Newspaper article St Louis Post-Dispatch (MO)

Leave Your Annoying Deedle at Home

Newspaper article St Louis Post-Dispatch (MO)

Leave Your Annoying Deedle at Home

Article excerpt

OK. I KNOW it's 1995. I know everyone has been toting around cellular phones for years. I have one in my car for emergencies, last-minute directions and plain old convenience, but still. . . .

At noon recently at King Tut restaurant on Magnolia Avenue in Fort Worth, Texas, five cellular phones were in use. Five. King Tut, mind you, not the Fort Worth Club, not the Petroleum Club, not tony La Piazza or Michaels.

Little ol' King Tut. Why, there aren't but about 10 tables in the whole place, and half of 'em had people chatting up lord knows who-all on cellular phones. They were making calls, "beep, beep-beep, beep," and receiving calls, "deedle, deedle, deedle," the latter being my imitation of what phones do now that they don't go "briiinng."

At first I couldn't figure out why all that "beep, beep, beeping" and "deedle, deedle, deedling" was so annoying; I'm around telephones all morning at the office, and they don't bother me a bit.

Aha! That's it, I decided. If I had wanted to eat lunch at my desk at the office surrounded by "beep-beeps" and "deedles," I would have eaten lunch at my desk at the office, surrounded by "beep-beeps" and "deedles."

There is no escape, and the discouraging thing is, I was in the minority. Nobody else seemed to mind a bit. Alas, alas - one more bit of undeniable evidence that I am out of sync with my fellow man.

The King Tut caller at the next table was a doctor clearly and distinctly checking on a patient. Oh, my, I thought. What if the patient turns out to be someone I know? How embarrassing. It was not. Then I worried that while we were nibbling daintily on our dolmas, he might find it necessary to go into medical detail concerning the patient's symptoms. Ah, he did not.

A colleague hears cellular phones regularly on the golf course, while another stumbles past yakkers in the supermarket aisle, and a friend reports a shopper's persistent cellularizing smack-dab in the middle of Foley's Red Apple shoe sale. …

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