Call me a hypocrite. Or better yet, call me a convert.
I've ranted and raved in this space against cell-phone mania. And, I figured, I was justified. There have been all those times I've seen people of all ages walking around with cell phones in their ears, talking away with unseen people on the other end of the line. There have been the teenagers on the sidewalk, the commuters in their cars and on the bus, and the two friends standing in a crowd in front of a building trying to locate each other, only to find out they were practically standing next to each other and didn't know it.
Most of all, there have been the business travelers in the airports, all thoroughly engaged in one important conversation or another. They talk while waiting to board their flights, while actually boarding, and while storing their carry-ons and taking their seats. They talk until the flight attendants ask them—at least twice—to turn off their phones. Then, just as the wheels touch down upon arrival, they whip out the phones again to pick up where they left off.
They all think their conversations are important, not only to them but to all of us. I know that because they always talk so loudly. I am privy to all their little secrets—they've let me in on them through their loud conversations.
I've complained about all this before, but now I have a confession to make.
I just bought a cell phone!
But, I have a good reason. A few weeks ago, my car broke down on an exit ramp off the section of I-93 that runs right through the center of Boston. In the best of conditions, you don't want to be stranded in a crippled car there. But stranded I was, with cars, buses, and one police cruiser whipping by, ignoring my plight. But one driver did stop and used her cell phone to call AAA to help me. That's all it took. A bell went off. I bought my phone the next day.
So, now I've joined the legions of cell phone owners. Call me a hypocrite. Call me a convert. But whatever you do, call me!