TECHNO DETOX!

Sometimes one doesn’t realize their need for something while it is readily at their disposal each day. Not until the subject of a dependency is, even if temporarily, removed from our grasp do we truly realize the severity of our reliance. 

On a recent weekend getaway, we were twenty miles from meeting family at a South Carolina lake house destination before I realized that email and texts had not been arriving on my laptop or “smart” phone.  Looking back, I think that was when the panic set in.  I’ve come to believe since, that my heart and cell phone have established some bizarre wireless connection.  I began to fear that when one stopped beeping, the other might stop beating.  I don’t believe it was just a coincidence that the rhythm of my heart and the “beep” of incoming message alerts ceased simultaneously.

I eased my mind initially by convincing myself that once we arrived at the spacious lake house, including its open decks and docks, I would have the ability to obtain a signal and make reasonable contact with the outside world.

Upon arrival, I followed my familiar routine of unpacking the charging apparatus and paraphernalia for each electronic device I’d packed, which I must admit, had begun to resemble a small, portable Radio Shack.

Immediately, I began my quest as I walked around aimlessly with my arms outstretched, holding my cell phone up toward the sky and watching the reaction of the bar level that indicates signal strength. With the dexterity of a contortionist, I attempted various spins, twirls and lifts in my attempt to connect with a signal. Nothing.  My eyes widened and my mouth dropped open in shock when I read those two terrifying words that appeared suddenly on the screen:  NO SERVICE.

No service?  No service?  What could that mean exactly?  Could my beloved gadgets receive texts without email?  Email without texts?  Phone calls without either?  “Please be more specific!” I shouted aloud at my phone as I began to realize the trouble I was in and the mental torment that awaited me as I was forced to endure the withdrawal symptoms of what I’ve since dubbed:  TECHNO DETOX!

Surrounding the lake house was a gravel road, miscellaneous shrubbery, various flowering foliage, tall trees and of course, a lake.  (Hence, the name.)  But after circling the entire circumference of the property repeatedly, all LCD screens continued to display that familiar, and now despised, phrase:  NO SERVICE.

As they slowly observed my suffering and became somewhat the brunt of my frustrations, I heard the whispers of my family as they discussed, and were obviously plotting, an intervention. 

Needless to say, I was overly enthused when my equally addicted teenage niece arrived stating she had to finish on-line homework.  Certainly I could use this piece of vital information to my advantage in my quest for an operational network link.  (Everyone would believe I was only trying to “help the child” get her assignment done on time.)  In devious desperation, I seized this opportunity to advance my problem to the highest level of priority.  Not only did I find comfort in commiserating with a fellow addict, but certainly together we could devise a plan, a solution to this dilemma of epic proportions.

I heard a familiar family voice beckoning everyone onto the dock for a much-anticipated boat ride across the lake.  Again, my mind frantically searched for signal opportunities.  Could it be that this huge body of water was nothing more than a wireless wonderland?  Could the center of this vast, open area provide me with what I was so desperately craving? 

Wearing the innocent facade of a retired sumo wrestler smuggling a Twinkie onto the grounds of a Weight Loss Camp, I attempted to sneak my Internet capable cell phone onto the boat, under my shirt.  Needless to say, I was stopped at the border.  The bulge, resembling a third breast, did not go unnoticed by my unusually perceptive eldest niece who cast a scornful and disapproving sneer in my direction.  However, she must have construed my “deer in the headlight” look, followed by my obvious apologetic expression, as silent admission to her of my problem.  Though she could not deny the look of pity she cast my way, she seemed to understand my plight as she overlooked this shameless attempt to feed my addiction, said nothing and welcomed me onboard with the others.  In hindsight, I think years of childhood memories passed before her eyes of her aunt taking her to carnivals and skating in the park.  (Though it may be unethical to use precious memories as collateral, in this instance, I had to rely on every resource available.)

As we boarded the boat, in hopeful anticipation of gaining a signal, I selected a seat at the stern, knowing I could easily “hide and click” there as others were wrapped up in the sites of the lake.  All onboard, we ventured out into the water.  As my nephew displayed his vast and impressive knowledge of the lake he’d frequented since childhood by pointing out the various points of interest, I smiled and nodded in acknowledgement.  However, I keenly took advantage of the latter part of each acknowledging “nod” to glance down at the screen of the phone I had cleverly concealed in my right hand.

And as we approached the middle of the lake, my hopes and dreams came to fruition.  A signal!  The noise of the boat motor overcame the beeps of the downloading email, but I leaned forward to hear their harmonious sounds, which were music to my ears…beep…beep…beep.  This impressive vessel was now nothing more to me than an office with an Evinrude.

As the weekend progressed, my nephew commented more than once, that he wasn’t aware I was such a fan of boat rides!  I would rush down the stairs of the dock and jump onboard every time I heard the boat motor’s melodic melody.  Naturally, he was unaware of my true intentions, as his back in the captain’s chair, was toward my increasingly more productive seat at the stern.  As he steered and the children laughed while riding on the various devices connected to the back of my floating headquarters, I joyfully and efficiently clicked, downloaded and replied, trying to appear as nothing more than a satisfied sailor.

As the weekend came to an end, and we began saying goodbye to friends and family, I was hit with an epiphany and guilt that overwhelmed me.  I was hooked.  I had not been able, for one weekend, to sever the invisible umbilical cord that provides me with my technological sustenance.  I had disregarded time with loving family members, laughter, good friends and food in the midst of scenes from nature that could easily adorn any tourist post card, all to feed my insatiable appliance appetite.

And though this first feeble attempt at techno-detox may have failed, I have in earnest scheduled another session in the near future.  The only problem is, I’ve scheduled the date and its reminders, on my cell phone…

 Linda Ellis
www.lindaellis.net