As we made our way to the bathroom afterward to relieve our arousal from the address, we were halted in the hallway by a firm hand on our chest: A former Division II footballer employed as one of Jobs' personal security guards was making a path for the turtlenecked tycoon through the crowd.
"Steve! Steve, can I shake your hand?" asked a female conventioneer -- only a green badge -- leaning too close. The bodyguard stepped in to block her.