In my humble opinion Slaves to our cells

Author: Daniel Roberts

In my history discussion yesterday, amidst a riveting talk about the influence of Jesuit missionaries in Japan in the 1500s (like I said, riveting), a tinny, obnoxious electronica beat suddenly pierced the room. It was some girl's cell phone, and it sounded like a Mozart concerto on crack.

Mistakes like this happen all the time, and the girl quickly blushed, fumbled for the thing, and shut it off. No big deal, right? Well, here was where it got really shocking - about ten minutes later, another cell phone went off: the phone of the girl sitting directly next to the first girl! Unbelievable. Did this second chick completely miss her neighbor's humiliation minutes before?

As you can imagine, I was fascinated by the imperial training of Oda Nobunaga, but still, I could not help from zoning out into thought: when exactly did cell phones become more integral to our lives than any other object? I feel like far too many people treat their cell phone better than they treat their own body - they clean it more often, decorate it more carefully and program it to play cool rap music.

In fact, I do not know anyone who does not own a cell phone. I'm sure these people exist, but it's no surprise that I cannot name any. After all, how could one function as a human without having the ability to check sports scores, look at tiny pictures of their dog or listen to "Crank That Soulja Boy," all while they walk to class?

Yet my epiphany here is not that too many people own cell phones, it's that the extent to which we hold them close and tote them everywhere is slightly appalling. Take the popular custom of "texting." I will be the first to admit I love the idea of text messaging. It's a foolproof way to avoid a conversation with someone who bores you.

And don't even mention the texting that goes on when people get drunk. The entire process is downright laughable. The Center for Disease and Psychiatric Evaluations has just classified drunk dialing as an official addiction. How about drunk texting? We all know about the booty text. It's 12:30, the party you're at has become lame, and you feel like sharing your bed tonight. What do you do? Send out the "hey, what are you up to?" text. It's a universally understood late-night invitation. Who can say that this compulsion to pull out your cell phone once you get wasted, broadcasting your inebriation to everyone in your contact list, is not an addiction?

However, when did it become socially acceptable to have your phone glued to your palm, frantically clicking away on the keys even when you're sober? Everyone agrees that it's annoying to open your phone and have an entire conversation with someone when you're in a social situation with friends, like at dinner or a small gathering. If your phone rings, you leave the room. Stay in the room and gab with your buddy about the parties on campus tonight, and that's a party foul.

So how come it isn't equally taboo to sit there, texting people when you're supposed to be spending time with a friend or two? Everyone does it (including me) and I only just realized how ridiculous this is. In the adult world, you would never see a businessman pummeling his cell phone keypad while in a meeting, or while out to dinner with his friends. Yet here, we send texts in class, at parties or at meals. I guess it's just one more rude practice that has become acceptable for American college students, like disrespecting dining hall employees, leaving newspapers everywhere for the non-existent "maid" to pick up and writing Nick Janson's name on the desks of Munroe.

Daniel Roberts '09 is an English major from Newton, Mass.