Combating the Itch

I wonder if anyone’s ever felt “the itch” before.

I’m sure you know what I’m talking about —- or at least you will when I start describing this itch I’ve been having all day. It’s a compulsion to look down at my phone in the hopes that I’ll see a new email or Twitter notification so that I can interact with the sender. Usually, this itch occurs during a lull in conversation. There’s an odd pause, and then most people divert their gaze to a five-inch screen in their palm. In my case, my ear would automatically hone in on the phone’s output, searching for the comforting feeling of a new email or Twitter message.

I’ve never had what’s called a “smartphone.” My Nokia doesn’t have external applications, but I can still access Twitter, Facebook, and emails through my phone. Everything pops up in a new window that talks, automatically reading to me. All the time, I listen instinctively for a new audible notification. That listening is my version of looking down at the screen.

All day, I’ve had this itch I can’t scratch. The worst part is that I know I chose to do without this satisfaction. I could just turn the internet connection on again, and I’d skip to the end of this month. The solution is always on the horizon.

Earlier today, as I’m waiting on the bus after my college English class, a woman taps me on the shoulder. She’s about my height, with blond hair and a bright white T-shirt that frames her slim figure. Her smile is radiant. Her pink bubble gum keeps making loud pops as she talks to me, as if the gum were exclamation points at the ends of her sentences.

“Hi, Miss. Can I help you?” I return her smile as the sun beats down on me. For this time of year in Chicago, the heat is astonishing. It even feels warm to me, and I’ve flown all the way from Florida to be here in the Windy City. To everyone else, it must seem like a heatwave.

The woman heaves her bag onto her other shoulder. Her hair whips about as if we were in a hurricane. “Hi there!” She sounds like Barbie. “I just want to say I loved your essay about rap music even though I can’t stand rap at all.”

I realize that, although she must be in my class, I don’t know her name or even what she does for a living. We’ve never approached each other before, but it’s wonderful to meet someone new.

“Thank you. I don’t remember your essay, though. I’m very sorry if you’ve read yours and I wasn’t paying much attention. I’ve had a ton of things on my mind lately.”

“Oh, my god! It’s totally okay. I didn’t go today. That’s tomorrow. Tomorrow, I get to rant and rave about putting advertisements in books.”

“Are they seriously considering that?” I sputter.

She giggles a bit before replying. I can tell she’s really relaxed around me. I can also feel the urge to look down at my phone. It’s a new kind of habit that I’ve developed for the sole purpose of combating lulls in conversation.

She must feel it, too, because she whips an iPhone out of her pocket as it vibrates. She glances at the screen eagerly, as if it’s a new kind of million-dollar bill.

The time has come for me to do the same —- or it would be if I had an iPhone. I’m supposed to be carrying on a full-fledged conversation with someone while watching cats on YouTube. I hold my phone, poised, and I open and close my email inbox and even my outbox. I don’t have any messages, and I can’t open emails, so I’m left to open and close my inbox.

I look up at my new friend. Her fingers are dancing across her iPhone. I smile. “What are you doing?” I ask.

“I’m tweeting.”

“That’s wicked,” I say.

“And YouTube surfing, and email replying, and I’m also on Facebook.” She’s bragging. “What about you?”

I open and close my empty inbox before replying with an ironically giddy smile. “I’m watching my outbox to make sure my messages send, and I’m craving a cookie.” I’m just happy I can keep up the required skill of multitasking while conversing.

We laugh as the bus finally arrives. We sit on opposite ends of the bus, going our separate ways. I open a new text message and send it to Marcus.

“You are lucky. You have an iPhone. Kiss it. Now.”