sorry you had to go through all this."

"Ai, caramba. Good night, Beezie."

"Good night, Pops." Nice hug.

"So, did you give her her cell phone?" the cabbie asks, as he drives Plot back to the hotel.

"Well, I got to say good night to her twice," Plot says. "That's pretty good."

Better than a stupid text.