Phoning it In

Perhaps the most baffling thing about the bar exam was what to do when we learned that, by order of the Warden Board of Bar Examiners, we were not allowed to bring in cell phones on the day of the test.

They were very clear about this. The code of regulations that was mailed to us contained little but reiterations of the same instruction. The first rule of bar exam: You do not bring a cell phone to the exam. The second rule of bar exam: You do not bring a cell phone to the exam.

OK. Fine. I get it. This, however, made me still try to find a way to do it, partly because you're telling me no and every time I hear "no" I take it to mean "try a little harder," and partly because I do not know what the blue heck to do without my cell phone.

I wanted to bring it in not to cheat, but to be able to find people after the exam got out. I am perplexed as to how people located each other before the advent of cellular telephones -- did they go to a bar and then just stay there? But what if the place sucked? What if they started playing techno music? What if, God forbid, a bunch of hipsters showed up? Now I've both scared and disgusted myself. But back to sneaking in the phone

So every moment not spent memorizing the hearsay exceptions was spent trying to figure out how to sneak in a phone.

Perhaps I could hide the phone in my shoe. It would be turned off, of course. And I could ask people to keep redialing me since a foot massage during the exam would have actually been pretty nice.

Or maybe I could sneak it inside a sandwich. This also had the added benefit of allowing me to have solid food in my belly before beginning to drink at a bar. On the other hand, after three hours I would just think, FOOD, and then proceed to inhale the sandwich before remembering my cell phone was in between the two different types of ham.

Or what if I smuggled it in, drug mule style? No, not the cocanus method, asshole. No, old school, strapped across my chest using tape. While the tape would be a bitch to rip off, especially now that I have a fair amount of chest hair, it would have been nice to see if I still retain the muscle memory. Plus, nostalgia and all that.

Ultimately, it was not worth the risk. Someone (who shall not be named) put it in my head that even when a phone is off, sometimes, somehow, it magically manages to turn itself back on of its own volition. And then I had this nightmare of voodoo electronic appliances coming to life during the exam, beeping and ringing even after I tried to turn them off, while the ancient proctors ambled slowly to my seat to have me removed, and then I would have to take the exam again in February and do the whole song and dance and OH THE HUMANITY.

No, it wasn't worth it, especially since enterprising minds set to the task of ascertaining a bar where we could all meet immediately following the exam. True, we couldn't leave, but why would we? We were on the Magic Church Bus to Heaven.

That and it was kind of nice that the only call I heard that night was Last Call.

(Goes home following the after-exam drinking. Picks up phone. Checks missed calls. Missed a booty call by four hours).

HELL AND DAMNATION.