:: LAPTOP Magazine • A Night in the Box :::
12 a.m.: Just passed the six-hour mark, and I can already feel myself running on fumes. Spent 45 minutes at the children’s game table, getting way to into a haunted house I-spy game, mumbling angrily to myself at all of the pieces I can't find when I am approached by a gentleman named Shlomo, who is working on a story for The New York Sun. He is writing a story exploring exactly what sort of person would spend the middle of the night browsing the Apple store.
Running into Shlomo over the next three hours, I debate whether he is a figment of my imagination, some kind of magic journalism pixie in a baseball cap. Every time I pass him, I wave and say "Hi," really loudly, like the sleep-deprived lunatic that I am. If The New York Sun story mentions a man in a black hoodie, screaming and flailing his limbs, it's not some over-enthusiastic fanboy pumped about the forthcoming release of OS X Leopard—well, it kind of is, but that’s not the reason he's yelling.
1:16 AM
Dilettante Archives