Last week, I spent an enjoyable forty minutes wending my way through New Mexico's farmlands on my way to rendezvous with a friend.
When I arrived at our prescribed meeting place, rather than pulling out my trusty cell phone, I pulled out a two quarters instead. Equipped with the necessary fundage, I made my way into our meeting place - a fast-food joint - and asked about the nearest pay phone.
Flashing me a look somewhere between disgust and admiratio, the girl behind the counter handed me the business phone instead.
Naturally, it was coated in grease - but I gingerly accepted it and dialed the appropriate numbers. My friend answered - on her cell phone - and told me she would arrive shortly to pick me up. When I hung up, I briefly considered waiting out in my van, but opted for the warmth of the restaurant instead. Here, unable to resist the proximity of frosty dairy beverages, I ordered a milkshake.
And there I sat, drinking my malt. Staring out the window at the passing traffic. Listening to the behind-the-counter banter of the restaurant's employees. I pulled out no ipod. I punched in no instant messages. I dialed no numbers, played no games on my Blackberry, enjoyed no tunes on my portable device. Instead, I just stared out the window.
The sun was shining. It reflected off of the window in such a way as to create a double-image effect, which I found quite transfixing. I sat. I sipped. I considered the quality of this establishment's product. Thick, rich, full, and sweet - this treat that would register high on the calorie-meter, but I couldn't have cared less. This wait - this moment of peace in an otherwise unpeaceful world - had stripped all the worry from my mind.
I sipped. I savored. I reveled in the breadth of each moment. There we were, myself and I, enjoying a treat that would not have been if I had owned a cellphone. True. the wait took a chunk from an already overbooked day. But it was a chunk I felt privileged to lose. If only I coul wait more often ... my days would be worth their weight in gold.
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