As a culture writer whose career has not, thus far, extended to tech coverage, the only thoughts I’ve ever really had about Apple’s headquarters in Cupertino, California, are 1) “Why must I always, always know what time it is there?” and 2) “When Apple throws cocktail parties, do they serve Cupertinis?”
While I maintain that the latter is a solid idea that Tim Cook is welcome to pay me for, I never expected to find myself invited to Apple HQ in any capacity. I’m infamous among my friends and family for riding the absolute wheels off all of my devices; I never know what model of iPhone we’re on as a society; and if it weren’t for the fact that my employer provides me a MacBook to blog from, I’d currently be writing this story on the blockiest, cheapest, most flame-retardant PC known to man. Just one recent day in Cupertino hearing about Apple’s latest product rollout, though, was enough to make me kind of care about the quality and condition of my devices. But more on that later…
Below, find a full accounting of my day at Apple, with absolutely no detail left behind.
Monday
5:04 p.m.: I disembark my flight from LAX to the San José airport, looking as rumpled as it is humanly possible to look after a 45-minute flight before quickly realizing that I will not have time to shower before the welcome dinner that Apple is hosting for out-of-town guests at Mountain View’s Tetra Hotel. Undeterred, I race to my own hotel, the Ameswell, to drop off my bags and make the necessary concessions to capital-B Beauty (namely, donning a bra and a baseball cap).
5:30 p.m.: I Lyft up to the Tetra and make a beeline for the bar, noticing with gratification that, with near-comical disregard for looking like tech-world clichés, nearly everyone is wearing a North Face vest. I am also far from the only person there in a silly little hat (though I am likely the only one concealing an oil spill-level amount of hair grease under said hat).
5:45 p.m.: I debate introducing myself to a friendly looking clutch of actual tech reporters before abandoning that idea in favor of sitting at a table by myself to eat a family-sized plate of furikake-roasted potatoes and finish the book I’ve been reading about being Ruby Franke’s eldest daughter.
