Family Daze: Out of Touch

Have you noticed that lately there’s been an alarming increase in the amount of people talking on cell phones in public places? It seems to me that nowadays a person can’t venture anywhere without hearing half of a private conversation. And, mind you, it’s not just conversations. People are doing all sorts of shocking things in public like making business deals, discussing custody arrangements, gossiping, and making tawdry weekend plans.

Oh, relax, it’s not like I’m listening. But, how can you ignore a man standing behind you at the gas station who is loudly describing all of the details of his office romance? Or a woman in the produce section of the grocery store who is clutching a cell phone to her ear and quietly sobbing into the Portabello mushrooms? This just seems wrong.

But the real reason I resent people taking up my peaceful air space with their lively, animated conversations, is that they, somehow, look more important than the rest of us. It might be because of the way they disregard society’s rules by laughing and talking in normally quiet places. Or perhaps it’s because of the way they inadvertently let the rest of the world know they have a life. Or maybe, just maybe, it’s because they can say things like

"Hey, baby, I just wanted to tell you how much I love your sexy smile" in the middle of the frozen food aisle and get away with it. So, I decided to do something I vowed I would never do: I took my cell phone out of the glove compartment (where I keep it only for emergencies), upped my monthly service plan, and handed out my cell phone number to everyone I knew. Soon I, too, would be vivaciously tossing my head back, making plans out loud in public, and broadcasting to the world that I am both important and mysterious.

However, I had to wait longer than I thought since the first time the phone rang I was trying on a bathing suit in a dressing room at the local department store and, by the time I had covered myself up sufficiently to answer the phone, it had stopped.

Fortunately, the second time it rang, my luck changed and I was in line at a crowded, upscale boutique.

I held the phone to my ear at a jaunty angle, threw my head back, and said "hello" in a sultry voice.

"Mom?" my five-year-old son said. "Where are my soccer cleats?"

"What? I can’t hear you."

"I can’t find my soccer cleats!"

"Oh, why didn’t you say so," I laughed loudly. "Hors d’oeuvres at eight sounds great."

"Mom?"

I quickly looked around and cupped my hand over the receiver. "They’re in the upstairs bathroom on the hamper," I whispered.

"Thanks, Mom."

"See you then!" I said and hung up.

Just as I was paying for my purchases it rang again.

"Excuse me for a moment," I said to the clerk as I whipped open my phone.

"Hello?"

"Can I have a Pepsi?"

"I’m sorry I can’t today. I’m simply booked." I said loudly. Then I turned sideways and hissed "no" into the phone and threw it back into my purse.

I made it all the way to the parking lot before it rang again.

"What!" I snapped.

"They’re not on the hamper."

"Where’s your father!"

"He’s busy, but he said it was OK to call you now since you have a phone."

This was followed by a call from my daughter crying about a lost ladybug named Cindy and two more from my son tattling on his sister for calling him a buggernose.

All in all, I received sixteen calls in two days and none of them from anyone with a full set of permanent teeth. Now, I know what you are thinking. You are thinking that any fool with children would’ve seen this coming. And you’re right. I bet that they would have seen my bill coming, too: $234.57. This is the trouble with cell phones.

So I did the only reasonable thing I could think of: I turned the phone off and tossed it back into the glove compartment. After all, why should I pay for the convenience of solving problems and breaking up fights long distance when I could stay home and do it for free?

Call me old fashioned, but the next time I go in public, I’m leaving the phone where it belongs: at home.