The Trials and Tribulations of Going a Month Without an iPhone
A month ago from tomorrow, I will have gone one full month without having an iPhone. You may be saying to yourself, “Bro, it’s 2013. Who the fuck can go a month without a cell phone and still be a functioning member of society?” Well I’ll tell you who - this guy. I mean, do I regret drunkely falling off a boat with my phone in my pocket after day-drinking on an overly expensive golf course and drinking microbrews at an outdoor music festival with my friend’s family reunion? …I guess? But unlike all the other societal pawns I’m surrounded by, I don’t need to be chained down by the social burden of having a “cell phone” or whatever. I can exist silent in a room without checking Twitter incessantly (unless it’s Sunday afternoon at which point my life feels like the Baby Scene from Trainspotting). I’m a heady dude who can get by. But, I have to admit, there are some pain points in the middle of all of this throwing middle fingers up to The Man by not having a cell phone. Let’s begin.
On-the-go music no longer exists. I never even thought of how convenient it was to have an iPod on me at all times until I didn’t have it any longer. There have been two defining moments in this struggle.
- Late Night Crushfests. When I get out of a wedding reception and I go to the after-after-party, I want to do two things and two things only. Slam bronsons and listen to Kid Rock’s Live Trucker Album. Until recently I legitimately had no idea that not everyone in the world has Live Trucker on their phone. Have these people not listened to “Cowboy (Intro)” directly into “Cowboy”? It’s adderall for your ears. Now I’m faced with either hoping that someone has a Spotify subscription or I have to carry the CD around and hope that someone owns a CD player.
- Getting Yolked. I know, I know. You’re all like, “Dude, you work out? I thought that temple we call your body was just heaven sent.” Well believe it or not, even this hot bro has to crush the gym once in a while to maintain that universally desired not-in-shape-but-not-out-of-shape look. Not only can I not listen to Live Trucker at the gym, but I can’t even listen to like DMX or the other shit that I get diesel to. I have to either watch the TV or listen to the Rod Stewart that my old-person gym pumps. This shit’s hard, man.
I can’t take photos of anything. I don’t care if you’re an art major at some shitty school I’ve never heard of or the biggest bro on the face of the earth - you wanna take pictures of shit. Sunset over the lake to get the Instagram broads jonesin’ for me? Need a camera. Friend triple-kissing some pigs on the dancefloor of Cubby Bear? Need a camera. Need a nice, functional photo of you and some friends to show your parents so they don’t think you’re just mainlining vodka-sodas every weekend? Nappenin’. Capturing a video of a girl pounding champagne and throwing the empty bottle off a second story deck? I just can’t capture these beautiful moments anymore.
I can’t Google answers to everything. I have to actually think. The last Google searches on my iPad are:
- Vietnamese sandwiches
- we must protect this house gif
- raw egg safe to drink
- 1994 red wings roster
- cooling underwear
- best country song about guns
So not only am I blindly making Vietnamese sandwiches and eating raw eggs just hoping for the best, but I’m also trying to remember that sick Under Armour commercial for “We Must Protect This House!” and sweating my balls off in non-cooling cotton underwear. You try living life like this. It’s a trainwreck.
I have had to come to grips with the fact that not everyone is at my fingertips. Sure, I carry around a 48-page memo book with all of my friend’s numbers in it, but how the hell am I supposed to get a hold of them when they all leave for a shit-ripper without me? Throw them a goddamn paper airplane? No. I have to actually plan these shitty little aspects of my life and hope that everyone sticks to the plan, which they never do. I have to put faith in people that they won’t leave somewhere without me if I’m 5 minutes late, which they always do. I have to look up directions to places and write them down. When’s the last time you did that? Seriously. Sit back and think about the last time you printed directions off of motherfucking MapQuest instead of just Googling it real-time on your iPhone or calling a friend. That shit sucks, dude. This realness is realer than real.
Sundays are even scarier. My Sundays consist of getting boozy at brunch, watching sports, smelling weird, pooping, and (most importantly) texting my friends about how Scared I am. Well, throw that last one out the window because that shit is over. Granted, yeah, I have an iPad so I can iMessage anyone that has an iPhone. But I’m not going to be that dude in a restaurant carrying around his iPad. I’m not going to bring my iPad to a friend’s house while we watch Non-Scary Movies such as This Means War, The Other Guys, or any Matthew McConaughey movie ever made. I’m either alone with my thoughts or alone with other Scared people. I can’t just reach out to those rocks in my life who make me feel better via encouraging text after encouraging text. You know who I’m talking about. Those people who don’t get Scaries because they are either “Men Who Are Better Than Us" or live lives not worth living. And if you just asked yourself, "Am I the former or the latter?" then you are most definitely the latter.
So, uh, yeah. All in all, life without a phone ain’t just looking at clouds and having meaningful conversations with people. All the important shit like listening to music and ignoring the people I’m always with is a hell of a lot more difficult.
PS. You may be wondering why I just don’t get a phone. First of all, I’m not going to spend my money on some dinosaur flip phone. That’s money poorly spent. Secondly, the new iPhone just came out after about a month of rumors. I didn’t know if this thing was going to like print paper money or give blow jobs or something, so I held out in hopes that it would. Turns out all it does is take your fingerprints to make it even easier for The Man to know everything about you. May never buy a phone again.