I was at MacWorld in 2007 when Steve Jobs announced the first iPhone.

I left the hotel long before sunrise, made the cold trek to San Francisco’s Moscone Center and stood for hours with a crowd of journalists who were getting restless, waiting for the doors to open and the press barriers to drop.

And when they did, I ran and grabbed a good seat.

Steve Jobs walked onstage and said, “We’re going to make some history together today.”

That’s when the goosebumps started. And they didn’t stop until after John Mayer’s surprise performance.

People weren’t kidding when they said watching Steve’s keynote was an amazing experience.

He introduced the iPhone, made the first public iPhone call to Jony Ive and called a nearby Starbucks to everyone’s amusement. (“Yes, I’d like to order 4,000 lattes to go, please. No, just kidding, wrong number. Thank you. Bye-bye.”)

All throughout the presentation, people gasped, cheered, applauded and gave Steve a standing ovation. Even jaded journalists couldn’t remain stoic.

The keynote was riveting, exciting, funny, inspiring and entertaining—just like our favorite Apple products and yes, just like Steve Jobs himself.

By the time it ended, it was official—I had become a Steve Jobs groupie.

Love affair

But it’s a love affair that started long before that cold morning in San Francisco.

It began when I made the big switch to Apple with my beloved iBook G4. I never looked back. I held on to that laptop for years and years, long after it became obsolete, long after it started dying on me. It’s a love affair that continued with Conan, my beloved iPod shuffle, with my favorite black iPod Nano, and with my fourth gen iPod Touch that became the reason I missed my flight from New York to Los Angeles (it was worth it, so worth it.) And it’s a beautiful relationship that continues with my MacBook, which I love so much I bring it with me everywhere, every single day, even when I watch movies.

That was the thing about Steve Jobs. He didn’t just sell gadgets—what he offered became such a huge part of our lives that we couldn’t imagine our world without them.

I wrote hundreds of articles on my iBook. I composed and recorded songs on Garage Band. I used my MacBook to work on my manuscript and used the same laptop to send out invites to my book launch. Screw mix tapes, I made playlists on iTunes. I FaceTime with loved ones. I blog and Facebook and Google like mad on Safari. I record interviews using my iPod Touch’s built-in Voice Memo. I transcribe them on TextEdit. I check my e-mail on Mail. I keep an inventory of my nail polish collection using MyStuff, an iPhone app. My iPod Nano witnessed my pathetic attempts at running—I needed the music to keep me going. I never get on a plane without my pieces of Apple.

Touched

There isn’t a single facet of my life that hasn’t been touched by Steve Jobs. Which explains why the news of his death hit me hard.

And it’s not just me.

“I feel like I lost a father,” a friend texted.

Thank you, Steve. For making life easier. For encouraging creativity. For letting us carry our entire music collection in our pockets. For redefining entertainment. For changing the way we communicate. For the magic.

And your magic will live on.

We never met but we’ll always have San Francisco.

Now I wish I had a black turtleneck.