“Ooh, who is this?” she asks from the driver’s seat. She knows better than to glance away from the road to check the screen though she’s seen me do it a thousand times.
I catch a glimpse at the display, but push the side button out of habit.
Nothing. Black screen.
Music still plays through the car’s speakers. But nothing else responds. I unplug the speaker jack, plug it back in.
Nothing. The music hasn’t paused like it normally would if my phone was working right, so I do what any tech-minded person might: I hold down the power button, hoping to induce a restart.
Nothing. Black screen. No haptic feedback. No sign of life.
“What’re you gonna do?” she asks.
“I’m gonna drop you off. I’m gonna go to my appointment. And then I’ll figure it out.” She gets out. And I realize then what I have done.
Beacsue now, I got nothin’.
No clock to tell me just how late I am running.
No map to show me which way to go to avoid construction.
No phone number to be able to call ahead.
No phone number for my afternoon meet-up or map to remind me which park we’ve agreed to meet at.
No way to get a hold of anyone unless I stop and what? Ask someone to borrow their phone?
Nothing. Black screen. Black out.
I do manage to get through the appointment without a clock or Google’s guidance, make my way to the T-Mobile store, again without a map, and watch as within two minutes my phone is reset and restarted. Resusitated. Resurrected.
“How did you do that?” I ask him.
“The power button, the up volume, and your Bixby button.”
“That’s awesome. Thank you,” I say.
“Aw, it was nothing.”
It's About Making Space 