On Tuesday I did what I said I would never do. Three years ago, as I was buying an iPhone 5, the Verizon guy was intent on selling me a $70 case called “Lifeproof,” which was guaranteed to be exactly what it sounds like—you can drop it on concrete from five feet up, a horse can step on it, no harm done, and most importantly it is waterproof. I looked at the salesman and said, “I’m not an idiot, I wouldn’t put the phone in water!” He smiled knowingly and said, “Women drop their phones into the toilet ALL the time. They wear tight jeans and put the phone in their back pocket and forget about it and when they stand up, it pops right into the toilet.” I said, “I don’t wear tight jeans and I don’t take my phone to the bathroom, so THAT will never happen–but a horse stepping on the phone is a distinct possibility!” Thirty minutes later I walked out with my new iPhone and a $70 case.
I was so very pleased with my Lifeproof case that last summer, when Verizon informed me that I was “due for an upgrade,” I hurried into the nearest Verizon store and got my new iPhone 6, a trimmer sexier model which required—you guessed it—a new $70 Lifeproof case. As someone who now drives her fourth Chevy Suburban, product loyalty is a big thing with me. If I like something, the only way to pry me away from it is to give me a new one, same model, perhaps with an upgrade or two. The last Suburban is fifteen years old and going strong at 250,000 miles. The upgraded new one cannot hold two 700 size dog crates the way the old one can, which in my opinion is a major design flaw. This prompted a two hour phone call to a Chevy customer service rep in India, to no avail. No such problems with the iPhone 6 or my new Lifeproof case. They function perfectly—no glitches.
So on Tuesday I loaded up the Suburban and headed north to Pagosa Springs, CO, a beautiful town in the Rockies which boasts some of the best trail riding around. I was going to meet some girlfriends for a 4 day ride. When I got to my cabin, I put my cell phone in the back pocket of my jeans while I unloaded the car. And promptly forgot about it. So imagine my surprise, sometime later, when I noticed a strange blue light emanating from the—well, you guessed it—the toilet. As I fished it out, the screen gave a last little flutter of activity and then, suddenly and irredeemably, went black. Lifeproof, as it turns out, is only waterproof if one closes the charging port, which one did not. Twenty four hours and one bag of white rice later, I ordered my new phone.
If I was going to be disconnected, I only wish there had been a little more excitement—my horse sailed over a rocky cliff, the phone went flying into the air, and landed in the West Fork River but we survived the tumble a la “The Man From Snowy River.” Next time, that’ll be my story and I’ll be sticking to it!