13 hours in line and all I got was this lousy cell phone

It is done. I have descended into the bowels of the Apple Store and, fighting my way through preternaturally joyous black T-shirted Apple drones lining the store's entry like the Munchkins lining the yellow brick road high-fiving incoming and outgoing iPhone-buying Dorothys, hordes of media jamming microphones and cameras in our haggard faces, and about 100 of the aforementioned fellow buyers, have emerged triumphantly with the fruits of my patience.

Was it worth it? I don't know. I haven't slept in two days. My brain would consider a tuna salad sandwich at Subway on gastric par with katsuo sashimi from Tao. Without the lettuce and tomato, of course. But my shiny new iPhone is charging and, after a 10-hour recovery sleep, I'm sure I'll have a clearer philosophical perspective on this whole waiting 13 hours to buy a fancy cell phone ordeal. I'll let you know next week.