Next week, I can finally upgrade my cell phone with Verizon's New Every Two promotion. Yep, my contract is up and it's time to re-sign. I will do so without hesitation as I've never officially hit a dead zone with my Verizon carrier (why, yes, I can hear you now even though I'm waaay out here in the San Fernando Valley). And since I've been whining almost incessantly about my dying battery to everyone who calls me, I'm more than ready to trade up. These days, I'm thinking about a Blackberry. I want a QWERTY keyboard as the texting has gotten out of control and really like that the new models offer GPS. Why buy a TomTom when your cell phone is already tracking you? Brilliant! My sister suggests the Curve (she's got the pink one) because of the easy-to-type keyboard, but I really like the smaller Pearl which both of my bosses have. I've played with both and haven't really made a decision yet. But I'm sure by the end of the business day September 23rd, I'll have settled on one or the other. The thing I haven't decided on yet is whether I should change my phone number.
When I first moved out to L.A., my contract came up and I waltzed into a Verizon store to trade up. "What's your phone number?" the young lad behind the counter asked, fingers poised above the computer keyboard. "917-blah-blahblah," I replied. "917? Where's that?" "New York," I answered. "Oh. Well, are you planning on changing it?" I almost snorted in response. Why would I do something like that?! I'm east coast! The snobby little voice inside my head said. Instead, I replied, "No. I'm planning to keep it." "I'm sorry then. You'll have to go to one of the corporate stores...or online. We can only service local numbers." Erm...what? OK, so, whatever. I found a corporate store, went in, and bought my sporty, little, red KRazor without nary a problem. Nary, I say, because the woman who waited on me there convinced me to buy a Bluetooth piece -- which I've barely used -- because she doesn't get commissions on out-of-state phones. What kind of racket is that?
Now my contract is up again and there is a Verizon store two blocks from my apartment. It does not look like a corporate store, however. Therefore, I'll have to go back to Hollywood or order my Blackberry online if I want to keep my phone number. There is a part of me that is more grown up now and has reconciled to the fact that I am, technically and factually, a Los Angeleno (groan!). And paying New York taxes and paying for NYC 911 coverage on a monthly basis is kinda silly. But...but, the little voice says in my head, what if I go back? Then you get a new number. But, the little voice says again, this time with a whine to it, it won't be a 917 number. Those of you in New York -- and for anyone who saw Sex and the City -- you know that the 917 numbers have gone the way of the 212. That is to say, if you weren't there when they were handing them out, you ain't getting one. 212 and now 917 are sorta like a little badge of New York Snob Honor. (And as many of you know, I am kind of a snob. Just a little one, though.) Plus, I got my cell number a few days after 9/11 so there is this weird attachment to it.
I mean, it's really not a big deal, one way or the other. I have a friend who has had her Chicago cell number since her college days, and has lived in both New Jersey and now California without changing it. And everyone already has the New York number, so, really, why bother? But then there is another part of me that says, I should get a California number as all the people calling me from inside California are paying long distance to speak to a girl who is probably three blocks away from them, while my phone calls to and from New York are few and far between now that I'm not eating (and, more aptly, drinking) there any more. (As for Connecticut, it doesn't matter as it's all long distance.) And, as a patriot, shouldn't I be paying California taxes and for L.A. 911 service? Wouldn't a new California number be symbolic of a new me? Hmm. As you can see, this goes waaay beyond the number. It goes to the very core of who I am. Am I New York? Am I L.A.? Or am I just a girl with too much time on her hands so she worries about stupid things like what her cell phone number says about her? (Don't answer that.)
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