I read a lot of science fiction. One of my favorite topics, and one which is commonly maligned as hackneyed by most sci-fi aficionados, is time travel. I simply loves a good time travel yarn.
Not only do most sci fi fans view time travel as an exhausted topic, but there are serious concerns with the general plausibility of the concept. Between the paradoxes and modern science's inability to even hazard a guess as to how time travel might potentially work, nobody really takes it seriously. Except me. Here's why.
On Sunday I accidentally laundered my cell phone. I put it through a full wash cycle and then the better part of an hour in the dryer. Hank rescued it after about 45 minutes of me wondering why the dryer was making that god awful clunk-clunk-clunk noise.
I took the phone apart and let it dry for the last couple days. It could be that all it needs is a new battery, but so far it has shown no desire to do phone-like things, like turn on.
So, for the last 2 days, I've lived without a cell phone. I have, in effect, traveled back in time to the mid 1990s. I have been living as our ancestors lived.
I commute home unable to call my wife and ask if I should stop at the store to pick up something for dinner. I wander the streets of my fair city, wondering what time it is and lamenting the fact that I can't play crappy video games as I stand in line at the coffee shop. Life in the 90's was primitive indeed.
On the plus side, Nirvana's Nevermind album still sounds pretty good on my walkman.