to A2

Soon we will place the children in our vehicle and proceed to Ann Arbor, MI to do several things. First, a stop at Briarwood Mall and then to a restaurant of sheer glory and wonderment. Allow me to deconstruct our planned excursion.

  • Briarwood Mall is home of the Apple Store, where I will approach the bench and request a new charger/wire combination for my iPhone. She won’t take a charge from my current charger setup, and that is bad. I will humbly make my case and see if, out of their goodwill and grace, will allow me to exchange existing accessories for new accessories.
  • The truth is that the Apple Store is pretty fantastic when it comes to customer service, so I don’t think it will be so humiliating, which is kind of how I’ve described it. In fact — no commercial here, just my own experience — I’ve never had a bad experience at the Apple Store, unless you count waiting in some kind of “line” that is made up of people bumping into each other going “now what do I do?” It’s like a low-key mosh pit. Other than that, good times. So much so, in fact, that I have advised my Uncle who sells hot dogs to people to go to the Apple Store for his first computer. “Adam, I need a computer. I went to Best Buy and even they didn’t know what to give me”. “Uncle Mark”, I said, “just go to the Apple Store. They will help you get what you need and it will work. Just be ready to mosh with the other customers for a moment until someone asks if they can help you.” True story.

  • The Restaurant of Glory and Wonderment is really just Mongolian Barbecue. If you haven’t been there, you haven’t lived, friend. If you haven’t put your own “fixin’s” in a bowl and handed it to a boisterous college student for cooking, you don’t know restaurants. If you haven’t stood around with other customers while staring at the Mongolian grill without blinking for upwards of 3 minutes, then you don’t know what it is to suddenly feel tired while someone else sings along with Journey while wielding two dull swords.
  • Actually, Mongolian Barbecue is kind of like what I’ve described. The best part is also the worst part: if it doesn’t taste good, you only have yourself to blame. I’ve always wanted to try giving my food order to the server when they bring drinks, as if I didn’t understand that you have to get your own food to be grilled, just to see what they’d do. I would also use a heavy accent and pretend to cry about Venezuela when they tried to tell me about getting a bowl, getting in line, etc. This would be a grand social experiment that could go two ways. I just need to find someone to try it with me, since Emily has made it very clear that she won’t participate in such shenanigans. And that is just one reason that she and I make a good couple.

    Last but not least — Happy New Year! Welcome to a new decade. I hope you’re Y2K10 compliant. We’ll find out at midnight-oh-one, eh?

    –UPDATE 12:34PM — By “soon”, I may mean tomorrow. I’ve a fever. Awww.

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