Greg and I went away for a weekend getaway recently and I am embarrassed to admit, I was the only person at the airport without some electronic device keeping me connected to the world beyond Gate 23.

My scroll a little crinkled, I rolled it onto the man’s laptop one seat over but there was no place for my calligraphy pen and bottle of ink. I started to get some stares but I blamed that on the acid washed jeans.

Greg handed me his i-phone (realizing he was now a techno-loser by association) and suggested I type myself an email and paste it later into some other document. After attempting to type with my thumbs, I deleted the first three words, took a deep breath and searched for the “sausage fingers” re-set button to no avail. Surely, there’s a sausage finger app, if only I knew how to purchase it.

Greg said I would “love how the keyboard will finish a word for you” based on the first couple of typed letters. I started typing “embarrassed” and it wrote “harassed.” I cleared the screen distracted by the dueling ring-tones from the cell phone choir around me, typed “You suck” and handed prince Charming back his stupid gadget.

Remember when cell phones were used for emergencies only? Not anymore. Most of the people around me were on the phone with loved ones discussing favourite recipes, weather, confirming their flight details hadn’t change. Surely if they hadn’t changed there was no reason for a call. If each of these travelers had lined up at a pay phone twenty years ago, those change machines at the grocery store would be at quarter capacity every hour on the hour.

There are hubs, there are routers. There are cords, people carrying bags, not with clothes or books but chargers, adaptors and salted almonds. Greg is like a kid in a candy store and the only things I can relate to are the almonds.

 Greg is busily working on his laptop, his one and only piece of luggage.

The clacking of my pen is distracting him and he nods towards my page.

“Wow, you are a fast writer!”

 High praise in 2011 indeed.

 To add to my misery, my assigned seat on the plane is 32A.

Thanks for the kick in the bra size while I was down Delta.