Sonar and me in Memphis, 2013. On Sunday, February 24, 2013, my friend Sonari and I sat in a bar outside Dallas, Texas, each staring at a phone and barely speaking to the other. The specificity sounds portentous but it was just a random Sunday, easy to look up because it was that year's Oscars night. A decent crowd had shown up to watch the ceremony. We neither paid attention to the TVs nor, as I said, to each other. We'd just driven 450 miles from Memphis with a long mid-day stop in Little Rock. Google Maps says the drive takes about six and a half hours, but I recall it taking three times that. It was a fine time, not complaining, but it was 10:00 at night and we had not had dinner yet. I recall feeling completely exhausted.
Day started with 8:00 mass because we are solid Catholics both, true to The Game and all that. The priest had an interactive homily about the baggage we carry and asked members of the congregation to hold onto some clothes of his he would not be taking on his vacation in Rome. He walked from pew to pew handing stuff out. I can't remember the point-- divesting oneself of the unnecessary?-- but it was lively and nice. We stopped outside Graceland, but did not go inside to genuflect. We stopped in Little Rock to have lunch, walk along the river, and visit--our third temple of the day-- the extraordinarily horrible Clinton Library. Just awful. The rest of the day was spent driving. So was the previous--Chicago to Memphis. There we had ribs and checked out Beale Street and went to bed late. After Dallas we'd drive to Austin, pick up our friend Anton, spend the night there, and drive to San Antonio in the morning. After a brief cameo at the Alamo, I'd split for Chicago via jet airplane and Anton would accompany Sonari the rest of the way to Los Angeles via electric car. Anton and I were just there to hang, someone to talk with and at on the long drive across the continent. Analog company in a digital time.
So here we were, two garrulous friends, totally spent, checking emails, headlines, weather, whatever--everything but each other. I looked around and noticed that the bar was full of people talking to each other as they watched the Oscars. No one was on a phone but the two of us.
"Sonari, we're being those people."
"What people?" he asked without looking up.
"The kind of people who go to a restaurant and stare at their phones instead of talking to each other."
He made a face. "Dude, I've been listening to you yap for sixteen hours."
"Yes," I said, "But these people don't know that."
That's what I wanted to tell the Texans surrounding us. We weren't sorry refugees from the decadent north, so socially broken that we no longer knew how to behave in public. We were mildly tech-savvy at best. Not Luddites, sure, but we also hate (as I assume they did) the kind of people who are always trying to be there instead of here. We were well-read, well-rounded, friendly guys and not stereotypical douchebags of the early 21st century, contrary to current appearances.
So you never can tell. That's my moral.
He made a face. "Dude, I've been listening to you yap for sixteen hours."
"Yes," I said, "But these people don't know that."
That's what I wanted to tell the Texans surrounding us. We weren't sorry refugees from the decadent north, so socially broken that we no longer knew how to behave in public. We were mildly tech-savvy at best. Not Luddites, sure, but we also hate (as I assume they did) the kind of people who are always trying to be there instead of here. We were well-read, well-rounded, friendly guys and not stereotypical douchebags of the early 21st century, contrary to current appearances.
So you never can tell. That's my moral.
Memphis, Catholic-friendly town Today, the social-commentary short-putt is to decry smart phones and anyone who uses them. 'Tis the op-ed that launched a thousand shares. I could link to the commentary that just inspired me to write this bit of commentary, but you've read it a thousand times elsewhere. You've even seen it in a thousand photo essays, those dreary black-and-white, B-minus art school projects depicting groups teens all facing down instead of each other. The horror. We've made the commentary ourselves, if we are older than 20. Thank God I didn't grow up with smart phones. I know how to look people in the eye and talk to them. It's the rare rant we can all agree on, be we Republicans or Democrats: we all feel superior to that dickhead staring at his phone.
The problem is, unfortunately, that we are all at times that dickhead staring at the phone. Yet every time we get caught, we have an excuse at the ready for why, like Sonari and I did at 10:00 PM, 2/24/2013, at that strip-mall honky-tonk just a mule spit outside the Big D.
The problem is, unfortunately, that we are all at times that dickhead staring at the phone. Yet every time we get caught, we have an excuse at the ready for why, like Sonari and I did at 10:00 PM, 2/24/2013, at that strip-mall honky-tonk just a mule spit outside the Big D.
Sonari, man with his fly open, Anton The day after I noted our anti-social behavior in Dallas, Sonari, Anton, and I were sitting in a hotel bar in Austin talking about music. I raved about a band Anton had never heard of. He raved about a song I never heard of. We each picked up our phones, went to Youtube, and pulled up tracks to share with each other. Sonari, arch hypocrite in extremis, threatened to throw the devices across the room.
"I'm moving all the way to Los Angeles, and two of my best friends would rather stare at phones than have a conversation."
Right then, yes. We did, I'm sure. But it was a kind of talking to each other. Even still, we put them away. We did not want to seem like those people, the pathetic adults who need a constant fix from a blinking pocket toy. Neither of us bothered to say that music was culture and here we are using the great tools of modern life to share some of the best of what has been thought and said-- in this instance, the best of what has been sung and played.
Nah, we just locked the screens and pocketed the devices, because cell phones, man? They're killing us. People just don't know how to behave anymore. Me and Anton get it, though. Watch us prove it by putting 'em away. For now.
"I'm moving all the way to Los Angeles, and two of my best friends would rather stare at phones than have a conversation."
Right then, yes. We did, I'm sure. But it was a kind of talking to each other. Even still, we put them away. We did not want to seem like those people, the pathetic adults who need a constant fix from a blinking pocket toy. Neither of us bothered to say that music was culture and here we are using the great tools of modern life to share some of the best of what has been thought and said-- in this instance, the best of what has been sung and played.
Nah, we just locked the screens and pocketed the devices, because cell phones, man? They're killing us. People just don't know how to behave anymore. Me and Anton get it, though. Watch us prove it by putting 'em away. For now.
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