In My Write Mind

That’s me.

And not so much Mr. “Let’s-talk-on-the-phone-til-all-hours-about-any-and-everything-just-because” Telephone Man, either. Hellus Nous. That’s never been me. I get on the phone, discuss the haps, then get off the phone.

Dat’s it.

I’d be described as more of a Mr. “Holy-crap-that-phone’s-got-bells-and-whistles-and-I-need-it-in-my-life-right-now” Telephone Man.

Yeah, I likes the gadgets.

And that’s why the Sidekick was just right for me. It had email, messenger, a camera, speakerphone and a funky (albeit bulky) design that I loved. We were inseperable. Literally joined at the hip. To quote a pre-pubescent Peter Brady, I treated that Sidekick “like a, like a … queen! (said with a shriek)”

Seriously, you know how a person is identified by something? Like George Burns and his cigars? Dave Chappelle and his weed? Eddie Murphy and his transvestites?!?!??

Well, that was me and my Sidekick. She was my ho. “Look for me!!!” Oh, sorry. I was having a Jay-Z/Beyonce “Bonnie and Clyde ‘03″ flashback. Sigh.

By now, you will all notice how I’ve been using past tense. How, when I refer to my Sidekick, it’s ‘were’ and ‘was’ … instead of ‘is’.

Yeah, it’s gone (R.I.P., Kicky 2004 - 06). And without it, I’ve been like a teenaged Bobby Brown, i.e., “this situation’s blowing my mind.”

Wanna hear about it, here it go … sigh.

Picture it. April 2006. *insert wavy flashback lines as screen goes into story mode as voiceover continues* A young man arrives at a co-worker’s birthday celebration at approximately 12:02 am. The time counts because since it’s after midnight, he must pay the $10 cover. Sigh.

He comes armed with the necessary tools: an IPod for the long trek from Harlem to Wall Street, a digital camera to candidly capture the night’s festivities … and his Sidekick, aka his homey, partner in crime, his lifeline, for Regis Philbin’s sake. *sniffle*

All of said tools fit in the pockets of the snazzy black suede jacket worn by the young man. He’s feeling good. Feeling great. Why, you ask? Because usually, he forgets one of the tools. Always remembers the IPod once he’s already on the train, or the camera when someone at the party says, “Anyone have a camera?”

The Sidekick? Oh, he allllllways has that. (See Philbin’s Sake, Lifeline.)

It’s getting warm inside the club. The young man is wary about placing his jacket just anywhere, so he walks into what is known as the “V.I.P.” area, checks it out, mixes and mingles, has a beer or three, and about an hour later, decides it’s pretty safe to leave his jacket. I mean, there’s no security in said V.I.P. area, but it feels safe enough.

So he does. And then proceeds downstairs to dance with the birthday girl and to ogle her friends. (Whatttt? He is, in fact, a man. LOL) About two hours later, the house lights come up, the club is closing, he’s struck out as usual (sigh), and it’s time to retrieve the jacket from “V.I.P.”

This … is where it all goes downhill.

He grabs the jacket, puts it on, and it feels funny. A little light, even. It was like that scene from the Martin episode with the CD player when he grabs the box to show Gina … and the box is light as a feather. He shakes the box, flips it around, juggles it again, and then yells, “Awwwwww babyyyyy! I’ve been jacked!!!!” That was the young man.

He goes through the pockets. Camera? Check. IPod? Check-a-mundo. Sidekick? *crickets* I say, Lifeline? *intense cricket sound* I say *mental voice cracking* LIFELIIIIINEEEE? *cricket orchestra playing Insectus Symphony 7 in B Flat*

The young man to no one in particular: “Awwwwwww damnnnnnnnn! I say I been JACKED!!!!”

Now please remember the inventory that was taken there. The black suede jacket was there and accounted for. The digital camera, the IPod? Right there. Puzzling, ain’t it? What type of thief does that? Takes ONE ITEM (arguably the least expensive AND the one most likely to be shut off after it’s discovered missing!!!!) and bounces?

*excuse me as I wipe a tear away*

The young man retraces his steps. Maybe the sidekick fell out of the pocket onto the ground, he thinks. No dice. Maybe I left it at the bar, he thinks. Yeah, no.

The Sidekick is gone. Gone like an ‘NSYNC song. Long Gone like Teddy n dem used to sing. What to do, what to do …

Since the place was closing, the young man does what any write-minded individual would. He goes over to the DJ booth and asked the mixmaster to make an announcement, asking everyone in the place not to make one move toward the door and to empty their pockets. Shockingly, the DJ laughs hysterically at this request and proceeds in packing up his records/CDs.

Seeing a lack of cooperation, the young man stomps away, and suddenly, watching all of those Matlock and Columbo reruns does him no good. He doesn’t know what to do next. Then, it comes to him. He rolls over to the birthday girl and his other co-worker, who at this point are both drunk off of their asses. He recounts the story and asks to borrow birthday girl’s phone. He calls the Sidekick hotline, wishing he put that Lo-jack on the phone like he’d planned. I mean, it WAS his lifeline, after all.

The Sidekick hotline guy (SHG) tells the young man that they will suspend service on the phone, however, the young man needs to call the police and report the phone stolen, get a complaint number, give it to the Sidekick people, and then a replacement phone would be sent.

Sounded simple, right? I mean, clubs are letting out, so cops will be in abundance, right? And if I have Asian birthday girl call, they’d respond even sooner, right?!?!?!?

Yeah, normally, all of that may have worked. Except, it wasn’t a normal April night in the city. Sure, there were cops around, but all FIVE police cruisers were focused down the block as a man in a drunkened state proceeded to yell at the cops in a belligerent manner. Sensing there was soon to be another loss due to probable gun play, the young man tried to get an officer’s attention.

To no avail. Apparently, Belligerent Guy had their full attention.

Finally, at around 5am, a report was taken, along with a recommendation from the officers to wait until the following afternoon to call the precinct for the complaint number. Sunday. Afternoon. Sigh.

Here’s where it gets tricky. And even more sad.

The young man knew the call had to be made. However, he’d just moved into his place, therefore had only the lifeline as a phone. On that fateful Sunday, when he was to make the call for the complaint number, he had no phone to make the call. So he went down to his job to make the call. He dialed, and an exasperated-sounding officer answered.

Grrrrrrrrrrrreat, he thought.

He was transferred to the complaint room. Where the phone rang … and rang … and rang. And rang some more. Nothing. So he hung up and called back, explained what just took place, and was guaranteed that someone was now by the phone. Transfer. Ring. Ring. Ring. Muhfuggin Ring. Nada.

This was really turning into an old New Edition video. Suddenly, lyrics from “Mr. Telephone Man” filled his head. Well, that … and “Taps,” of course.

It was this line in particular that stood out to the young man:

“She let the phone ring 20 times
Before she answered
Let me tell you what happened then (ah)
A minute later I got the operator
Saying please hang up and place
Your call again …”

(LOL@the (ah) in the lyrics. Hilarious. LOL)

Just like the fellas, the young man was never able to get in touch with the precinct complaint room that day. Walked over the next day and got the number. Called it in to SHG, who told him that it would take two weeks for another lifeli …, er, I mean Sidekick to be shipped. Which was to be a pain in the ass, just thinking about going two weeks without a phone.

So the young man went out and bought a phone, thinking it would just be temporary. He called the phone “Bitch 2000″ because it was NOTHING like the Sidekick. It was small. Dainty, even. Yeck. And texting???? Lawd, no. Gone were the days when a text could be shot out into cyberspace in a matter of seconds. Now, he got to see how the other half lived. After it took him more than five minutes to say hello to a friend on the B2K, he vowed to never.text.again. *sniffle*

After all of that, the Sidekick never came in the mail … which is another battle in itself. So for the past two months, the young man has been a “non-texting-no-bells-and-whistles-answer-the-phone-with-the-pinkie-extended-fool.”

He’s been laughed at, scorned, talked about and ridiculed.

That’s fine, he thought. The new Sidekick 3 will be out in a few weeks, and all of the laughing will cease.

THE DAY OF THE GEECHI WILL BE OVA!!!

Besides, Thomas Edison probably had to go through the same thing. He’d pray that night in the name of New Edition … for guidance, for leadership, with a simple request from Alva:

“Help me out … please, Mr. Telephone Man …”