Call Waiting

On Thursday evening I kicked off my extra-long holiday weekend (that's right, I didn't have to work Friday either) by attending a play at the BU Theatre, courtesy of my friend Anne, who got the tickets for free through her employer. Before the show began, there was a reminder to turn off cell phones.

The performance was the Huntington Theatre Company's production of Present Laughter by Noel Coward. I confess to knowing very little about him, but the show was quite entertaining, funny and drily witty. Near the end of the first act, during a brief lull onstage, I caught the muffled but noticeable sound of a vibrating cell phone coming from a couple of rows behind me. I suppose there are people, doctors and such, who are required to be on call for emergencies and who cannot turn off their phones completely, so I decided to give whoever it was the benefit of the doubt.

During the second act, from somewhere further back came the even more distinct sound of the Nokia ringtone. (I'm sure you all know the one I mean, even if you don't realize you know it.) It wasn't at full volume, but it was loud enough to be a distraction. The phone's owner succeeded in silencing it after a few rings. To their credit, the actors either didn't hear it, or they chose to ignore it. Trying to maintain the spirit of generosity, I thought maybe someone used their phone at intermission to check in with the babysitter, and forgot to turn it off again. Fortunately there were no interruptions during the third act, but during the intermissions (there were two), I noticed several men tucked into the various corners of the theater, hunched over their BlackBerries.

I don't have access to email or the web on my cell phone. Actually, I do have access, but I've chosen not to enable it. I've been tempted by the Treo, having worked for a while for a company owned by Palm; there are times when I'd love to be able to look up directions or restaurant info on the go, but I don't think it would happen often enough to justify the additional cost each month. I have the feeling I'll give in at some point, but for now I'd like to think I can live without being connected during those times when I'm neither at home nor at work.

On Saturday afternoon, the Mrs. and I went to a movie. About half an hour in I hit the trifecta: the phone of one of the people sitting behind us rang. The woman answered it, but she immediately whispered, "I'm at the movies, I'll call you back" and hung up. A noble effort, but again I have to wonder: was this necessary? Are people really so careless, or are they just selfish? When I go into a movie, a play, or even a restaurant, I immediately silence my phone. It's become a reflex action.

I think our electronic tethers are inflating our sense of self-importance. It's one thing to call home to check on the kids, but is it possible that everyone at the theater last Thursday was such an important person that they couldn't (or wouldn't) turn off their cell phones even after being asked to, and had to check their email during the breaks in a play that had a total running time of about two hours and forty minutes? It seems excessive. Entertainment is supposed to be a respite from our everyday lives, not an interruption of them.