Once I noticed this dead police callbox over on 11th and H, NW, I started keeping my eyes out for others. So far the only other one I have seen is on 8th and I, SE, but I am sure there’s more. The light no longer lights to draw attention to itself, there’s no phone to use to call for help inside its door. There’s not even a back to the thing anymore – you can see right through it. It’s an artifact from the days before coin-operated payphones were ubiquitous.
Well, maybe we should start bringing them back. I was
prattling annoyingly waxing poetic about the callboxes of yore, my girlfriend interjected with her recent experience at Lucky Strike. Her cellphone battery was dead, so she asked the bartender where the payphone was. “Somewhere out there,” she was told. No payphone on the premises.
I’m going to start looking for disabled payphones now, I think. And keeping my cell charged.
This post appeared in its original form at DC Metblogs