A freak thing happened to me this past week. On the spot, I assumed it was the first and only, but turns out it was actually the second. Or, at least the second, which is the ‘this-makes-me-nervous’ part.
I was driving with the radio on, announcer saying that upcoming was Samuel Barber’s ‘Adagio for Stings’, not on strings, but performed by a woodwind quintet. My cellphone rang in my pants pocket, and traffic at a standstill, I answered it. On the other end of the phone in NY, my friend Will W said, “The next time you call me, I’d like Samuel Barber’s ‘Adagio for Strings’ playing in the background, but performed by a woodwind quintet, please.”
Instant twilight zone, until he said that apparently I had ‘butt-dialed’ him – in this case, to be totally accurate, ‘thigh-dialed’. What I do not comprehend in any form is how an iPhone, with no physical buttons on the face of it, dials a phone number by itself from your pocket.
Will said this phenomenon is not uncommon, and proceeded to tell me that I had actually pocket-dialed him once before. The previous time, he said, there was no music, but huffing and puffing, so he gathered that I was out walking, or at least he HOPED that’s what I was doing. I told him that to the best of my knowledge, I hadn’t ever done THAT with my phone in my pocket.
I do know for a fact that the next time I’m engaged in THAT, the phone won’t be in my pocket or anywhere nearby. I don’t do THAT on the telephone even if the conversation begins with ‘What are you wearing?’