Silicon Valley Swagger

By Dick McCullough

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Standing in line for 20 minutes just to order a cup of coffee (or a blended, non-fat, double tall cappuccino, no foam, as the case may be) is silly enough. But to stand there grim faced and determined, in your Dockers and Topsiders, looking like Rambo steeling himself just before the big battle scene? Is speaking to your neighbor in line really that distasteful? Yes? Then welcome to Silicon Valley. You are among your own.

Silicon Valley. The land of plenty. Where else are geeks idolized, not ostracized? Where else are there more millionaires than poor, more dreams than Hollywood? But it's expensive to live here, and I'm not talking about real estate. A new class of wealthy geeks has turned the social structure upside down. And the result is Mr. Science Goes Flash.

Cocky and wimp didn't used to go together. It does today. Some of these guys are Hume Cronyn clones that would have been beaten silly when I was in high school (and probably were). Wherever they go, they walk with the slow motion swagger of gunslingers who've faced death so often they're bored. But they are just skinny, old white guys wearing the most fashionably conservative styles that money can buy (and Ralph Lauren thanks you for your support).

But the fat ones haven't exactly disappeared. They have their place. And that place is on top of a $3,000 bicycle, wearing $500 worth of clothes so garish that they exceed the dress codes for both golf and Halloween. Does riding a bike make you fat as well as colorblind? Seems like it. I know what it doesn't do: it doesn't make the I'm-a-vital-old-geezer statement that some are hoping for. And, as if all this isn't enough, they hang out at Starbuck's, skin tight shorts blaring "look at me" (No, thanks. Really). Used to be a three hour workout meant you exercised for three hours. Now it means you rode to Starbuck's, killed two and a half hours networking (with most of that done on the cell phone) and then rode home.

Another strange phenomenon in the Valley: ugly, rich women in tennis outfits. Horribly tanned, middle-aged women (even their knees are wrinkled) prance around town like debutants at their first ball. Ivana Trump before reconstruction. How can women that ugly be snooty?

Don't any of them own a mirror? Do they really think a pile of money makes them hot?

If so, they should ponder this: Einstein was poor, Da Vinci was poor. Dan Quayle is rich.

Walking down the sidewalk, if you say hello to any of them, their startled and frightened stares accuse you of being a pervert and/or some sort of thief or con man. "Grab your wallet, Henry, that strange man just made eye contact and smiled at us." We used to say hello to strangers. Are they afraid I'll sue for palimony if they say hi in return?

And, of course, there are the cell phones. No commentary on Silicon Valley would be complete without at least mentioning that you are nobody if you aren't so important that the economic world would come crashing down without your immediate input and guidance. Whether you are in a cinema, a church or walking down a street, you have to have a phone (or ear plug, if you are really leading edge) stuck to the side of your head as you chatter endlessly, completely unaware of and unconcerned for the people all around you. Charming.

I must admit I own a Porsche 911. It's not new so the status aspect is somewhat underwhelming but I love it anyway. When I first got it I was surprised to find that 911 owners will wave when they meet on the street, even if they don't know each other. So, to me, 911 owners are the friendliest people in town.

Isn't there something wrong with this picture?

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