Still going to the Apple store.

On the other side of the Apple store, the Sleep Number Bed shop has two customers, a couple, lying on a bed fully clothed, tossing and turning, jostling and half-rolling, careful to keep their feet on the little mat supplied for that purpose and engrossed in conversation. We've all been forced to do this at some point while buying a mattress. It's utterly humiliating but what else can you do? I can imagine all the bad jokes the sales person in there has endured. 

The particular bed the couple is testing has an elevator device in it that raises and lowers the head at the push of a button. Every few seconds they rise up and then down. The elevator is a very expensive add-on and I wondered what the couple is talking about: The prospect of lazy Sunday mornings in bed with coffee and the crossword puzzle? Exotic Kama Sutra positions the tricked-out bed would make possible? A couple of noisy, boisterous kids, probably theirs, are bouncing on another bed nearby erasing the Kama Sutra ideas completely from contemplation. 

Wafting from Williams Sonoma on the other side of Coach, is the irresistible smell of smoking meat. We stroll over and take a look inside. A gorgeous table, groaning under the weight of beautiful plates, silver and china stands in the doorway; it's the epitome of table design and good taste. Nobody could ever eat from such a creation, dressed as it is with 3 foot high floral arrangements -every square inch is filled with accessories - items of tableware obscura, like fish knives, salt cellars and ice cream forks. Gigantic platters set on their rims form a back drop for the tableau. I burst into laughter because of a photo I saw recently of an old friend breathless at the sight of a Brobdingnagian pizza. 

Corky and pizza.

Real plate whores, the market for this kind of china, rarely sully their beautiful plates with actual food. For that use, any old plate or pizza box will do, preferably something you can microwave. The table is an art piece, a foodie "installation" for admiring from afar, not for actual use. There should be a sign "Do not try this at home...." warning about this 

Back to the Apple store. We walk past the cigarette/cigar smokers and through the door. Inside, life is humming along at full speed. The atmosphere is more like a party than a store. Children are playing with the iPads; clerks are making sales. A couple of dogs are circling around trying to smell each other's butts. The dog owners are deep in conversation - about dogs? about iPhones? Purchases are in progress, Apple style; no cash registers required, no lines. A smiling family passes by, leaving with an iMac box in hand.  

The crowd of dummies in front of the Genius bar is three deep. Geniuses, seven of them in a row, are hard at work. Behind them, large screens impart Apple short-cuts and helpful hints. Some geniuses have baseball hats on backward; most have bad haircuts; several are pimply.  Genius is hard to recognize in today's world even when you meet it face to face. 

There's one middle-aged woman genius! And we get her. We talk about the worst thing she's seen in there which turns out to be phones crushed in roller coaster accidents. She's terrific and Richard's iPad mini, with shattered front, (not damaged on a roller coaster) was exchanged out for $49.99. 

Morals of the story: 

• Try not to order a pizza so large the very sight of it endangers your health. 

• Next time you get on a roller coaster, button up your phone somewhere.