Halfway to the grocery store I realized I'd left my cell phone on the kitchen counter. Panicked, I looked for an easy place to turn around, but nothing was easy. So, I made the bold decision to keep going. Hey, I lived for years without a cell phone. Why do I need one now just to go to the grocery store?
Pushing my cart through the aisles I was twitching. I needed that phone. What if something happens and I need to make a call? I made it safely through the checkout without a heart attack or armed robbery, and headed back to my car... scanning for a payphone... just in case. Nothing.
Driving home, I looked on every corner hoping to see my old friend, the Payphone. I drove for blocks... looking up and down streets, in mini malls, and in gas stations until finally, outside a dilapidated liquor store, there it was. A payphone.
Beaten, broken, and covered in grime, this was once the great equalizer. Everyone, rich and poor, used this shared tool to communicate. To call a loved one, place a stock trade, order more heroin. Surely, this relic would soon be removed, and I worried that maybe we've been too quick to do away with public phones.
I made it home safely, cradled my phone lovingly, looked deep into its camera eye, and swore I would never leave it behind again.