Connectivity

I experienced another of those generation-defining moments at a local Costco last week. I wandered by a cellphone kiosk and was drawn in to survey some of the newer models they were exhibiting. Although I hardly ever use my cellphone I was considering upgrading to something that would at least display those cool blue lights that could be useful during a blackout. Plus, the instant photo feature could come in handy if I were ever to have a traffic accident and needed some quickie shots of the damage. Well, as I was questioning the salesperson she asked to see my current cellphone, and I responded that I didn't have it on my person; I'd left it in the car. She returned a look combining condescension and disbelief at my lameness. How could I not have my telephone on my person? How could anyone wander through the modern world so hopelessly disconnected?

I have, and will continue in these blogs, to bemoan the ubiquity of cellphones in our society. There is hardly anywhere I can travel where an insipid personal conversation has not impinged upon my private space. I cannot read at an airport any more because of the myriad chatting of others. There are the distracting instances of folks seeming to dementedly be talking to themselves in the aisles of supermarkets who are actually speaking into a mouthpiece. And in restaurants. And in movie theaters. And of course, in their autos and SUVs, trying to make a left turn (though I was heartened today to read about by a six-million-dollar damage award against a driver who was distracted in such a way). But I also have to admit that they are helpful in emergencies, and like them or not, they are not going away.

Not ever, though they will continue to shrink to the poiint that they will resemble the com badges worn on the chests of Star Trek officers. The current generations following the Baby Boomers, the Xs, Ys and Zs, have established universal connectivity as a birthright. Only ancient mariners like myself do not feel naked without some telephone hook-up on my person 24/7. So I will learn to adapt to the new noise pollution, which is often as obnoxious to my ears as leaf blowers or the Angel's broadcasting team. Hey, I can erase the noise with ear plugs, or drown it out with an Ipods (another apparent 21st century required accoutrement which I am resisting). Or move to a Buddish monastery and take the blessed vow of silence.

What's equally disturbing, though, and becoming more apparent, are social behavioral changes emanating from this universal connectivity. I have several Gen-X/Y buddies with whom I play cards regularly, and I've noticed that they are often the most difficult to reach, despite their omnipresent phone devices. Three members of my poker group recently flaked out of a game, causing it to be hopelessly disrupted, although each was perfectly capable of responding via phone or e-mail to my many electronic inquiries as to where the hell they were. The group of us present called numbers, home and cell, left pages, sent text messages, did everything but fucking skywrite across the Hollywood Hills, yet these "correspondents" did not have the courtesy to respond in any form whatsoever. Okay, at a given moment anyone can be indisposed, having sex, suffering an angina attack, whatever, but not for several days in a row. I am trying to grasp the source of such insensitivity and singular (or, I should say Cingular) rudeness in otherwise responsible people.

I do not know whether the endorsement of flakiness is a personal failing among the small sample I mentioned, or a statement of rebelliousness against social convention, or perhaps even an unintentional subliminal rebellion against connectivity itself. For people who have made themselves available every second of their existence, perhaps there is a need for some personally established firewall, a reaction against being expected to respond to every jingle or text buzz or vibration, just as I choose to ignore unsolicited business calls by checking my caller ID globe. That this undermines the entire gestalt of useful connectivity is apparently beside the point. Cellphone use and abuse--the primary sociological feature of the first decade of this century--seems to be an active, rather than a passive preoccupation. Don't call me; I'll call you.