Don't worry gabbers, pols won't cell you short
By Beth Teitell
Thursday, October 6, 2005

I thought it was a joke - a cellphone user's bill of rights?

But that legislation is really up for debate on Beacon Hill. My initial, compassionate response: like those jerks deserve anything.

Well, who knew?

It's easy to demonize the walking-while-talking-long-distance group until you focus on the terrible hardships they face at the hands of the evil wireless pushers: dropped calls, incomprehensible bills, mandatory two-year contracts. It's enough to make you feel, dare I say it, sympathy for cellphone users.

``Your cellphone has addled your brain,'' my only noncell-enabled friend said when I expressed pity.

Sorry, it's just that I believe in a little thing called free speech, or, in cellphone parlance, free-bellow-at-the-top-of-your-lungs-to-announce-something-tedious-to-the-entire-restaurant. Where's the ACLU when you really need it?

As the so-called Lemon Law for cellphones makes its way through the State House, here are a few more rights legislators might consider:

As a cellphone user:


I have the right to set my ringtone as loud as possible, and to let it play all the way through, so everyone on the B line at rush hour can enjoy Beyonce's ``Crazy in Love'' right along with me.


I have the right to schedule a business meeting at the time and location of my choice, and then, the moment my colleague arrives, take a call of an obviously personal and frivolous nature. Additionally, if you and I are out to lunch, I have the right to keep my cellphone on the table, almost as a third guest, and receive and place calls during our time together.


I have the right to call you and, when you answer, to say ``hold on,'' while I place my order at Starbucks, chat with a friend I've just passed on the street or give long, complicated directions to my cab driver.


I have the right to be so engrossed in my cell conversation that I don't even notice I'm stealing the parking spot you've been waiting for. When you interrupt my call by honking to alert me to your presence I have the right to flip you the bird.


I have the right to gross you out by talking on my cell while I'm using a public bathroom, and, additionally, I have the right to hog one of only two bathroom stalls in a crowded bar, talking and laughing on my cell, long after I've finished powdering my nose.


And finally, as a cellphone junkie, I retain the right to gripe about other junkies. You know, the rude ones.