We Have A Problem

Imagine a young couple . . . their night started out at a wonderful restaurant, where they enjoyed margaritas, a great dinner . . . lots of laughter and talk that could best be described as sexy.

Now they’re at her apartment. In the background music is playing and Diana Krall is softly singing:

“You go to my head

And you linger like a haunting refrain

And I find you spinning round in my brain

Like the bubbles in a glass of champagne

You go to my head

Like a sip of sparkling burgundy brew

And I find the very mention of you

Like the kicker in a julep or two.”

The young woman is beautiful. She’s stretched out in her bed. Naked. Waiting for her lover.

Her arms aren’t stretched out to receive him because she is staring at her cell phone.

He is trying to take off his pants and is hopping up and down because it’s hard to be that sexually excited and take off one’s pants with one hand. His other hand is holding his cell phone to his ear.

Finally, he is approaching the bed. He’s visibly excited. He puts his knee on the bed and . . .

SHE: Wait, wait, I’m reading a text from Ashley. She and Samantha are shopping for shoes and they ran into Brittany, who looks awful. Why does that make me so happy?

SHE: What’s wrong?

HE: Mets had the bases loaded with nobody out and they didn’t score.

SHE: Well, you be careful with your cell phone — last time we were in bed you scratched me with it right on my tattoo and I was afraid I would get blood poisoning.

HE: Well, if we’re talking about cell phones, last time we were in bed you hit me on the ear with your phone when you turned over in your sleep.

SHE: Wait . . . wait . . . you’ve got to hold it for just one second to see this. This is the vegan kale and Brussels sprouts pizza my friend Wendy just Instagrammed to me.

HE: What’s that funny look on your face? What’s wrong?

SHE: I’m trying to remember if I remembered to take my Adderall . . .

DON’T LAUGH! We’re all as addicted to our cell phones as these two would-be-lovers.

Spend a minute on any street corner and watch the march of the walking dead.

Watch as they cross the street against traffic lights with their eyes glued to their cell phones.

Do you know what’s going on in their nearly empty heads?

“That two-ton speeding car going 50 miles an hour coming at me can’t hurt me. Can’t they see I’m on my phone? Don’t they know I can’t stop watching this adorable YouTube video of two kittens playing with a ball of cotton yarn? Don’t they know how important I am? Let them stop for me.”

The other day I saw a bike nut on Fifth Avenue weaving in and out of heavy traffic, looking down and texting on his phone.

On the sidewalk, those of us who have the good sense not to look at our phones while walking are dodging to get out of the way of selfish idiots who have their heads down, looking at their phones and about to crash into anyone who is walking toward them.

This happened in less than a minute last week on Lexington Avenue between 61st and 62nd Streets:

I had to dodge a beefy moron who was coming at me with his head in his cell phone, and just when I got past him I had to dance out of the way of a tattooed young woman who was screaming and cursing at her mother on her phone. All I heard her say was, “You’re a f^%$^#. No wonder Daddy left you . . .”

And then came a young mother on her phone as she was crossing the street against the light. She was pushing a baby carriage and a truck that would have crushed her baby jammed on his brakes inches away from her. The woman never noticed the sound of the brakes. Then she headed right toward me. I dodged her, but if she had hit me, she would have given me a dirty look for failing to get out of her way when she was having an important conversation with her best friend about her husband refusing to pick up his dirty underwear from wherever he dropped it on the floor.

Don’t snicker.

You and I are probably as guilty and addicted to our cell phones as the rest of the population.

What makes me laugh is that last week Apple and Google — who started it all and have turned us all into CELL PHONE ZOMBIES — have announced new apps to limit the unhealthy overuse of cell phones.

That’s like the inventor of dynamite coming out against war.

Ooops! Wait a minute . . . After inventing dynamite, which is responsible for millions of deaths, Alfred Nobel, the inventor of dynamite, had the chutzpah to become the “Benefactor of the Nobel Prize for Peace.”

Prediction: In the future, the cell phone will kill more people than dynamite.

If you wish to comment on “Jerry’s Ink” please send your message to jerry@dfjp.com.