It was the first Saturday of spring break and I was looking forward to heading back home for a relaxing weekend on the coast. I load my car, fill the tank and begin my drive.
The drive to Corpus Christi takes about six and a half hours to complete. I pass through a few podunk towns, and then I reach the stretch of the drive that is two hours of nothing but the vacant road – and no service. Now, like any other perfect road trip, my car decides to break down for no apparent reason.
I pull off the road, start hysterically laughing at just how miserable my life is. The laughing ends and I’m legitimately angry. So, I get out of the car and assess the problem.
After spending a whopping 15 minutes vacuously staring under the hood of my car, I come to the realization that I’m absolutely screwed.
But wait, I have a cell phone. All I need to do is call someone, anyone: mom, dad, a mechanic, a towing service, the president of the United States. I need help. Problem solved, right?
Only it’s not solved because Sprint is my cell service provider.
Now if you have Sprint, you understand the never-ending frustration with how unreliable and non-existent the coverage is. If you don’t have Sprint, PSA: It’s terrible. Lucky you.
I continuously find myself driving through dead zones, and the worst part about it is the fact that these dead zones aren’t just in the middle of nowhere. No, they’re in random spots all over the city as well.
Anytime I go home and see my parents, I constantly badger them about switching providers for this very reason. Spotty service in the middle of nowhere is not a good recipe for safety or security.
Obviously my parents don’t care enough about my wellbeing because they would rather pay less for the worst coverage and have me stranded on the side of the road waiting to get beat up and robbed than switch to Verizon.
So don’t mind me, I’ll just be Sprint-ing over to the Verizon store.