I was out vagabonding and came across on old phone booth. It took me back in time.
Dial zero.
“Hello this is the operator.”
“Operator, I’d like to make a collect call.”
“The number please.” (Give her a girls phone number who lives in LA.)
“I have a collect call from Mike Huggins will you accept the charge?” She laughs and says, “Of course I will.” It was 1973. I lost her number and I’ve forgotten her name. Pam, Dana, Mia, but I can still see her face, remember her voice. We all hung out on Friday and Saturday nights in a skating rink in southern California. We’d use the phone booths to call each other when we had serious 13-year-old shit to talk about. It only cost a dime. That same call today will cost a parent around $75.00 a month because little Johnny has to have his own smart phone. It’s safer in case there’s an emergency. And if the parent calls little Johnny and he doesn’t answer because his lithium battery went dead start the execessive worrying and call 911. Probably kidnapped.
My wife recently received a free coffee pot off a buy nothing website. Of course, it wouldn’t work. It was the exact machine that was in our room on our recent trip to the ocean. That one didn’t work either. We got into a discussion on this contraption, and I told her I’d get some tools and rip the broken dripper apart. I decided to Google it first. I typed in the first two letters and then Google finished the rest—Repairing a Keurig B80. What a Google. I did as Google instructed, tearing it apart. I put it back together and it still wouldn’t work. I called around and found a family member who has one and I explained the situation. She told me to slam the lid a few times. Works perfectly now.
Standing there staring at the phone booth I couldn’t help but wonder if it all went wrong with the replacement of the outdoor phone booth. The infiltration into our lives. The loose wires not connected to anything representing the democrats, republicans, law enforcement and our judicial system.
I can hear you.
A very interesting question. Your essay brought back a memory. Nobody goes anywhere today without their cellphone. When a friend and I graduated high school, we decided to drive from Pittsburgh to Florida for a vacation. My brother a year younger and a friend from his class went also. We took my Pontiac Grand Am with the 400 engine. Somehow we packed 4 golf bags and luggage in the trunk. Great trip. Saw Daytona, Disney World and stayed there. Cape Canaveral too. Seeing all the rockets, etc., was awesome. Way back I was driving all night and in North Carolina the passenger front wheel decided to break off. The brake kept it with the car. No wreck. We were on the highway out in BFE and screwed till a tractor trailer skidded to a stop and called a tow truck for us.
Riding through New Brunswick I came a cross a sweet young French cyclist, hitchhiking at an on ramp. "I want to go to Moncton." "Why? Have you been to Moncton?" "There are no facilities!"
I wished I could have helped her get to a washroom but I was on a motorcycle. "I'm sure you'll get a ride soon."
There are no tourist facilities in New Brunswick. None that I've seen.
In Quebec there is one every 40 kilometres or so with washrooms, picnic tables and even a phone booth.