By a frankly disastrous turn of events I’m currently sat in an O’Neill’s with a pint of cider watching the rain outside. Awful, isn’t it? And the main reason I’m here? The free WiFi. I’ve been staying in a dingy little flat for the past few weeks so that I can volunteer at Millenium Stadium for London 2012 and therefore have no access to the internet. Being the diligent geek that I am I have glued myself to the tenuous connection that my phone offers me and become increasingly infuriated with my lack of daily Reddit, YouTube and pictures of cats. My phone allows me so use Twitter, Facebook and Google+ happily but further than that my geekery has been neutered. Add to this,f bad signal, limited data allowance and the fact that it’s slightly frowned upon to check your Twitter at the Media Help Desk in Millenium Stadium, I’ve gone on an internet withdrawal induced emotional roller-coaster.
Stage 1: The Moaning
The disconnectee will experience a huge craving to moan and rant and generally get very angry. In a normal situation one would resort to Facebook and Twitter trying to drag sympathy but in this case the victim has no such communication. The victim will huff and puff around one’s room getting awfully angry at nearby objects. Remember, if you hurt a piece of furniture, you hurt yourself. In all likelihood it will be your big toe when you kick that particularly infuriating chair. Take a breath and move onto the next stage.
Stage 2: Desperation
The victim will reach out for help. After a few phone calls your Mom will be halfway down the motorway with the WiFi router strapped in the passenger seat before realising that that’s not how the internet works. You’ll be contemplating buying 12 months of broadband forgetting that being without internet is only temporarily. You’ve coped before, on holiday, camping, during a power cut… surely you can cope now?
Stage 3: The Breakdown
You’re not sure how it happened but suddenly you’re under your duvet, staring blankly at a book and crying into a bag of crisps. You’re only wearing your pants and have the curtains closed even though it’s only two in the afternoon. You’re aware of how pathetic you look but you continue eating your soggy crisps and desperately wanting to blog about your woes. But don’t worry. Stage 4 is not far away.
Stage 4: Pragmatism
Finally! You’ve snapped out of your depression. You open the curtains and close them quickly when you realise you’re naked. Pull yourself together, internetless friend, it’s time to sort this out. You dress and walk into town, exploring your options you know that McDonald’s, Wetherspoons and many other places offer free wifi. And then there’s WiFi dongles. So many avenues to explore to get your internet fix. Soon you will be at peace.
Stage 5: Acceptance
Last night you read a book all evening. Today you even bought a magazine. This afternoon you intend to find a nice pub with a television to entertain yourself. With a calm certainty you realise that you’re happy using your phone to keep in contact with the social media happenings of your friends and family. You even persuaded your mobile network to give you an extra allowance. That lovely pub round the corner with the attractive barman even has WiFi. All is well. You have survived the first week without internet and the future looks hopefully.
Good luck, young internet addict. There’s hope for you yet.