Sitting in this waiting room at UAMS I can see several people on their phones.
Not talking on their phones but I can see them making familiar swiping finger movements.
You think you are above the influence but you're not. No one seems to be too professional, too busy, too poor or too rich to crush these candies.
It is a cultural phenomenon. Tshirts, pillows coming soon. It is more important than Angry Birds.
The most Internet savvy are humbling themselves to connect the app through Facebook in order to beg friends and family for the gift of five more minutes of crushing time.
My phone's iMessage and most apps were out of commission for a while from setting my phone's date and time so far ahead to get my life allowance early, the alternative exposing yourself to your followers as a candy crusher for another chance at level 68.
In a manic phase my phone was useless beyond crushing candies.
I promise it's not just me. Ask someone - your attorney, county judge, doctor, sister with six kids, the Governor of Arkansas.
Two nights ago I tweeted about the game and Gov. Mike Beebe's account favorited the tweet.
I asked our production manager what level he was on and was blown away when it was much higher than my current level.
"How do you have time?!"
The rumor around town is that former JP Lauralee Wilcox-McCool is on a level in the 300s.
A while back a professional twitter account for a businessman in town was the chosen place to rage about an impossible level.
I may not be selling Candy Crush to you non-users by talking about how frustrating the game can be.
But you don't understand the satisfaction of combining a sprinkle donut with a striped hard candy, or what it feels like to finally bring all the ingredients down on the last move in a level that has held your fingers and eyes prisoner for many wasted hours.
I've been on level 68 for two weeks.