I am a loyal vassal of Lord Steve. Even after his death, I follow his orders explicitly.
Dutifully, at exactly 12:01 AM on September 20, 2013, I ordered my iPhone 5S, color “space grey,” on the Apple site. It was slated for arrival September 26, but arrived one day early at my house. That’s what happens when you are loyal to Lord Steve. (Also, you get numerous emails such as… “Your iPhone is in Dong Ding, China.” “Your iPhone has left Dong Ding, China.” ”Your iPhone is in Anchorage, Alaska, freezing its butt off.” ”Your iPhone has just gotten a ticket on the Ventura Freeway and will be delayed, etc.” Then, finally, “Your iPhone is here. Answer the door, you idiot!”)
And so you do. You immediately, drop everything, rush to the door, pull the box apart (stopping a mini-second to admire the smashing dee-sign) and fire it up. Even if there were nuclear war, that’s what you do. Remember this 1980 cartoon? In 2013 she’d be holding an iPhone (and don’t give me any of your Android lip).
So no sooner did the UPS guy bring my anointed 5S (it was “space grey” — I stayed away from the gold/champagne thing lest my enemies get the idea I was moving to Palm Springs and celebrate), than I pressed the familiar button (these things haven’t changed in a decade after all) and off I went.
At which point… things… slowed…to….a………..crawl…. then…..a……………..halt.
What was up? My brand new iPhone wasn’t working. And Steve was dead.
Turns out I made a mistake. I was restoring my phone from the “cloud” — at the same moment about fourteen million people were doing the same thing, not to mention another seventy-eight million in Guangzhou — instead of using iTunes like any doofus with an IQ in triple digits. But soon enough things loosened and by morning (well, late morning) my new iPhone was ready to go. (“Why do you have so many apps?” my wife and daughter always asked. Well, now I don’t. I learned.)