PHONE IT IN

It happened to me: My iPhone deserted me when I needed it most.  Last Thursday, around 11 a.m. DST, I tried to open Twitter Mobile and got this eerie message: NO SIM CARD DETECTED. In the upper left hand corner, where it should have announced I had full LTE internet coverage, it said, "NO SIM." What was happening? In a panic, I tapped my Facebook Page. NO SIM CARD DETECTED. Email. NO SIM CARD DETECTED. YouTube. FOR THE LAST TIME: NO SIM CARD DETECTED. It was like a scene out of The Twilight Zone.  "Noooooo!" I screamed as I sunk low in the seat of the car.  My phone was telling me that it did not detect a service provider, therefore, would no longer allow me to make calls or texts, participate in social media, check the weather, shop on-line, read the gossip about Bradgelina, or Instagram pictures of lunch. The worst thing of all? I couldn't go to my Facebook page to ask for thoughts and prayers.

On any other given day, I could have happily hopped onto my iPad or my Mac and waited for the husband to get home to fix things. As it happens, husband was in the driver's seat taking us on a four-hour round trip to Detroit. Instead of happily passing the time updating, reading updates, responding to updates and liking updates, I was reduced to watching the road  and reminding my husband, by letting out a short but powerful yelp every few minutes, that he might be about to run into the backside of a semi.  Each time he'd respond, "Stop doing that! You're going to give me a heart attack!" I'd retort, "At least you still have a heart. Mine is broken. My phone hates me." I turned my face to the passenger-side window and watched as the world rolled past, unphotographed, untweeted, unliked and unshared.

WHAT'S EVEN THE POINT?

As we were driving along, it occurred to me that I had to let my social media pals know what was going on with me. So, I put in a plea to my husband:
"I might need to borrow your phone."
"No problem," he replied.
"I need to let my friends know I'm okay."
"That you're OKAY?"
"Yes. If I don't post something on Facebook or Twitter within two hours, my friends are going to panic and assume I've been kidnapped or killed in a car accident thanks to your driving."
"Why in the hell would they think that?"
"Because I've told them you're a bad driver."
"I mean, why in the hell would they think ANYTHING is wrong. Can't they just assume you have a life and are busy?"
"But, if I were busy, they'd know! I'd be updating them as I moved through my busy day. For example, right now, I'd be tweeting a picture of that sign that says, 'Bridge to Canada' and saying we were planning our escape route in case Trump wins. I'd get a lot of likes and retweets for that one!"
"Wait a minute. You actually talk about politics? Never mind. I don't want to know. Just take my phone and do what you need to do." My first reaction:


Have you ever tried to use someone else's phone and find the appropriate apps? It's a nightmare. I scrolled through page after page of letters and logos. People! There's a thing called FOLDERS. Use them. I keep mine tidy and in alphabetical order. If I want to Tweet, I go to the folder labeled SOCIAL. If I need to get directions, I go to the one called NAVIGATION.  If I need to know if it's going to rain or snow, I go to the one called WEAHTIL.  Look, I made a typo or two when I created the folder, but I know what it means and that's all that matters.
"Where's your Facebook App?"
"I don't have one. Just go to the internet and type in Facebook.com."
THE HELL??????? Who DOES that?

People who still think this is making a comeback, that's who.

Fortunately,  we had reached our destination and were ready to grab some lunch. I scanned the menu, decided what I wanted, and, out of habit, pulled my phone from my purse. I was all ready to let my Twitter followers know my exact location, per my usual.  NO SIM DETECTED.

I lost my appetite. What's the point to eating if you can't photograph it and post it on Instragram? Those, my friends  - and acquaintances, and friends of friends - would be the emptiest of calories. Nevertheless, I had to keep up my strength to get through this trauma, so I ate a full-course meal plus dessert.  The meal would have gotten 5 stars IF I'D BEEN ABLE TO YELP! I am just saying.

Anyway, I could go on, but I have Facebook statuses to react to.  So, spoiler alert: This story has a happy ending. While traipsing down the street after our lunch, I spied a Verizon store. That's our carrier! We entered, I explained my situation, and the clerk said, "You're the third person this week with that problem. Give me your phone." She popped off the Otter cover, slipped a tool into the side of my phone that looked suspiciously like a glorified paper clip, removed my SIM card, and slapped in another. After a she pushed in a few codes, looked sternly at my phone for some sort of clarification, and stared sternly at her computer for another clarification, she declared my phone ALIVE!

Mini Gene Hackman tribute. RIP!

After I gave my thanks to the Verizon clerk, for which she responded with a rude, "Ma'am, please quit lying on the floor in front of me in supplication. It's embarrassing. I was just doing my job," we left with both my phone and service provider intact. After we got back in the car, I thought about catching up on social media, but you know what? It was an autumn day in Michigan. I dropped the phone in the bottom of my purse, settled into the car, and spent the drive home enjoying the scenic views and conversing with the husband.