The first phone I ever owned was a Motorola Razr. The Razr’s buttons are some of the finest ever to grace a mobile device. The keypad is laser-etched out of a sheet of shimmering aluminum, and when pressed, ignites in a lambent blue glow that looked like the sci-fi future.
But there was one button that I was terrified to press. In all my years of owning a Razr, I can’t say I tapped it more than once or twice, and never on purpose: the internet button.
Located on the upper left side of the keypad, the internet button was emblazoned with a blue globe and would open the Razr’s built-in internet browser. The problem, of course, was that in the heady days of 2007, when I first got a cellphone, I didn’t pay for data. Which meant that pressing the button was a recipe for getting hit with dreaded overage fees.
Now, would AT&T actually have charged me (and by extension, my family’s shared cellphone plan) hundreds of dollars for the crime of utilizing precious kilobytes of data to accidentally load Google’s rudimentary mobile site? I honestly have no idea. But with things like text messages and call minutes already heavily regulated by the carrier — leading to steep charges for overages — I wasn’t taking any chances.
I wasn’t taking any chances
Unfortunately, the basic design of the Razr meant that those intentions were often moot. The internet button was too conveniently located,…