That Apple store in Chicago’s downtown is humongous. And staffed with so many young people in distinctive red smocks. (I was told the red was for the Christmas season, that blue is the regular color.) But you all know that - I am probably the only one who had not been into an Apple store until now.
Art had been invited to present a slide show/lecture there. They had two large screens set up on each side of the lectern, all up on a platform, chairs loosely set around. Big, enthusiastic crowd, all seemingly with cameras and shooting Art, and each other, all night. I saw a lot of rotten pictures of me. Someone once commented after looking through old photo albums how beautiful I looked in every picture. Well, duh, I tore up everyone I didn’t like. Now it’s saved forever in cyberspace up in a Cloud somewhere. I don’t understand it, but if I can’t edit, I sure don’t like it. It was a well-received program, boisterous applause, everyone shaking hands all around. I met a lot of nice people I only knew by name before. (Hi, Chuck Sudo and team, Chicagoist.com).
We had been picked up at our suburban home by a friend who brought along another friend and we stopped for an early dinner before the Event. When I saw the size of the food covering my platter, I neatly cut it in two, the tilapia with the almonds, along with spinach and asparagus, taking half home, easy to do in the winter with the car’s temperature equivalent to the refrigerator.
So when our friend of good cheer, Dan, invited us all to continue the evening over drinks, Art and I looked at each other and both demurred.
It had been a delightful, fun-filled evening that didn’t need that drink to top it off.