23 June
1999
What a bizarre thing cell phones are. I haven't even had mine activated yet and it's already bewildering to me. My calling plan has all these ridiculous rules, like if I want to place a call outside of my local calling area I have to program it 30 minutes before I leave my apartment. I drive through three different calling areas just to get to and from work everyday. I can't think of anything less convenient. And last night when I called the customer service center to activate my phone, I waited on-hold for 20 minutes only to have the phone finally ring and someone promptly hang up on me. Another customer service success story. Yesterday Nancy's husband, Stephan, accidentally pressed the preprogrammed number for their house on his cell phone while he was out at lunch with associates. Nancy, Todd, and I spent the afternoon in a three-way phone call to their answering machine listening to this recorded conversation. It reminded Nancy of a story she heard about a woman who was car-jacked and just dialed 911 from her cellular phone and let the operators listen to her saying things like, "Please let me out of the car. Why are we driving North on I-95? Just pull over at exit 28 and let me out." Nancy said she would have never thought of doing that and I said that I probably would have. But then Nancy reminded me that my phone wouldn't even work unless I programmed it ahead of time. I suggested that if someone does attempt to car-jack me, I could just ask them politely to come back in 30 minutes. Intense cackling followed. ¶ ¶ ¶ My parents say funny things. Sometimes I don't even realize how funny the things are until I repeat them to my friends and they begin to laugh uncontrollably. And then it hits me: my parents say funny things. For instance, it was about a month ago that my parents announced that they bought me this cell phone. When I asked why, my mother reminded me that sometimes I "drive all the way to Albany in the middle of the night on bologna-skin tires." When I repeated this to Todd and Nancy, they couldn't stop laughing. And then it immediately became part of our vernacular, like when Todd said yesterday, "Kristen, can you give me a ride to work tomorrow? I'm having my bologna-skin tires replaced." So since I was driving today, it was Todd's responsibility to blow the soap bubble kisses on the way home. When we got stranded in backed-up traffic exiting the Pike in Newton, Todd used the opportunity to blow bubbles directly at the drivers of the cars on our right. We couldn't stop laughing at everyone's lack of enthusiasm for our tiny bubble greetings. One woman looked directly at Todd and when he blew her a steady stream of magic bubbles, she turned abruptly to stare straight ahead, refusing to make any additional eye contact with him. Todd thought that maybe she wasn't ready for that kind of commitment. "It's not you, it's me," he said and sent me into more spasms of laughter. I've decided that when the car-jackers do come for me, I'll greet them with bubbles. If this afternoon is any indication, it will definitely scare them away. And then I won't have to worry about my cell phone's ultra-limited calling range. Problem solved. biggest kiss... ...kristen |
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