I was at dinner a few weeks ago with a lovely group of women when it happened.
One by one, the cell phones came out and the texting began.
At first, it was surreptitious. Someone would drop out of the conversation and look down in her lap as though she’d just lost an earring or suddenly felt an urge to examine her nails. Inevitably, though, her face would begin to glow an eerie blue, reflected off of the iPhone she held in her lap. She’d remain silent for a minute or two, then put her phone back in her bag and rejoin us.
Within an hour of our arrival, my fellow diners weren’t even trying to hide what they were doing. They held up their cell phones to the light, scrolled through comments on Twitter, and added their own. At one point, every single woman around me was texting. Yes, I was just that interesting.
Bemused, I took out my own cell phone and sent my husband a message. I could text too, dammit. I could text with the best of them! I didn’t need to, you know, make conversation. Conversation was sooooo 2008!
I’m eating beets. I texted. U?
He didn’t respond.
The same thing happened last week at dinner, with another lovely group of women who were, if anything, even more connected to the web. First, they chatted about people on Twitter. Then they pulled out their iPhones and their Blackberries and began Twittering about what we were doing and saying. Then, they read people’s responses on Twitter to what we had said. There were only six of us around the table, but suddenly, we had an online audience of thousands. And it was a little intimidating.
@suburbanturmoil has panang between her teeth, I imagined one of them texting.
@suburbanturmoil just made a joke. Wasn’t funny. Is funnier on blog. And not that funny there, either.
@suburbanturmoil could stand to lose ten pounds. Should have ordered the salad.
I broke out into hives at the thought. And all I was trying to do was have a nice dinner out with friends.
“You should have seen it,” I told some women over drinks last night here in Nashville. “Everyone at the table had her iPhone out. Everyone. And I looked around the restaurant and everyone else had their iPhones out, too.”
“Oh no,” the women breathed in horror.
“Oh yeah,” I said. And that was in California, which means that’s what Nashville’s going to be like in about two years.”
It’s the death of dining out. And once again, I’m left feeling like the crotchety old granny, waving her cane in the face of technology.
Oh. And I’m totally asking for an iPhone for my birthday. Conflicted much?
