I Went Phoneless For A Week (Because A Mugger Stole My Phone)
I’m not usually a fan of those contrived articles where the writer concocts some silly social experiment to see how well they get along without a staple of modern life. But I’ve recently had a change of heart about the format ever since I went phoneless for a week after it was stolen from me at gunpoint. It was a transformative week, to say the least.
1. The Phantom Phone Phase
No matter how many times I reminded myself that I didn’t have my phone in my pocket, I’d still tap my right thigh to make sure I hadn’t lost it. I would feel so dumb when I remembered the mugger’s Glock was so deep in my mouth, I could feel the opening of the barrel on my uvula as he stole my phone. You don’t realize how big a part of your life your phone is until it’s gone. The same could be said of your innocence.
2. Feeling Antsy
I was so used to living life through a device, and without it to distract me, I kept flashing back to the mugging. I remember chasing down the mugger as he ran, intent on retrieving my valuables. He pistol-whipped me before I could wrestle him to the ground. I lost three teeth and vision in my right eye for about an hour. Without Twitter or mobile games to pass the time, all I could do was think about that night. And how to make sure nothing like that ever happened again. Ever.
Life started feeling pretty lonely now that I didn’t have my only method of communication with the outside world. I retreated into myself. I became cold and hardened. Phoneless, with no way to reach my friends and no way for them to reach me, I found myself hanging out less and spending more time punching a brick wall to toughen my knuckles. After only a couple of days without my phone, I was already choosing the perfect moniker under which I could dish out justice. I also needed a name that honored the tragedy that led me to this point. The old me was dead. Now, I was Lock Scream. It’s like lock screen but with screaming, because that’s what I’m going to make people who steal phones do—scream. In agony.
I write this final entry while patrolling my neighborhood from the rooftops, leaving battered mugger bodies strung up on light posts for the authorities to deal with. It’s hard to believe I’ve only been phoneless for a week. I don’t miss it, and I don’t need it. Not as long as I have a pocket full of justice. So, if I don’t text you back right away, that’s why.