The
Dark Ages
As
if five weeks of grey, drizzly
rain wasn’t enough after
one of the snowiest winters
in a long time here in New
England, the gloomy weather
finally gave way a few days
ago to one reasonably pleasant
afternoon followed immediately
by oppressive heat and humidity.
This is brutal humidity –
the kind of air that hangs
heavy around you like a giant
soggy wool blanket that’s
been left in the sun, the
kind that makes you want to
stick your head in the freezer
or maybe the oven.
Then
today, the final insult: my
cable internet has gone down.
Customer support said they
had no outages in my area
but the tech who called a
while later confides that
they’ve had a ton of
problems all due to –
you guessed it - the stifling
humidity. Either way, the
result is the same –
my cable internet is down.
I have been driven off the
information super highway.
This
can’t be happening –
there’s online research
to do, streaming NPR to listen
to, emails to check. What
if today is the day some deposed
African dignitary wants me
to assist in wiring money
out of his country?
I
plug and unplug my cable modem
in ten minute increments,
always hoping to see the solid
green light that means I’m
connected with the outside
world. Instead I get only
the sad “blink (pause)
blink (pause)” that
indicates I’m still
isolated.
I
consider wife’s computer
across the room. It has dial
up. Not just any dial up,
however, dial up through one
of the biggest and most annoying
internet providers, the one
that sends free CDs every
week. I suppose I could always
go online that way....
I
plug and unplug my cable modem
again in a desperation. C’mon,
work!
It’s
no use. I head across the
room and log on through my
wife’s computer. I listen
to the painfully archaic sound
of a 56k modem trying to synch
with the server. It tells
me that I have mail and I’m
appalled.
Once
I finally close the fourteen
pop up screens the ISP has
loaded, I head out to the
internet. What IS this place?
Pages load so slow. Pictures
don’t just appear -
you can actually watch them
download in front of you.
I grab a 3 megabyte file and
it takes fifteen minutes to
retrieve.
I
go to call my friends to tell
them, but when I pick up the
phone I hear the modem. You
can’t use the phone
when you’re on dial
up.
The
horror.
Oh
cruel fates of high speed,
I promise to be a better person.
I promise to enjoy the blazing
connection without conceit.
I promise not to brag about
60 megabyte downloads. I promise
to be kind and considerate
to those unfortunate souls
still stuck on dial up. Please,
oh please, just bring my broadband
connection back.
I
wonder if this is how people
with Tivo feel about the rest
of us.
This
Essay © 2003 Lee Totten
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