We needed to buy pool supplies and Nancy wanted to drive to the store so she could learn the area and the new, winding roads.
I used the time as a passenger to research the bobcat crisis in Connecticut.
“It’s NOT a crisis,” Nancy said.
“It’s a bobcat, Nance, not a hummingbird. These things are related to the saber tooth tiger.”
“Saber tooth tigers were prehistoric and are extinct. How closely related can they be?”
“Well, not ‘closely’ related. I think they just see each other at weddings and funerals.”
Parts of Connecticut are weakly serviced by cellular signal; others are completely ignored. That’s where we were.
“You’re obsessing over this, Higgins. They spotted only one bobcat near the lake.”
“The Japanese didn’t wait til they saw a herd of Godzillas before they sent in the fighter jets, Nance, did they?”
She ignored that and found a reggae station on XM.
I asked Siri how to prevent bobcat encroachment.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t get that,” Siri replied.
I adopted the older generation’s method of getting better cell service- yell louder into the phone.
“BOBCAT ENCROACHMENT”
“I’ll see what I can find about what the roach meant…”
“NO.”
“I’m sorry. I didn’t get that.”
I gave up on Siri and searched google.
It was there I learned that an effective bobcat deterrent is wolf urine.
A few weeks ago I wondered how to handle those tiny ants that show up on my deck on Long Island.
Now I need to harvest wolf urine so I don’t get my head torn off by a jungle cat.
“Wow, wolf urine.”
“What?!” She lowered the reggae.
“Wolf urine. Supposedly, if you make a perimeter of wolf urine, the bobcat will avoid the area because it will sense a predator is near. Where do you get wolf urine?”
“Under a wolf?”
Nancy’s sarcasm is surpassed only by her unwavering sense of calm. She says she never has to worry about anything because I agonize enough for our entire demographic.
She had Waze on her phone directing her to the pool supply store. The app happily alerted to turns and warned of red light cameras as they neared.
She asked her phone for a nearby coffee shop and it promptly offered suggestions.
She had great service.
I had Helen Keller.
“WOLF URINE”
Siri didn’t even answer anymore. My phone just blankly stared back at me.
“I’m screaming into nothingness.” I yelled into my empty hand to prove it was as effective as yelling into the phone. Nancy wasn’t impressed.
The top of my phone showed no bars and a little spinny circle of lines. It looked like the drain my cell connection was swirling down.
“WOLF URINE, WOLF URINE!”
Nothing.
“WOLF…”
“Higgins, we’re here.”
We got out of the car and my phone sparked to life like Frankenstein getting belted with high voltage. The bars reappeared on my phone and the WiFi symbol.
Thank God.
Calmer, “Wolf urine?”
“Here’s what I found about the roof you’re in…”
Crap!! At least Siri was back and there was some response.
We walked in and Nancy asked a clerk about pool chemicals. I was on a more important mission.
I waited for urine information and saw that the bars disappeared again.
I moved back to the store’s entrance and they reappeared.
The sweet spot.
I saw Nancy turn to include me in her conversation and saw I was gone. I waved to her and got struck by the automatic door opening behind me. The people apologized and the cashier asked if I was ok.
I nodded yes and held my phone up and said slowly and clearly, “urine…”
Spinny lines.
“Urine?”
……..
“URINE!”
I raised my eyes over my phone and saw the clerk, cashier, the door-attacking customer, and Nancy looking at me.
They all had confused looks except for Nancy. She had a smile.
Long story short: yelling into your phone doesn’t improve cell signals.