This is the Pixel prison: I can check out any time, but I can never leave

October 2017: Google announced the Pixel 2 XL, and I spent a couple of days jumping through hoops trying to order the phone’s panda version to ship to Lebanon. My first few orders didn’t go through because the Google Store was refusing my Lebanese credit card, so I switched to Amazon, got the black version since the panda one was out of stock, and shipped the phone to my US forwarding address. Then, on top of the local US taxes, I paid the shipping and import fees to forward the phone to Lebanon and register it on my local network.

It cost me about $300 extra and took several weeks to land in my hand, but I did not regret the long wait, hurdles, or extra expense. Forget the dull display or the chunky forehead and chin; the Pixel 2 XL was the best Android phone I’d used in years and the best camera I’d ever experienced on Android.

I was already writing about Android and Google at the time, so importing a Pixel was both a personal and business decision. Personal because I had briefly tested Nexus phones and really liked stock Android; Google’s cleaner approach was much closer to that than the Samsung, HTC, and LG phones directly available to me in Lebanon. And business because I really needed that phone to stay on top of everything new in Android and Google Land in order to, well, keep my job.

A year later, when the Pixel 3 series was announced, I decided to skip it. My Pixel 2 XL was still getting most of the updates and features, so I saved some dollars and forged on.

In 2019, I went through the same hoops to get the Pixel 4 XL. Soli aside; this was a significant upgrade over my 2 XL. I loved the astrophotography mode, better display, more efficient processor, facial recognition, and faster charging. Then, in April or May 2020, I dropped the phone and ended up with a tiny smash in the display right between the case and protector (I’d taken all the precautions, and still!). That smash caused a spider crack through the entire bottom half of my phone’s glass, but luckily, the actual display was unaffected. Every pixel on my Pixel still worked.

With no Pixel repair in Lebanon and the whole world being closed up, I had no choice but to keep my cracked Pixel 4 XL, and after a while, I stopped seeing those reflective smashed glass lines. When the Pixel 5 was announced at a lower price and with a smaller size, I couldn’t help but succumb to the temptation of a brand new Pixel and display, so I imported it again. The timing was risky; it took even longer to clear customs during the worldwide mess that was October-November 2020, but I didn’t regret that choice either.

A year later, I was living in France, a country where Google has an official store and presence. So I found myself with a Pixel 6 Pro, the first Google Tensor-powered phone with all of the benefits and all of the connectivity issues that came packaged with it. The Pixel 7 Pro followed, and even my husband pre-ordered that one — his first Pixel. Then I got the Pixel 8 Pro, which has been my main phone for the past 10 months. Meanwhile, I’ve also tested the Pixel 6a, 7a, 8a, 7, 8, and Fold too. Not every one of these has been perfect, as our Pixel ranking guide shows, but something kept pulling me back despite the issues.

The Pixel 2 XL sucked me in back in 2017, and I’ve been a Pixel user since. And in a few days, when the Pixel 9 Pro launches, I will get it and I will use it because I have no other choice. This is the Pixel prison, my Pixel prison.

I could lie and tell you that my job demands that I use Google’s latest and greatest to stay on top of everything Android. But the truth is that my Android Authority colleagues use a lot of non-Pixel Android phones and still do their jobs. As a matter of fact, my boss would very much like me to use other phones, and I have a Galaxy S24 Ultra, iPhone 13 Pro Max, Nothing Phone 2, plus a few more phones on my desk right now. I’ve used them, I’ve extensively tested them, I’ve dug into their software to see what they offer and all the unique features they bring to Android. But my SIM card somehow, magically, inadvertently, lands back into the Pixel 8 Pro every single time.

At this point, it’s no longer a business decision; it’s a personal one. I really, really like the Pixel experience. It just works for me. The same way my iMac works for me, and my Pixel Watch 2, Kindle Scribe, and Nothing Ear. There are tech products that transcend their spec sheet and the sum of their features; they just work. For you. And with you. These are the tech products that don’t fight me or try to mold my usage to fit their needs. And Pixel phones just fit in that category for me, in that seamless harmony between my needs, the way my brain works, and the way their features are designed.

Over the years, my Pixel phones have made me a better photographer, and I’ve got nothing but praise for all of my Pixel photos, be it landscapes, buildings, people, or concerts. Pixels have fixed the group shots where one person had their eyes closed or looked awkward. They’ve helped me escape the few telemarketers and spam calls that skate the rigid French/EU privacy laws. They’ve told me my gate number and luggage pick-up while traveling. They’ve helped me find all the songs playing near me on multiple occasions. They’ve let me copy text and images from apps that don’t allow you to select apps or images. They’ve recorded my many meetings and given me written transcripts. And on and on and on.

Almost every Pixel-only feature has been useful to me in everyday life — something I can’t say about Samsung, Xiaomi, Nothing, or other Android skins.

I know I’ve complained about Pixels and Google’s services, products, and decisions a thousand times in the past decade or so. But these complaints come from a place of love and passion. I just want Pixels to be even better. Because if I’m stuck in this prison, it might as well be the best prison.

So, over the next few days, you’ll find me twiddling my thumbs, hoping that the Pixel 9 Pro is as good as I expect it to be, and waiting for it — probably the small one — to land in my hand. That’s unavoidable. And I’ll write another thousand articles praising it and a thousand more complaining about it. That, also, is unavoidable.

Prisoner hands graphic – Image by Vectorportal.com, CC BY