Turn Off, Tune Out, UnPlug

We've all heard it before.

"Tampering with smoke detectors in airplane lavatories is a federal offense."

The message is unstated, but nonetheless clear. Do not try to sneak a puff in the bathroom on the airplane. Your sins will find you out, and woe to you who dares try.

But nicotine isn't the only addiction passengers deal with.

Take the BlackBerry, for instance. You have one. I have one. Nearly everyone on my flight from Dallas to Honolulu has one. Even the little kid sitting (and I use that term loosely; you can't expect a small child to sit still for the duration of an eight-hour flight) in front of me had a child's cell phone.

They don't call it "crackberry" for nothing.

I am compelled to check it every two or three minutes, even if it doesn't vibrate. Sometimes, if I get a phone call or text, it will make a pleasant little "ping" noise. I find I can ignore the vibrating BlackBerry, but I can't ignore that little "ping." As a result, my attention span has been dramatically reduced. Squirrels have better concentration than I do. While writing this paragraph, I've checked the evil thing four times.

Make that five.

Have you felt your PDA buzz on your hip, even when its off? Even when you're not wearing it? Yeah. Me too. That's precisely what happened to me on my flight to Hawaii.

We boarded, I thumbed off a couple of quick texts, I checked my Twitter feed, I checked my email, and I turned it off at the last possible moment. The flight attendant stopped by my row - twice! - to remind us all to turn off our portable electronic devices. I wasn't the only one delaying the inevitable disconnect, which brought me some comfort. At first.

"The captain has illuminated the no-smoking sign. Please turn off all portable electronic devices, including pda's, cell phones, MP3 players, and laptops."

That's when I thought, "Okay, I can do this. I have been bracing for this. I can live without this gadget for eight hours. No problem. I can read, I can work the in-flight magazine crossword, I can watch the (abysmal) in-flight movie...I'm good. We're good here."

The first hour was fine.

About 90 minutes into the flight, I imagined it buzzing on my hip, and laughed at myself.

"Withdrawal symptoms," I thought. "Next thing you know, I'll have the D-T's."

Little did I know.

By the third hour I was really worried about what might be happening in the world without me. I hate being unplugged. Disconnect is scary when you're a reporter - even when you're on vacation. "I'm always on the clock." I say. That's my excuse, anyway, for having this damned thing attached to my hip at all times. (Unless I'm wearing a dress. Then I just carry it, like a pet. Bubblegum starlets on the red carpet have their little tiny designer puppies. I have my portable electronic device.)

Hour four - I had to use the lavatory. I entered the tiny watercloset, closed the door, and slid the latch. The florescent light automatically flickered on -- and that's when it hit me.

I could check my email in here. Nobody would ever know.

Wait.

Is this what smokers have to go through when they fly? Are they so jonesing for tobacco that they risk being fined for puffing up in the lavatory?

And, when I DO turn this thing on, will the plane come crashing to the Pacific? I mean, that's the real question, right? Is it worth killing myself and my fellow passengers? Is THIS how I want to wind up on the evening news? Do I want to be the headline, "DC Woman Unable to Control Blackberry Addiction. 200 Dead."

I'm not saying I was tempted. I'm saying I had the thing in my hand, with my thumb on the power button. I was going to do it, and I was perfectly willing to plunge the plane into the ocean just for the chance to glimpse my email.

So, what stopped me?

Well, that whole death and destruction thing resonated. And while I do not for one second believe that I would've brought the plane's navigation system down, I was vulnerable to the power of suggestion. It was rather late in the flight and I was sorta punchy. Reality was blurry.

A stronger part of me intervened. I decided to fight the power. Stick it to The Man. Why do I "need" to be connected? I don't "need" anything! Power to the people! (This is where I pump my fist in the air.) To be connected is to be chained. I'm on vacation for goodness' sake! I will fight the temptation, show some discipline, and go back to my seat and settle down.

But still, I felt the phantom buzz at least a half dozen more times in the few hours before we landed.

As soon we landed - before we even unfastened our seat belts - I turned on my precious Blackberry. (Which, by the way, is pink. Our IT guy has me pegged.)

Seventy four messages awaited me. Not one of them was worth destroying the plane's navigation system.

It wasn't long before we disembarked and gathered around the carousel to pick up our bags, I whipped out my iPod Touch and turned it on.

No WiFi.

No WiFi? What airport doesn't have WiFi??

Within an hour the cab dropped us off at the hotel. While checking in, I tried the iTouch again.

No WiFi. What hotel doesn't have WiFi??

A hotel in paradise, you ninny. Paradise means unplugging, or so I'm told. I was only able to check my BlackBerry twice a day. I tweeted a few entries a day. (Follow me on Twitter: amorris_wfed) For me, that is "unplugged." There were one or two days I actually left the BlackBerry in the hotel room. Success!

A week later, it was time to leave paradise and fly back to the nation's capital. While I was looking forward to the opportunity to plug back into the Beltway, I knew I could handle the hours of withdrawal during the flight.

"The captain has illuminated the no-smoking sign. Please turn off all portable electronic devices, including pda's, cell phones, MP3 players, and laptops."

I was fine. If I may use the recovery lingo - I was "clean." The phantom buzzing was gone. At one point, I even forgot where the gadget was, until I realized I'd tucked it away in my carry on. This was progress!

Within a few hours, though, I smelled it. Cigarette smoke!

Someone, a fellow passenger, actually lit up a cigarette and snuck a few puffs! The smoke went into the airplane's enclosed air system and was soon fumigating the entire cabin with stench.

I sorta get it. I'm not a smoker, but I feel you.

However:

If I can't check my email, you can't smoke.

Amy Morris is an Executive Editor and Anchor of the Daily Debrief. You can reach her at AMorris@federalnewsradio.com