Mission:Impossible, Pt. 2

Are you familiar with the Moscow Rules? It's the first thing they teach you in spy school (according to the International Spy Museum gift store, at least). Here's your Moscow Rule for today: Assume nothing.

Before I arrived in Canada that day in July, I'd planned on making calls to the States on Skype, a service that allows computer-to-computer calls for free. As a bonus, I'd get to see at least one person I'd be calling because we both have webcams. Unfortunately my plan had one weakness, one chink in its armor that rendered the whole thing useless -- the requirement for an Internet connection!

My host had lodged me in a dorm on campus. I arrived with visions of blazing fast Internet connections in my suitcase, along with my interview suit and buck shined shoes. I saw data whooshing through the air, and my head swam in wonder at the 21st century world in which I was privileged to live.

In my room I uncrated my laptop with high hopes. I saw all kinds of wireless signals around me and one wired connection to boot. I clicked on the first AP I saw. Nothing. An hour later, I was still unconnected.

By that time, I'd begged an Ethernet cable off one of the other residents. I'd restarted my laptop several times. I tried parading around the room with my laptop suspended in the air at odd angles. Still nothing. The air felt hot and still, vacant of whooshing data streams.

The time now ticking -- a full three hours behind my East Coast counterpart -- the sweat beaded on my forehead and the tops of my arms. I was on the third floor of the building, and the heat of the day had seemed to rise and concentrate in my room. The window A/C unit, a massive wheeled beast, sat in the corner of the room sputtering in cold air slowly fed by a wide-gauge hose plugged in the window. I felt woozy.

In my delirium I cradled my trusty cell phone, the Motorola PEBL U6, with its reassuring curved rubber grip. I thought of better times. Of Catherine Zeta-Jones on T-Mobile commercials. Do it, Stewart, she said. Make the call, I'll give you a good rate like you've never had before. I heard the T-Mobile jingle in the background: beep-beep beep-beep. Or was that the Nokia jingle? I was so confused. Why was it so hot in here?!

Finally I gave in. Dialing the ten digits like I'd never left American airspace, I soon heard my contact on the other end. I sighed and soon spoke easily and breezily. My worries about the Internet connection faded into the background. I found a Zen-like place, and the 2500 miles that separated me from her vanished, and thoughts of cost seemed inane.

After the call I lay back, smugly satisfied. Nothing to it, I thought.