I’m back from Tennesee. Actually, I’ve been back since Saturday. I’ve been busy doing things like sleeping in my own bed, hugging my wife and daughter, and not eating in restaurants.
I wasn’t sure if I was going to make it back. I was booked for a 7:30 flight on Saturday morning. Let’s see, try to get to the airport around 6:00 so I have time to drop off the rental car (Chrysler Sebring, a car I’d be happy never to drive again, but not as bad as Clair’s work truck, a GMC Behemoth that handles exactly the way I would expect an elephant with a gland problem would handle), get through security, etc. Hmm. Better wake up around 4:00. Shudder. Go to bed around 11:00. I can function on five hours with no problem. Noise in the hall; can’t sleep. Finally start to panic around 12:40. I can’t function on three hours. What if I don’t wake up? I woke up in time after all. Ate my well-planned breakfast of a Diet Coke and two Atkins bars. Dropped off the rental car and started through security when I realized that I still had my car keys. Whoops. Back to the beginning. Make it to the Atlanta airport, which is ridiculously large. Take a full twenty minutes to walk to the right terminal. Foolishly chug a soda about a half hour before departure. I did go to the bathroom, but as soon as the plane started to taxi, I felt an amazing pressure in my bladder. It was intense and sudden. OK, no problem. In ten or fifteen minutes, we’ll be in the air, and I’ll be free to move about the cabin. What’s taking so long. Sorry for the delay, folks. We’re number four for takeoff, so it’ll be a few minutes yet. Please don’t say number one. We’re in the air. I’m dancing in my seat. There’s a marine in the back row giving me funny looks. I guess I seem nervous. Ladies and gentlemen, this is the pilot speaking. We’ve reached our cruising altitude, but it’s a bit rough, so I’m going to leave the seatbelt light on for a while. When I turn it off, you’ll be free to move about the cabin. I don’t think I’m going to make it. I wonder if they charge you extra if you wet yourself on the plane? Beverage and snack service? Great – now I can’t go anywhere even if I were allowed. Finally, after 45 agonizing minutes, I had my first airplane restroom experience.
On second thought, maybe I shouldn’t have shared that story.
I’ve got Gmail (thanks to dda). And it’s killing Dave. Pretty cool so far. It’s one of the best web interfaces I’ve ever seen, which isn’t terribly high praise from me: I dislike the overwhelming majority of web interfaces. So does Deane.
Speaking of Dave, here’s a great story that reminded me of him. But Dave did point me to the 50 Coolest Song Parts, so thanks for that. The bass riff from out of nowhere in Paul Simon’s “You Can Call Me Al” is number 36.
And I ran across this link about a guy who made the switch in several ways: Philips, an account manager for Choice Communications, was baptized shortly after his conversion and is in contact with Apple computers as a potential candidate for the company’s popular “Switcher” ad campaign. Pretty funny stuff.
On another note, I got my 17″ PowerBook the other day. What an amazing machine. The screen is huuuuuuge. The illuminated keyboard is wonderful. I have yet to come up with a proper name for it. My last PowerBook (15″ titanium) was named Scooby.
And here’s something for Dan and Mike.