I made friends with a fellow Apple user in LaGuardia airport last week. Our flight was delayed a total of four and a half hours, but instead of telling us that (which I’m certain they could have) right off the bat, the United Airlines representatives strung us along at half-hour increments, changing the estimated departure time ever so slightly just to keep us on our toes and waste our daytime minutes. Seriously, I think that’s what they were after. They probably derived sick pleasure from watching everyone at the gate lunge for their cell phones to update their friends and family with “the latest.”

Even I found it amusing, since I wasn’t using my phone at all, knowing that my dad would be obsessively checking my flight’s status himself. Ha! I calmly oversaw everything from my perch on the floor near an electrical outlet. Check out the plebes, I thought to myself. See them run. Watch them snack. Feel the desperation!

I seem to be one of the few people in the world who doesn’t particularly mind a delayed flight. As long as I have something to read or a gadget to play with, what do I care? If I arrived at my destination city on time, I certainly wouldn’t spend the next four hours reading a book. What am I, crazy? So the delay is almost a bonus for me. A much-needed shot of literacy, like something from the ‘’boosters'’ menu at Jamba Juice.

Not to mention, I love watching people, especially New Yorkers, freak the hell out. Their lives are so important. They can’t just be put on hold for four hours. And yet they must! Airline delays are so democratic. The gates turn into mini Communist blocs. Everyone gets inconvenienced, even though some fliers’ inconveniences affect a lot more people and/or cost a lot more money. As soon as a delay is announced, we are all the same. It’s absolutely delicious to watch some people try to deal with that.

I’m convinced that part of the reason I enjoy delays is because I always manage to feel superior with my calm, resigned, shrug-it-off behavior just after the announcement. I try extra hard to look perfectly composed in the midst of everyone else’s angst. It helps that I usually haven’t slept the night before — it adds a super-special sedated glaze you just can’t duplicate with makeup. My fellow fliers probably notice me in envy. What’s her secret? They want to be me. They want what I have.

What I have is a Pretzel Dog.

When I first walked by the Pretzel Time stand on my way to D10, I played it cool. I knew my flight was delayed, and that in a mere matter of moments, I’d be back. I gave a quick glance over the merch and suddenly the clearest thought of my morning popped into my head. I’m going to get one of those pretzel hot dogs, and it’s going to be the best thing I’ve eaten in a week. I was absolutely correct. As usual, at least in terms of things I tell myself about food.

Anyway, back to the Apple user. This really cute red-headed woman sat down next to me against the wall, all excited that she’d found an outlet to plug her Mac into. “I know!” I gushed. “It’s such a privilege, seriously.” I was serious. Of course I was.

Problem: her fidgety power adapter wouldn’t remain plugged in at that certain angle. I hate that, I told her. That’s why I got this new adapter with a three-pronged plug! Blah blah blah. She walked away, dejected, stood in line for awhile. I assumed it was the last I’d see of her.

But no. This incredible genius concocted a solution. “I came up with a plan,” she informed me as she plopped back down. “Watch this.”

I watched, as she proceeded to situate the fabulous display to your right. Then I gaped at her for at least 30 seconds. This girl was my all-time hero.

“I’m so amazed that you just did that. You’re like, my favorite person here.”

Awkward pause, which obviously meant I had to keep speaking.

“Which isn’t really a title of distinction, if you look around. But you know what I mean.”

She did. She gave me one of those wise little smirks that let me know this wasn’t the first time she’d pulled off something this wily.

I asked if she minded if I took a picture of the adapter on the water bottle. “Maybe I’ll put it on my BLOG,” I said, in a really sarcastic tone. I’m not sure why, because I had every intention of putting this picture on my blog, and if a day pass to the LGA wifi network wasn’t so inappropriately expensive, I’d have done it right that second. I guess it was a self-conscious thing. Like if I scoffed at the idea of having a blog, it might mean I didn’t really care about mine. That I wasn’t that obnoxious… yet. She could see right through it.

For the rest of the delay, we happily lorded our iSnobbery over the other passengers, who were all totally jealous that we had outlets and they didn’t. At one point, I saw another guy daintily typing on his Powerbook across the concourse and realized that I thought this person, who looked exactly like myself at that moment, seemed like a huge tool. I was okay with that.

This is how much I love my computer.