The best Rogers would do after my iPhone was stolen was to replace it with a refurbished first-generation iPhone for $450.
“I could buy an iPad for another $50!” I told them.
So I did.
It wasn’t my plan to become an early adapter, but since I was in San Francisco when the iPad was launched, I figured what the hell. I’ve been defending my purchase ever since.
“Does it have a camera?” my friend, the Jewish mother, asks.
“Does it have a phone?”
“Can you roll a joint on it?”
“No. It will be great for watching porn once Apple comes up with a substitute for Flash,” I point out.
“What is technology for if not viewing porn?” my friend replied.
It seemed like all my gay friends were determined to hate the damn thing. So much so that I was afraid to go out in public with it for fear of being ridiculed. Until I nonchalantly told a friend I owned one while we were in line for coffee.
“Did you just say you own an iPad? And you don’t have it with you? Don’t you realize what kind of status symbol you have? In the gay realm an iPad is the electronic equivalent of a French Bulldog!”
To be honest, I never intended for the iPad to leave my apartment. After being broken into as well as having my precious iPhone stolen, I wasn’t sure I even wanted people knowing I owned one. However, it’s not often I get to be the cool kid on the block, so I gave it a go.
Being an early adapter of the iPad is sort of like being a celebrity in Canada: people will go out of their way not to look at you.
As I flipped through a comic book I could see guys raising their eyes above their Tonka trucks posing as laptops. As soon as I looked their way they would go right back to what they were doing. I have the same problem in bars. Instead of a man-magnet, my iPad is nearly as bad as having herpes.
The only guy who asked to look at my iPad was a gay senior. Again, he asked if it does this, this and that. Again, I told him no.
“It doesn’t really do anything,” I said. “I just like it.”
The senior said he had just bought an iPod touch and asked me if I would show him some apps. Before long, I was showing him how to set his password and import pictures and music.
Turns out I was never meant to be the cool kid on the block. Instead, I’m doomed to be the neighbourhood IT guy.