Note to Self: The next time a certain William Bottomley is hovering over you and giggling, get OUT of the wheelchair. To be fair, it was the only place to sit and since my story was forming at a glacial pace, sitting was more than called for. Speaking of calls, can anyone remember what we did before our every waking moment was spent fixated on a handheld screen? I have vague memories of driving around looking for phone booths, but from there it gets a little fuzzy. I do know that my first station-owned cellular device had a gasoline engine and giant, glowing green letters. Since then, I've sported an assortment of comm-links, from a briefcase size device bolted to the live truck floorboard to a late model Merlin hanging off my hip. Back then if you told me I'd be saddled with access to all the world's knowledge twenty four hours a day, I'd have asked you just what you smoked once Mork and Mindy went off.
Chances are you wouldn't have told me.
These days, of course, I'm equipped with a 3G device I neither pay for or could ever fathom living without. How could I? At any moment, I could be jettisoned into the void, hurled tripod over tea kettle at some cop car convention at the end of an unmarked road. What am I supposed to do, read a map? Yeah, right. I'd just as soon swing by the library and crack open a World Book. Maybe then I could figure out what mankind did before cyber-life... I'm pretty sure it has something to do with that Bill and Ted movie, though I don't trust any film featuring Keanu Reeves without an equal dose of ass-kickin Patrick Swayze. You heard me, nobody puts baby in a
I think my keester is asleep.