I, Justine: An Analog Memoir

by Justine Ezarik

  “Well, that’s too bad,” he said, furrowing his brow, “but it’s probably at a pawnshop by now. . . .”

  I sort of squinted my eyes and cocked my head to the side. “Um, no . . . the phone is at this shipping place. It’s obviously being shipped out somewhere so it can be repackaged and resold.”

  He was already shaking his head before I’d even finished my sentence. “Nope, that’s just not how these things work,” he said. “Things like this just don’t move that quickly.”

  I could feel myself getting frustrated. “Sir, I’m telling you where the phone is, and it’s not sitting at a pawnshop. It’s probably already been sold, and now it’s being shipped to a buyer somewhere.”

  “Ma’am, I’ve been on the force for twenty years and—”

  “Well, I’ve been on the Internet for twenty years!” I yelled at him—or, at least, it’s what I would have yelled at him, but I just really, really didn’t want to be rude (and I’ll admit, that was a struggle). But in that moment, I realized the sheer size of our disconnect. This guy was stuck in the past, woefully unaware of the effects of modern technology on the world around him. It was a stark reminder of just how much things have changed, and what happens when you don’t keep up: you get left behind.

  One of the things I love about having a young fan base is that they keep me connected and up-to-date on whatever’s new: apps, memes, platforms, trends. And there will always be something new. The only thing that’s certain in the tech world is that things will continue to evolve and change.

  The way we consume content is wildly different than it was just ten years ago. Back when I posted my first video on YouTube, hardly anyone was watching content that had been made exclusively for the web. Television was king, and consumers had virtually no control over programming. The digital revolution has changed all that. TiVos and DVRs made it possible to watch what you wanted when you wanted; tablets and smartphones made it possible to watch what you wanted where you wanted. Platforms like YouTube and Viddler and Revver and Myspace and Facebook and Twitter made it possible for anyone to become a content creator. These days, people are watching less TV and more digital media; they’re subscribing to cable less often, opting instead for digital services like Netflix and Hulu.

  Nobody knows for sure where we’re going or what’s going to happen next, although it seems to me that we are moving in the direction of even faster speeds and more immediacy. Apps like Vine and Snapchat, which provide content that’s digestible in ten or twenty seconds, sometimes even less than that, seem to be the wave of the future. My guess is that anything that slows down the consumption of content—either videos that take too long to load, or prerolls (the ads that precede online videos) that can’t be immediately bypassed—will prove to be the downfall of companies or web platforms that can’t or won’t adapt.

  As for me, I’m on the lookout for what’s next in my career, too. Although people often ask me, “What’s your plan?” or “What are your goals?” I never know how to answer those questions. After all, if someone would have told me five years ago that this would be my life, I would have thought they were crazy. Five years from now, who knows what might be possible? Sometimes, in fact, I think the beauty is in not knowing. For now I’m going to continue doing what I’ve always done—making videos, chasing the latest tech, and talking about the things I love online.

  In March 2014, I headed down to Austin again, this time to host the Gaming Awards during the interactive portion of SXSW. At some point during the flight—during which I was sandwiched between my sister Jenna and Adam, a member of the Southwest Airlines social media team—I thought it might be fun to dance down the middle of the narrow aisle with Pharrell’s “Happy” blasting over the speakers. Like, in front of everyone. At thirty-five thousand feet. So, I did. And let me tell you, it was both ridiculously fun and completely embarrassing. The video got picked up by Good Morning America (I’m pretty sure the story was just “crazy woman dances on airplane”—no mention of who I am or what I do for a living), and quickly went viral. Not surprisingly, the reactions were mixed—a thread on Reddit, for example, labeled the whole thing “cringe-worthy.” But that’s okay. I’m okay with that.

  Later that same year, in September, came the launch of the iPhone 6. After covering I don’t know how many product releases over the years, I was determined to be the first in line for this one. The phone was scheduled to go on sale at 8 a.m. on a Friday morning, so Jenna and I showed up outside the store around 8 a.m. on Wednesday morning, two full days early. And man, were we early—the second (technically third) person didn’t show up for roughly six hours.

  Since September in L.A. is still really hot, Jenna and I came prepared: we brought two child-sized pop-up play tents, styled to look like Volkswagen camper vans (in which we intended to sleep), some blankets, some umbrellas (for shade), and all the requisite phone and video equipment. We’d chosen an Apple Store located on the Third Street Promenade in Santa Monica, a popular outdoor shopping and dining area, so the sidewalks were filled with shoppers, tourists, and street musicians, enough hustle and bustle to keep us from getting bored. But we needn’t have worried—by that afternoon, we’d had a chance to meet and speak with Cody LaScala.

  Ed Palumbo, me, my sister Jenna, and Je? Burke. First-in-line achievement unlocked!

  Cody, though I’d never met him before, is something of a Santa Monica celebrity, as well as a regular at the Third Street Promenade Apple Store. He’s outgoing and funny and kind of a flirt. He also happens to have cerebral palsy, the result of nearly drowning as a baby. He gets around with the help of a wheelchair and had been using an iPad to aid his communication—that is, until someone stole the thing right out from under him. On the day we met, he was back to tapping out messages with his nose on an outdated iPhone.

  “Are you coming back to get an iPhone 6 on Friday?” I asked him.

  He shook his head. “Can’t afford it.”

  As we waved good-bye to each other, I couldn’t help but feel guilty. I didn’t realize then that he’d be back in my life in a big way, and soon.

  By Thursday morning, Jenna and I were starting to feel a little drained—sleeping on the street amid a small group of total strangers isn’t exactly a recipe for a restful night. We watched as municipal workers trucked in metal barricades with which to designate the queue—the same ones used by cops for crowd control or to line the streets during a parade, and yes, we were so early to this thing that we arrived before even the barricades were put into place. It was already hot; the sun was relentless. But I was buoyed by meeting and chatting with other folks who had begun to show up—either because they, too, loved Apple products, or because they wanted to be part of the spectacle, or because they just wanted to say they’d done it, or maybe because they just really, really needed a new phone. Some of my friends swung by at various points to check in and say hello. I even saw a few people I’d met before at meet-ups and other events. As the crowd continued to grow, it became clear that the Apple Store employees had begun their preparations: first they carted massive cardboard boxes (no doubt filled with phones) from the storage area in back onto the main sales floor, then they hung huge black curtains to obscure the view through the plateglass windows. And before long, Cody was back, too.

  He kept offering to bring Jenna and me some water or to buy us a meal; I was totally touched by his kindness and generosity. But when he overhead a comment I made about auctioning off my phone—I had already cut a deal with eBay to auction off my old phone, the one I was standing in line to replace, for charity—I got to hear a little more about his story.

  As a child, Cody made nine separate trips to a unique rehabilitation clinic in Poland. The therapy was life-changing, but it was also (obviously) cost-prohibitive and travel-intensive, not to mention unavailable in the U.S. Which is why Cody’s mother, Lynette, eventually decided to found the NAPA Center, an L.A.-based therapeutic facility that caters to children with neurological and developmental delay
s. Because the LaScalas just could not be any more amazing, the NAPA Center also has a charitable giving arm, the NAPA Center Kids Foundation, which provides grants to help families of children with special needs. It took me about five minutes to realize I was going to donate the proceeds from the sale of my iPhone to Cody and his mother’s charity.

  By Thursday night, the queue had exploded—hundreds and hundreds of people had shown up to join the party, and the line stretched all the way down and around the block. If you’ve never participated in one of these launch events before, it’s kind of amazing how much of a sense of camaraderie you feel even just walking up and down the line—watching while people play cards or read the newspaper or commiserate about the heat or share tips on where to find the cleanest public restroom; suddenly, you start to feel like a little community; you start to feel close to your neighbors.

  By Friday morning, though, I was wiped. I’d barely slept, Jenna had developed a mild case of heat exhaustion, and it was difficult to muster enthusiasm. In fact, at one point during filming (because, obviously, I filmed this whole thing), I asked the people around me—in an over-the-top sort of cheerleaderesque voice—if they were excited, and everyone just sort of let out an audible groan (and then of course we all laughed at the absurdity of the situation). But just after dawn, things picked up again. The news vans began to arrive, and the Apple employees started to show up; everyone in line kind of perked up a bit—that, or their morning coffee started to kick in. (Luckily—for everyone involved—there was a strategically placed Starbucks just down the street.) Soon enough, the black curtains in the windows came down, and the employees lined up right down the middle of the store, almost like a military-style arch of swords (just without the weapons, of course). Then the clapping and the cheering started—all of a sudden people were pushing toward the front to take pictures or video. And right there in the middle of it all was Cody, smiling, laughing, and—I kid you not—wearing a GoPro on his head. I suddenly had a flashback to the time I had waited in line for an iPhone for hours even though I had no hope of getting one; the phone I later received had been an unexpected gift. I realized now was the time to pay it forward. With help from my friend Ed, I was able to work out a deal with Apple. We made sure that Cody left that day with his very own phone. I’ve also continued to work with the NAPA Center. I’m proud to say that, to date, we’ve raised more than fifteen thousand dollars. To think, we went from a silly mission to get a new cell phone to having an opportunity to impact people’s lives.

  That video of my iPhone 6 adventure has since been viewed more than a million times and, as always, the reviews were mixed. Some people lamented the “relentless consumerism” or declared Apple enthusiasts nothing more than “sheeple.” But that’s okay. I’m okay with that, too.

  Is it crazy to sleep on the street for two days, waiting in line to spend your hard-earned money on—of all things—a phone? Yes, it is. You know what else it was, though? It was fun.

  We are surrounded by so many extraordinary things in this life that it’s easy to become jaded. We carry around in our pockets and purses these unimaginable miracles of modern technology, these mind-blowingly powerful computers that allow us to speak—at a moment’s notice—with anyone in the world, that grant us access to billions of pages of information; with the press of a button, we can read almost any book ever written, listen to any song ever recorded, or gaze into the face of a loved one, even if they are thousands of miles away. I think that’s amazing. I don’t want to be jaded. I want to marvel.

  Is it silly to film yourself dancing like a spastic lunatic at thirty-five thousand feet in the air, flying somewhere over—I don’t know, Albuquerque—trying not to slam into the elbows of cranky passengers who don’t know who the hell you are? Yes, it is. You know what else it was, though? It was joyful. I mean, don’t get me wrong—it was humiliating. But it was joyful.

  We have so much in this life to worry about and suffer over that it’s easy to become cynical—to not care too much about anything, because it’s safer, cooler—but I’d rather be a bug-eyed, squealing enthusiast.

  There are so many moments when we may feel judged or slighted or put upon or gossiped about, that it would be easy to lash out, to complain about all the ways in which we’ve been wronged, to point a finger at someone, to write a nasty anonymous comment to make ourselves feel better, but I’d rather be kind.

  It’s impossible to predict the ways in which the people we meet—online and off—will ultimately affect our lives, but I believe strongly that everything happens for a reason. You have been put into my life for a reason, and I have been put into yours. We may not know why yet, but I’m so happy that we’ve crossed paths.

  Thank you for watching, and for reading.

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  THERE ARE SO MANY PEOPLE that I want to thank that I would need another book to include them all. Here is one HUGE THANK YOU to anyone I’ve ever met and everyone who has been mentioned among these pages.

  To my entire family for putting up with my absolutely crazy antics—most of which aren’t even in this book. You’ve always been so supportive of it all. Bre, thanks for being such a great sport when I bother you nonstop on camera (and your entire life growing up). Jenna, for sticking by my side on some of our craziest travel adventures (also, sorry our rooms were next to each other and you had to hear me play guitar until 3 a.m. every night). Mom and Dad for giving me the chance to figure out my dreams and for always being there for me. I love you!

  To my grandma, you and Pap were my #1 fans from the start. You’ve always taught me to be myself and helped me find an outlet for my creativity. I love you and thank you for all your hard work you’ve put into the “iJ Chronicle Books.” :)

  Francesca Giaimo, first and foremost for being such an amazing, supportive friend, but also makeup artist/art director/producer/sound/lighting expert, etc. :) Nathan Haugaard, for being so talented and shooting such fantastic photos throughout this book! Mike Krisza for design help with this cover . . . and a million other projects I always seem to throw at you last minute. Josh Sundquist for hanging out sometime and for giving me the confidence and inspiration to actually write a book. Cory . Ed + JB: Myspace, line camping and BFFs for life. I love you guys. Susie, all of our stories will be in the sequel. Steve, thanks for kicking me and allowing me to tell the story even though you don’t remember it happening . . . clearly, it did. ;)

  Petar Mandich, you’re the real MVP!! Thanks for being the most amazing manager and best friend anyone could ever ask for (and also for carting twenty Macs to the cover photo shoot). To everyone at Addition and UTA for helping me reach new goals. To Thea Haigh for being one of my first big supporters—I’m beyond excited to be working with you and the Sunshine Sachs team! The biggest thanks and hugs to everyone at Keywords Press/Atria Books, especially my editor Sarah Cantin for always keeping us on track and Courtney Hargrave for taking my nonsense stories and helping turn them into an actual book.

  To all the brands that I’ve had the pleasure of working with, thank you for trusting me to partner with you and make something awesome.

  To all of my Internet friends: you are my true inspiration. Through the ups and downs you guys have always been there and have helped me through some of the toughest times, even those that I’ve never shared publicly. In your emails, tweets, and comments, I have read so many touching stories about how I’ve changed your life, but you have all done the same for me. For that, I cannot thank you enough.

  To Pittsburgh—love yinz.

  Justine Ezarik (aka iJustine) is a producer, actress, host, technology expert, and one of the most subscribed-to personalities on YouTube. She has been nominated for two Teen Choice Awards and four Streamy Awards, and is the winner of the People’s Voice Webby Award for Best Web Personality/Host. She has been named one of the Hollywood Reporter’s 50 Most Powerful Digital Players, was called the “most influential person online” by Fast Company, and ranked No. 6 on the Daily Beast ’s 2012
Digital Power Index.

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