“Mr. Watson, Come Here. What Is Your Password?”

Monday was an important day in my life in many ways.  My son had his first workout with his football team and I had to get him by there by 10:15, so my plan was to do my radio show for an hour, leave, go pick him up and take him to practice.

I got off Sunday night after doing the sports show and got in bed around midnight.  I can’t sleep when I get home, can barely sleep even after that, so I was finishing up binge watching The Sopranos on my phone.  About 1:45, was falling asleep, so I plugged my phone in, checked the three alarms I had set starting at 7:45 and two minutes after and two minutes after that and drifted off.

I woke up without an alarm Monday morning just full of life.  The sun was up and shining and it was already a burner.  Hold up!  Why is the sun so high up already at 7:45?  I reach over to grab my phone and dropped it immediately.  It was at least 1,000 degrees and dead as a door nail.  Dead.  No sign of life at all.  I panicked because I had no idea what time it was.  No clue.  I finally turned the TV off and my Roku informed me it was 9:02.  I go back over to the phone that was still a billion degrees.  Another restart.  Nothing.

Absolute panic as now set in.  Must call Greg at the radio show and tell him what happened.  Then, call my son and tell him to get ready.

Then it hit me.  I don’t know anyone’s phone number.  Not a clue.  No one.  They were all stored in my phone.  All of them.  I haven’t felt this helpless since I got my first speeding ticket on Two Rivers Parkway when the cop with the radar motioned me to pull over.  What was I gonna do?  I had to go down and turn my laptop on and start sending emails out.  Send, send and send again to those who I needed to get in touch with to let them know I was as lost as Tom Hanks in Castaway.  Except he had a beach to jump in and I had nothing.

At the end of the day I realized all of this, was my fault.  Yes, my fault.  We have no clue what happened to fry the phone but the fact that I couldn’t remember a single phone number was pathetic. The great tech guy at the Apple store was able to save all my contacts which was wonderful and before he did that, I had to make an appointment and the guy said, “hey what is a good number to text you?”  “Umm, my phone is dead, I have no other way.”  “Your son has a phone, can we text him?”  “Sure, his number is …….hold up……buddy, what is your number?”

So my epiphany on that fateful Monday is that never again will I be at the mercy of the phone.  I have taken time to write down about 100 phone numbers of friends and have made 10 copies which I have all around me now.


Chuck Noland may have discovered fire on that deserted island but I have discovered I couldn’t live without a phone.  Until I realized I could.  And would.


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