Ego Key To Cell

By TAD BARTIMUS

I'm glad I was being examined by the internist instead of the gynecologist when my cell phone rang. It certainly made it easier to turn the darn thing off.

I apologized to my doctor, who excused me by admitting he is also too attached to his cellular device. Despite our best intentions, we cell phone users have become road hazards, restaurant bores and deliberate contributors to secondhand noise, all the while protesting that what we really crave is a slower pace and a saner lifestyle. Except that we seldom hit the off button. 

More than 115 million Americans have bought cellular telephones. On my last airline flight, I was positive most of those phones were in use at my departure gate. One particularly offensive gabber detailed his latest altercation with his girlfriend in the booming voice of a boxing announcer. Another paced in front of a stack of Wall Street Journals for five minutes, giving business travelers who couldn't buy the paper the heebie jeebies. One woman almost missed her plane because she was arguing with her child about what kind of cereal the kid should eat for breakfast.

I used to enjoy the suspended animation of travel. The office couldn't reach me unless I called. My husband had to deal with home front crises until I checked in. I was just another anonymous face in the crowd, dropping out for a few hours of solitude. The best part of being on the road was a rare chance to sit quietly and read, or write, or simply think, while everyone around me was doing the same thing.

Now we're all too important to stop talking. On my last trip a man ignored the flight attendant's two polite requests to "turn off all portable electronic devices" because they interfered with the plane's navigation system. Finally, as the plane was backing from the jetway, she leaned down and hissed in his face, "Put that thing away NOW!"
He did, but grumbled that she "didn't understand." 
What initially was a luxury convenience has become a ubiquitous nuisance. I don't need to speak to half the people I call and whose lives I interrupt, so why do I do it? Because using cellular is a middle-aged extension of my teen-age pink princess phone thrill. It's all about ME!
How many close calls have I had while simultaneously talking on my cell phone and driving my car? Frankly, several. Some were my fault, some the other driver's fault. No matter, all were avoidable. 

That's what driver Chad Renegar said after reaching for his ringing cell phone and taking his eyes off the road in Atlanta last month. Renegar's vehicle swerved into a utility pole, and his passenger, supermodel Niki Taylor, was critically injured. The distraught driver subsequently told a television interviewer that no phone conversation is nearly as important as what's going on in front of you.
We all know he's right; now the law is about to make it legal. Most states are considering limits on cell phone use by drivers, and insurance rates might go up because of them, as well.

Somebody needs to write a book on cell phone etiquette, accompanied by appropriate social stigmas and time-wasting penalties for breaking the rules and disturbing other people's peace. Maybe cell phone abusers should be forced to stand outside buildings with the smokers. Perhaps restaurants should seat them at tables next to the kitchen. How about making violators on airplanes be the last passengers off? 

One last question: Does everybody have to obey the rules, or is it just them and not us?

"Hi, glad I caught you. ..." 

© 2001 The Women Syndicate

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