My name is Wendy.
I am addicted to the internet.
I didn't want to admit this. I barely use my phone, I rarely text, but take away my Facebook and it's not a pretty sight.
While visiting family, the unthinkable happened.
There were technical difficulties.
There was no internet service for three very long days.
This occurred during my birthday week. This will prove important later.
It was like someone had taken me and dropped me in the old wild west. I could almost see the tumbleweeds rolling along the dirt paths.
I suggested to my hosts (ever so calmly) that we might want to call the internet service provider.
"WTH? I CANNOT LIVE LIKE THIS. SOMEBODY CALL SOMEBODY!"
A message was relayed that someone somewhere was aware of the problem and technicians were working on it.
I hate to be sceptical but I truly don't think that they were!!!
I don't even think they really cared that it was my birthday week and I desperately needed to read, re-read and count how many Facebook birthday messages I was receiving.
Hours were now turning into days. Days were turning into more days. My tablet was a big square blank. I had now not seen a cute cat video in over two days.
I could feel my chest tightening and my breathing getting shallow. My asthmatic wheeze had returned with a vengeance.
I thought perhaps I was having some sort of medical episode, but how was I to know since I could not access Google M.D.
Another call to the service provider... Just a robotic voice saying, "There seems to be a problem with a tower in your area. Please be patient."
Patience has never been my virtue.
I find myself carb loading due to stress. There are witty status updates just waiting to be made. There were pictures just lingering in my gallery waiting to be posted.
I realized now that nerdy Mark Zuckerberg held my happiness in his cold, clammy fingers.
My social media identity was fading away.
Who am I if I can't retweet inspirational thoughts every day? If I cannot express my disdain for Donald Trump, does life have much meaning, really?
By day three we found out the technicians were now at the tower and working on the issue.
I was ready to just get the address of the tower and shimmy up it myself.
I am a writer. I need to write.
By now, I was getting the shakes.
I had taken to checking for a connection about 40 times a day. This is when I knew I was beyond the point of no return.
I silently wondered how many things I had missed making witty comments on. Would my friends assume I was dead? I had no way to send an SOS (Still Out of Service).
I felt cut off from civilization. Oh sure, I could talk to my relatives, but that would be a last resort.
At this point, I would have chatted to the guy from Nigeria who inboxes me because he passed my profile picture and likes my smile.
Hello? Anybody? Technician dude? Anyone remember Morse Code? I would like to write more but I am going to have to search out a coffee shop with internet so I can send this blog.
Judging from my internal angst, I am guessing coffee is simply not going to cut it.
Hmmmm. Do bars have good internet connections?
Asking for a friend...
