2008jan07. I was gassing up with gasoline via a gas pump into the vehicle’s gas hole when an older woman half-approached me and asked what time it was. Since I was just approached by a man asking for change, and since gas stations in general (and this particular gas station) are magnets for the beggars with the begging, I remained wary. “Noon,” I guesstimated. She’s still looking at me. Is this the hand out part? She’s kind of far away, traffic is a bit loud. “NOON,” I helpfully enunciate. I’m all about the helping. Nothing. “Twelve O’Clock.” “Twelve.” She’s still shaking her head. “I’m sorry,” she says. “Eleven plus one?” Brain futz, I meant to say “ten plus two.” I’m about to do hand signals when she wanders to the nearby bus stop. Then I remember my brand new semi-irritating cellphone. I turn it on, and walk over to her – we wait while it “boots up” (zzzzz) and then annoyingly activates the vibrator (oh thanks, I didn’t realize I had turned it on). Finally the home screen is shown, time in the lower-left corner. I point. 11:58. “Thank you,” she says, and goes back to examining bus schedules. This also reminds me that I still hate that tepid “home” screen I can’t change (cannot wait until we’re all using Linux phones with voipy mesh net netting mesh). For some of the countries I travelled to, I only knew “hello,” “thank you,” and “touch my bottom please,” so I know how that goes ... but I had my camera with me, so I always had access to the time. Remember when we lugged around cameras that wouldn’t tell us the time? Hahahahahahahahhchrist.
