My infinite loop

Let’s forget about the road trip for a second and fast forward to the evening of August 14. I just want to say that avocados are tasty and make good things happen even just as one buys them.

As I was driving to Palo Alto, Marie called to ask me to buy avocados, so I stopped at Mollie Stone’s on California Avenue (an old playground of mine, or at least where my English was born). I gotta say it took me a while: who’d have thought that even in California avocados would get to the shelf marble-tough?

When I got to the check-out counter, I had a vision: black turtleneck, jeans, New Balance shoes. Add that to the fact that I was in Palo Alto, and you get only one possible solution: Steve Jobs. A thinner, concentrated version of my favorite tech guru.

The iPhone in my pocket and the MacBook Air in my backpack started screaming, “Daddy!” (to him) and, “Don’t you dare not talk to him” (to me), so I went to stand in line behind him and the person he was with.

Next thing I know, I’m calling him, “Mr Jobs?” and asking him to shake his hand – knowing perfectly well that he doesn’t do that, for very obvious reasons – then apologizing like a complete moron.

Quick, his attention span is like that of a high school kid – not for the same reasons. I played the Italian-tourist card, and oh how incredible to find him there while I was in Palo Alto just for an hour or two.

There was nothing for him to say and no polite way to get rid of me, so I did the job myself and, while expressing how big a fan I was (and a big dummy, too), I wished him good luck on everything. I think he thanked me more for ending his pain than for the wishes.

The girl at the register had no idea of who he was, and was completely uninterested in how shaky my hands were. Twenty minutes and two tweets later I was able to drive out of the parking lot, toward the sunset light of El Camino Real, which had never looked more golden and warm.