The Smile on My Mac people were having a get together last night, in a tiny, sweet little house that must cost a fortune, buried in downtown San Francisco. Getting there involved a cab, a VERY steep hill, a nearly hidden iron gate, a steep flight of brick stairs, and a path through an overgrown garden (in the dark gardens are always overgrown).
The people there were very sweet, and very nice, even though we all spent a great deal of time eying one another and wondering who the hell everyone was and what we were doing there. (Except for Shawn, of course, because everyone knows Shawn.)
Then John and I tried not to fall down the steep hill, managed to catch a cab, and headed over to the Beale(sp?) Street bar for the Mac Managers party. I never knew that Mac Geeks were so LOUD. It was wall to wall geekdom, let loose from its natural habitat and gorging on fried food and free beer. If there was music, I couldn't hear it. Conversation was conducted mainly by yelling and leaning over pointing at your ears in the universal "Sorry, I can't fucking hear you, speak up!" signal.
I met a lot of people, most of whom were named Mike or some variation of the name "Shawn/Schoun/Sean." I wish my insomnia was as bad as it was in college, because I could have cheerfully stayed longer, but for my damned eyelids.
So John kindly brought me back to the hotel, and then wandered over to Dave's bar to talk to someone. I don't remember when he got back, because I was too busy having a strange dream involving Microsoft paint and clipart of chinchillas. (No more Jalepeno poppers for ME before bed.)
I woke myself up laughing, with John leaning over me going "Are you okay?" I was fine, but he quickly became not fine. Apparently there was broccoli in something that he ate last night, which he happens to be allergic to. I won't share the gastropyrotechnics that occurred after that.
This morning was the Keynote, which I had no ticket to, and I wasn't about to wait outside in the cold at 4 a.m. to be trampled by the masses, so I slept in. John crawled out of bed, took a shower, packed his gear and headed out.
Apparently they released an iPhone today, and appletv. I read Peter Cohen's play by play over at MacCentral from my hotel room, to John, who stumbled back in about the time the Keynote was starting. He's currently curled into a ball of misery behind me. I ventured out long enough to find him some ginger ale, but otherwise... I love the man. My place is here.
I just wish here included either room service or a large plain cheese pizza.