Exactly on cue (well, almost exactly—two days ago) my iPhone 5 died. Refused to recharge its battery. I was planning to replace it this weekend anyway, bumping it up to a 5s. (Just between us, I don’t think I’m a 6 kinda guy, plus I’m tired of being the first kid on the block with the buggy phone. The 5s has been around a year now, time to mature. And it’s beautiful.)
All this meant I had to survive two days without Siri. And then spend this afternoon typing passwords until my thumbs bled.
Many (strangely short) years ago, in Illinois, the local telephone company building burned down, knocking out all the phones where I both lived and worked, and for quite a few miles around. It took them, I seem to remember, about two months to rebuild the switch. In the meantime, my cellular phone was one of the only working phones in town.
Back then we didn’t haul our phones around in pockets, we hauled them in the trunks of cars. They were about the size of a small overnight bag, plus a near full-sized handset mounted on the dash. And a pigtail antenna on the back window (now that’s beginning to ring a bell, right?). So I wasn’t shut out entirely, but I had to run out into the garage to make a call.
Still somehow we all survived it.
But without Siri, two days is enough.
No comments:
Post a Comment