Phone home

On June 21st, Argentina's Lionel Messi managed to squeeze one goal into the net in the final minutes of the game, advancing in the world cup in a game against a very defense oriented Iranian team. The game seemed to last forever. We were watching it in an apartment with some friends, the tension slowly escalating as the minutes drained away. Argentina won and the whole town, ourselves included, converged on the town center. Flags were waving, horns were blowing, the air was full of both relief and excitement about the game.

As the celebration continued, more and more people were packing into the town square. They would break out into songs and chants, people were so happy, things were on fire. Occasionally, a writhing, swirling, churning mass of people would start to pulse and spread from the middle of the crowd outward, devouring all who got in it's path. Eventually, one of these cesspools of mob mentality reached to the outer part of the crowd in which we were standing. In the middle of the chaos, I saw a guy reaching for my love. I wasn't sure if he was trying to feel her or trying to take things out of her pockets, but neither option sounded like a good time to me. As soon as I managed to push him off of her, I felt someone else pushing against me. I pushed him back until he left as well, at which point I realized that my phone was gone. I was also drenched in coca cola.

Perhaps I was an easy target for a thief because
I was temporarily deafened by a guy with
 two plastic trumpets.

I was phone less. Disconnected. Inconvenienced. Liberated.

Did I miss my phone? Sure, I'm a modern guy, and I'm used to having that convenience available to me. I missed being able to tickle every curiosity with a web search. I missed having the ability to know my exact location instantly. I missed having a camera conveniently available to me every second of the day. All very convenient things in a new place.

I couldn't get in touch with anyone. No text messages, Facebook IMs, email, phone calls or status updates. It was suddenly very difficult to brag about what I was doing at any given moment of the day. It was impossible to know where everyone else was.

The two previous paragraphs surely sound like complaints, but they are most definitely not. This criminal who had forced himself up against me and reached into my pocket to take what was mine had freed me from an addiction. I was finally free from living a life with so many things being at my fingertips so easily. I was free to stop caring about how many people liked or commented on my posts, who messaged me, where my friends were, who was looking for me, the list goes on. For the first time in a long time, I was forced to live in the moment. If I was stuck waiting for someone, I would be forced to confront my thoughts, to entertain myself, to steel my nerves and just be patient in waiting for something. I had to find my own way around this new city, using my instincts, without relying on a map. I was forced to actually be on time for things, instead of just texting someone and saying I would be late.

I was amazed at how much I enjoyed my time lacking a phone. It was like there was a whole world happening around me, and I had finally been unplugged from the matrix and could see it yet again. I could taste food, have conversations with real people, and see the things happening around me on the streets.

I've since bought a new phone. Phones in Argentina are crazy expensive due to some import taxes imposed by Argentina's government. I bought a phone in the states via craigslist and had it brought here by a friend who was coming down here (Thanks Laura!) but later realized that phones from certain companies don't work on the networks down here. So now I have a phone that doesn't work. I basically just have a small camera in my pocket now. Am I disappointed by that? Maybe... but maybe not.