Right, so I’m in a store, in a mall. No, don’t send for help. I’m fine. Well, I still have 12% of battery life left on the phone.
From the onset of the portable Gameboy I was always concerned for the children who spent hours staring down at a handheld machine. Especially disturbing was watching them do this while having dinner with their parents. It annoyed me how parents had to beg to get their attention. Say their names two to three hundred times so that by the time dinner was over the entire restaurant knew their first, middle and last name.
11%, faster, got to type faster.
Sure, I know, what do I care, I don’t have kids or want them or even pretend to like other people’s kids. But these kids will eventually be my doctors, nurses, lawyers, pharmacists, you get it, right? I don’t want them to snap one day because they confused me for an evil alligator on a go cart or a zombie.
Down to 10%.
I just want to apologize to those parents I bad-mouthed and to those children that I said had brain damage. You were right. You are right. I have been on my phone for the past ninety percentage points of battery life. And – I’m okay. I have avoided snapping. I have not yelled. I have improved my word searching skills and my PacMan score. I read all the latest AP stories and Hola (Spanish US Weekly).
I am calm, cool, collected. I’ve said nice things to my shopping companion that has tried on seven hundred and eight pairs of jeans.
Thinking back if I would’ve had an iPhone I would have missed out on half of the obnoxious and annoying things my parents would say. I would have also missed out on eavesdropping on their awkward conversations and creating insecurities that were never really there. And, now as an adult, if I wasn’t so hung up about being rude or appearing bored, I would have done this sooner and saved some serious aggravation and desperation for other situations, like traffic or the local news.
7%. She’s paying. We’re leaving. I’m done.
Mari de Armas 