Aaaah, I'm sitting on the train, blessedly alone, drinking a Starbucks skim, no whip, extra hot, one pump mocha, two pumps mint, peppermint mocha (if I'm paying four bucks for it I will not be shamedv by my ridiculous requests, but sometimes I think it might just be easier if they'd let behind the counter to make it myself) on my way into the city to meet H for our Date-a-versary (19 years - woot!). Well, that's a lie. I'm actually sitting at the family room computer, transcribing the post I scribbled down on loose leaf paper I stuffed in my purse, since H would freak if I brought the case-less laptop into the city and left it with the bag check guy at the Bryant Park skating rink.
It feels so odd to actually write on paper, like I did pre-college. I have gotten so used to the speed of typing my ideas, I'm sitting here like a frustrated second grade boy, trying to get my ideas down in chicken scratch. This made me think of all the ways technology has changed our lives and the way we operate in our world, and in particular, of my new technological device - the GPS.
You already know I am a bit of a Luddite, balking at H's attempt to introduce any kind of new technology to my life. Unfortunately for him, or fortunately for me, he is usually on the cutting edge of these things, and if I haven't seen or heard of anyone I know using one of these devices, I poo-poo them out of hand. Nine times out of ten, H winds up being right and the technology is quite useful and pretty life-altering. If it weren't for him, I'd still be lugging around five pounds of yellow plastic, listening to my Sony waterproof Walkman while I run*, and still be using my original cell that looks like a World War II field phone, instead of tapping away on my Blackberry. But my relationship with the GPS was not as immediately successful as that with my 'berry. While I have come to find it useful, the GPS has some issues that I am finding difficult to overcome.
First of all, it has to be hooked up to the car's power source. After the dead van debacle of this summer, that we have since surmised was most likely caused by Little Man's flipping on an interior light during the van's cleaning the night before our almost-not departure, I am wary of anything that I might accidentally leave on or connected, leaving me stranded without a vehicle. And while it's true, this situation could be avoided entirely with care on my part, the number of times I have left a door open on the van does not leave me feeling confident.
Second, the display on the screen is quite small and, even when mounted on the windshield, it is distracting me from driving. True, at least my eyes are in the vicinity of the road, rather than focused on my lap, trying to read directions I have scratched onto the back of a Wow Wow Wubbzy coloring page the girls used our last bit of printer ink and last page of printer paper on. And, yes, I know the voice prompt feature would make it less necessary to obsessively check the display, but considering I can not hear my own thoughts above the chatter in the van's main cabin, never mind the ear-splitting volume at which my children request to hear "Feliz Navidad" for the eightieth time, there is no way I am hearing the GPS's tinny, robotic voice.
My biggest issue with this device though, is it is all book smarts and no street smarts. Sure, the Cross Bronx Expressway is the quickest way to the George Washington Bridge when coming from Connecticut, but not when there's a Yankee game. And on my trip to Boston, I wound up in the alley behind the hotel, where two lovely Moroccan parking attendants helped me not wreck the Jetta while turning around. I'm afraid of just blindly following the GPS, thinking of Michael in The Office driving into a lake at his GPS's urging.
So, following blindly is exactly what I do not do and it has actually made the GPS somewhat useful. If I bring my own written directions and use the GPS as back-up, I get the best of both worlds. I get the street smarts of the directions from the Camden Aquarium website, not winding up in a crack ghetto, with the GPS's reassurance that I am on the street listed on those directions, when the crackheads have stolen the sign. True, it's probably not that safe checking directions in my lap, and the GPS display (never mind the dangerous rubber-armed searching for toys and snacks LM has dropped or thrown, forcing me to drive with one arm), but neither is rolling through Shanty Town a la Clark Griswold in Vacation.
So I have made my peace with the bit of technology. Yes, it's not perfect, but it did make my field trips this summer easier and I have to admit it is absolutely fantastic finding local addresses when dropping of Girl Scout uniforms. Locally, is the only time I will follow this thing blindly. I know where all the lakes are around here.
*When H first approached me with an mp3 player eight years ago, I reacted much like Homer Simpson being told pork, bacon and ham all come from the same animal, "Sure, you can listen to music on this magical little device no bigger than my palm."
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