It's not just about the thrill of possibly getting a phone bill in the mail for $100,000. It's about the freedom.
I mean, who needs the convenience of a phone in your pocket when you can have the satisfaction of fumbling through change and hoping the person on the other end of the line doesn't hang up on you?
Plus, where's the fun in having a phone that can autocorrect your typos? Give me the joy of slowly and deliberately dialing out each number, letter by letter, like a caveman trying to send a telegram.
It's a matter of principle, really. I'm not just a user, I'm a statement piece.
So, if you see me standing on a street corner, fumbling through a phonebook and muttering to myself, just know that I'm not lost, I'm just in my happy place.
P.S. - If you need to reach me, just use the payphone. It's on the corner of 5th and Main. I'll be the one with the phonebook and the confused look.