I’ve only had my Android phone for a year and a week (I think the warranty was a year) but I’m amazed and terrified at how dependent I’ve become on it. Before I went on a trip, I used to print out my address book on 2 ½ x 6 pages, staple them together and put it in a baggie. Short of losing it completely, it was pretty secure. If it got wet, I could generally read it anyway
So when I got to Chicago, I bought Wi-Fi service and looked up a few bits of information. I even managed to find a plug to charge my computer for a while and was busying myself on it (looking at pandas sneezing and cats drinking out of the toilet—just can’t get enough of that!) when I realized it was almost time for my flight to board. I abandon my outlet (which, judging from its inability to hold the plug without bending the prongs radically inward, had been used by thousands of desperate travelers over the years) and got ready to board. Arriving in LA, I promptly rehydrated at the bar and then found I had neglected to get some crucial pieces of information.
I bought more Wi-Fi service and got the reservation # (which I didn’t need) and the name of the rental car company (which I definitely needed!) before I boarded. What I didn’t get was the information on how to get in the gate at my friends’ house. Or their address. When I arrived at the rental car place and the sweet girl at the counter used her smartphone to find their address for me. I got my rental truck I went to plug in my GPS to find the place in the dark, rainy and windy night, it wouldn’t work. I blamed it on the power point (the new name for cigarette lighter since we no longer smoke, but still need the hole the lighter came out of to power our myriad of technology). Before long, though, I found that, consistent with the behavior of my technological aids, the tip of the GPS’ power adapter had fallen out and was not to be found.
Now, this is not the first time I’d been there, but I knew that even if I could have found a map with Kauhikoa Rd. on it, it would have been difficult to find the place in the inky blackness of a dark and rainy night even if I hadn’t been up for 22 hours. So I ended up renting a GPS. And it was ten bucks well spent and I found the driveway with a minimum of wrong turns.
Did I mention that there is a gate (the need for which was borne out by a story of their dog staring down two masked, armed men in camouflage)? Naturally, the gate was closed. There was no intercom but there was a keypad. I fired up the computer (with 9% charge), looked at the email and found there wasn’t a gate code. Now what?
Well, I could drive back to town and call. Doh! The phone number is in the computer and the phone. I went to fire up the computer again, but it wouldn’t because the battery was too low. I could climb the gate and walk up to the house, but I also know they have dogs, who, nice as they are, don’t know me and might take offense to my audacity. Just as I was about to reconcile myself to sleeping in the truck, I decided to honk a little more aggressively. Voila! The gate began to open and Chuck is walked out to greet me.