A ship is safe in harbor, but that's not what ships are for.
—William G. T. Shedd
At a crowded restaurant in New York City a number of years ago, the maître d', a cultured, older man with silver hair and an air of confidence, recognized the couple, warmly acknowledged them, and heartily shook their hands as he walked them to a reserved table in a quiet corner of a busy room. He stayed for a few moments, telling them it was wonderful to see them again, and asked what they would like to drink. Before leaving the table, he again said how good it was to see them, and shook hands once more. After dinner the couple was preparing to leave. The restaurant by this time was quiet, the evening nearly over. As they pushed back from the table, the maître d' came and stood before them. With a broad smile and a sparkle in his eye, he said, “Perhaps you would like to have your watch back. It is a very fine piece.” The diner looked at his wrist. There was no watch strapped to it, and a look of amusement crossed his face. “I had no idea,” he said. “How?” Grinning, the maître d' said, “Don't feel badly. Nobody ever notices.” Then, as if he were reflecting on another place and time, his smile faded, and he said soberly, “I wasn't always a waiter.”
In that same way, mobile devices disappear. As noted previously, mobile devices are, well, mobile, and they're more apt ...