Hanging On the Telephone, by Martha Thomases – Brilliant Disguise

April 30, 2011 Martha Thomases 12 Comments

The woman walking towards me is yelling, “It’s spelled G-A-I-M-A-N!  It’s pronounced ‘Guy-man.'”  I don’t know why she’s so angry with me, a total stranger, or whether or not i’m should correct her or if that’s wasting a perfectly good name-dropping opportunity when I notice she’s got an ear-bud and she’s talking on the phone.

There was a time, less than 25 years ago, when we weren’t all carrying around mobile phones.  If you wanted to meet someone, you had to make plans, in advance, and wear a watch.  If you wanted to talk to someone far away, you had to save up your money, because long-distance was expensive.  And if you were having dinner with your family, or hanging out with friends, and you got a phone call, you excused yourself to talk privately, or made arrangements to call later.

Now, just walk down the street and you’ll hear all kinds of interesting things.  Here’s a sampling from my experiences in the last month:

“Yeah, he’s got amazing shit.  Just call 917-XXX-XXX and ask for Roscoe.”

“He couldn’t get it up.  He said I just didn’t turn him on anymore, especially since I was on my period.”

“I tried that KY Yours-and-Mine, and it burned and numbed my clit for two days.”

These are separate from the inane things people say (loudly) on the phone, calling to tell folks they just got out of the subway, or they’re walking past a Starbucks or some other mundane crap.  What would these people have done if they couldn’t call?  I guess they’d just have to commute without an audience.

Don’t even get me started on people who talk and/or text at the movies.  I don’t know why they pay for tickets (and they should have to pay for mine, if they’re going to ruin the experience like that).

I have an iPhone and I love it.  I love being able to get my e-mail, or read Dan Savage, or use my Kindle app on the subway, or even make a call.  When I’m at the Green Market, I can call my husband and see if he’d prefer asparagus or sugar-snap peas.  There are probably people who don’t want to hear my half of this discussion, think it’s as inane as some of the one’s I’m criticizing, so I try to keep it short.

Over the last few weeks, as the weather has (too slowly) turned spring-like, I’ve noticed even more disturbing events.  I like to take my Kindle to the park to read in the sun.  Parents like to take their kids to the park to play in the sun. I’ve seen – at least half a dozen times – kids running around, yelling (as kids will), “Daddy!  Mommy!  Look at me!”

And the parents don’t look, because they’re too busy looking at their phones.  And not just for a few minutes, but for long times.

Just because a kid is hollering doesn’t mean a parent has to leap up and do something.  I’ve been the parent sitting on a bench, engrossed in my book or a conversation with someone.  However, even if I didn’t completely turn my attention to my kid, I’d at least look and make sure he was okay.  I wouldn’t leave him yelling, “Look at me!  Look at a me!” until he got hoarse, or discouraged.  If I was in the park with my kid, I was in the park with my kid.

These parents are teaching their kids that a little screen is more important to them than the relationship they have with their kids.  That a text or a tweet or a Facebook update is what matters in life.

A half-dozen spoiled-brat parents in the West Village don’t make a trend.  At least I hope not.

Martha Thomases, Media Goddess, likes to look at her phone when she’s in boring meetings so she can pretend she’s more important than those who are boring her.  And she’s going to go to Hell for it.