Dear iPhone 3G,
I'm waiting on hold to activate my iPhone 4. The Indian guy on the other line doesn't understand my questions. And he put me on hold to determine whether or not this is an upgrade, or a new activation, even though I told him it was an upgrade.
I'm writing to tell you that watching you sit next to my new phone while you're being backed up for the last time calls to mind fond memories I've had with you. I was hesitant about you at first; I wasn't a mac, I was a PC. But you wowed me with your multi-functionality.
You are a phone, a minature game console, a portable music player and so much more. I read my first Sherlock Holmes books, Bram Stoker's Dracula and half of Moby Dick on you. When I needed time to clear my head I knew I could count on you to keep my hands busy with Diner Dash, or Pocket God, while I thought out life's most complicated problems.
You've taken in and let out so many phone numbers, I've lost count. Slut. But it didn't change the level of respect I have for you. You've seen text messages that would make Madonna blush, but you kept on keeping on.
iPhone four is a little bigger than you, a little taller, a little heavier. And I'm sure I'll grow to love it as I have you. But 4 doesn't have your charm. The scratches I've inflicted on you are my fault, my pride refused to buy a case, and the cracked screen you suffered one night at the rooftop bar in Korea Town was no way to treat you. I'm sorry. Best wishes, 3G. All good things must come to an end.
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