CurtHarlow.com

I have been a part of the “mock the people sleeping outside overnight for halo” class of social critics since the first Dreamcast lines formed. All that changed yesterday.br /br /At first I decided to stand in the Apple store line only while I ate my lunch – to see how fast it moved, as it were. The end started at Stride Rite (for those who do not know the Arden Fair mall in Sacramento, that is literally 678,943 miles from the Apple store). There seemed no harm in hanging with it for a few moments but before I knew it those few moments turned into 6 hours, 7 new friends, one California roll (with bladder busting mega large diet coke as chaser), a piece of bad pizza, onion rings (queuing is hungry work) and one new 16 gig, black iPhone.br /br /I held last place in the line of death for over 15 minutes until an 18-year-old girl in huge sunglasses operating on “three hours of sleep after half a bottle of Smirnoff” took the spot behind me. A middle aged lady stood behind us for about two minutes and then came to her senses. After her, three 18-year-old guys, freshly out of high school, lined up next. One a beat boxer, one a cello playing home schooler and the last a very outgoing young man who works at a waterslide. Just in front of us were a gal lifeguard (yeah two lifeguards – how strange) with her boyfriend, and a middle-aged businessman with a beat up treo 650 and a BMW key ring. Later, a brother of one of the HS grads joined us. Amazingly he already had a first generation iPhone (he hacked it to use with Tmobile) and stood for 5 plus hours just to support his friends.br /br /Sure, our cult-like lust for iPhone joy was the core of our relationship but it was not just the iPhone at work over the 360 minutes of bonding. It was the experience of fighting together. Solving the hunger issue (we left in shifts to get food), finding the nearest restroom, (we were lucky, one guy in our group had the mall restroom schematic practically memorized,) and fighting off mockers all cemented our cadre.br /br /Yes, mockers. Berating is not too strong of a word for these line haters. Apparently, for some, (and I included myself in that “some” before yesterday,) standing in line for an iPhone (halo, wii, etc. etc.) is the equivalent of stabbing yourself in the ear. Not only were they righteously sure of this position, they were not shy about preaching their convictions to our captive line ears. br /br /Not all lectured. Most just communicated their scorn via a sassy look as they walked by. Some used passive aggressive questions – “so you guys are in this line because they won’t have these phone things next week?” Others, all of them male by the way, felt compelled to approach the line and give detailed verbal slaps about why we were fools to wait in line for the iPhone. br /br /As they pontificated, I wondered if this is what most preachers sounded like to the non-religious.br /br /It was not just strangers that tried to discourage us. I literally saw three large groups of my friends, including people from other states, who openly tried to convince me to leave the line. I was actively and personally mocked by:br /• Two pastorsbr /• 10 or more twenty-something Christiansbr /• Some small childrenbr /• My wifebr /br /We fought back. Three hours in, after being asked for the 1 millionth time why we were in line, Waterslide guy proclaimed loudly “WE ARE HERE FOR THE MOTO RAZOR FOUR – YEAH THAT’S RIGHT, HELLO MOTO BABY!!!” br /br /The height of irony was that after telling us we were wasting our time most of them spent their precious life milling around Bath and Body Works. br /br /It did not come out that I was a pastor until hour four. When it did the relationships were strong enough to avoid the usual awkward silence that follows this religious revelation. The brothers, I discovered, both had strong roots in the Disciples of Christ. Waterpark apologized for his language. When I told him it was ok, he continued to use the adjective of his choice without shame.br /br /At hour five, tired, greasy and unashamed about owning the floor as our resting place we hit nirvana. The conversation bobbed like a well heated lava lamp. We moved inch by inch with the grizzly floor assurance deep in the soul that we were in the right. All doubt had left. We reached that place few humans experience. Sold-out-ness. The long journey from Stride Rite to Pac Sun was meant to be. We knew now the black Apple store was within our reach. There was not a single thought of turning back. br /br /Just about then, the Apple employees emerged with free pizza. Even though it was only one piece of cardboard and cheese per line dweller, we held our slice high in victory. It was to us pirate treasure won by sweat and sword. All double dipped in the communal garlic and melted butter packet – no one even flinched. We were family – bonded beyond the fear of germs.br /br /As the actual store loomed right before us, the line’s own life force grew hulkishly strong. A long line, like a road trip, prison cell, camping tent, or foxhole can bond even the most diverse group. From age 18 to 50, partiers to pastor – we talked, laughed, debated and became something more then just iPhone customers. br /br /We deeply discussed which cell phone we hated (sorry Treos, you did not fair well this day), why we were in line now (most of us had broken phones in our pockets), travel, classical music, marijuana, evolution, the benefits of parties on boats, fake I.D.s, pay rates for city lifeguards vs. waterpark lifeguards, the effect of little sleep and Smirnoff, youtube (of course), hacking iPhones, theology and getting around ATT’s upgrade requirements (open the account on your dad’s account and then switch it over to yours later was the word,) among many other topics.br /br /I am not insolated from the average person in my community, church going or not. I have many non-believers in my house, almost every week. I have often lectured others in the church about being too insular. I thought I was doing ok on this issue. After 6 hours in the line, I am ashamed to admit how much I learned about my own Christian buble tendencies. The experience has exposed me.br /br /I wonder what would happen if every pastor was required to spend six hours on a Saturday with a random group of mostly teens and twenties? These people who were strategy and theory to me are all now real. Their lives, wants and attitudes will impact how I think about doing ministry for a long time.