The Chilling Last Descent into Wireless Hades

Then we came to the last and most terrifying part of our journey, where we encountered the most chilling of wireless demons, the loud cell phone dinner-blatherer. Here, even the frightening pallor on my guide's face told me we were before the very incarnation of wireless transgression.

This demon has many faces, both masculine and feminine. It can appear in the guise of those who pick up the phone during the first course of a dinner date, never to put it down until dessert. Or in the more subtle form of those who thumb their way through 100 text messages while their dinner partner sits, dejected and lonely, at the other end of the table. Or in the truly dreadful variety of those who pick up a call at the dinner table, set the phone to "speakerphone" mode and carry on an hour long conversation, while shifting their eyes from the phone to their plate, oblivious of the dinner company, who now can't even converse because of the speakerphone's loud blast.

The cell phone dinner-blatherer's wireless punish

Last night, I dreamt that Dante of Divine Comedy fame had suddenly come back to life. And that he had a cell phone. His mission was to have me write an appendix to the Inferno, in which a place in Hades and a wireless punishment would be assigned to different types of cell phone etiquette violators, depending on the gravity of their telecommunication sins.

In my dream, Dante lead my by the hand and acted as my guide through the terrifying circles of wireless Hades. There, we encountered the various cell phone user types that roam our streets and wireless airwaves, guilty of all sorts of cell phone faux pas. And here's what the great Florentine poet and philosopher explained to me about each of them, as we descended deeper and deeper into the abyss of cell phone etiquette infraction.

The first group we met in our journey were the cell phone message ramblers. Like the eternal fence-sitters and perpetually unresolved, the cell phone message ramblers are to be found right inside the gates of Wireless Hades. Their transgression is that of using up valuable time, battery life and sinful amounts of airtime minutes to leave their hapless friends, family and colleagues endless messages that say precious little, if anything.

The uums, the the aahs, the countless "anyways," all resound in many tongues in the cell phone message ramblers' time-free sky.

Their wireless punishment? Having to summarize every 1,000+ page novel ever written into short, 45-second cell phone messages--for eternity--only to lose their wireless signal at second number 44. Thus spoke the great Dante.

Then, we encountered the cell phone limbo dwellers. The only failing of these otherwise virtuous wireless souls is their being irremediably and chronically technologically-challenged. While they would long for wireless Internet use, multimedia messaging, quick downloads and MP3 music capability, their laziness in cracking open the cell phone user's manual relegates them to the absolute basics of placing and receiving calls, maybe a text message here and there--and nothing else.

The cell phone limbo dwellers' wireless punishment? An eternity of trading down to yesterday's models--all the way through the Motorola Dynatac and finally down to two pierced tin cans with a clothing line stretched across them. Thus spoke the great Dante.

The Bigger Demons of Wireless Etiquette Hades

Deeper down in wireless Hades we happened upon the vain shadows of the cell phone feature and accessory self-flatterers. While Dante considers cell phone features and accessories necessary and therefore virtuous, an excess in their use become a punishable wireless sin.

Thus we have the cell phone feature and accessory self-flatterer, who wears his Bluetooth headset everywhere (except for the shower), carries more than two wireless devices on his heavy-duty belt, considers 10 email accounts per cell phone to be too few, has a charger in every room and a cell phone case for every day of the week.

The cell phone feature and accessory self-flatterers' wireless punishment? To wonder eternity with pocketless clothing, while an 8-gauge wire links their only cell phone to their old-fashioned earbud as they hopelessly try to connect to a 20-party conference call. Thus spoke the great Dante.

As we descended deeper and deeper down the circles, and the wireless air got really hot, we meet the dreaded cell phone ringtone sorcerers.

O ye whose strident tone riotously blares at the theater, library, lecture hall or church, with no pause or remission, heed the thundering words of the great Tuscan poet. Thy grave infraction is to thrust the Village People upon a Classical music concert's attendees, Eminem upon a PTA meeting's, or the Limbo Rock upon your late Aunt Mavis' wake's. Thy aggravating circumstance is to invariably stand around as the tone plays, knowing full well it's yours but pretending, in affected indignation, that it must be someone else's.

The cell phone ringtone sorcerer's wireless punishment? To have, for eternity, their cell phone in their back pocket set on "vibrate" while trying to cross a thin rope stretched across the Grand Canyon--on a unicycle. Thus spoke the great Dante.

The Chilling Last Descent into Wireless Hades

Then we came to the last and most terrifying part of our journey, where we encountered the most chilling of wireless demons, the loud cell phone dinner-blatherer. Here, even the frightening pallor on my guide's face told me we were before the very incarnation of wireless transgression.

This demon has many faces, both masculine and feminine. It can appear in the guise of those who pick up the phone during the first course of a dinner date, never to put it down until dessert. Or in the more subtle form of those who thumb their way through 100 text messages while their dinner partner sits, dejected and lonely, at the other end of the table. Or in the truly dreadful variety of those who pick up a call at the dinner table, set the phone to "speakerphone" mode and carry on an hour long conversation, while shifting their eyes from the phone to their plate, oblivious of the dinner company, who now can't even converse because of the speakerphone's loud blast.

The cell phone dinner-blatherer's wireless punishm

The uums, the the aahs, the countless "anyways," all resound in many tongues in the cell phone message ramblers' time-free sky.

Their wireless punishment? Having to summarize every 1,000+ page novel ever written into short, 45-second cell phone messages--for eternity--only to lose their wireless signal at second number 44. Thus spoke the great Dante.

Then, we encountered the cell phone limbo dwellers. The only failing of these otherwise virtuous wireless souls is their being irremediably and chronically technologically-challenged. While they would long for wireless Internet use, multimedia messaging, quick downloads and MP3 music capability, their laziness in cracking open the cell phone user's manual relegates them to the absolute basics of placing and receiving calls, maybe a text message here and there--and nothing else.

The cell phone limbo dwellers' wireless punishment? An eternity of trading down to yesterday's models--all the way through the Motorola Dynatac and finally down to two pierced tin cans with a clothing line stretched across them. Thus spoke the great Dante.

The Bigger Demons of Wireless Etiquette Hades

Deeper down in wireless Hades we happened upon the vain shadows of the cell phone feature and accessory self-flatterers. While Dante considers cell phone features and accessories necessary and therefore virtuous, an excess in their use become a punishable wireless sin.

Thus we have the cell phone feature and accessory self-flatterer, who wears his Bluetooth headset everywhere (except for the shower), carries more than two wireless devices on his heavy-duty belt, considers 10 email accounts per cell phone to be too few, has a charger in every room and a cell phone case for every day of the week.

The cell phone feature and accessory self-flatterers' wireless punishment? To wonder eternity with pocketless clothing, while an 8-gauge wire links their only cell phone to their old-fashioned earbud as they hopelessly try to connect to a 20-party conference call. Thus spoke the great Dante.

As we descended deeper and deeper down the circles, and the wireless air got really hot, we meet the dreaded cell phone ringtone sorcerers.

O ye whose strident tone riotously blares at the theater, library, lecture hall or church, with no pause or remission, heed the thundering words of the great Tuscan poet. Thy grave infraction is to thrust the Village People upon a Classical music concert's attendees, Eminem upon a PTA meeting's, or the Limbo Rock upon your late Aunt Mavis' wake's. Thy aggravating circumstance is to invariably stand around as the tone plays, knowing full well it's yours but pretending, in affected indignation, that it must be someone else's.

The cell phone ringtone sorcerer's wireless punishment? To have, for eternity, their cell phone in their back pocket set on "vibrate" while trying to cross a thin rope stretched across the Grand Canyon--on a unicycle. Thus spoke the great Dante.

The Chilling Last Descent into Wireless Hades

Then we came to the last and most terrifying part of our journey, where we encountered the most chilling of wireless demons, the loud cell phone dinner-blatherer. Here, even the frightening pallor on my guide's face told me we were before the very incarnation of wireless transgression.

This demon has many faces, both masculine and feminine. It can appear in the guise of those who pick up the phone during the first course of a dinner date, never to put it down until dessert. Or in the more subtle form of those who thumb their way through 100 text messages while their dinner partner sits, dejected and lonely, at the other end of the table. Or in the truly dreadful variety of those who pick up a call at the dinner table, set the phone to "speakerphone" mode and carry on an hour long conversation, while shifting their eyes from the phone to their plate, oblivious of the dinner company, who now can't even converse because of the speakerphone's loud blast.

The cell phone dinner-blatherer's wireless punish

The cell phone limbo dwellers' wireless punishment? An eternity of trading down to yesterday's models--all the way through the Motorola Dynatac and finally down to two pierced tin cans with a clothing line stretched across them. Thus spoke the great Dante.

The Bigger Demons of Wireless Etiquette Hades

Deeper down in wireless Hades we happened upon the vain shadows of the cell phone feature and accessory self-flatterers. While Dante considers cell phone features and accessories necessary and therefore virtuous, an excess in their use become a punishable wireless sin.

Thus we have the cell phone feature and accessory self-flatterer, who wears his Bluetooth headset everywhere (except for the shower), carries more than two wireless devices on his heavy-duty belt, considers 10 email accounts per cell phone to be too few, has a charger in every room and a cell phone case for every day of the week.

The cell phone feature and accessory self-flatterers' wireless punishment? To wonder eternity with pocketless clothing, while an 8-gauge wire links their only cell phone to their old-fashioned earbud as they hopelessly try to connect to a 20-party conference call. Thus spoke the great Dante.

As we descended deeper and deeper down the circles, and the wireless air got really hot, we meet the dreaded cell phone ringtone sorcerers.

O ye whose strident tone riotously blares at the theater, library, lecture hall or church, with no pause or remission, heed the thundering words of the great Tuscan poet. Thy grave infraction is to thrust the Village People upon a Classical music concert's attendees, Eminem upon a PTA meeting's, or the Limbo Rock upon your late Aunt Mavis' wake's. Thy aggravating circumstance is to invariably stand around as the tone plays, knowing full well it's yours but pretending, in affected indignation, that it must be someone else's.

The cell phone ringtone sorcerer's wireless punishment? To have, for eternity, their cell phone in their back pocket set on "vibrate" while trying to cross a thin rope stretched across the Grand Canyon--on a unicycle. Thus spoke the great Dante.

The Chilling Last Descent into Wireless Hades

Then we came to the last and most terrifying part of our journey, where we encountered the most chilling of wireless demons, the loud cell phone dinner-blatherer. Here, even the frightening pallor on my guide's face told me we were before the very incarnation of wireless transgression.

This demon has many faces, both masculine and feminine. It can appear in the guise of those who pick up the phone during the first course of a dinner date, never to put it down until dessert. Or in the more subtle form of those who thumb their way through 100 text messages while their dinner partner sits, dejected and lonely, at the other end of the table. Or in the truly dreadful variety of those who pick up a call at the dinner table, set the phone to "speakerphone" mode and carry on an hour long conversation, while shifting their eyes from the phone to their plate, oblivious of the dinner company, who now can't even converse because of the speakerphone's loud blast.

The cell phone dinner-blatherer's wireless punish

As we descended deeper and deeper down the circles, and the wireless air got really hot, we meet the dreaded cell phone ringtone sorcerers.

O ye whose strident tone riotously blares at the theater, library, lecture hall or church, with no pause or remission, heed the thundering words of the great Tuscan poet. Thy grave infraction is to thrust the Village People upon a Classical music concert's attendees, Eminem upon a PTA meeting's, or the Limbo Rock upon your late Aunt Mavis' wake's. Thy aggravating circumstance is to invariably stand around as the tone plays, knowing full well it's yours but pretending, in affected indignation, that it must be someone else's.

The cell phone ringtone sorcerer's wireless punishment? To have, for eternity, their cell phone in their back pocket set on "vibrate" while trying to cross a thin rope stretched across the Grand Canyon--on a unicycle. Thus spoke the great Dante.

The Chilling Last Descent into Wireless Hades

Then we came to the last and most terrifying part of our journey, where we encountered the most chilling of wireless demons, the loud cell phone dinner-blatherer. Here, even the frightening pallor on my guide's face told me we were before the very incarnation of wireless transgression.

This demon has many faces, both masculine and feminine. It can appear in the guise of those who pick up the phone during the first course of a dinner date, never to put it down until dessert. Or in the more subtle form of those who thumb their way through 100 text messages while their dinner partner sits, dejected and lonely, at the other end of the table. Or in the truly dreadful variety of those who pick up a call at the dinner table, set the phone to "speakerphone" mode and carry on an hour long conversation, while shifting their eyes from the phone to their plate, oblivious of the dinner company, who now can't even converse because of the speakerphone's loud blast.

The cell phone dinner-blatherer's wireless punish

The Chilling Last Descent into Wireless Hades

Then we came to the last and most terrifying part of our journey, where we encountered the most chilling of wireless demons, the loud cell phone dinner-blatherer. Here, even the frightening pallor on my guide's face told me we were before the very incarnation of wireless transgression.

This demon has many faces, both masculine and feminine. It can appear in the guise of those who pick up the phone during the first course of a dinner date, never to put it down until dessert. Or in the more subtle form of those who thumb their way through 100 text messages while their dinner partner sits, dejected and lonely, at the other end of the table. Or in the truly dreadful variety of those who pick up a call at the dinner table, set the phone to "speakerphone" mode and carry on an hour long conversation, while shifting their eyes from the phone to their plate, oblivious of the dinner company, who now can't even converse because of the speakerphone's loud blast.

The cell phone dinner-blatherer's wireless punishment? To be forced to eat cold meals, alone and unacknowledged, for eternity, while a noisy and obnoxious swarm of a thousand wireless trolls and hobgoblins flies around him chatting away loudly on their cell phones. Thus spoke the great Dante.

Amid this wireless horror, I woke up in a sweat, and I realized it was all a dream--or a nightmare. Or was it? In any case, I had then emerged, to again see the stars.