It was just too much to friggin' hope for. When I clicked download, I told myself, "Don't get your hopes up. You know it will never happen so don't be disappointed when it doesn't. If it does transfer, you'll be pleasantly surprised". Yeah, right. It's a common thing these days, being on the web. You view/download web pages like this one, you exchange email, you read the news, or maybe you chat online. You expect a certain amount of reliability in the technology underlying your activities.
And if you're like most of us, you take it for granted. You don't think about the advanced engineering technology of your automobile when you're dripping special sauce onto your lap while eating your Big Mac running a lunchtime errand to the pharmacy because you ran out of ibuprofen last night after listening to your mate bitching for three hours about the back-stabbing co-worker getting a bigger raise and your fucking head is still throbbing.
You don't think about it until your car magically won't start. Then all the other stresses become instantly secondary. The top-of-the-line car audio system with the XM satellite radio that made you finally cave in at the dealership to that middle-aged nasally-voiced lying weasel with the bad comb-over to buy the car doesn't even enter your mind because your fucking head is still throbbing and the car won't start. You get neandrethal. Zog make fire! Zog know! Zog check battery!
The same is true with whatever form of digital masturbation in which you prefer to participate online. If you've used computers long enough, you've seen the blue screen of death (BSOD). If you haven't yet, you will. Maybe you've seen a co-worker or friend turn into Zog when some program locks up their computer, or maybe turn into a whining little bitch when their report won't print out, or better yet when 'the network is down', they turn into a torch and pitchfork-wielding peasant running through the village of office cubicles screaming at others to join them in the mob on its way to storm the castle Franken-technology department.
Me? I turn into the 2001: Space Odyssey Zog, throwing the leg bone of a fresh kill on the savannah through the air while classical music plays in my mind like Hannibal Lekter bashing in Sargeant Pembrey's skull with a nightstick while blood splatters all over my face because HAL won't open the fucking pod bay doors. I turn into this Zog when I'm using the dialup modem technology that has been unreliable and annoying since an Imajica BBS user back in the D-A-Y used a 2400 baud modem to download a jpg of some amateur pornstar dressed like a cheerleader getting it up the ass with a 12-inch pulsating purple dildo because his fat wife is getting old and never did like anal sex.
So, anyway ...
All I wanted to do was download this Quake 3 map and check it out. After waiting very patiently for over an hour-and-a-half, like the 2400 baud modem using accountant waiting for his cheerleader, I sat down in front of the PC and said to myself, "Wow! It's almost done -- 11 MBs transferred". So, not wanting to do anything else online to disturb its steady progress, I scrolled up and re-read the ..::LvL reviews already displayed in another window, which took several minutes, and then decided to pass some more time playing a few games of freecell on the local desktop. I glanced down at the minimized FilePlanet transfer window indicating 97% done. I got so excited. I closed the freecell game. 98% percent done. I took a sip of coffee. I felt my anticipation of hearing the file transfer complete sound like an over-sexed teenager with a raging hard-on copping the first feel of his girlfriend's breast in the backseat his dad's car parked in a quiet suburban cul-de-sac waiting to hear, "Yes, I'll fuck you".
Just then my connection dropped.