A few years back, I remember going from store to store on the streets of Manhattan, trying to change a dollar bill into four quarters.
I would keep insisting that I was not disregarding the 'No Change for Parking Meters' sign, while trying to convince the store clerk I was desperate to make a phone call at a nearby phone booth, to alert my company that I was going to be late this morning due to a subway derailment, and that I was now going to walk the 20 blocks to get there as fast as I could. Whew . . .
Once I did have the quarters in hand, I now had to wait for the person currently using the phone to finish up. The problem was that he wouldn't.
In fact, . . .
. . . it sounded as if he had been there since the early hours of the morning, no doubt trying to convince his girlfriend back home in Ghana that things were going well for him on the streets of the city, selling fake Gucci watches for $10 to unsuspecting tourists, as well as to those of us who understood imitation was an art form, or simply didn't have the means to buy the real thing.
How dare this guy, no doubt using a calling card (of the day - valid for as long as the account was active or until its proper owner got wind of the situation that his telephone number and secret code were stolen by a peering character with a keen ear for remembering the touch tone keys by their unique sound), would not get off the phone, not even acknowledge the fact that I was now pacing back and forth nervously behind him.
To make matters worse, I can hear his entire 'broken English' conversation where he now is asking the person on the other line to describe what she (I assume it was a female) was wearing, and is listening intently with a few oohs and ahhs in between. All the time I am thinking to myself, couldn't people use the phone for its intended purpose, and not as an extended and meaningless conversation piece.
What was this world coming to?
Fast forward to present. Next to you in the middle seat, if you're lucky enough to get the window or the aisle seat on a long flight, is this person whose deodorant you can't name since he's not using any, who no doubt is pissed he paid a lot more for his seat than you did because he uses the Internet solely for its intended purposes of girls gone porn. As if his getting the last bag of peanuts was not bad enough, and your acceptance of the stewardess's apology is not an option but a requirement, since there might be air marshalls on board who might throw you off the plane for simply talking back, he now gets to annoy you with his cell phone conversation with those he left behind, all two of them, both with nothing better to do all day than to recite the play-by-play happenings on the Jerry Springer show they're currently viewing.
That's right. Effective immediately in Europe, but for some time now by Emirates Airlines, and soon to be followed by all other airlines everywhere, you can talk on your cell phone during a flight at 30,000 feet, even for no apparent reason than to tell the party on the other end how much you miss them, even if it's a call to your local dry cleaner.
Phones on a Plane. Coming soon to an airline by you.
