I fear that I’ve become obsessed with my iPhone. I hate my phone for consuming my life, but I also can’t get enough of it. I check my email on my phone at stoplights. I scroll through Instagram while waiting in long lines for restrooms. And I furiously catch up on text and email messages during my work breaks. I can’t seem to pause anywhere without first grabbing my cell.
My downfall into the iPhone-centric world started two years ago when I reluctantly accepted a smartphone as a birthday gift. Previously, I was the proud owner of a flip. I loved this old-fashioned device, with its inability to take photos, its T9 texting capabilities, and “Dreams” by the Cranberries ringtone. But what I loved most was that it kept me human. I had no reason to feel any attachment to it because the only thing it could do was make a call.
Now I’m an iPhone addict — behavior that, sadly, is increasingly more acceptable in San Francisco. People bump into you while texting. Groups of friends delve into their phones at dinner. As soon as the credits roll during a movie, the theater becomes a sea of glowing screens. I’ve developed a slight disgust with cellphone culture — and myself — as I slowly join the other message-crazed individuals.
Realizing I was headed toward a life of horrible dependency, I decided it was time to take a mobile communication cleanse. So I took the plunge — four days with no cellphone access, which means no checking emails and no texting. I decided for kicks to even ignore my landline — to see what I could learn about our smartphone-crazy culture.
The Prep: Mapping Phone Booths
Amidst this smartphone frenzy, my 23-year-old friend Isaiah Kramer purposely functions without a cell. I needed his help on surviving my cleanse. Isaiah and I arranged to meet through the powers of email, which he checks about five times a week using a computer at the library.
“I don’t like for people to know where I am.” Isaiah told me. “Also, I don’t like the way the trend of communication is going, where everyone is always in touch with their iPhones. I’m protesting in a way by not having a phone.”
Isaiah communicates by pay phone and his work phone at Fresh Organics. He offered some tips on where to find good phone booths, but I soon discovered that many were either disconnected, smelled like urine, or are now used as vomiting booths.
After talking to Isaiah, I learned three additional steps: (1) Get a watch. (2) Find an alarm clock. (3) Write down all crucial numbers in an address book. (The only one I could find was a Miley Cyrus plush-cover special that I won at a birthday party a couple years ago.)
Day One: Thrill of the Chase
Thursday morning I set out for my first phone-free adventure. I visited my coworker, Hye-Young, at the fancy-pants pastry place where we work. But when I arrived, there was no sign of her.
Rumor had it she had just left for Dolores Park to meet up with our mutual friend Kelly. I quickly walked over to the park and found Kelly, which I felt was a triumphant miracle sans phone. Hye-Young had just left, but returned an hour later.
As we sat in the sun, my two friends occasionally texted and took photos on their phones. Naturally the other mobile-less creatures in the park were drawn to me, such as Winston, a gregarious five-year-old. The young’un came over to introduce himself before running away. He later returned with artwork drawn on scraps of lined paper. I considered this a suitable replacement for Instagram. Hye-Young later dubbed it Winstagram.
Day Two: Fear of Missing Bill Murray
I worked on Friday, so having a cellphone didn’t seem as necessary as the day before. While on my break, I walked over to 18th and Guerrero and was surprised to see my friend Elena, who moved from San Francisco to Davis a couple of months ago. I hadn’t seen her since she left town. She was in the city only for the day, and as luck would have it I ran into her.
This moment reminded me of an anxiety I’d expressed to Isaiah — a fear of missing golden opportunities without a cellphone. With an iPhone, I could receive a magical text message like, “Chloe! Bill Murray is here! Come on down.”
“But what if you didn’t have anyone telling you to do anything and you ran into Bill Murray on the street?” Isaiah asked. “It would be more magical. It’s almost like fate.”
Running into Elena was a lot like running into Bill Murray. Elena agreed and said, “The world is telling you that you don’t need a cellphone.”
Day Three: Stand-Up Friends
By Saturday I felt liberated. I felt like I could go on forever without a cellphone. Earlier in the week I’d made lunch plans with my friend Monica. Normally I would text in the morning to confirm our plans, but now I just had to trust that she would show.
I arrived at Universal Cafe and took a seat at the restaurant bar. After 15 minutes it became obvious that Monica forgot.
“Is it cheating if I text her?” the manager of the restaurant, and a friend of Monica’s, asked me. I considered that fair play, so she sent the text and it turned out Monica had forgotten. I wasn’t upset — I had a book and now I’d have a nice brunch by myself. After finishing my meal, my server told me Monica had paid for my brunch over the phone. The rewards of not having an iPhone!
After lunch I set out to find a pay phone to make some evening plans. I found a nice one on 16th and Valencia where I made calls to three friends inviting them over to my house for a Crispin Glover double feature. I was able to get in touch with one, and left voice mails for two others. After spending two dollars on calls, I considered one confirmed guest a success.
Day Four: Mixed Messages
On my last phone-free day I arrived at work at 7 a.m. By 7:15 no one was there. I grew nervous waiting. Were we closed for some reason? Were we opening later? What sort of memo did I miss?
Hye-Young arrived at last, saying she had texted that she was running late. Obviously I didn’t get the message.
I spent the rest of the day feeling anxious that I’d missed important texts and emails. I also had this horrible feeling that if a death occurred in my family, no one would be able to let me know.
I also lacked the ability to text my friends every spontaneous thought that popped in my head, something I realized I do quite often. I started writing everything I wanted to tell them in my notebook, to serve as reminders for when my phone was back in my life. I wanted to text my friend Kati the suggestion to have a Steve Buscemi–themed potluck. I wanted to text my friend Kat the first sentence from the book Bridge to Terabithia. I wanted to send pointless texts full of emojis just to annoy people. Anything.
After work I decided to spend the evening being antisocial. Trying to make plans seemed futile. I didn’t want to waste quarters or stand in the cold attempting to call people who probably wouldn’t answer. I went home, cooked dinner, and took a bath.
The Aftermath: The Worst Call to Miss
Monday I turned my phone on and was slightly overwhelmed by the communication catch-up. Among the missed phone calls and texts were coworkers asking me to cover shifts, invites to dinner parties, and responses from sources for other stories.
I also received a missed phone call and text from my father with the news that my aunt would soon die. I felt a horrible frustration that I hadn’t been able to respond to this news, and an eerie feeling that I had expressed this exact fear the day before. If I had received this text when it was delivered, could I have called my aunt and spoken to her? Could I have rearranged my schedule to travel back east to see her? But the opportunity was lost. It was too late to do anything, or respond in any meaningful way.
Postscript: Habits to Break
Despite missing out on crucial texts from my family, my life without a cellphone was enjoyable. I liked the freedom that comes with not being immediately reachable, and at times I felt superior to the mobile-consumed individuals around me.
Post-experiment, I’ve noticed changes in my phone habits. I no longer check my email as soon as I’m awake. That wristwatch helps to keep me from checking the time on my phone — which in the past led to a horrible spiral of texting and emailing. And I made it through an entire movie the other night without googling the actors (to be clear, I was watching the movie at home. I would never text while at the theater). But at that point, I did decide that while my phone was near, I might as well check movie showtimes, and then make a reservation for dinner, and then scroll through Instagram, and then realized I really want to YouTube the song “Apple, Peaches, Pumpkin Pie.” But I consider that evening a success.
Overall, though, I found that being a complete Luddite was an ill-fated dream, and my days without an iPhone were an ignorant sort of bliss. I didn’t feel the stress of obligations because I didn’t know they were happening. And as someone often plagued with guilt, I worried that not having a cellphone made me an unproductive and unreliable schmuck more than my worry about my gadget obsessiveness.
