Free Creative Writing On Swimming In WI-FI

I am awash in a sea of electronic signals, grasping desperately for a lifeline I wish was there. From my home to my coffee shop, even to the place I buy my toiletries, my cell phone beeps with the promise of heaven. “Wi-fi connections available,” it says, its clarion call sending me into a gleeful conniption at the prospect of accessing the Internet. As I glance at all the other people, looking just as wantonly at their iPhones, down the street or in the Target, I feel myself understanding more and more that, just as I sink from the gaze of others into my cell phone screen, I am now totally free.
Sometimes I like to imagine the search for wi-fi as the romantic chase in a busy bar – just as I look from person to person, sizing them up, looking for rings on their fingers, seeing if they are available, or if they match their gaze, I swipe from hotspot to hotspot on my phone. I see the little padlock next to the wavy three-line symbol, it’s as if that attractive person two tables down from me has flashed their ring, or given me a nasty look. I consider them out of bounds, or otherwise inaccessible. However, if that one handsome person looks across the bar at me – bingo! They’re unsecured! I can log on without even needing a password!
Once I recognized the search for wi-fi was not unlike the search for a lover, I found myself taking the same sort of zeal and glee I had in the latter in my work in the former. Even after a while, I started to recognize in myself the lust for free wi-fi, unfettered by a knowledgeable administrator or a middle-aged man with a password as simple as ‘password’ or ‘1234.’ In hacking into these new hotspots, I found myself an electronic adulterer, an ingénue of the Internet cheating on people who placed their trust in me not to take advantage of their naivete. With every unsecured wi-fi network I leeched, I grew more powerful, but still more guilty. Who was I to take advantage of these lovely, innocent people?
However, thinking about it, I found myself lacking any sort of sympathy for them. If they cared as much about their wi-fi as I did, after all, they’d take care of it better. They’d shower it with affection and secure it with more than empty promises and the name of their childhood cat (it’s always Muffy, by the way). The way I see it? I’m showing these networks a better time than their masters ever could. No boring checking of their Yahoo mail accounts for me; instead, it’s all extreme videos on Youtube, crazy podcasts like Serial, news feeds from the Drudge Report – all the taboo things that they’ve been promised but their real masters cannot provide.
With my own impropriety, I open the world of wi-fi up to do my bidding. I become its new master now, networks throwing themselves at my feet, granting me unfettered access to all of their dark corners. As long as people refuse to take care of them, and give them the TLC they deserve, I’ll be waiting – hoping and praying that those who own them do not wise up and catch me with my pants down.