There is a certain pleasure, and a little horror, in succumbing, which is just what I did yesterday when I swiped my credit card for my own iPod Mini. I'd resisted mightily -- as much as one can while surreptitiously searching eBay for good deals on used models -- clingingly pathetically to my two-year old iRiver MP3 player that had devolved into playing 13 songs. The same 13 songs, with no hope of ever changing them out.
I opted out of the easy, antiseptic online purchase and drove to the Apple Store at the mall. It was everything I expected -- an orgy of minimalism with black t-shirted hipters with headsets buzzing about, stroking their just-scraggly-enough facial hair and requisite one piercing. The customers at noon on a Thursday proved Apple is hitting a chord, as older folks mingled with professionals, teen-agers and soccer moms, jostling for a chance to play with iMacs and iPods.
I'd researched what I wanted online and gone so far as to personalize my mini before realizing I could get the same thing, sans laser-engraving, by going to the store. And I wouldn't have to wait five days.
Finding what I wanted was easy and I picked up the armband I wanted and stood in line. Of the four ``registers'' (souped-up Macs, natch), one was occupied by a hipster cashier who was helping a customer who apparently needed extensive documentation to complete the purchase. I was alone in line, at the end of an airport security-like maze to keep the peace when the store was more crowded.
Black t-shirts milled about, sometimes helping a customer, but mostly congregating in small groups with one another. Occasionally one would glance my way, I would force eye contact and they would look away and pretend to be busy. Could they tell I was reluctantly joining their cult? Could they sense the PC at home on our desk?
Finally, someone ambled over to the far register/Mac and waved me over. After I put up no fight over buying another accessory, a wall charger, I was done. And I owned a Mac for the first time in my adult life. I am forever changed. NEXT: Wherein our hero shamelessly embraces the iPod and makes crazy statements about joining the cult.