iPass

My roommate brought home a highly-coveted and sexy-looking iPad today. He gave me permission to play with it. I was reluctant at first, as I was afraid that I would fall madly in love and never want to leave its side. But I succumbed to its beauty, held it in my hands, ran my fingers across the screen and opened a few apps. It's pretty slick and user friendly. As soon as I turned it on, it detected my router address and asked if I wanted to make a connection. I don't think I've met humans who are that quick and intuitive. And I'm certain I haven't met one who is that eager to connect with me.

Yet, even with these great design features, my rendezvous with the iPad felt more like a one-night stand than a life-long love affair. What perplexes me about the machine isn't its touch screen technology, cool features or sleek look. After all, I'm a whore for Apple products as I am a proud owner of an iPod and a Macbook, so I'm familiar with its technology and operating system. What confuses me about the iPad is its size, which leaves me wondering where it physically fits into my daily life. It's not small enough to stash in my purse or pocket. The vacancy in my purse is currently occupied by a Blackberry Curve smart phone. If I am in need of a portable computer that I can use in class, at a coffee shop, or on the couch, I have my laptop. Where else would I even need a Wi-fi or 3G connection? Would it just end up sitting on my toilet as glorified reading material, waiting for me to take my next poop? What a terrible fate for a cool (and expensive) gadget.

So while the sexy beast is drool-worthy and would be a cool addition to my fruit basket of Apple hardware, I'm glad that Steve Jobs made the iPad inconvenient for me to own.

I will have to pass on the iPad for the time being and use my archaic laptop to get by. Bring the price down and maybe we'll talk. After all, the magazines on my toilet will eventually need to be refreshed. And I'm sure Steve Jobs would love for me to use one of his creations to fill that void.