Why friends don't let friends (fill in the blank)

So, I got a new cell phone last week. (And don't you hate it when people start blog posts with the word "so"? I do, too, but it's just so tempting I can't resist!!!)

I was much attached to my little tiny Nokia with all the buttons on the front and the super-dee-dooper flashlight on the end. I carried it around with me at night after all the other creatures were asleep when I finally shut down the computer and went to bed so I wouldn't stub my toes or other parts. (And, since we're being up front, I still carry it at night. I keep it charged, because it's the best flashlight and reading light ever.)

I got a fancy schmancy newfangled flippy-picture-and-video-taking-text-messsaging-ringtone-downloadable-voice-commandable-it-probably-babysits-your-children-while-you-go-to-the-grocery-store Samsung phone. They practically gave them to us (in fact, they are truly paying us to use them for the first three months, so if you are out of contract and want someone to pay you to use a new cell phone for three months and still end up with a cheaper bill afterwards, go to Costco!).

How could we resist? We gave up on our old company after we determined that: a) They didn't want to help us, really. b) They were going to charge us an arm and a leg for everything--phones, service, existing as human beings. c) They were going to make us change all our numbers just because we wanted to change the name on the account. d) They, obviously, were unconcerned about customer loyalty even though we've faithfully paid them, on time, and more than we pay for, say, WATER, or personal items per month, which are really more necessary if you think about it, for nearly a decade.

And they haven't even called us to find out why we left yet. I guess that's one thing in AOL's favor. They'll do anything to get you back.

I digress.

So, (there it is again), I'm now learning to use all the bells and whistles on my new phone. It is, in fact, harder than geometry, and that's saying something if you knew me when I took geometry. My children are patiently teaching me all kinds of tricks. I am a computer freak, but other electronics slay me, and frankly, I just don't care. People used to try to get me to make the copy machines or printers work when they were messing up in my old offices, because they knew I was a computer freak, and I just laughed in their general directions. Computers hold the key to my success. Other things that plug in? Why bother.

But, I have successfully sent text messages to Gail so we can have brief conversations about when we're going to work out (and this is quite an accomplishment if you know the two of us--yes, the working out and the brief conversations). I have installed a photo of my beautiful, yet feisty and death-wish-filled cat on the wallpaper. I have even mastered the art of calling a few people using the voice command. The lady who asks me what I want to do has serious pronunciation issues, though, and cracks me up with her inability to recognize names I have clearly YELLED into her ear. I apologize to everyone I have inadvertently called this week when the voice command lady interpreted (as a fake example) Sally Smith as John Doe.

If you've read this far, this brings me to the subject at hand. Finally.

I have always tried to be a conscientious cell phone user and follow the rules like:

1) No talking on your cell phone in the library or church. Or ... in the middle of talking to an agent, as Kristin Nelson talked about in her blog one time. That is a bad idea, apparently.

2) Turn the ringer off during movies, especially when the super scary AMC employee comes in before the show starts and warns that you'll be forcibly removed if you are seen using a cell phone during the feature presentation. (This really happened when we went to see Premonition.)

And, of course:
3) Put your cell phone down while you're driving and you see a police officer approaching, because if you are breaking any other rules, the cell phone attached to your ear is probably not going to help your case.

Which brings us to my point.

My dad is always reminding us kids about not using cell phones while we drive. I, in turn, remind my son not to use his cell phone while he drives. It makes me wonder if my dad uses his while he drives. (Just think about that for a moment.) I don't think he does, though, considering he even hands the phone to someone else in the car when he's a passenger because he can't hear. Hehe.

Anyway, I've discovered that my fancy schmancy new phone is much more difficult to master while driving, so I have cut back considerably on my office hours in the car. I could use that old Nokia puppy with one hand, knew exactly how many up and down arrows it took to call the people I needed desperately to talk to at that exact moment, etc. Piece of cake. The new one takes two hands and three brains, which is pretty tricky while you're driving. It gives me new respect and much sympathy for all the people I've dialed who answered the phone while driving as if their lives depended on it.

Which brings me to my actual point. This is the funny part, I promise.

Yesterday, while working out at the Y, I was sitting on the recumbent bike, alternately spinning my legs and resting because my stomach still hadn't quite recovered from the bubonic plague I contracted last weekend. I was listening to my Once CD (don't forget, this is a movie you have to see while you still can!) and reading a book at the same time. You think this sounds difficult? It was, but not so difficult I couldn't observe an approaching Y patron.

She walked slowly toward the bike at the end, breaking Y rule number one: Use of cell phones in the exercise areas is prohibited! I casually watched with my peripheral vision as she approached the bike, sat down, slowly began to pedal, and held a heated conversation on her cell phone. All this while a 8 1/2 X 11 inch piece of paper printed very prettily with the words "OUT OF ORDER. SORRY FOR INCONVENIENCE." floated gaily in front of her face, covering the computerized controls of the bike. She didn't notice until she'd been sitting there for a minute or two and finally decided to select her speed when her conversation ended. Then she abruptly stopped pedaling, looked around to see if anyone was watching (not ME!!), and got up. In her shock, she went to a different type of machine altogether.

I said all that to say this. I think I'm going to stop talking on the cell phone while I drive. You probably shouldn't either. Friends don't let friends talk on their cell phones and drive.

(Anyone know a good 12 Step Program for this?)