Editorial: Numerical Irrelevance

On December 9, 2012 · 19 Comments

Fair warning, this article contains opinions and editorial content. You’re welcome to continue reading or come back in a couple of days when I return to the more traditional mix of geo-oddities and weird locations.

A note to myself in the Year 2050 (assuming I’m still writing 12MC, and alive, preferably both… although writing from the grave might be interesting too): "write an article about how there was once a time when people used a geographically-based numerical string to communicate over long distances."


I’ll focus on the North American Numbering Plan because I have a passing familiarity with it, although parallels could certainly be drawn to other numbering plans beyond the continent.

The first three digits are known as a "numbering plan area" or NPA. An analogous designation more familiar to the general public is "Area Code" so I’ll use that term throughout the remainder of this article. The next three digits are the NXX, or the exchange (NXX isn’t actually an acronym, it represents specific numerical characteristics).


Area code VA
Wikimedia Commons via Creative Commons Attribution-ShareAlike 3.0 Unported (CC BY-SA 3.0)

Let’s use my beloved Commonwealth to consider the complexity that evolved over time. Virginia once had a single area code, 703. Population increases along with device accretion, particularly the rise of mobile devices, resulted in ever-increasing territorial divisions. It also necessitated bizarre "overlay" area codes when it became too difficult to keep slicing the map and making people adjust to new numbers every few years.

It doesn’t matter. It will be completely irrelevant soon enough.

The NXX portion of a telephone number, the exchange, still retains a geographic identity although it’s gone underground. It was once very visible. The Glenn Miller Orchestra popularized a composition by Jerry Gray in 1940 called PEnnsylvania 6-5000, as an example. It was the telephone number of the Hotel Pennsylvania in New York City. You’ll probably recognize the song even though it was released long before most of us were born (listen on YouTube). The hotel continues to exist although the number converted to the much less memorable 736-5000 generations ago.

Where am I going with this? Right. Just like nobody really cares or consideres that telephone exchanges are physical places — except perhaps from an historical or nostalgic perspective — the same will soon be true for area codes. I started noticing this probably about three to five years ago. It’s hard for me to pin down a date exactly because it’s been such a gradual movement.

Employers that wish to remain relevant recognize a need to refresh and replenish their workforces. Many of these are newly-graduating students from colleges and universities. My employer, and probably many of yours, recruits actively on university campuses. We gain a steady stream of entry-level professionals each summer who quickly blend into the group, bringing fresh perspectives and influencing new approaches. My organization has a critical mission that has to continue regardless of weather conditions or other external factors so we’ve developed multiple ways to communicate, including sharing personal telephone numbers as a contingency. That’s where I first noticed the trend as it grew.

Newer employees, all living within the Washington, DC area, had "home" phone numbers with unusual area codes. When I’d ask, since I’m a curious sort because I’m a bit of a telecom geek, they’d invariably tie it back to a mobile phone number they’d retained since high school or college. For them the area code long-ago transitioned in meaning. It became a geographic signifier of a formative point in their life (much like a Social Security Number) rather than a reflection of a current place.

They don’t have home phones. The logic: Why would anyone want a device tied to a place instead of a person? That’s no grand revelation, either. Many of us have given up our home phones. The revelation may be that we’re getting close to a tipping point where enough people will have relocated, taking their numbers with them, to effectively disassociate area code from geography.

That’s not true solely for mobile phones either. I don’t have a black plastic box with a handset and a keypad on my desk while I work. We all use Cisco IP phones that replicate the functions of traditional telephones within a computer desktop. I can work from an office, from home, from a hotel or wherever I choose and nobody calling me can tell the difference. I plug a headset into a USB port on a device loaded with the necessary software and the network finds me. We even have remote workers who telework from their homes full-time in locations all around the country and they all have "Northern Virginia" area codes served by IP phones.

Telephones are going the way of the dinosaur anyway although that’s probably a conversation for a different day. Chat, video and collaboration tools are all eating into telephone usage. My work phone rings maybe once or twice a week now and I’m a bit annoyed when it happens: "why are they calling?"

So area codes are becoming irrelevant as geographic identifiers, and telephones are becoming irrelevant as a primary means of long-distance communication. I imagine a day in the not too distant future where each of us will have a cute unique identifier that bounces off some central registry somewhere. It will allow people to communicate with us using whatever method seems most appropriate for that specific conversation (including something as quaint and antiquated as a voice call if that’s what they want). The inegrated chat/phone/video function of GMail already operate similarly although I see something more global, less proprietary. It would work much like how domain name servers operate today where it’s easier to remember twelvemilecircle.com than a big string of seemingly random numbers.

Goodbye, area code. Your (user visible) days are numbered.

Cheesy Orlando

On May 4, 2010 · 1 Comments

I’m now at the fourth Orlando described on my previous article and settling in for the week. It was viciously hot in Florida yesterday afternoon when I first arrived, 93° f. / 34° c., but I did manage to get outside and walk about some local sights such as they were. I’m based in the International Drive area. It’s not the most attractive spot nor the most pedestrian-friendly, but there are lots of hotels here and nothing is too far away by suburban sprawl standards. Let’s head outside and stretch our legs.



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There’s no sidewalk from my hotel to International Drive as I cut through several parking lots to avoid being hit. There’s no shade either. It gets a little better up on the main road, though.


Large Crustacean on a Volkswagen Beetle

Now it feels like Orlando. Nothing says tacky tourist spot like a giant crustacean perched atop a Volkswagen Beetle. Somehow I imagine this lobster experience would be a bit different than the one I encountered last Summer.


Goofy Golf with a Tiki Theme

Oh, nothing says tacky tourist spot more than a giant crustacean except maybe a miniature golf course presented in a Tiki theme. Has anyone ever seen a miniature golf course somewhere other than a place where tourists like to congregate? They always remind me of going to the boardwalk along a beach during my childhood days. There aren’t too many players on a day like this, though. People are wilting.

I met a guy from Edinburgh, Scotland while we waited for the hotel elevator. He was completely flushed with a beet-red face after a full day touring SeaWorld with his family. He explained that it was only 12° c. "back home" and after I quickly did the math in my head I understood why he was having trouble dealing with the situation here in Central Florida. I was having trouble myself and I was already somewhat acclimated.


Building Flipped Updside-Down

Did I say the crustacean and the goofy golf won the tourist prize? No, I think it may be the upside-down building that houses a place called WonderWorks. It certainly does catch one’s attention.

It’s an eerie time to be down here. Spring Break for the children has ended but Summer vacation hasn’t yet started. Everything seems to be about a quarter full; the hotels, the attractions, the roads. I’m not sure if the general state of the economy has contributed to the feeling either, but I’ve stayed along International Drive several times and I don’t think it’s ever felt so empty to me before.


Public Phones have Vanished

This has nothing to do with tourism and everything to do with my strange fascinations. Is anything quite so forlorn as the graphic evidence of the demise of the public telephone? Here is an entire alcove once set aside for that purpose completely abandoned, every phone ripped from the wall. My children will tell their children that once-upon-a-time someone could find a device hardwired into a wall, drop a coin (another object not long for this world) into a slot and make a call. The irony was not lost on me, by the way, as I snapped a photo with my mobile phone, uploaded the image to my Gmail account, pulled it over into WordPress, and published it to the world via a blog that most people view using an rss feed subscriber. I’m not mourning the loss of the public telephone, just feeling a bit nostalgic as I consider that every day we all get a bit older and the world constantly evolves.

Thanks for all of the suggestions I’ve received both as comments and personal emails for Orlando geo-oddity sightseeing opportunities. I’m a bit limited by time and distance but I’ll see what I can do to salvage some interesting experiences after work-hours this week. Please post more suggestions if you have them.

Washington DC Area’s Last Phone Booth

On November 22, 2007 · 1 Comments

NOTE: This article was originally posted in November 2007. The phone booth has since been removed.

Sometimes changing technology can impact the landscape around it. Strange Geography notes the looming passage of an era: Washingtonpost.com reports today on the Washington DC area’s last public phone booth. Apparently none of us noticed as these iconic structures slowly slipped away. So where is this outdated structure located?



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As the article aptly describes,

It’s missing a front door and a plastic pane or two. The phone books are long gone. But there’s still a dial tone, and you can still make a call. It’s a Washington monument of sorts, the last known working public phone booth in the region and one of only a handful left in the United States. Even in this everyone’s-got-a-cellphone era, people step into the 1970s booth in Arlington County several times a day to make a call. Officials at Verizon Communications say about five calls a day are made from the booth in Clarendon, which is just like the kind Superman used to duck into. But time might be running out for this relic. If the phone booth needs replacing, it’s, well, history.

What is unstated in the article is that this phone booth sits right next to a large Verizon building known as the 10th & Irving Switch. It’s the radiation point for all local loops, DSL and Broadband services in the Clarendon section of Arlington County, Virginia and surrounding neighborhoods. I’m guessing that nostalgia has something to do with the survival of this lone sentinel. Even the building is a relic of the past. It was designed for a time when telecommunications equipment was large and bulky. When peering through a window, one can see rack after empty rack inside. Digital equipment takes up much less space and so much of the building sits idle, quietly aging. Visit while you can before it goes the way of the dinosaurs.

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12 Mile Circle:
An Appreciation of Unusual Places
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