Editors Note:


EDITOR'S NOTE: Fresh off a three year managerial stint, your friendly neighborhood lenslinger is back on the street and under heavy deadline. As the numbing effects of his self-imposed containment wear off, vexing reflections and pithy epistles are sure to follow...

Friday, June 29, 2007

Jonesing for an iPhone

I Phone BluesWith a Molly Hatchet 8-Track still in my glove compartment, I'm no early adopter. But thanks to the camera on my shoulder, I do get access to the latest gadgets and silliest of trends. From PS2 to Y2K - I've profiled, previewed and pimped 'em all. Today, it was the iPhone's turn. But it almost didn't happen. All day long a series of top secret calls were placed above my paygrade, requests made, embargoes cited. By half past three this afternoon, I figured negotiations had broken off. That's when my hip began vibrating. Ten minutes later I pushed my way past a clutch of smug technogeeks camped outside an utterly forgettable AT&T store. Inside, the harried manager whsiked me to a back stockroom, where a man from Cupertino sat waiting quietly in the shadows. His face I couldn't really see, but his name tag read iCarl. Weird, that.

He spoke little and when he did, it was mostly platitudes. Setting up my tripod, I kinda stopped listening as he half-babbled hackneyed Apple mantras. Not until he whipped his shiny widget out and waved it around, did this man with no face hold me and my dusty camera entranced. That's no easy feat; I catnap at hurricanes. But I was smiiten and riveted the very moment my key-light bounced off this space age Zippo. Just as it did, iCarl barked liks a dolphin and the damn thing glimmered to life. I jumped and jiggered my shot, before collecting myself and tweaking my focus. Images danced on its oblong screen and boops and beeps burbled as it bathed the man's hand in warm gold light. I swear I even smelled fresh baked brownies too, but that may have been wishful thinking. Either way, I stared at the ballyhooed contraption like it was father's lost lightsaber, until it flashed the time and I realized my breathless report was due to air in two short hours. With a start I dropped my sticks and prepared to go, until it occured to me to ask a favor.

"Hey, think you could dial up a websi--" Before I could finished the sentence the omniscient doohickey sensed my intention and shone its answer in glorious Viewfinder Blue. I swear I'm gettin' of those things... right after I upgrade my Walkman.

4 comments:

joey said...

imagine - a web full of portable porn in your pocket! i want one of those...

FlutePrayer said...

Very slick!

in-gun-ear said...

Ah, the Internet is overrated!

cadencefilm said...

i faced the same security maglock when i asked (craning my neck around the two large off-duty officers blocking the ATT store's door) a clerk if i could squeeze in and fire off some shots of the gizmo and those buying it as they came into the store. with the response i got, you'd have thought i'd asked for a one on one interview with the president on a street corner on the west side of detroit.