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The Blackberry
Traveling has its challenges doesn’t it? These days, communication isn’t one of them. We have cell phones, laptops, video conferencing, PDAs, pocket PCs, and of course, no don’t say it, the blackberry (in the background you here a sound that oddly resembles music in a combination of jaws about to have lunch and Michael Myers, Freddy Kruger and Jason coming over to watch horror movies, dun, dun dun). It appears we are never out of communication with our work, and available to work 24 hours a day, 7 days a week, 365 days a year (366 this year). Bow to the master that created that concept.
My mother always told me that you can take any negative and make it a positive. In math that would be multiply it by another negative, but in real life it doesn’t work that way. Hmmm, so life is obviously not mathematically correct. Oh well, let’s not get off the subject at hand here. What to do with the blackberry, which is often referred to, fondly of course, as the crackberry.
Once you have one, you become an addict. You check your emails constantly, during meals, during conversations with friends and family, during s@! Yes I am sure it has happened somewhere in this fast track of information we call the world. Not to mention you can be contacted anyplace and anytime. Moments of boredom? If they ever exist, out comes the blackberry. I guess I can answer some emails. How about those phantom vibrations? After a month or so of having one, you will feel it vibrate and go to answer it only to find you left it at home 200 miles away. This of course induces great panic and results in an instant about face to return and get it. I know these things because, yes, I have a crackberry. If this is you, don’t feel alone. There are others suffering from the same syndrome, watch, listen and learn (click on each of the word links to watch, listen and learn).
Don’t get me wrong, I love my blackberry (picture if you will Golum in Lord of The Rings, My Preciiiiiouuuus). It allows me to not have work pile up from 10pm to 8am while I am not actually at work. I can take care of things right away and reduce my list of stuff to accomplish the next day to only 1001 instead of 1124. I am real time informed of everything that is going on. What more could a road warrior like me ask for?
I have to ask myself though, has my work put on the proverbial ball and chain, or have I tied the knot myself? Does my job “really “ expect me to work 24 hours a day? I think not. So accepting my own self created addiction, I am on a mission to cure myself of it. That is step one. Stepping out of denial and accepting responsibility and admitting that I have a problem. Although I know of no blackberry anonymous support groups, I am thinking of starting one. Until then, I have decided to go cold turkey. Step two, is to relinquish the blackberry. Make it unavailable so there is no chance of falling off the wagon. The following will chronicle my plight in doing just that, realizing my addiction and attempts to ditch the crackberry.
The Blackberry Chronicles
Attempt One – Mt Pelee or Bust Part I
Attempt Two – Where the Fishes Swim
 
Mt Pelee or Bust – The Realization
I woke to the sun in my eyes. As I opened them and took in all the beauty that was before me, I wondered if this was heaven. There couldn’t be a better paradise than here. I sat on a white sand beach, surrounded by lush green tropical mountains. In front of me was an ocean alcove, with water as pure and blue as it could be. The sun reflected off of it so that the sailboats that had dropped anchor there for the night were encompassed in a golden glow. The mist floated over the mountain peaks to my right and to my left. The only sounds that could be heard were those of the ocean waves and the rain forest creatures that had the joy of living here. As I looked up into the sky, I was welcomed by the most beautiful of rainbows. Its colors so deep they appeared solid and reflected in the water. I felt as if I could reach out and touch it. I saw both ends of that rainbow, one in the ocean, the other on the island. So this is the end of the rainbow.
I had been on this island for two days now. I don’t know if I ever want to leave. It is the most peace I can remember having in my entire life. I watched for awhile, took it all in, set it in my memory so I could come back here anytime. Then it happened. This sound seemed so loud that the birds rose up and quickly flew in the other direction. I no longer saw the rainbow, and if the rain forest creatures had run off and quietly hidden, I wouldn’t know. I could no longer hear them. I only hear the sound of ……….my crackberry. But where is it? As I quickly grab my bag and begin to rummage through it, I realize that it has been ringing for about 15 minutes. Yet I had not heard it since I had arrived on the island. I guess the delay in activation after entering another country had given a reprieve, unfortunately, a short lived one.
Paradise
found and paradise lost now has new meaning for me. As I gathered my things, all the while reading as many of the 2000 emails that had just arrived, I forgot all about the beauty of my surroundings. I forgot that I was in paradise, and went back to work. It was difficult maneuvering those mountainous curvy roads with blackberry in hand, single thumb replying, one eye on the road. By the time I arrived back at our vacation apartment at the marina, I had managed to get through about 10% of them. I tried to tell myself I was on vacation, put it down, but then I thought if there is this much in 2 days, imagine what I will come back to. I convinced myself that I had to take care of at least half of it.
My friends were waiting for me when I arrived. Our plans for the day, the rhum tour. This island is known for having the best rhums in the world, and since rhum is my favorite, I was not about to miss out. Unfortunately, you had to drive a manual transmission on this island and I was the only one that could do that on mountain roads. So we gathered our belongings and headed out the door. I realized on the drive from the beach that driving and blackberring was not a good idea. I almost went over the side of the mountain several times. So, as I was driving my friends proceeded to read me the emails, and type in the replies for me. Here I’m thinking great, I can get this done by the time we get to the first rhummery. Wrong, after the 4th rhum distillery it still wasn’t finished. What I wasn’t realizing is that I had now subjected my friends to be addicts with me. Something was wrong here.
That night I sat at the beach watching the stars in the sky and listening to the lull of the ocean waves. The waves are so in tune with my internal rhythm. I went for a late night swim. As I was basking in the warmth of the ocean water, I once again heard that familiar sound. I went running to it of course. As I reached the blackberry and picked it up, I looked back at the ocean and listened to it. It seemed to be saying something to me, like come back. I did just that. I put it down and went back to the ocean.
The next morning I asked my friends what our plans were for today. It was up to me, so I chose. We are going to Mt Pelee. We will climb it, and when we reach the top, I am throwing my blackberry into the volcano. I am going to cure myself of this terrible addiction once and for all. They were game, so we packed a lunch, jumped in our little peugeot and headed for Mt Pelee.
 
Driving to Mt Pelee wasn’t what you would call an easy task. The roads all curve at 90 degree angles and at times 180 degrees. If you are thinking two lanes, think again. You might fit a cow or a goat on this road along side of this little peugeot and that’s about it. Believe it or not, don’t be surprised if you look over and hear a moo or a baaa instead of a horn. If you are going downhill, you can’t really brake. One, you would burn out your brakes in a day. I know this from experience. Been there done that to the car we had yesterday. Two, if you slow down too much, you aren’t going to make it up the next hill. It’s quite funny to hear 3 adults baby talking a car, come on you can do it, just a little further, please don’t stop, and so on. Of course, if there is another car coming on the other side, you usually close your eyes, yes that includes the driver, and start screaming prayers or swear words.
We made it as far as the road goes on Mt Pelee. Now it was time for the two mile climb up the rest of the way. As I got out of the car and looked up, all I could see was a single small road that went about fifty feet and then disappeared in a thick cloud of mist. It was quite an ominous site. As we began to walk, we ran into a group of policemen and rescue people. A helicopter suddenly loomed above them, loud and windy is all I can say. If I was a kite, well, I wouldn’t be on the ground. Apparently some hikers had gotten lost somewhere and they were trying to find them. I suddenly felt a sense of doom, but only for a moment. I turned to my friends and said, "Let’s move out, we have a long way to go."
We started up the single long road and in a few minutes found ourselves lost in that ominous cloud of mist. I could only see about twenty five feet in front of me or behind me. As we reached the end of the road, there was a single stone staircase about three feet wide. However, these stairs were like they were right on top of each other and it seemed as if you were climbing straight up. The staircase was obviously made by the same person that designed their roads for it curved back and forth too. In some places, the right side was just a sudden drop off into the mist. Better not slip or it may be your last. Not being able to see far in front of us, my imagination started to run wild. I imagined big white apes jumping out of the mist at us. "Hey guys, I think I’m having second thoughts. Are you sure you want to do this?" "Nope, but we are doing it anyway. No more crackberry!" my friends replied.
As we continued to climb we started hearing flares being set off. It entered my mind for a moment that the rescue crew below was trying to warn us to come down, but maybe not. So we continued to climb. After several, okay, many, many breaks, we finally made it to the top of Mt Pelee. So here I am, and it’s finally time to relieve myself of my addiction. On the count of three I’m letting go. "One, two, three!" we all counted together in unison. As I started to let blackberry go, it began to ring. It was as if it was trying to make its last plea, no don’t leave me. I quickly grabbed it back. As I did, I slipped and fell forward into the volcano. Grabbing for anything I could reach, with one hand of course since the crackberry was in the other, I managed to grab onto a ledge. Pulling myself up onto it, I put the crackberry safely into my pocket. I was too far down for my friends to reach me. Suddenly, we heard the sound of the helicopter below. Without a word to each other we all knew what had to be done. My friends yelled to me to stay put and began their decent to get the rescue crew to help me.
An hour or so later, the rescue crew was there to lift me, and my crackberry, to safety. After a very long lecture from the rescue team, in French of course, we were allowed to leave. I’m not sure who was more disappointed in me, my friends or myself. We spent that night at our friend’s house on the mountain. We talked about the experience that day and my friends encouraged me to try again.
The next day was a beautiful day to wake up and look out at the island from the top of the mountain. I checked my blackberry, and to my surprise, the battery that had been full the night before was completely dead. I didn’t bring the charger with me, so I was out of luck. After a nice walk, I climbed in a hammock and took in the view. The flowers and greenery were exquisite against the backdrop of a clear blue sky. I closed my eyes for a moment, and awoke 5 hours later. How at peace and energized I felt. So I didn’t cure my addiction on the first try. Now with a renewed spirit, I knew I would just have to try again and succeed. In the meantime, I closed my eyes again and took in a deep breath of air that smelled like a tropical paradise and tasted like sweet honey.
Where The Fishes Swim
Part I
Stay Tuned for Attempt 2
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