This ultra-connected world we live in is really cool, isn’t it? Any information we could possibly want is literally at our fingertips: we get directions from Google Maps sent straight to our cell phones, our GPS devices ensure that we’re never lost (despite our best efforts) and the days of wondering what that actor’s name is, or what the lyric to that song actually was (Alex the Seal? What the hell does that mean?) are gone forever, replaced by just a few keystrokes at Google or Wikipedia.

Do you know the actual phone numbers of the people you call regularly? Or is that just saved in your cell phone? When you’re online, do you actually know your passwords, or are they auto-saved as well? Do you have a roadmap in your car, or a Thomas Guide? What would you do if you got lost without a cell phone or a GPS device? Have you ever stopped to think about how dependent we actually are on technology, and what we’d do if we suddenly lost it one day?

I think about it all the time, and I have considered trying my hand at writing a short SF story about what happens when all the technology we rely upon goes kaput one day. Because whenever anything bad happens to technology, the most correct way to describe it is “kaput.” I’m serious. Go look it up at Google, or go to the library and use the card catalog if you really want to see what I’m talking about.

If you don't have time to go to the library at the moment, keep reading: I unintentionally got to experience how it felt to be entirely “off the grid” and live a technology-free life for five days beginning last Thursday.

It was a hectic morning. I went out to Beverly Hills to shoot some video for FanLib, as part of this Star Trek fanfic contest I’m hosting (note that this contest wouldn’t exist without the Internet. That’s important). Traffic was miserable, so I didn’t get home until four hours after we’d planned to leave, and I still needed to ftp my book’s files to the printer. (Please note that, just ten years ago, I wouldn’t have been able to ftp a bunch of pdf files to a printer, who would use digital printing for my book. I would have to print everything out and ship it overnight. What took fifteen minutes last week would have taken at least 24 hours a decade ago). Shortly after I sent all the files to the printer, I hopped into the car with my wife, kids, and dogs, and headed up to Lake Tahoe one last family vacation together before Ryan goes to college in August.

I haven’t taken a real vacation in years, mostly because it’s hard for me to justify the cost (especially now that I have a kid going to college in about five weeks). It’s also hard for me to get away from the work I do online every single day, because I really do spend about half of my waking life connected to the Internets in some way. (Please note that I’m not complaining about this. About two months ago, I got together with some other full-time bloggers for drinks, and we all marveled at how we all had jobs that didn’t even exist when we were in high school, because the Internet wasn’t the massive series of tubes that it is today).

I didn’t know about the vacation until two days earlier, when my wife sprung it on me as a surprise (Pleae note: Wil hates surprises). I didn’t even want to take the vacation, citing the above reasons, but Anne pointed out that we haven’t had a family vacation in years, the kids will be out of the house before we know it, and, oh yeah, she worked her ass off for the last two months so we could afford the trip.

“Really?” I said.

“Yeah,” she smiled, “I didn’t think you’d notice because you were in Gotta Finish The Book Land.”

She was right, and I’m a sucker for my wife’s smile, so I scrambled like crazy to get five days of work done in two days, and just after 2:30 on Thursday, we were all in the family truckster, heading up the freeway.

Wednesday Night:

“I have to bring my laptop,” I told her while we were packing, “because I still have lots of work to do. I have a column to write, I need to work on my Geek in Review, I have my Netscape submissions to post, and I’m --”

“There will be wireless Internet near the cabin,” she said, “and you can get all your work done while we’re there. Don’t worry.”

I was skeptical, but she used the goddamn smile on me again.

“Okay,” I said.

When we got to the cabin, it quickly became clear that there wasn’t convenient wireless Internet; we were staying near Tahoma, on the West shore of the lake, and the closest WiFi was in Tahoe City, about ten minutes down the road.

I freaked out a little bit, and began to think of ways I could get online: walking around the neighborhood and hoping for an open access point seemed like a possibility. Driving into Tahoe City and buying a cellular wireless card was another.

Or . . . I could just let it go. None of my deadlines were until Wednesday, and we’d get home Monday night. I’d have a hellish day on Tuesday, to put it mildly, but I could still get everything done on time.

And I’d get to have the first real vacation I’ve had with my family in years, at a time when I needed a real vacation more than just about anything else in the world.

It wasn’t as easy a decision as you’d think, and I spent much of the first day we were up there going back and forth on it. It was during a game of over the line wiffle ball in the street that evening, breathing in clean mountain air, listening to the wind blow through the pines, when my son told me how much fun it was to play like this together that I made my choice. After about twelve hours of agonizing, I couldn’t believe I’d even spent one minute worrying about going off the grid.

By the end of the next day, I was happier and more relaxed than I’ve been in ages, and I think going entirely off the grid is why. Without the cell phone constantly ringing, without a pile of Bloglines subscriptions to read, without the constant drone of news and rapid fire influx of information I’ve come to take for granted as a constantly-connected guy, I could just relax and enjoy life. I could walk my dogs, take all the time I wanted to make meals, and play Othello with Ryan, without feeling like I should really be working.

I also got to enjoy the geeky things I did long before I fell down that damn series of Tubes (please note that it’s not like a truck) like finishing The Forever War, which I can’t believe I hadn’t read until now, and has assumed a place in my top ten science fiction books of all time. (Seriously. If you haven’t read it before now, or if you’ve only read anything other than The Author’s Preferred Edition, and you enjoy military or hard SF at all, you absolutely must pick it up. I am not ashamed to admit that parts of this book brought tears to my eyes.)

I also brought some geeky games along, including Ticket to Ride: Europe, which is just like Ticket To Ride, but fun, and with a skill element involved. Nolan and I convinced Anne to give it a try, and we had one of the most enjoyable game-playing evenings we’ve had since I introduced my family to Settlers of Catan.

There was a television, but I didn’t watch the news. My cell phone got such terrible reception, I just turned it off and left it off until we were driving back down toward Sacramento Monday morning. I lived a 1995 lifestyle for five days, and I loved every minute of it. (Please note that the only bit of modern technology I really missed was satellite or Internet radio, because even though we got a cool classic rock station from Reno, I got really tired of hearing Aerosmith’s Dream On after the eleventy billionth time on Saturday.)

When I got home, I talked to my dad on the phone. He’s a perfusionist, and spent just about every childhood vacation that I can recall chained to his beeper (it pre-dates the pager, kids. Ask your parents).

I told him how great the vacation was, because I left the Internet -- and all the other distractions that so frequently get between me and the people I love -- at home.

“You know how you’d sometimes get to leave the beeper at home, and we’d have a totally uninterrupted family vacation?” I said.

“Yes,” he said, “those were my favorite times when you guys were kids.”

“It was like that, only this time it was me without the beeper,” I said.

“It's great, isn't it?” He said.

“Yeah,” I said, "It really is.”

If you get a chance to go entirely offline, even if it’s only for a three-day weekend, do it. You may have to endure a hellish Tuesday, but I promise you, it’s entirely worth it.

Wil Wheaton had a hellish Tuesday. It was entirely worth it.