Today, with a little luck, I am on my way to Austin for the Dad 2.0 Summit, a.k.a. Paternity Party 2012.
Given my usual luck traveling in or out of Texas, though, I’m most likely stranded at the Chili’s Too in Terminal C at DFW International Airport, reduced to selling my “wares” for Shiner Bocks and Southwestern Eggrolls to survive the long, dull Lone Star nights.
That might not be a bad thing. I’m a little nervous about whether I can really hang with daddy-type dudes for three days.
What worries me?
I can drive and that’s all one really needs to know these days.
Ineptitude at discussing bracket selections for March Madness?
It’s flippin’ Texas, y’all. All they care about is football and we are in one of the two months when it is replaced by deer hunting. Luckily, I’m hanging with diaper-changing daddy bloggers for the weekend and the only guns they are familiar with are on power-washers or video games.
No, I’m most worried about hanging with the testosterone-laden social media mavens. Because …
I do not own a smartphone.
No. I’m not kidding.
My Love has a BlackBerry and an iPhone.
Thing 1, age 12 (12!!), even has an iPhone. I have this:
Pay-as-go, circa 2008, baby.
If you think my typing skills suck on a full computer keyboard, wait till you see me try to text a message on this bee-yotch.
Six words a minute. Moses carved the Commandments faster. In Hebrew, no less.
It’s not that I’m tech adverse. I love gadgets. I’d love to be snapping Instagrams of every single thing I see from morning to night and bitching about the tasteless slop I ate for dinner on Yelp.
But remember who I am. I am “always home.” Well, 90 percent of the time.
Do you really want to see my dog’s poop looking edgy and hip as taken with a PopRocket Valencia Polaroid Canasta Filbert Raisin filter? And dang it, if you don’t like the tasteless slop I serve, eat before you come visit, you parasite!
Also, I’m kinda cheap.
Every time I consider buying a fancy smartphone, I do one thing.
I open the door to my “inspiration fridge,” and look at all the lovely, tasty microbrews in there. I can afford these because rather than $80 a month, I pay $15 a month for my dinky cell phone.
Then I walk away, often belching contentedly.
Priorities, folks. It’s all about priorities.
But to be safe, I will be bringing some tech with me to Austin to allow me to do some Tweeting and Angry Birding and raging against evil American car companies while in the hotel’s WiFi range:
It’s an iTouch.
Not mine, of course.
C’mon, not even we sensitive New-Age father-conference goers could possibly be THIS into Justin Bieber.
Mmm howdy, that moppet’s got some pipes.
‘Nother round of Southwestern Eggrolls for my fellow travelers, y’all!
Sing the traveling-to-a-conference blues for me, Delbert …
Video: Delbert McClinton, “B-Movie Boxcar Blues”
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