Moore: Airport is a rushing sea of phones

After dropping my wife off at the Atlanta airport recently, I walked around in the terminal until her plane safely took off. I noticed two things that all the other people and I did not have in common.

First, they were in a hurry and I was not. I wasn’t ready to leave until Delta was, so I meandered, wandering into the shops, sizing up the price of a cup of coffee, checking the monitors that told of departures and arrivals.

On the other hand, everyone else had to be somewhere else right now. Wherever they were, it obviously was not where they were supposed to be, because they were zipping to and fro, most of them pulling luggage equipped with handles and little wheels.

(As an aside, let me nominate for the Nobel Prize in travel the person who put wheels on suitcases. Those who remember lugging their bags understand why it’s called luggage.)

The other difference between them and me was that these comers and goers were using their cellphones as they walked, as they ate, as they stood in line, as they yelled at their kids.

In fact, they never put their phones away.

Have you noticed how teenagers carry their phones in palm-up hands held out in front of them so they don’t miss a beat as they move and talk and text? These travelers were like that.

They were all abuzz. Some wore ear buds. Some had sprouted Bluetooth headsets. Others talked or browsed the Internet or conducted business, all importantlike.

I didn’t have my phone in my hand, because to me it’s stupid to hold on to an appliance that I don’t need at the moment.

I don’t walk around the house cradling the toaster until I decide the time is right to make toast; neither do I baby my phone, hoping it will be my friend 24 hours a day.

No, my phone was not in my hand nor in my pocket. It was on a clip on my belt, where I could grab it if it rang.

I know what some of you are saying: A belt clip? How uncool is that?

I know people say that because I’ve heard it on television and read fashion stories (for work, not for pleasure!) in which people who consider themselves the epitome of cool cast slurs on belt clips.

I’m not sure what their argument is; perhaps they get paid by the word.

Where would they prefer I keep my phone? In my hand? We’ve already established that ain’t going to happen.

In a purse? I’m not that guy.

In my pants pocket? Have you ever tried to drive while seated on a phone, or to sit on a chair without breaking the phone in your jeans?

To sit or drive, you first must pull out your phone and hold it, and that gets us back to “ain’t going to happen.”

As I watched the hectic world rush by, I took it easy, slow-poked along and sipped my coffee. How cool was that?

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