Lessons from a Lost Phone

The first among first world problems.

Spoiler alert: I didn’t learn shit.

At least nothing I didn’t already fucking know.

Pink Floyd was serenading me on the train ride home last Thursday. I dozed off, woke up at the Garrison Station two stops before mine, dozed off again, woke up at Cold Spring, swore I would stay awake the last eight minutes of the trip, failed, and woke up right on time as we pulled into Beacon Station.

Disaster averted!

I shrugged my coat back on, slung my backpack over my shoulder, took “Wish You Were Here” out of my ear balls, and joined the stream of folks departing the train for the parking lot.

It wasn’t until I was not even a third of the way to my car that I realized I was feeling a little light: 221 grams to be precise. None my pockets, neither pants nor jacket, contained my phone. 

I’d already been having a pretty shit day, and it had just, in the first-world sense of the phrase, hit the fucking fan.

The train was gone, my digital life source hurtling north to Poughkeepsie as I slowly began to deflate on the sidewalk.

Only pure rage and profanity kept me alive. Sometime self-hatred is sustenance.

After deriding myself thoroughly enough to break the space-time continuum, I forced myself into a silent ride home, Rodger Waters and co having  fallen silent by now in my former seat.

I did not panic, I’ll give myself that. Sure, I cursed myself in every tongue I speak (just English), but at least I didn’t break down entirely.

I’d been through this once before. Last fall, my AirPods case had escaped me and the Grand Central Lost and Found had recovered it a few days later.

A few days without a phone. I could do this. I could totally do this! 

Hell, maybe I’d learn some valuable lessons along the way.

Lesson One: I fucking hate my phone.

I hate its mostly functional keypad through which I telepathically communicate with everyone on the planet.

I hate the bright-light magnet that flashes corporate dream pitches at my subconscious all day.

I hate the Kessel Run of FOMO it’s created, and the ensuing struggle for a Lagrange point for my self-esteem.

I hate its tether to all the people and responsibilities I love to hate.

I fucking hate it.

But I already fucking knew that.

Lesson Two: Stay present or something.

I’m not gonna kid myself, I was still basically as connected at the hip to the world as usually, it’s just now I was lugging around my iPad everywhere. 

That’s like top 10th percentile first-world problems right there.

Sure, I missed some texts from the three people I know not subscribed to the Cult of Apple. And I had to re-sign into a couple email addresses with their two-factor forgot password gatekeepers.

But my work life balance stayed almost entirely unaltered.

Yeah, I read some more pages in more books, rekindling the on-again-off-again love affair with sci-fi/fantasy books I’ve sustained since 7th grade.

Sure I looked out the window and reminded my eyes what natural light feels like.

And in those moments, I was like “oh yea, this is what present moment feels like. I should do this more often!”

But I already fucking knew that.

Lesson Three: I’m a real boy.

Listen, there’s no on who likes observing the probable collapse of civilization through a dozen apps and a thousand chrome tabs more than me. 

And yes, even after four days of semi-sobriety from our common digital addiction, I still think it’s statistically probable that we live in a simulation.

But my cats didn’t notice that Dad had lost his phone. My wife wasn’t affected by this temporary digital handicap. My friends and colleagues seemed to get along just fine in the hours here and there I wasn’t connected via WiFi.

I don’t care if Bubs and Coyote are just animated teddy bears, or if my wife is just a figment of my imagination, or if the telepathic messages our devices transfer back and forth are just electrons bouncing off neurons inside the Universal Mind that we all are One within. 

Their warmth is real and magical. Their love is real and powerful. Their lives are real and beautiful.

But I already fucking knew that.

Could I live without my phone? Probably. 

Would we be closer to ending poverty, hunger, and war if we threw these things away? Probably not. 

Would I be any closer to enlightenment or whatever if I figured out how to spend less time with this modern magical talisman inside my pocket? I don’t know.

But even though I didn’t learn anything new, I’m at least grateful for the reminders.