My iPhone 5 survived the first catastrophic event, which began with free fall. In less than a second, my iPhone made an amazing leap out of my pocket and onto the sidewalk.
Based on the appearance of my iPhone when I picked it up, this debacle was more or less the smart phone equivalent of an Olympic high diver jumping out of an airplane and landing face first onto Santa Monica Boulevard. The iPhone screen was destroyed, as was the button to turn the device on or off.
So, me [and my smashed crunchy iPhone] made our way to one of those mall kiosks where they fix phone screens. Apparently, they couldn’t deal with the button issue without endangering national security, but they did have this expensive but seductively cool reflective metallic-blue screen that they could put on my phone, and I could not resist buying it. An hour later, I found a silver designer phone case that actually said “FUCK” on the back, in big black letters. Which — after accidentally smashing my iPhone — I thought was hilarious. Not as hilarious as trying to recharge an iPhone in a microwave oven, but hilarity nonetheless. Long story short, my iPhone 5 emerged from the battle with the Santa Monica sidewalk with scars, but I had successfully transformed the iPhone 5 into a futuristic punk rock belligerent … errrr “something.”
The second and much worse catastrophic event also began with free fall, but from the couch to the rug, a distance of about two feet. Despite the fact that the phone landed on a padded surface, the entire front of my iPhone popped off and a wire was sticking out. And I heard Bzzzzzt when it hit. Or at least I thought I heard Bzzzzzt. But even if that sound actually did not occur, we’re going to add the Bzzzzzt sound in post. You know the scene in every Terminator movie, where they realize the Terminator is finally dead, no chance of coming back? That’s what it was. Bzzzzzt. RIP Belligerent Evil Punk Rock iPhone 5. Dead. D-E-A-D. Dead.
The problem — I had 5 weeks until the iPhone 6 was due to come out. Spending money on another iPhone 5 seemed to be not the best idea. Bzzzzzt.
Bada boom, bada bing, I was back on my old iPhone 3. No Siri, no apps, no music, no photos and no email on my phone. And I don’t do much text anyway, so for all intents and purposes, iPhone 3 and I were beamed back to 1996 until the iPhone 6 came out, except that (a) I could see voicemails; and (b) no one was doing the Macarena.
I decide to leave iPhone 3 as-is, and see if I could get by with an iPhone in 1996-mode for a couple of weeks.
A funny thing happens when you use an iPhone in 1996 mode.
You call people. You see people. You talk to people. You read. You drive safer. Simply put, using an iPhone in 1996-mode forces you to reconnect with the non-virtual world and people around you. Having dinner with someone goes back to having dinner with someone, not a sideline attraction for a Facebook status. As it turns out, you can actually survive without checking CNN for updates on ISIS or NFL domestic violence or whatever other issue floats your boat every three minutes. You can check email less than 500 times a day and still be productive. You can successfully eat a ham sandwich without a phone in your left hand.
As I write this, the new iPhone 6 and 6S are out into the world, and they look awesome.
But truth be told, I don’t know that my iPhone 3 and I want to leave the happy safe world of 1996 anytime soon.
RIP Belligerent Evil Punk Rock iPhone 5