I used to wonder what kind of person stood in line for the better part of the day to buy a product when it first became available. Now I don't have to wonder -- I am one. I spent most of Friday on line at the Apple Store in Fashion Valley Mall in San Diego. What kind of person does something like that? A really tired, bad-tempered person with aching feet.I thought I was prepared. I didn't think there'd be a line at all. I told my colleague Cora Nucci: "This isn't New York or San Francisco. People aren't going to line up to buy an iPhone. This is San Diego -- 98% of the people have to work, and the other 2% are surfing."

But I thought I might have to wait on line two or three hours, so I put together a survival kit. It included a Thermos of hot tea, a fistful of Kashi Bars, a bottle of water, hat, notebook, pens, camera, my first-generation iPhone, and earbuds. I posted the list to Twitter, and added that I would also bring a handgun and gas mask. I was kidding about that. IBTerri responded:

"Sounds like you have it covered for anything that may come up, even an unexpected zombie attack!"

I arrived at the shopping center at 9 a.m. to find that the line stretched down the length of the mall, around a corner, past the Pizzeria Uno, around another corner, and along an exterior sidewalk to the Cheesecake Factory. The line had two switchbacks, where it doubled and tripled back on itself. Looked like there were about a thousand people waiting ahead of me.

The mall security guard hassled me while I was taking this picture.

I walked the line taking pictures. A security guard on a fake Segway rolled up and told me that no photography is permitted in the mall. This is an idiotic policy. Real terrorists don't take pictures of their targets, so the only purpose the policy serves is to annoy shoppers.

I did not talk back to the security guard. I simply did what my years of journalistic experience have trained me to do: Look stupid, and go take pictures somewhere else. Actually, I had the "looking stupid" part nailed before I became a journalist. I have a natural talent.

The first three hours on line were fun, like a big outdoor geek celebration. The people around me were friendly. Waiters and waitresses for mall restaurants came by with menus, offering to bring line-standers food. Apple Store staff brought out bottles of water and distributed them for free. My Twitter stream reflects the party mood:

8:38 a.m.: In the car and off to get iPhoneized! Woo-hoo!
9:26 a.m.: Woman in front of me online has a cute chihuahua. No, "cute chihuahua" isn't a euphemism for something dirty.

At 9:55 a.m., a woman came by, offering to sell a spot at the front of the line. She'd been offered $80, and was looking for a better offer.

The guy directly in front of me nodded decisively, "My time is worth that much!" He asked me if I'd be willing to hold his place while he went to check it out.

He was gone a while. The rest of us discussed whether we should just let him back in, or try to sell him his old place in line. If a place at the front of the line was worth $80 or more, a place in the middle of the line should be worth $20. I'm not sure whether we were kidding.

We didn't see the guy again until he strolled by nearly 90 minutes later with his iPhone 3G purchase in hand. At the time, it seemed like he got a bad deal -- had to pay $80+ and still had to wait in line another hour and a half. But maybe it was a good deal after all; he would have had to wait another five hours to get his iPhone otherwise.

I had plenty of time later in the day to consider this strange custom of selling places in line, paying people to wait in line for you, and other questions of line etiquette. How did this evolve? How did a place in line become property to be bought and sold? Seems to me that the person selling the place in line isn't the only one with a stake in this -- everyone behind him has a stake, too. What if they all told the buyer to buzz off?

11:40 a.m.: Grabbed a menu from a California Pizza Kitchen guy. I'll phone in an order later, have them deliver to me on line.
11:41 a.m.: Thinking like that is why I'm an *executive* editor. Also why I'm fat.
11:46 a.m.: This is totally Not Fun anymore.

Someone named "obendega" responded: "You mean you aren't loving that soothing buzz saw?"

He was referring to some construction work being done near us at the mall while we were standing in line. The annoying racket of power tools definitely added to the Not Funness of the line-waiting experience. I hadn't mentioned the noise on Twitter, which meant obendega (whoever he was) had to be waiting in the same line I was in. But where?

I didn't know obendega -- still don't, don't even know his real name. I looked around to see who he might be, but I had no idea. So I Twittered my description to him, and a few minutes later saw him waving to me, about 100 people ahead of me on line.

Later, a few more people left, and I was directly in line behind the woman with the dog -- which, as it turned out, was not a chihuahua.

11:58 a.m.: Woman with dog offered to buy me a burrito from the food court if I saved her place while she ate hers there. I said OK.
12 p.m.: Dog is a full-grown mini-dachshund, btw. Still sounds dirty.
12:01 pm: "May I pet your mini-dachshund?" "Yes, and it will turn into a Weimaraner if you do."

I ate the burrito standing up. Some of the food ended up on my shirt, more of it ended up on the ground. The dog liked that.

12:08 p.m.: Battery getting low. Won't be doing much more twittering.
12:17 p.m.: Just got the 20% battery warning. No more Twittering 'til I get more juice.

Waiting was getting ugly around now.

I had four hours to go until until I would buy my iPhone 3G and leave the mall. With my iPhone battery nearly dead, I had nothing to entertain myself during that time. I talked to the people around me a bit, but otherwise I mostly just stared off into space and tried to avoid thinking about how tired I was and how much my feet hurt. The Apple Store people came by a few times with bottled water. And, eventually, I got into the store and got my iPhone.

Fortunately, at that point, the Apple salespeople were not cheering and applauding when you left with your iPhone. I was in no mood. I would have Hulked out on them. You don't want to see me when I'm angry. You won't like me when I'm angry.

Ironically, once I was in the store, buying the iPhone was fast -- it took about 15 minutes.

I already knew what service plan I wanted: The cheapest, but with text messaging.

I knew which model I wanted: 16 GB.

I had all the information I needed at hand, and my credit card and driver's license at the ready in my shirt pocket (I think I took them out of my wallet at hour 6 or so).

The only information I needed from the salesperson was that I wanted to see the white and black iPhones before I made up my mind. That took about a minute; there's not much different between them, and based on past experience with my earlier iPhone and iPod, I knew that the black would do a better job hiding smudges and fingerprints.

And so I finally walked out of the Apple Store with iPhone 3G in hand, seven and a half hours after I got there. I was not one of those guys you see in news photos who are totally stoked, like the guys in this 2007 photo from the Xinhua Chinese news agency (scroll down about a page to see the photo). I was scowling and beaten down.

When I left the Apple Store, my plan was to go up a level to the food court, get something iced from Starbucks, put my feet up, and take some pictures of the line from above. But instead I just took the pictures and went directly home.

There were three people waiting to be served at Starbucks, and I'd done enough standing in line for the day.

This is about half the line -- when I started waiting, it was six or seven times longer.