I hated my first mobile with a passion because I saw no value in having one. Once I got hooked on the non-voice features, however — text messaging first, data later — it was a different story. At the dawn of the new millennium I had no idea of how powerful the lowly cell phone would one day become; my personal device wish-list had but two items:

1. An address book that could be synchronized between phone and computer;
2. A phone that could travel with me anywhere in the world.

My first wish was granted in the year 2000 courtesy of a plug-in module for a PDA . The next year I trialled my first “world” phone in Hong Kong, and bought another while I was there. But it wasn’t until 2007 and my first 3G handset that I was able to access Japan’s advanced mobile networks with my own device.

Then there was the third thing, a feature I didn’t even know I wanted until I saw it coming. By the summer of 2009 I could foresee a smartphone future that paralleled the present state of desktop computers and Linux — that the hardware would one day become a commodity, freeing its owner to use the operating system of his or her choice. Not two years later I had CyanogenMod on my first Android phone, and an entire universe of other custom ROMs just a download and install away.

The story of mobile phones doesn’t end here, of course. The hardware continues to evolve, not so much by leaps and bounds anymore as the touch-screen “fondleslab” has become the de facto standard. Internal components are faithfully following Moore’s law, getting ever smaller, better and cheaper. There has been a much more disruptive change in the manufacturers who bring the devices to market; the once-mighty Nokia and RIM have had their market share almost entirely usurped — first by Apple and now, it seems, by Samsung.

On the software side Android is widely acknowledged as the world’s dominant mobile phone OS; that the code is freely available to all ensures a healthy and diverse ecosystem of the aforementioned custom ROMs. But there are new players on the horizon: Firefox is set to release its own mobile OS in the very near future, and some ex-engineers from Nokia have vowed to continue the legacy of the Linux-based Maemo and MeeGo with a new startup called Jolla.

At some point down the road history might allow for a second edition of this book. For now, I can only marvel at the progress I’ve seen. Perhaps the most cherished sign of how far we’ve come is that people in public spaces are generally spending less time shouting into their mobiles and more time quietly interacting with them.

I’ll leave you with a final memory: At South by Southwest in 2011 I attended a movie première at Austin’s historic twelve hundred-seat Paramount Theatre, so packed that I could only get a seat in the last row of the balcony. The film was entirely forgettable, but I’ll always remember what I saw as the end credits began to roll. The huge auditorium in front of me was suddenly lit with the sparkle of a thousand tiny screens, silently reaching out to each other and the world beyond.

For this unabashed mobile phone geek it was a little bit like heaven.

“A Bluetooth headset is a great way of letting the world know how much sex you’re not getting.” — someone on the Internet

My comedy shows in Hong Kong were a big success, even though the first one was cancelled (it was a corporate show, not part of our regular run). That cancellation gave us a full week in Hong Kong before our first gig, with nothing to do but take in the sights and shop. We soon found ourselves on the famous Nathan Road in Kowloon, where one of my fellow actors got himself fitted for not one but two custom-tailored suits. And I paid about as much for an Ericsson T39m, my second-ever unlocked phone. I also walked out with a wireless Bluetooth headset as part of the deal, but since such things have never really found favour with those who know better — “douchebag earrings”, I believe they’re called — you won’t read any more about that here. But we will return to Bluetooth in just a bit.

There was nothing particularly wrong with the Fido-branded Ericsson T28w that I’d brought with me from Canada; it was pretty much a one-trick pony, though, offering dual band “world” service and not much else. But the T39m was a different story. Its killer feature was a GPRS data radio, allowing it to connect to the Internet at will, rather than locking down the phone entirely by making a data call via circuit switched data. The difference was akin to a dial-up versus broadband Internet connection on a home computer.

Sadly, like other Ericssons before it the T39m was cursed with a tiny screen, so browsing WAP pages on it was quite pointless. Thus, upon my return to Canada the Ericsson T28w went back to Fido and my T39m went into storage — that is, until the following April (2002), when I became aware of a Bluetooth module for my Handspring Visor. Like infrared, Bluetooth allowed for a connection without wires; unlike infrared Bluetooth was a lot faster and didn’t require line-of-sight for transmission.

Two hundred bucks later I was dismayed to find that the only task this Bluetooth module could accomplish was dial my phone from my PDA. Shortly thereafter the Bluetooth, then cellular radio died entirely. The only explanation I could surmise was that my T39m was made for developing markets, and was not up to the same build standard expected for the west, or even Hong Kong. To put it another way, I was scammed.

But if it sounds like my imported Ericsson was a waste of time it honestly wasn’t. This wouldn’t be the last Ericsson I’d ever own; the Saturday night Hong Kong movies on a local Chinese television station taught me that Ericsson was the brand of choice for discerning mobsters. And the experience of buying mine overseas showed me the freedom that could be gained in using unlocked devices, along with the perils of buying them from sketchy vendors.

Here is the actual Ericsson T39m that I bought from “Friendship Camera & AV” on Nathan Road in Kowloon, back in September of 2001. I’m deliberately telling you the name of the vendor because they sold me a handset intended for the developing world at first-world prices. I’m pretty sure the sticker on the box read: “Made for Indonesia”.

Maybe that’s why the Bluetooth, then cellular radios both died on me within the year…

Anyway, the T39m has its own Wikipedia page and even better, this informative fan site.

Such a device wouldn’t work on Japan’s mobile networks; carriers in Hong Kong, however, used the same GSM service that I enjoyed with Fido, just on another frequency. And why are we talking about Hong Kong all of a sudden? Unbelievable as it sounds, barely a week after my return from Japan I got booked on a comedy tour of Hong Kong, China and Singapore. The call came from the Toronto branch of The Second City — the same theatre I was working at five years prior when I received my first cell phone as an unwanted gift. And now, as a crowning achievement of my stint as an actor there, I was to represent them on three different stages half a world away.

Of course I couldn’t go without a working mobile phone at my side, so I headed to the nearest Fido store for help. At the time they offered two dual-band handsets: One was the beautiful Nokia 8890, a slider with a brushed aluminum shell that when closed was even smaller than my 3390. The only problem was that it cost almost a thousand bucks. The other, cheaper option was the Ericsson T28w. At two hundred and fifty it was still pricey, but with Fido’s generous thirty-day return policy I really had nothing to lose. So I brought one home and charged up the battery for my trip.

Then 9/11 happened.

Amazingly, the trip was still on. We travelled on one of the very first flights out of Toronto on Saturday, September 15th when planes were allowed to fly again. Our five-hour flight to San Francisco wasn’t just quiet, it was solemn — punctuated only by an emotional thank-you from the United Airlines crew. At SFO we transferred to a 747 and were upgraded to Business Class. The luxury proved to be a much-needed distraction from the events of the previous week.

And now, back to the phone…

What I remember most about this particular handset was what happened immediately upon my arrival in Hong Kong. A signal was acquired without issue; in fact, I got a voicemail notification as our overseas flight from San Francisco was still taxiing up to the gate. The problem was that I couldn’t actually dial in to hear it, and thus couldn’t impress my colleagues with my globe-hopping connectivity on the go. This was still 2001, remember, and I was in the company of actors, not high-flying executives. I had to settle for a call to Fido customer service instead, and spent the next half hour complaining while on a bus into town. Fortunately, that call was free.

Though my T28w stayed with me for the duration of my two weeks in Asia I didn’t end up using it all that much. There was nothing particularly wrong with it, but thanks to Hong Kong’s advanced mobile culture I was about to discover the wonder of unlocked phones and bring home a rather expensive souvenir.

Here’s the Rogers version of my first-ever “world” phone, Ericsson’s T28w. I wanted to take Nokia’s 8890 with me to China & Singapore, but Fido wanted a thousand bucks for it.

You can read Steve Punter’s November, 2000 review of the T28w here.

And here’s yours truly in September, 2001 on a Hong Kong Ding Ding, calling a buddy back in Canada on my T28w. You can read about my first-ever comedy tour of China and Singapore on my blog.

The T18z, no less austere, easily passed my informal “cool enough for a gangster” test — like my StarTAC it also had a telescoping antenna that you could pull out with your teeth, John Travolta in Pulp Fiction-style. Another thing I liked was that it didn’t need a protective case. Being a semi-flip meant that the keypad was protected when not in use, and the monochrome screen was so tiny that the odds of it ever being scratched were slim to none. Also, a belt clip was built in to the back of the housing — not that I’d ever wear it on my belt; instead I displayed it proudly on my chest via the strap on my messenger bag, like a bike courier would. Never mind that I didn’t actually own a bike at the time.

The phone’s biggest drawback was its incredibly stiff keys which, when combined with the tiny screen, made texting a real chore. To combat this I found an interesting accessory, a snap-on qwerty keypad that Ericsson called the Chatboard. In theory it was a great idea, in practice not so much. The problem was one of weight distribution — to effectively text you had to hold the Chatboard with both thumbs, and the much heavier handset attached at the top had you constantly fighting the inevitable forces of gravity when using it.

A more usable accessory was the Mobile Office DI-27 — that is, an infrared modem. Snapping this on to the bottom of my T18z enabled me to compose texts on my Palm Pilot, then send them through the air to my phone and onwards to the recipients. Remember, this was still the year 2000; I can remember drawing an actual crowd when a buddy and I broke out our Palms and played a game of Battleship via an IrDA connection… We were gods that day.

The unfortunate thing about infrared was that you needed a line-of-sight connection, just like the remote for your TV. So sending and receiving texts using my Palm and Ericsson meant that both Ir ports had to be facing each other for the transfer to work. And the transfer speed was so slow that I most often had to lay both of them down on a flat surface and wait — hardly an optimal solution for handheld devices meant to be used on the move. Fortunately, there was something better just around the corner…

Here’s the North American version of Ericsson’s T18s — the T18z. You can read Steve Punter’s review from back in the day here.

The distinguishing feature of Fido‘s version was a built-in belt clip on the back of the housing. Of course I never clipped it my belt  — I was no biz-knob! Instead I put it right on my chest via the strap of my messenger bag, like a bike courier would. Never mind that I didn’t have a bike at the time…

Unfortunately the T18z was cursed with an incredibly stiff keypad. To combat this I bought a snap-on qwerty Chatboard, a solution that was only a semi-usable. Holding the Chatboard with both thumbs (for BlackBerry-style texting) wasn’t easy because the much heavier phone attached on top had you constantly fighting very noticeable forces of gravity.

I also ponied up for the “Mobile Office” accessory, basically an infra-red modem. This way I could use my Palm Pilot for texting, but to do so my phone and PDA had to maintain a line-of-sight connection — which meant laying down both of them on a flat surface. Not exactly convenient when on the move, but a neat proof of concept in a geeky kind of way.