It’s time for a new phone. That’s right, my Galaxy S3 is nearly two years old. I hadn’t even realized, but I’m a bit proud. After all, my history with phones has been mixed. My S2 roasted after I over-clocked it and left it running in my car one summer day. The battery bloated and everything — in a cool but slightly tragic sort of way.
This leaves me with a dilemma. There are a lot of awesome phones out there. Sony’s Xperia Z2 is waterproof and takes 4k video! The LG Flex is flexible! No seriously. You can bend it. It also gets 29 hours of battery life. Samsung’s Galaxy S5 is the obvious upgrade choice since it is the grandson of my current device, is also waterproof, and carries the Samsung name. That said, the HTC One M8 is getting great reviews and looks fantastic. It also has better battery life than Samsung’s offerings.
This dilemma in mind I took my question to DLH. I said, “DLH! I have so many options! Which phone should I choose?”
DLH answered, “What does your heart tell you?”
That wasn’t very helpful because my heart is saying, “Seriously, Dawson? It’s a phone! Don’t you have better things to worry about?”
But the back of my heart, perhaps somewhere near the superior vena cava, was whispering, “The G1 was the best phone you ever owned.”
And it’s right. I loved my G1, with its full keyboard and that satisfying clicking sound it made when you slid the screen up and then slid it down again. It was like the sound a sword makes in the movies. Shhhhhunk. Shhhhunk. I miss it.
What happened to it isn’t my fault. I was carrying stuff to my car and my phone started ringing. I was supposed to be giving a ride to a couple of friends so I figure I should answer it. With my hands full the phone got dropped, hit my foot, bounced off the car and shattered on the pavement. I still managed to answer its broken remains.
A man’s voice on the other end said, “Hi, is Margaret there?”
“No,” I said. “I believe you have the wrong number”
“Ok,” he said and with that he hung up. He didn’t say sorry or even goodbye.
To this day I still occasionally call that number.
“Hi, is Margaret there?” I ask.
“No,” he says.
“Well she isn’t here either!” I shout as I hang up.