JEREMY CORBETT
THE DARK DAY JEREMY CORBETT’S APPLE FELL FAR FROM THE TREE
Recently, I travelled from Auckland to Blenheim to visit my folks. I decided to fly because I didn’t feel like swimming Cook Strait, but when I was just metres short of my departure point at Auckland airport, I realised I did not have my cell phone on me. I stopped the car. I froze.
I feel it’s important to mention my phone is an iPhone. Many people joke about the cult-like following Apple instils in its consumers, but I suspect I’ve been fully indoctrinated because the moment I discovered I was iPhone-less I started to panic. Real panic. Like I’d lost a limb.
Sweat beaded in my armpits and terrible thoughts crossed my mind. How would I contact the family? How would I call for help? How would I apply filters to photos?
Then my iTraining kicked in and I snapped into action. Using a marvellous feature of my Apple Watch, I ascertained the phone was not contained in my car. I cursed. If only I’d been driving an Apple Car, I doubt any of this would’ve happened, but then an Apple Car would probably be capable of flying me to my destination so I wouldn’t have needed an airport in the first place.
But I digress. Or, more accurately, iDigress.
I’d left for the airport rather early that morning to soak up some airport soullessness before my flight, so I had some spare time. After a calculation on my Apple Watch’s I-miss-myiPhone-terribly app, I decided to drive back home and retrieve my life-support device. It would be close, but I’m being completely honest when I say I would rather miss my flight than my phone.
I was feeling the pressure, and the drive was made even more stressful by some automotive trouble I’ll tell you about another day, but I got home, located my “precious” and began the journey back to the airport.
The moment I jumped back in my car I felt better.
Sure, there was a chance
I would miss my flight, there was a chance my car would self-destruct, there were a million bad possibilities in this city of a hundred maunga, but none could stop me for long, because in my hot little car phone-holder I had my lifeline, my connection to the matrix, my all-in-one portal to the universe and solution to everything: my iPhone.
I knew I couldn’t touch it during my drive – I’ve promised not to phone and steer – but every time I stopped at the lights I looked longingly at it and (I don’t think I imagined this) it looked longingly at me.
We’d been torn asunder by fate and now were reunited, the bond stronger than ever.
I made a mental note, and later an iPhone note, to always check I had my beloved before I left the house. We would not be separated again.
I promised from that moment on we would be one: the human and his beloved technology. At least until I need an upgrade.