What's it like to lose an iPhone?

I didn't handle it well. Paced around, afraid I was missing vital text messages and voice mails from business partners, and Tejas friends in the path of Ike.

For the first time in years began to think about where I was in the city in relation to the nearest usable phone. No more pay phones.

Before cells, for the duration of trips between between work and home, or around the city, we were cut off. Not a big deal unless you're the only one.

Thought about how men keep their wallets, keys, phones, close to their groins. Women keep none of these things close to their groins.

Losing a phone brings castration anxiety. No longer feeling the bulge at my beltclip, but rather a lack.

Women buy cheap phones for two reasons: (1) They never want to be cut off (the phone must be replaceable immediately like a commodity object), and (2) for them the phone is never the objet petit a.

Yesterday I set up my new iPhone to invoke a pass code prompt after four hours of non-use. If several incorrect strings are entered in succession, the handset will erase my data. If I lose this phone I don't want to have to reset all of my Web service passwords again.

The new AT&T store in Green Hills is shockingly spacious given the lack of anything to do besides queuing up. I approached the service counter on the right--there are two, one on each side--only to be told that I needed to "check in." The host was at the very back of the store. The interior is designed to soothe, not to inspire, as if AT&T presumes that you'll feel like you're at your dentist's office.

In the end, I bought my replacement iPhone at the Apple Store, where I could cruise for artsy cougars at the genius bar while ogling the American Apparel models they call Mac Specialists.