Where have all the cowboys gone? Oh, here they are...

Where have all the cowboys gone?... oh, here they are!

In line at Peete's talking to their controller, speeding down the 241 on a conference call with clients, in the waiting room of their urologist whispering their lunch order to their assistants--they're everywhere. You just need to know what to look for...they're cellphone cowboys.

I first noticed these fellas at a party at my husband's friend's house. These compadres truly adored their cellphones. They shined them. Showed them off to each other and wore them on their hip like a good six- shooter.

When we arrived at the party all the men greeted each other with hugs and slaps on the back, then we all sat down at a big round table beside the open fire of the outdoor flagstone fireplace. All the men slid their phones off their belts and laid them on the table in front of them.

One of the men pointed at my husband's phone, "May I?" Getting the nod from him to examine his BlackBerry, he picked it up and tossed it lightly from hand to hand. He then quickly slipped it into his belt clip, taking it in and out a few times. "Smooth," he complimented. "BlackBerry World Edition 8830, nice." Next came the questions: How's the reception? Easy to email? Is it Bluetooth-compatible?

Here, at the very mention of the word "Bluetooth" all the men perked up..."Yes, I'm going to get a Jawbone." All the men "Ah'd their approval of the idea and then in unison spoke of the freedom offered by the hands-free device--driving, eating, typing...

"Fetching stray cattle, maybe," I thought.

I got the impression that these men, if left in the wilds of Orange County without their trusted cell phones (slash internet access) by their side, would be rendered helpless during an attack of tardiness or a brutal deluge of urgent calls and emails.

They would surely perish in the harsh wilderness of disconnection. Cell phone cowboys needed their guns phones to survive in their frontier. It makes perfect sense to me.

After all the men had finished admiring they all sat back deeply in their chairs. Wearing their Tommy Bahama shirts they looked up at the stars, clear and bright in the San Juan Capistrano sky. The night was quiet and still. The crackling of the fire and a random ringtone every so often was the only thing that broke the silence.

(Photo lifted from the Etsy store of Emporium 51. Go there=see fun stuff)

Comments

[Candid Carrie]

Laughing out loud again, girl!

I've seen it, too. It is the link that bonds all men and it really has nothing to do with size or what you do with it. They just wear them like badges.

They put them on the table as though they will use them to up the ante in the poker game, but they aren't playing poker they are at a dinner party. And they are at a coffee table. And they look ridiculous.