Cellular Detoxification & the Real Harry Potter

Could the real Harry Potter please stand up? Please stand up! Please stand up!

So I recently did a cleanse-- not of Harry Potter. Not the kind of cleanse where you have to do anything incredibly strange such as stand on your head and drink milk through a straw up your nose or drink fruits and veggies only or meat only or well, you get the point.

This cleanse was quite satisfying. At first I was a frantic skeptic. I had the signs of being an avid junkie. My fingers itched for T9. I kept wondering what everyone was up to. Somehow meeting up with people seemed a lot harder all of a sudden.

What if they didn't see me next to the big clock in Gas Town?? Or what if I had a big contract coming through and no one could reach me.

About halfway through the second day of no cell phone service, most of these ridiculous questions subsided and I started to relax. All of a sudden I became almost invincible. To have a power to disappear in a crowd and no one know that I was there. Captain-Fly-On-The-Wall.

I started to like this newfound freedom. It detoxified my constant need to be in the know. To be available 24/7.

How this all came about was my cell phone no longer held a charge. And convenient too. I had been practically sanding the sidewalk with it when no one was looking, dropping that Motorola from such great heights but it was very much "the cat came back" the very next charge. I truly despised it because it was resilient. It had girth. All the sexy sleek machines all came out on the market right around the time that I had to settle for this craptastic piece of machinery called a phone.

Then it happened. The charger was shot just like that. Within minutes I was on the phone with my cellphone provider negotiating. Granted the iPhone 3GS is sold out across the country at the moment and I didn't want to pay the full price for it but I guess I could settle for the 3G considering what I had before this. Then the salesperson hacked my daydream with those dreaded little words. "That'll take 'bout 5 business days ma'am."

Excuse me? Me without phone for 5 days.

So there I was. Contemplating several options, none of which were rational -- I'm sure. I thanked her and got of the phone. Thus, started minute one of the cellph detoxification process.

Gradually I got used to it and came to terms. After a while I embraced it.

Finally the little package arrived in the mail and the front desk clerk at our office handed me the prize.

Startled I asked her, "What's this?" Almost a subconscious refusal of the anticipated goods.

I opened it. Shiny, sleek, and so much information at my fingertips. Oh no. I was available again. My heart sank. I was getting used to the solitude.

Today I took my baby down to the Apple store to get proper coverings for it so that I could protect every inch of equipment. I love these field trips because I finally feel at home with Mac users. It's like one big marketing cult. Not that I buy in completely but I've sure branded myself accordingly. It's not just the commercials I promise you. The interface is totally designed for me in mind. Hey it even rhymed. See how washed out my brain cells are?

I caught a sample conversation of what it was like in this wonderful abbyss of electronic goodness.

One Genius Bar employee was excitedly telling another genius bar employee that he was excited when the colour shuffles first came out. He quickly explained that it was his dream to collect every single colour in order to colour coordinate with his wardrobe. When the eavesdropping hit this high point I had to look over and at least get a load of the speaker's outfit.

And there you had him, could the real Harry Potter stand up? Oh wait, he was standing in front of me. Pen in hand, poised as if a true quidditch wizard. Somehow I felt like this was a telltale sign of home. The crisp and ripe conversation of geeks and genius side by side.

I have inaugurated the purchase of the iPhone - inspired by the Genius Mr. Harry Potter to name my phone. It has a name and I am intending to tend to it as if it were a child so that it will outlive my last phone. And in honour of a fine family tradition it shall be given a name. Not after a colour mind you -- as my close cousin has done for hers, but the most bizarre name that could come to mind first so that it fits in with the strange breed of apple marketing junkies such as Sir Harry. I introduce to you my Myrtle. She could be your crazy aunt thrice removed or she could be my phone, but crazy Aunt Myrtle is quicker than a turtle or quite a lovable phone at that.