why does it feel as if I've sold my soul to de debil?
As a precaution for an upcoming Long Trip, I was recommended to pick up a cell phone ("for emergencies," you know), so today, after class, I went to Triple-A (for free maps!) and then the local Shopping Facility, where I walked into a store called Better Deal Cellular. I was rather blunt in my purpose: I don't want to play Tetris, nor do I want to listen to my non-existent mp3 collection, or any of that peripheral crap...I just want one in case anything goes awry. One of the employees was a guy I knew in high school, who was once short, is now tall...we both acted like we didn't know each other, reaching the unspoken conclusion that an exchange of words would be far too awkward. The process of "getting" the phone seemed to take forever, as another employee tapped information into a computer and tinkered with the Cellular Components. It cost $84 after taxes (with a supposedly generous rebate offer), and came with 60 "free" minutes. That should be enough for my purposes, I think...
That being said, I certainly am not betraying the cause of the Anti-Cellphone Brigade.
Though I worry about these opiates that people hold close to their ears, incessantly nattering/listening to the vacuous sentiments of others...and hope I don't fall in with such an unsavory crowd.
I walked to my car with a gray-white-pink T*Mobile bag, with an overwhelming urge to rent Entrapment.