Friday, April 21, 2006

A sad day

It’s taken me a while to be able to admit the truth, but you should all know about the change that’s happened in my life. My iPod died a sudden death about three weeks ago. I was sitting at the bar in Park Blue when I reached down to grab my purse and pay the check. One of the straps was caught under the leg of my barstool. I tugged at it without looking, and everything spilled out onto the floor.

I discovered the dead cell phone first. It was a flimsy flip-phone that had already been mostly smashed during Mardi Gras, and this last tumble broke the stupid thing in half. I stared at the blank screen, smirking because I had already gotten most of the phone numbers off of it. As I bent to gather the rest of the stuff that had dumped, I saw it. My iPod was lying face down on the ground, looking very small and alone. I gently turned it over and wiped the beer off its face. Nervously, I pushed the on button, but it was too late. It started making a squealing, cranking sound as the hard drive headed for the light. Before it shut itself back down, it flashed 0 of 0 in the upper left corner of the screen. My 2,540 songs were gone; the soul of my electronic buddy had passed.

My mind flashed to the subway, where I would have to listen to the metallic voice tell me to STAND CLEAR OF THE DOORS 30 times a day; and to my neighborhood jogging path, where I would have to sing to myself to keep up my pace (The only songs that ever come to mind are Janis Joplin’s “Mercedes Benz” and Tori Amos’ “Silent All These Years.” No, I don’t know why.)

I didn’t cry on the spot, but the grief has been hitting me slowly. I have missed the pod as much as I feared. I discovered a lot of new bands with the iPod, and browsing iTunes sort of kept me up to date with today’s pop music. Now, I don’t recognize many of the bands listed on iTunes’ Top 100 list. All teenagers are going to call me Mrs. Butler and assume that I have three kids and a minivan. (Not that there’s anything wrong with that.) Every once in a while, I’ll remember a snip of a song that I haven’t heard since pod died, and I’ll sigh again. All the music is backed up at home, but I can’t take it with me.

There is some relief though. I’ve rediscovered Internet radio, as well as some stations that are commercial free. And Katie was kind enough to hook me up with new music before she flew home, so I’m really getting to know these new cd’s, more than the others I bought during the pod days. Those just got mixed into the random play, and I never really knew them from beginning to end.

I’ll probably buy another iPod, eventually… maybe this one will have the video option. I’ll just have to figure out some way to keep it from cracking on the barroom floor.


demento#1 said...

You sad-podded. Let's have a moment of silence, shall we?

My advice to you: wait until just before summer. I bet they'll come out with a new ipod... or at least the one you want will be cheaper.

in the meantime, cassette walkmans are $9.99 at your local electronic depot.


Chris said...

That really sucks! (and just as I got one, too...)

Let me know if you're up for a trip to the Apple store.

Mary B. said...

Alas, your dearly departed pod shall be remembered with warm fuzzies forever more. My little walkman died last year and now that I have nothing but my own company while I make my laps, I find that I talk outloud to myself like the true lunatic that I am.

Megan said...

Now's your chance to engage with your world again, EB. Sorry -- I hate to be a buzzkill, but I do get irritated to see everyone in their own universe with an iPod. But you're a writer!! You're supposed to listen to what goes on around you! And your'e in NYC for chrissakes! I can only imagine the material. Think of "Overheard in New York" -- if those guys had been hooked into pods they never would have made that site.