For two years now, my trusty Nokia 3220 has been at my side. Well, in my pocket. A belt clip is a fashion faux pas, right? Right. Anyway, we are very faithful partners.
It functions excellently as a phone and little else. It has a camera! but you wouldn't want to photograph anything with it. It has a browser! but who reads WAP pages? It does not have a QWERTY keyboard. You must will your texts.
It gets fantastic reception. I have had one dropped call ever. The battery lasts five days between charges, and I bet an extra day could be squeezed out in a pinch. It has survived countless drops, including being fallen on by my clumsy ass when I've fallen off my bike. Every time it gets soaked, it's up and running again within an hour. It is one resilient little duder.
It has a name too: Disco Phone. Here it is in all its glory:
Why is it called Disco Phone? Behold. If you can name the ringtone, you are a huge dork.
Beyond being tough and charismatic, I've recently learned that Disco Phone is actually magic. It has a power I have not seen in any other phone. When Disco Phone is being called, it can hear what the caller is saying before the call is accepted. It provides free incoming ~10 second calls! Clearly this is evidence of supernatural components, considering the business practices of cell phone providers.
Disco Phone is functional. Disco Phone is beautiful. Disco Phone is magical. Disco Phone is out there for the little guy.
I love you, Disco Phone.
