The Downside of the Digital Age

It's 6am. I'm surrounded by other early risers, sitting on beach chairs, blankets or, like me, a sidewalk that reeks faintly of pee.

Homeless people sleep sitting up on metal benches enjoying the last moments of peace before noisy crowds gather at the weekly farmer's market. One man severs the quiet as he pushes a squeaky shopping cart filled with his soiled possessions.

Some of us are listening to headphones, sipping coffee from paper cups, reading the paper, perusing scripts (this is LA). All of us are waiting for the new iPhone.

I am number 9. Numbers 1, 2, and 3 arrived at 3am. Last night, we saw the"green light" on Apple's website indicating new phones were in. The man in front of me tells me that if the green light is on it means they have at least 10 phones. So I'm good.

I've come a long way since yesterday when I showed up at 9am thinking I was smart to arrive a good hour before the store's opening. Little did I know that under these trying, iPhone deprived times, the store opened at 8am. Phones were sold out by 8:15.

My saga began over the weekend at BlogHer. I normally keep my phone in my purse but being away from my natural habitat, in noisy ballrooms and conferences, I put my phone in my back pocket on vibrate. During a bathroom break, when the phone hit the water before anything else, I quickly realized this was not a good idea.

I won't bore anyone (too much) by telling you of the depressing and frustrating afternoon that followed as I ran around the city in search of a new iPhone EXCEPT to say that after waiting over an hour at the Apple store the man in front of me purchased the very LAST iPhone in stock. I offered up my desperate story of a mother in a faraway city cut off from the two, young children she loved so dearly (I also flirted and offered up sexual favors) but he opted for the phone instead. I won't bore you (too much) by telling you of the lost night of camaraderie and mayhem (one that I'd looked forward to for months) as I ate room service food alone because I no longer had the phone numbers of new friends and could not fit shoes over my blistered and swollen feet.

So, here I am, days later, my ass on piss-covered cement, a savvy iPhone connoisseur, the early bird who catches the worm. Everyone around me has their own war stories. Two people arrived at stores before sunrise the day before, numbers 26 and 30 on line, to learn upon the store's opening that only 25 phones came in. Justin, the absolutely beautiful guy seated next to me (I coveted this guy's complexion) had camped out overnight in a less desirable part of town for the honor of being one of the first to own the new iPhone. A few days ago, someone stole it.

All of a sudden my saga lost it's edge. Like going to an Ivy League school after graduating valedictorian only to swim in a huge sea of other valedictorians.

Joggers, business people, police took pity on us, were curious about us. One even thought we were part of a movie shoot (I said this was LA). Annoying people joined the line breaking our sense of community (however temporary). A chain smoker accosted our fragile morning senses, a man continuously cracked the silence by scolding his (not too) wayward Yorkie.

By 7:30am, over a hundred people lined up. The empty streets were now peppered with people on their way to work and Starbucks. The homeless were camouflaged by business suits, bicycles, and laptops.

Apple was gracious as they handed out bottled water, gave friendly advice, and made an inconvenient situation tolerable, even enjoyable.

By 10:30am, I had my new iPhone synced up and ready to go. My contacts, calendar, music, podcasts - everything - was once again portable and in my hot little hand.

I felt like me again.



*I would have shown you my own pictures of this morning's adventure but I took them on my temporary phone and once the iPhone was activated I could no longer transfer them. Oh well, small price to pay.

**photos courtesy of Google Images