Jungle Jill Phone Home?

Keeping in touch with friends and family halfway across the world can be a difficult thing, even with today’s assortment of telecommunications technologies. Here in Tropical North Queensland, I’m 9073 miles and fourteen time zones away from the midwestern United States I call home. The time difference makes catching people at appropriate times difficult, to say nothing of the thirty-seven numbers I have to dial in order to phone someone back home. Add to that the various challenges of calling from a field school in the rainforest, and a relatively simple task turns into an erratic crusade.

This morning, calling my good buddy Jamie is my mission. I awake shortly after sunrise to a cacophony of rainforest birds, an interesting morning soundtrack including the raucous screech of the sulphur-crested cockatoo, the dainty whistle of the Australian king parrot, and the futuristic trill of the chowchilla, which has an extraordinary resemblance to a Star Wars laser battle. I walk from my staff cabin – ok, trailer - in the woods to the main offices, classroom, and general gathering area of the school, eat some breaky (Aussies like to shorten every word they can), and grab my phone book. As I am about to pick up the office phone, though, I notice the light that indicates our spare line is already in use. We strive to keep the main line of the school open for incoming business, so I would have to wait for one of my coworkers to finish his call.

I’m horrible at waiting.

After a good twenty minutes of frustrated impatience, a superb idea strikes me: the student phone line! The students are currently travelling on mid-semester break, so it’s sure to be open.

With a renewed bounce in my step, I grab my phone book, leave the offices, and walk around to the small alcove that houses the student phone. Brilliant. I pick up the cordless handset, turn it on, and begin the marathon dialing sequence. First, the toll-free 1-300 number of my “Say G’day” calling card.

I push the one. Nothing happens. I push it harder, and get the strident tone that indicates the number has registered. Ok, next the three. My finger pauses above a mangled button, and I recall former students complaining that a white-tailed rat, a rainforest rodent that can be the size of a medium-sized cat, had chewed the number off the phone.

I push the mangled rubber, and when silence greets me, I push harder. My ministrations elicit a double beep, registering the number twice. Gah! I hang up and start over. This time, I get to the fifth number before the curmudgeony old phone double registers another number. I try again. After several more attempts, I begin to get a feel for the exact pressure the numbers need to register only once, and in my overconfidence, I miss the eight and dial a five. I start anew, but the rat-chewed three foils me again.

Thirty-seven buttons is starting to sound quite daunting.

Finally, on what must be my 938th try, I correctly dial the phone card company number, select “one” for English (thank goodness it’s not “three”), and enter my ten digit PIN. I refer to my phone book to enter Jamie’s cell number, and in my haste and excitement to have made it this far, I forget to enter the country code to call the USA from Australia. Oblivious, and quite anxious as I approach a three in the final four digits, I successfully enter Jamie’s number and give an inner “hoorah!” when the phone starts to ring.

“Hello?” a deep male voice answers in a mysterious accent that I can at least identify as “not American.”

I freeze. This, clearly, is not Jamie. But who is it? Could this be a new friend of Jamie’s? Is this a practical joke? Should I ask if Jamie is nearby?

As I confusedly ponder these questions, I realize that it’s been an uncomfortably long time since the man answered the phone.

I panic and hang up on the guy.

Defeated, I sigh. What went wrong? I replay my actions, unable to identify my misstep. Then it hits me…the country code!

Briefly wondering where in the world the man I just called resides and what activity I interrupted only to promptly hang up on him, I attack the temperamental phone again. After only starting over four times due to misdials, the line is ringing once more.

“Hello?” a clear, cheerful voice answers, unmistakably Jamie’s.

“Do you have any idea how hard it just was for me to call you?” I greet her affectionately.

But of course, with old friends, the effort is always worth it.