In the United States, we value our freedom and fight to protect ourselves from the ever-watching eye of a Big Brother-esque figure. Ironically, though, we choose to constantly carry personal tracking devices with us. The cell phones glued to our fingertips keep us perpetually connected to anyone and everything. It brings a strange sense of security to know that you can be reached at anytime, whether it is an emergency or just your roommate wanting to know if you ate their leftover Taco Bell, which you probably did.
It is also weirdly comforting to be able to call, text, or email for any possible reason. If you have ever gone to Rocky Point, and I know you all have, then you may be familiar with the anxiety involved in not being able to easily contact people. The lack of cell phone service there is disconcerting. Of course, most of you were way to inebriated to register any thoughts beyond "Yo quiero más cerveza," but imagine, if you can, sobering up on the concrete floor of a Mexican jail surrounded by the lovely fragrance of human waste and having no way to contact anyone.
Missing people are often discovered by their cell-phone signal, provided that they are in an area with service, unlike Rocky Point. I like to think that if I or someone I know is ever kidnapped, that our cell phones could save the day. I used to walk home every night from my restaurant job and I would always call someone during my little trek to decrease the chances of being attacked. I figure that if I'm on the phone, at least one person will hear me screaming and might be able to do something about it.
Despite these redeeming aspects of being invariably trackable, the recent technology that allows you to find anyone in the address book of your cell phone is frightening. In theory, it almost sounds like a good idea. Say, for example, that you are going to a party and you can't figure out the directions your friend gave you. You could just pull your friend up on you handy-dandy cell phone and see where the exact location of said party is.
But mostly, this function would be used by possessive boyfriends/girlfriends and overprotective parents. It would be a serious issue for those of us who frequently lie about where we actually are. (Of course myself excluded, Mom, since I know you're reading this. I would never, ever lie to you.) Those being tracked would be forced to turn off their cells and resort to land lines. Unfortunately, no one has land lines anymore so they would be completely SOL.
We have all heard the endless reports about the dangers of cell phones, especially when driving, yet they remain plastered to our heads. I've even learned how to bike and talk on my phone at the same time, which is quite a feat considering my lack of dexterity. I see people texting on their bikes as well, a skill that eludes me since I need to be looking up to know where I'm going. I am no doubt amazed by the masterful multitasking involved in texting while biking or driving, but the risks involved clearly outweigh the benefits. We cannot get so involved in the digital world that we lose touch with the reality in front of us, like a person crossing the street.
The good news is that recent studies show no correlation between cell phones and cancer. You won't get a Razor-shaped tumor on the side of your face, so feel free to keep on yakking. The other great part of this revelation is that no one should feel the need to wear those little Bluetooth earpieces anymore. Countless times I have responded to a stranger who I thought was talking to me, only to discover that they were actually talking into a tiny headset. I hate it when that happens.
People with Bluetooth frequently appear to be talking to themselves while sitting on a park bench or wandering around the grocery store, which just makes them look a few cards short of a deck. Actually, let's make that a lot of cards. Please folks, unless you work at McDonalds, lose the earpieces.
Technology can be great, but we shouldn't let it take over our lives and turn us into multitasking robots. Try making conversation with the person in front of you every now and then, or use a pen to write instead of a keyboard. You just might like it.
I give you permission to use a keyboard, as long as you are writing a letter to me at: melissa.mapes@asu.edu.
