I’m on my last night in New York, and I’ve survived six whole days without a phone.

Yup, you read that right.  The girl who would rather give up 10% of her pretty than give up her phone, eats with it on the table, takes it into the bathroom has lost her fucking phone…. in New York!

Luckily, I’ve got a great team.  Between him, her, and her, I was covered.  And after 6 days of paranoid anxiety, compulsively checking my pockets, and imagining the text tone going off, I’ve actually come to enjoy it.

I sat next to him at dinner last night and enjoyed the conversation and the view without worrying about what emails were coming in or who was ‘liking’ my latest Instagram picture. He laughed and I relished the sound, while we ate and I took my time enjoying every bite.  I walked around Williamsburg with her today and not once worried about having my phone ready for the next photo op.  I paid attention to the way her nails scratch the screen protector on her phone, and noticed how we have the best time doing nothing, talking about everything.

I was not worried about who was texting me, where anybody else was, and what was going on in the social media sphere and frankly, I loved every minute of it.  Quality time, with quality people.  I was living in every moment, and every moment mattered.  Fuck texting while walking, checking fb, or twitter, checking in… fuck all of it.

I am here… doing this… with you.

I come home tomorrow to a shiny new iPhone 5 that I pre-ordered last week.  And I’ll get my life back, my photos, my connectivity… but I won’t forget how being disconnected actually connected me more to the memories I’ve made on the East side of thangs.  Best. Week. Ever.