Sidewalks are the highways of New York City. If you doubt that, try stopping in the middle of one. They’re better than highways, however, because you can run into someone without killing them. It’s done face-to-face instead of head-on and more likely to involve an exchange of pleasantries than of insurance companies. That’s changing, however, and it’s due to cell phones. They have become our “virtual” cars and made living – and walking - here a colder experience.
Walk down any street in Manhattan now and you’ll see people incased in private bubbles of conversation. They’re so unapproachable, they might as well be driving in limos with darkened windows. Partly, that’s intentional and partly, it’s due to the uniquely compelling nature of phones.
Suppose you’re a model or actress, how do you walk down the street without getting attention? A grim expression and marching gait are too subtle and brass knuckles are too obvious. What’s more, they tend to attract all the other people with brass knuckles (You’re not in Kansas.) Yet, somehow, just hold a phone to your ear and onlookers not only stop looking, they make way for you.. What is it about phones that erects an elec-trified fence around the person using one? Simple. We’ve been taught, since we were young, not to interrupt someone when they’re on the phone. Mommy may be gossiping or arranging to kill Daddy for the insurance – it doesn’t matter. We’ve been trained, as children, to wait until she’s done. That’s not true for IPods and Blackberries. One, because you have to be six years old or younger to have been raised with either. Two, because neither product is intimidating. It’s easy for even the most humble and self-denying person to think they’re more important than the music you’re listening to. (Now, think of all the New Yorkers who fit that description.) As for Blackberries, most people use them to play games or check their e-mail, neither of which is crucial. Admit it, there are exactly three people in New York, whose jobs are so important that they have to check their e-mail constantly. They know who they are. You do, too.
Another even more compelling aspect to phones is that they ring. It’s a strong person, indeed, who can hear his phone ring and not, at least, wonder who’s calling. If it rings in a theater or restaurant, you’re obliged to either silence it or take it outside. Not that answering is always the, well, answer. It’s frequently an anti-social activity. Say you’re walking down the street with another person and your cell phone rings. You can either say, “Sorry, I have to take this call” (heavy implication: it’s more important than you!) or look at your caller I.D and laugh derisively before sending whoever it is to voicemail hell.
Is there some way to keep these “virtual” cars from prowling the sidewalks of New York? We can’t cut back on cellular service, that toothpaste is out of the tech-nological tube. It’s not as obvious a threat as dog poop, so a law against it is unlikely. That leaves voluntary prohibition. Let’s all pretend that people on the street deserve as much respect as those in theaters and restaurants. True, it would deprive models and actresses of a useful prop, but there’s always fake mustaches. And isn’t that better than what we have now – a “virtual” Los Angeles, but with lousy weather.
You are more understanding than I about cell phone users. My gripe has nothing to do with models or actresses hiding themselves,(who cares). Its those loud, intrusive voices talking in public on their phone as if they were in their living rooms. Whether I'm on the street, on a bus, in a restaurant, a store, waiting on line, etc., it's incredibly obnoxious to hear someone yapping on their cell phone. Privacy has gone out the window with courtesy. Blah! Penelope
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