The call about Michael Phelps' car accident on Calvert Street crackled over the newsroom police radio as I was about to leave work Thursday night. My first thought was, when I get home, I'll have to go online and see what happened.
But then, a moment of clarity, a sense of the absurdity: I was going to get on my computer to see what was happening on a street corner just several blocks from where I was standing?
When did the real world become a place for people who can't handle the Internet?
As much to strike a blow for all that is nondigital as to feed my curiosity, as much as for the sake of experiencing something other than what is clickable or linkable, I headed out into - eek - the real world to check out for myself what happened.
It didn't take long to remember why going online is so seductive. You don't have to look for parking. The police don't throw up a perimeter of yellow tape to keep you at bay. There's no air conditioning outside.
But even more than that, online, there's a constant stream of words, pictures, video, random shiny, sparkly objects. I've wasted no small amount of time lost in its distractions, following one link after another until I'm so far gone from my initial search that I've forgotten what I went online for.
Now though I've learned - online, of course, in an article on Slate - that it's really not my fault. (I like when it turns out that way!)
A brain researcher has determined that we have this intrinsic, dopamine-fueled need to seek out new and interesting bits of information. Which, of course, is why the Internet is so addictive.
So even as I was headed up Calvert Street to see where Phelps had gotten into an accident, the tweets were piling up, and photos and videos were landing on various gossip and celebrity Web sites.
When I checked the next day, there were pages upon pages of tweets: how Phelps ran a red light at 50 mph, jokes about bongs and weed and such, even the rumor, quickly and roundly dispelled, that he had been killed in the crash. Many of the tweets and links led to Perez Hilton's Web site, which claimed to be first online with the news.
Everyone knows - or do they? - that being first doesn't mean being right. Police would ultimately determine that Phelps had the light, wasn't speeding, was sober and, yes, very much alive.
Still, looking at what was going on online while I was out in Mount Vernon, it all seemed much more breathlessly exciting than, well, real life.
