Monday, March 14, 2005
I need some time to write about this past trip. It was pretty fun, pretty overwhelming and pretty successful. However, I returned to a deadline for the Joensuu University Paper and have just completed my little column. Here is the latest edition of the J-town Journal.
I learned something about myself last week. I learned that without my mobile phone I am completely helpless. Not only do I not remember a single telephone number that is in my phone, I also have no frickin’ clue how to use a pay phone in this country, no frickin’ clue whatsoever. This is not good, Howard, not good at all.
There was a time when I had dozens, if not hundreds of phone numbers stored away in various compartments of my brain, ready and willing to make themselves available at a moment’s notice. I can still remember the phone number of my best friend from the first grade, from the first place where I ever worked, and half of the database from my last job. But now, with this little gadget serving as my blue and orange brain, I’ve completely lost the ability to remember anyone’s phone number. Once it is in the gadget it is out of my head, never to be heard from again. So what happens if there is an emergency? I’m screwed is what happens.
I was in Turku last week. My wife was visiting with her friend from high school and I had permission to go see a movie, Hotel Rwanda. It was the only film that I was permitted to see without the wife and so I went. I didn’t complain. I would have liked to have seen Million Dollar Baby or Finding Neverland, but I only had permission to see Hotel Rwanda, and so I went. It was a satisfying film about a tragedy of monumental proportions. Alas this is not a film column, so I will spare you my opinions. I will tell you that as the opening credits began to roll and I went to silence my phone, I noticed that the rectangular object in my pocket was a pack of smokes and not my phone. Of course we had arranged no meeting time after the film, that’s what phones are for. So throughout the movie I was plotting my strategy. I would immediately run to the coffee shop where she would most likely (hopefully) be. After that? Well, she would most likely be there, right? Of course not.
Now a little panic set in. I had the keys to the car, but she had the key to the garage. It was getting late and cold and, since we had driven to town, I was wearing a lightweight jacket. She told me that she wanted to get home in time for one of her favorite shows and we were fast approaching that time. So I ran back to the movie theatre, thinking that she would realize that something was up and come to get me. The whole time I was trying my damndest to remember her phone number – my wife’s phone number – and I thought I had a pretty good guess in my head. This was when I realized that I have no idea how to operate these pay phones.
I had a lot of change in my pocket, ready to try several variations of the phone numbers I thought could very well be my wife’s. But these phones do not accept coins, only cards – specific phone cards. I thought that maybe they might accept American Express. I thought wrong and the embarrassingly loud beeps kept telling me so. I tried again and again, shouting little curses after each failed attempt. I had to move on and so I went to the next most obvious place that a woman might be, I went shopping. I shot through all of her favorite stores, but still had no success. Finally, I decided to wait for her by the parking garage, expecting to see her shivering in the cold, but steaming with anger. Luckily this did not happen either.
My last, best chance to get out of this was to go to the hospital where her mother works and ask if they could call her at home, so she could call my wife and let her know that her husband is an idiot and that he is waiting for her. I may have taken a dramatic approach upon entering the hospital. Out of breath, I ran up to the counter and in frozen English told them that I was in trouble and I needed some help. Realizing the melodrama from the expression on the employee’s face I changed my tone and calmly explained my situation. A few phone calls later I was able to find my wife, sitting with her friend from high school, sipping red wine and laughing at me.
I learned something about myself last week. I learned that without my mobile phone I am completely helpless. Not only do I not remember a single telephone number that is in my phone, I also have no frickin’ clue how to use a pay phone in this country, no frickin’ clue whatsoever. This is not good, Howard, not good at all.
There was a time when I had dozens, if not hundreds of phone numbers stored away in various compartments of my brain, ready and willing to make themselves available at a moment’s notice. I can still remember the phone number of my best friend from the first grade, from the first place where I ever worked, and half of the database from my last job. But now, with this little gadget serving as my blue and orange brain, I’ve completely lost the ability to remember anyone’s phone number. Once it is in the gadget it is out of my head, never to be heard from again. So what happens if there is an emergency? I’m screwed is what happens.
I was in Turku last week. My wife was visiting with her friend from high school and I had permission to go see a movie, Hotel Rwanda. It was the only film that I was permitted to see without the wife and so I went. I didn’t complain. I would have liked to have seen Million Dollar Baby or Finding Neverland, but I only had permission to see Hotel Rwanda, and so I went. It was a satisfying film about a tragedy of monumental proportions. Alas this is not a film column, so I will spare you my opinions. I will tell you that as the opening credits began to roll and I went to silence my phone, I noticed that the rectangular object in my pocket was a pack of smokes and not my phone. Of course we had arranged no meeting time after the film, that’s what phones are for. So throughout the movie I was plotting my strategy. I would immediately run to the coffee shop where she would most likely (hopefully) be. After that? Well, she would most likely be there, right? Of course not.
Now a little panic set in. I had the keys to the car, but she had the key to the garage. It was getting late and cold and, since we had driven to town, I was wearing a lightweight jacket. She told me that she wanted to get home in time for one of her favorite shows and we were fast approaching that time. So I ran back to the movie theatre, thinking that she would realize that something was up and come to get me. The whole time I was trying my damndest to remember her phone number – my wife’s phone number – and I thought I had a pretty good guess in my head. This was when I realized that I have no idea how to operate these pay phones.
I had a lot of change in my pocket, ready to try several variations of the phone numbers I thought could very well be my wife’s. But these phones do not accept coins, only cards – specific phone cards. I thought that maybe they might accept American Express. I thought wrong and the embarrassingly loud beeps kept telling me so. I tried again and again, shouting little curses after each failed attempt. I had to move on and so I went to the next most obvious place that a woman might be, I went shopping. I shot through all of her favorite stores, but still had no success. Finally, I decided to wait for her by the parking garage, expecting to see her shivering in the cold, but steaming with anger. Luckily this did not happen either.
My last, best chance to get out of this was to go to the hospital where her mother works and ask if they could call her at home, so she could call my wife and let her know that her husband is an idiot and that he is waiting for her. I may have taken a dramatic approach upon entering the hospital. Out of breath, I ran up to the counter and in frozen English told them that I was in trouble and I needed some help. Realizing the melodrama from the expression on the employee’s face I changed my tone and calmly explained my situation. A few phone calls later I was able to find my wife, sitting with her friend from high school, sipping red wine and laughing at me.
// posted by Howard @ 2:37 PM 
