On a Day Sans Phone
Yesterday, a small child startled me. I dropped my phone and the screen shattered.
Side-note: I feel like this kind of stuff has been happening more and more lately. I’m jumpier. When my elevator doors open and a person is waiting there, I feel myself go into attack mode. To be fair, they’re usually pretty freaked out too; our building is a quiet one and you barely ever see your neighbors.
Back to the point: having no phone for a day (while it was being repaired) was not nearly as difficult as I thought it would be. I didn’t get lost once (and I have no sense of internal compass; if I’m navigating successfully, it’s based on landmarks and lefts and rights)!
In the column of small hardships, I had to buy paper transport tickets (like some kind of heathen) and I couldn’t listen to music or podcasts while I walked or tram-ed about, but I adjusted to that change within a few minutes.
I’d say it’s a bit like culture shock: initially displacing, but eventually comforting. I mean, it’s comforting to know (when you’re in Paris) that kissing on both cheeks is just what you do when you meet someone, or when you see a friend. It’s almost as comforting to know that reaching into my pocket to check my messages isn’t an option.
All in all, my analogue day was uneventful. I went to my brother’s place without a clock to check against the printed tram schedule. I didn’t even have an app telling me when (or whether) the next tram would come. I went to sleep that night without an alarm set for the next morning. I (shockingly) overslept. These little differences were slightly weird, but not unpleasant.
I’m not saying I’m going to give up the comforts of the modern world and go live in a hut somewhere meditating on the evils of our consumerist, technologically-dominated lives (though I might someday, for other reasons), but I’m glad that my phone is still something I can go about my life without… even if only for a day and a half.