by JD Adams

Created on: October 08, 2009

The young man sat quietly in the booth, noticeably uncomfortable and impatiently fidgeting. Dante Alighieri's The Divine Comedy sat open on the table in front of him. If appearances can be trusted, the book likely thrust upon him by a teacher he had yet to meet. A soon to be high school senior, maybe early college. Another glance up from the book produced another uncomfortable but silent sigh. His eyes wanted to read the book. Instead, they expressed frustration as the same distraction across the table forced him to read the same sentence again and again.

The older man across the table sat less quietly and impatiently fidgeting, completely unaware of his ability to distract. Apple's new iTouch kept both hands and eyes occupied. If appearances can be trusted, the hand held device brand new and considerably more complicated than the cell phone he traded away. Eyes, noses, jaw lines, all indicated father and son; the friction at the table said otherwise, at least for one. Tap the screen, double click the screen; another vocalized sigh of frustration. Spin the device to its horizontal, wipe the screen, turn it back to its vertical; the older man uncrossed his legs, shifted his weight, and crossed his legs again in the opposite direction. The booth cushions hissed with the change in pressure. Some might say sighed with frustration.

Silence ensued. No, not silence - no words spoken between them - but certainly not silence, at least to one party. The seemingly choreographed, well-rehearsed non-verbals continued, as did the noticeable uncomfortableness and impatient fidgeting.

"Is it really that important?" asked the young man. He closed The Divine Comedy, not with a slam, but with a speed that precluded inserting his bookmark. He would need to return to his previous mark anyway. "Here," he said as he took the device from the older man's grip. Tap the screen, double click the screen; more vocalized frustration. "There!"

The older man sat up in the booth, chewing his last bite of turkey sandwich, excitement growing as he looked at the screen. The young man sank lower in the booth, long finished lunch, frustration growing as any sense of awareness slipped further away from the older man. "We left the house and got into the car. We parked the car and walked into Panara. You know how hot it is. Do you really need the temperature on the screen?"

"How great is that app?" the older man replied as his finger slid over the screen. The finger movement replicated his turning the page of book more than the movement of mouse and cursor. The first flip did not work; he slid his finger over the screen again.

"Do you even know what the word app means?" The question was rhetorical, the tone of voice more important. The older man placed his iTouch on the table; he glanced at the book rather than making eye contact. Again silence, real silence, noticeably uncomfortable silence. An email came to the iTouch, thankfully breaking the silence as it vibrated quietly on the table top. The older man checked for a sender; the younger man searched The Divine Comedy for his bookmark.

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