“Hey this is Revaz. I’m either in class, studying, or waiting in line like el Oso.”

If you call my buddy Revaz’s cell and he doesn’t pick up this is what you will hear. It stems from a conversation we had a couple weeks ago about when it is proper - and when not - to pick up your cell phone. I had told him that I never pick up my cell phone while waiting in line somewhere because sooner than you think you’ll get to the front of the line and you will either have to cut off the person on the phone or the person trying to help you.

The truth is I rarely pick up my cell phone at all. I rarely keep the damn silicon-filled plastic box of beeps with me. And I feel very much out of place in modern global society because of it.

A recent Chinese movie, “Cellphone”, explores how cellular phones are impacting relationships, honesty, and privacy in modern China. Here’s an excerpt from a review in the LA Times:

During one scene, Yan rejects an incoming call from his lover while he gets a foot massage with his girlfriend. In another scene, he tells his girlfriend that he’s in a meeting when he’s really with his ex-wife after she gave birth to their child. Later, the dejected girlfriend confronts Yan with an incriminating picture — with his lover — sent electronically on his cellphone.

For many viewers, the film hits a bit too close to home.

China’s ever-vibrant Internet chat rooms spout tales of couples fighting or breaking up after seeing the film. Newspapers detail a Tianjin woman who insisted on checking her husband’s cellphone messages after they left the cinema, a challenge that reportedly so enraged him that he cracked her over the head with his handset, landing her in the hospital.

Yang Tao, a 30-year-old information technology worker, says he recently landed in hot water after mistakenly sending a text message to the wrong girlfriend.

“Now I keep two separate numbers,” he said

World-wide, a new rage called Silent Dating or the more proprietary SMS Dating is quickly gaining steam. There are even services in which companies will match your “cell phone dating profile” and allow you to text message those who may be compatible. A friend of mine told me that already we have the technology to send cell phone users a notice (yes, I’m sure you can change it to your favorite song melody) when a potential date is in the area.

Can’t you just imagine it. You’re walking down the street and your cell phone sends you a little announcement. Maybe it says “cutie blonde thing coming your way, a little chunky down below but going to the gym to work on it, full body tan, likes Ska.” Then, there she is, just 15 yards ahead. Wait … ah, yes, she’s looking at her cell phone too. She looks up at you, a cutie for sure.

But wait … what’s this? She lowers her gaze and ducks down a side street. Dude, she’s like totally blowing you off man. Bro, that sucks, she was a keeper.

Of course, if we already have the technology to do that, we would also be able to let our friends - remember Freddie, the annoying guy who was sure you were interested in what he was saying? - be noticed when we were say within a one mile radius.

And yes sure there is probably a “block user function” or some way to make it look like you’re not around when really you are just like Instant Messaging programs can, but trust me, the hackers already have a way around that. Freddie knows right where you are and he has to tell you about this girl he almost hooked up with at this killer party last week. And then he has to tell you about this job he might get. And this new diet he just found out about. And the conspiracy theory of the week. Freddie’s gonna fuck you.

Also in last week’s LA Times was a Calendar Section front page article entitled “Disconnect, cell by cell.” After chronicling the subtle warfare going on between shop employees and their cell phone toting customers, staff writer Paul Brownfield asks:

Is this some kind of breakdown in the public arena or just plain rudeness? Maybe it’s this: The more we blur the lines between public and private, work and play, serious and casual, the more everything becomes fair game. Go ahead, floss in the elevator. You’re busy; you can’t be expected to wait until you can find a bathroom. Bake a pie in your car if you can. Don’t worry if you cut me off in traffic without signaling; after all, you’re baking a pie. The world out there? It’s just a backdrop, as movable and transient as a fake skyline on a studio lot.

That’s where I feel like I exist. That backdrop that once was reality. The truth is, I am envious of those people who can navigate so easily through the auto-pilot trajectory of daily routine all the mean while telling their best friends what they will be wearing that night and how many weight watcher points they consumed for lunch. They bring their lives around with them. There is no need to talk to strangers because your ten best friends are only 7 digits away.

I am jealous because I can’t do it. Because I am a very poor phone conversationalist. Because I don’t know how to chit chat on the phone for hours at a time while doing my grocery shopping, getting my coffee, picking up my dry-cleaning (ha, I don’t even wash my clothes), and making copies at Kinko’s.

Once, dejected that I was not part of this group, I began to listen in on their conversations, to figure out what the hell they could be talking about. The Trader Joes in La Jolla seemed like a good place to start. Mostly college students and young professionals. And most of their conversations (or the half I hear anyway) go something like this:

“Should I get the California Roll or the Veggie Roll?”
…
“I know but the veggie roll has like brown rice on it. Yeah, it’s really weird looking. So are you going to the gym tonight?”
…
“Really? Oh my god, he was sooo drunk last night. Wasn’t that classic. I kinda feel bad for him.”

Or the thirty something loosening his tie as he picks up a shopping basket and then reaches for his cell phone:

“Hi honey, it’s me - did you already pick up the boys from soccer practice?”
…
“I’m at Trader Joes.”
…
“Yeah, the meeting ended a little early.”
…
“No, no one wanted to put up with Johnson’s shit.”
….
“Yeah, the guy’s a total prick.”

I could do this, I thought to myself. I have a routine just like everyone else. I could call up and tell 10 of my friends what I would be doing tonight.

Now, I should point out here that I am not one of those people who will only have “meaningful” conversations. Most would agree that I tend towards the meaningless. One friend even said I remind him of Seinfeld which I took to mean that I never say anthing of importance. But I do it face to face. I just can’t seem to talk about nothing over the cell phone. It kills me, I break out in hives, my boxers start climbing up my ass.

So I tried it a couple times. I tried calling up some people on my cell phone and … you know, just shooting the shit. But I couldn’t do it; the art is beyond me. Instead I do this really weird thing where I’ll go over to someone’s house and hang out for a while. Or instead of talking to Laura on my cell phone at Trader Joes I’ll go shopping at Trader Joes and ask the clerk how he/she is doing and then Laura and I will go for a walk on the beach when I get home. (the pictures on this post, by the way are from a walk on the beach we took a couple nights ago)

We all remember seeing O.J. Simpson’s White Bronco cruising down the freeway with police cars patiently in pursuit. Almost immediately the news anchor informed us that the police were able to find the suspect by tracking a cell phone call he made. For most of us, it was the first time we learned that it was even possible to track cell phones to their location. Most of us forgot about it.

Soon, however, we will be reminded. According to an article from News.com:

All U.S. carriers are under Federal Communications Commission orders to make it possible for police to locate cell phones calling 911, something police can’t do now. Carriers plan to use the same systems to sell services like helping stranded motorists even if they don’t know their location, or finding the closest restaurant.

… The FCC expects 95 percent of the cell phones sold in the United States by 2005 will meet the FCC guidelines.

But, like the article goes on to say, privacy rights groups are concerned with what the carriers will do with the information and how it will be protected. And with good reason. Imagine if someone was able to hack into a database and know where you are all the time? A little creepy?

When Laura and I first started going to the gym together she came out of the women’s locker room flushed red. “Why is everyone naked,” she asked. I had to laugh; apparently walking around comfortably without clothes wasn’t normal in the gym that Laura went to back in Torreon.

And for many people here, walking around naked in the gym locker is no longer comfortable. I was watching CSPAN a couple weeks ago and senators were discussing legislation to prevent cell phone and small digital cameras from invading our everyday life. The example that was brought up time and time again was some person taking pictures of unknowing gym goers that were posted on internet porn sites. The same has reportedly happened in public bathrooms.

The software that Moreno and I use on this blog has a built in feature called a moblog, short for mobile phone blog. An example of a moblog can be found on the San Diego News Moblog where anyone can send in a photo from their cellular phone and have it up on the internet within minutes. (I assume that someone is moderating it or else you would see all sorts of bizarre stuff up there)

This feature is starting to pick up on a lot of blogs - some are sending in pictures to their moblogs on an hourly basis. What it means is that I am fully empowered to take a picture of you without you knowing and have it posted for the world to see within a matter of seconds. Should I be able to do that?

There has also been a lot of talk lately about the lack of security on cell phone networks. That it’s not so hard for someone to be able to tap in on your conversations. In fact, the FCC stipulates that every cell phone must be tapable, but once the word is out for how to tap one model, all users of that type of cell phone are vulnerable.

Not only does Freddie know where you are, but he knows what you’re talking about.

Last night at work a woman - probably in her early 40’s - came to the counter while talking on her cell phone. Normally I wouldn’t help her, but she had that “I’m so sorry I never would normally do this, I need coffee so bad” expression so I let her slide. She was off the phone by the time I rang her up and apologized for ordering while on her cell phone.

“It’s my daughter,” she explained. “She thinks that just because I have a cell phone that I am reachable 24 hours a day.”
“How old is she?”
“14″
“Yeah, I have a fourteen year old sister and she’s the same way. She gets really upset when I don’t pick up my cell phone. I think it’s a generational thing. I think that their entire generation is already used to being in constant communication 24/7.”
“You’re so right, she’s like that with all her friends. It’s like they have no concept whatsoever of solitude.”

Which makes me think that maybe my sister’s generation won’t even mind being trackable wherever they go. They already seem accustomed to it. For them it is more of a convienence than an invasion of privacy.

There has been so much written about how Communism would destroy privacy but ironically it looks like capitalist driven technology will play the final executioner.