Walking into my kitchen the other day, I couldn't help but notice the mysterious little MacBook sitting on the table. I had no idea who it belonged to, but its recently-manufactured shininess was provoking enough for me to search for the closest Apple Store. Their weekly releases of new gizmos and gimmicks always caught my eye. However, my attraction was quickly replaced with discouragement after my last, very unfortunate visit came flooding back to me. I've stayed away from the store ever since...
Out of boredom during last year's holidays, I decided to borrow a couple of DVDs from my relatives whom I was visiting. And because my grandparents are not the most technologically inclined people, I had no other choice but to watch them on my iBook. As I tried to put in my first movie, which didn't seem to fit in the slot so well, I followed with a forceful shove—bad call. It did go in, but was followed by a dry, scratchy sound with every spin of the disc after trying to eject it.
Did I mention what DVD it was? ""Peter Pan""—and not the Disney classic, the newer one that has the little boy with the lisp. Oh yeah, and it was pirated. My mini panic attack immediately set in when my dad told me the CD drive unit may have to be replaced, and I was in no position to drop a few hundo on illegal, flying British children. But first, I knew I should consult one of those mighty people who may be able to solve my problem for free. I needed to see a Mac Genius (dun, dun, dun!).
As I approached the white, minimalist counter of the Apple Store I felt relieved after seeing the somewhat homely, nasally computer expert in front of me to whom I would explain my little mishap. But instead, I heard a deep ""I can help you over here"" and turned to the man the voice came from. He had long shaggy hair, stylish glasses and a tattoo encompassing his large left bicep. Nerdy, chic and manly all at once—hot. My first thought was ""why, God, why?""
""So what's the problem?"" he asked. I tried to explain in the vaguest terms possible in hopes that he could fix my dilemma without having to admit what actually happened. He then proceeded in pressing some unknown areas of the keyboard while simultaneously prying open the disc slot. Within 48 seconds, the DVD emerged and my fear came to life as he looked down at the cover.
After lifting his head, he gave me a look that translated into ""you're not serious."" The genius successfully made me feel like a complete moron.
""Never do this again,"" he said, then flicked the bootlegged entertainment in my direction. I responded with nervous laughter, quickly thanked him and bolted for the glass doors. I'm surprised I didn't forget my laptop in the process.
And once again, I must return to the place that caused me deep shame to check out a few minor glitches and remove the tiny community that has formed under my keyboard. I often spot unidentifiable specimens poking out from under letters that I swear have a heartbeat.
But based on experience, it would be wiser for a professional to handle this rather than me taking a screwdriver to my laptop, causing plastic buttons to fly through the air. But I'm not sure if I'm ready to meet with one again yet; the past is a painful thing. Maybe I'll just let my keyboard colony grow so that my homemade creatures can keep me company while entertaining. I may never have to watch a reproduced movie again. Take that, Mr. Mac Genius.
