Eight happy years with my phones

I used to be a cell phone hater but I've changed.

In 2002, after about a year of being berated by friends to get a mobile phone, I relented because I broke my leg and was stuck in a phone-less hospital room for a week. When a visitor came to deliver a hand-me-down phone, I felt rescued.

Cell phones help me make plans after City Council meetings, which can end as early as 8 p.m. and as late as the next day. Cell phones inform me when a visitor has arrived so I can open the buzzer-less front gate to my apartment. Cell phones help inform my driver when my flight has landed, when I'm at the baggage claim and how long I've been waiting at the curb.

When I was in the hospital, my first visitors weren't my closest friends and relatives but those who owned cell phones and kept them on.

About 15 percent of Americans do not own a cell phone and I spoke to some of them for
today's article. Although I'm an ardent supporter of cell phones, I can understand the reasons for holding out.

Nobody wants to be that guy. You know that guy. He's self important and talks louder than the rest of us. He wears the phone on his belt and checks it every other breath. He's got a bluetooth in his ear and wears it when he gets the mail and when he uses the bathroom.

Getting a cell phone doesn't make you that guy. But I guess holding out gives you zero chance you'll ever be that guy.