Three Apps We'd Like to See

The first App we’d like to see is an obvious one. It’s called the “Warmer Warmer” App and it probably already exists or is in development so let’s see it on my big uncool Galaxy soon. Anytime you park your car (and stick a tracking label on it) or your kid (yeah, use another of the same ones from your tracking label pad) or punch in the needed address or have someone beam you where they are, you pick that for your app to follow and then it plays the game “Warmer Colder” with you.  Obviously more jubilant and frequent in its cheering “Warmer! Warmer!” as you get closer to your destination. And as soon as you veer from the path, “Colder” warns you coldly that you are not doing well. This way, no more maps or annoyances. Just warmer or colder.

I was walking West across the bottom floor of the South Wing of our romantic Port Authority bus station this evening, when an older man about fifteen feet in front of me heading straight toward me started to bob and weave. He did truly go into zombie movement. His feet gave out sideways as if a large hand had swept under him while a soft hand pulled his knees in together, folding them on top of each other. He fell, hit the ground hard, and began to bleed from his forehead (or ear?). Some money and coins fell out of his pockets. He had no control over any of his movement. I went to him.  First responder that I am. Others came over. I went looking for a cop while someone tried to call 911. I found no police out on the sidewalk. I came back in. The info booth had been informed. They called in a cop. The wait: probably only three minutes. He would survive.

But what we need?

An app that catches this guy’s seizure and injects, immediately, something into his system to counteract the seizure or at least blows up a lot of air bags in his clothing.

Right?

No one needs to fall that hard.

Side Note (or the main event): People were quickly concerned and helpful. It was sweet. The vulnerability of it all, watching someone’s body give out because of a brain situation and then slam the rock hard tile…well, the empathy was huge. One woman, with a strong foreign accent, was the one trying to get 911. They were asking her too many questions on the line and she didn’t really understand how to explain where she was. I said, “The South Street,” by mistake, instead of “The South Wing,” and she yelled, “South Street, South Street.”  Lawsy. But she was already fully doomed. My mistake sealed the deal. And here came the cops.

The 911 caller’s frustration, that they did not understand her, scared her. The police were calm and called an ambulance. The older fallen man said he was fine and wanted to go home. But the cops said, “You can refuse the ambulance once it comes. But we have to keep you here until it comes.”  The guy did need an ambulance. The blood was not spouting from his head. More like a small steady bleed.

The cops wanted us all to get away. Makes sense. So we left.

At the end, as I walked to the subway stair, a long haired man, young, about six and a half feet tall, sidled up to me and asked, “Did he have a seizure?”
I said, “Yeah. He was walking right toward me and started to seize and his feet went out and he went down hard.”

And he said, “Yeah. Yeah. I thought—”

And we both felt glad he was taken care of.

I preferred this guy’s calmness to any of the other emotionalism around the event.

There should be an app for the guy who fell so he doesn’t fall.

Another app we need is a “Don’t Even Start With Me” App.

Say you have a new career, gig, vacation touring group, volleyball team, band, marriage, or place of worship and someone close to you decides to cross a line. They want too much power or they are lying to you too much or they are trying to gaslight you or overthrow your position or diminish you in any way—you should be able to open up your “Don’t Even Start With Me” App and for just a few dollars added to your credit card, you can nip this bullshit in the bud. Once downloaded, account made, user name and password filled, and target defined, an anonymous goon delivers something disgusting to the personal residence or desk or hotel room of the offending party. There is no note. In fact, users must remain completely anonymous for this to work. There is just the satisfaction of knowing that you have sent something completely horrible to the person that will really upset them. It can never be traced back to you. In fact, it should have a Snapchat element built in so that all record of the transaction disappears. Your resentment will have found its true way out. You will be in charge, the place you always wanted to be.

You can even increase the frequency of these gifts of horrendosity if they don't get the message the first time, or as the need arises. Clam Puddings. Dead Cats loaded with Vermin. A controlled Tire Fire. A Ball of Hair with Broken Teeth in it.

What is fun, is, as their behavior gets worse, and your giving increases, the annoyer will know it’s you. But will never be certain. But you both know what's what. But you don’t talk about it because no one wants to break the anonymity because everyone loves using it so much and doesn't want to risk losing it.

These will all help.