The New Plan

I'm sure that this is old enough as to make me terminally uncool as a blogger for just finding it now. Good thing I'm not a blogger. Just some dude with a blog.

http://www.irregulartimes.com/secedenow.html

In five years, we can all see what a disaster side A is without Side B. And Vise Versa. Sure, its a grand social experiment, but im willing to wager that the people sneaking over the border to come visit the Blue nation for a crazy Saturday night outweigh the people going into the Red nation to join their military. On the other hand, they will probably occupy/firebomb our dens of homosexual sin within a few weeks anyway. Or send in an occupying force.

Really, the possibilities are endless. Freaking amazing article though. What do you think would happen?

Tintin: The movie

Before reading this post, you should follow the link here, and give yourself a sense of context.
http://www.sfgate.com/cgi-bin/article.cgi?f=/n/a/2007/03/08/entertainment/e220124S64.DTL

Then, you should be for warned that the following is a nerdy diatribe of epic and probably incriminating proportions. You should probably also know that Herge is the author of the original Tintin Comics. Though you might have gotten that from the above article...

So, for those of you who don’t know, I wrote the final paper for my history major about Tintin. To sum it up: I think Tintin is useful as a historical snapshot because Herge captures, not necessarily the countries and the people that Tintin visits, but the Belgian CONCEPTIONS of what those characters might look at. This is mostly in reference to Herge’s early stuff, because as the European conception of the other became more P.C. during and after the World War, so did he evolve as an author. Anyway, I mostly tackled his first few books, and the early evolution of him as a writer, but I also tried to get into why Tintin succeeded as a character and as a series of stories. (A huge part of this was Herge's talent as an artist, and as a researcher for visual accuracy) Thus, the new movie that Spielberg’s company is tackling is fantastically exciting… But also fraught with peril for a nerd like me.

Tintin as a character embodies a certain series of things, but he never really shows much of a character beyond these basic concepts. He’s the boy scout motto writ large: helpful, trustworthy, smart, honest, hardworking. He hates cheaters, liars, and any sort of foul play. His curiosity gets him in trouble, but his intelligence and quick thinking get him out again (plus a good dose of luck). I would say his success is what made Superman an early success. He had all the qualities anyone (read: any young boy in Tintin’s case) could want, so everyone could read a little of themselves into him. Perfect for a Cartoon Hero who’s main role was allowing Herge to explore countries and criminals without leaving his comfy chair back in Belgium.

However, Tintin never shows powerful human emotion. For every bit he is Superman, he’s no Batman. His Pathos rating is a big ol Zero. He’s never jealous, and only rarely angry (and never irrationally so, its always if someone violates the boy scout creed). He cries only twice, and both in the same book: Tintin in Tibet, in two frames, both when he thinks his friend Chang might be dead. He is, essentially incredibly boring.

Also, all of his friends are male. There’s a drunk (and vaguely creepy) sea Captain, who might be a father figure or a foil for Tintin’s straight arrow nature. There is an absent minded and hard of hearing professor. There are two blundering detectives, who are never on the right track. After Herge gets over his race issues and starts writing characters of other backgrounds (after Tintin and the Blue Dragon, and the introduction of Chang), there are a series of well connected leaders from each of the countries that Tintin visits that are impressed by his honesty and forthrightness and treat him as a friend. I can’t think of many females in that cast, but there might be a few I’m forgetting. There is the Opera singer, and there’s a beautiful Gypsy woman, but each of these people are already in love with someone who is not Tintin. In fact, I never got the impression that Herge realized that Tintin was male. He’s so bland as to be asexual, and the closest I think he gets is with his growing friendship with the Chang. And that’s a HUGE stretch.

So, the question is, can a character with literally no emotional depth, and no interest in sexual appeal be a Hollywood character? Clearly, they can (See: Reeves, Keanu) but I don’t see a way that a straight interpretation of Tintin really works in live action. Just Blockbusting this thing up with special effects and making him into an Indiana Jones character wont work, hes not original enough, with out Herge's amazing artwork, for the stories to keep their heads above water. Can you imagine a Hardy Boys movie? Oh god, please no. This leaves us with, as I see it, two options.

One: Stay the hell away from live action, and spruce up all the other characters around him so that he is a blank canvas and the rest of the characters are interacting on him. This is basically the model that the Comic book takes, but I just have this feeling that this isn’t revolutionary enough for Spielberg. I can’t see him really interested in a faithful rendition of the Tintin stories, because im not sure that puts enough of his stamp. Bland character, different foible types bouncing off him, getting him in trouble, only to have him save the day. So, unless he totally re-invents how animation looks or works, not sure that any one adventure story is going to be enough. He would have to inject something really cool and revolutionary to the style.

Or Two, and this is the bit that I find exciting, imbue Tintin with a psychological explanation for the ways that he interacts with the universe. Fill in some back story (clearly what they will have to do to give the story any Hollywood arch at all) and tell us why he never really connects with anyone around him. Create a character that is curious and interested in traveling the world, and who is driven by a sense of fair play, but who is completely unable to display powerful emotion. I realize that I am describing a movie that I will hate when I see it, because it’s a nearly Herculean task, but wouldn’t it be cool if we got a movie that established the emotionless hero, but then delved into what made him tick? I don’t know that you can capture each and every book, or the wanderlust that Herge had as an author, in one movie, so why not go in a totally different direction? Why not assume that we have read the books, and try and figure out why Tintin will throw himself into a river to save a drowning boy, but never really consider a woman? I’m prepared for something totally different, but if I was given a movie with the background of Tintin, I would try and capture what happens to the Boy scout who, at the end of the day, chooses to keep going home alone with his dog Snowy and move away from equally strong and likable characters. There is only room for one hero in Herge’s Tintin, and I want to know why.

Plan B

We live in an age where everyone has things done for them with remarkable speed. Want to find a hotel? There are three million websites that will compare everything for you from the bounce of a bed to the attractiveness of the room service crew (those things are not connected. Jeeze. This is a rigorous scientific document). Want to buy a car? There are fifteen million ways to search for all the gizmos and gadgets that will work for you. And don’t even get me started on the wide world of resources available to you if you want to start gardening, modeling, or (as I’ve recently learned) collecting tropical Fi…. Sharks.

But for some reason, the wide world of Green energy remains mostly untapped. There are just beginning to be a large number of products out there that might be available for household use. Might be able to save you energy, might be able to lower that bill, and, who knows, might reduce your personal Carbon Emission to something a little closer to what god and nature intended. But, and lets be honest here, the process of greening up your home is a lot of work. It's an incredibly daunting project to just know where to start and how to go about installing everything and keeping it running, let alone optimizing things to your particular condition/situation. I myself often forget to turn out lights, and have been known to leave my computer running for weeks! And I know that just keeping the place from falling apart is more then enough for anyone. That’s why I am going to start a project that will, scientifically, OBJECTIVELY decipher how hard it is to add a lil bit of Green to your life. And you don't have to give up the Big screen TV. (OK, the big screen might have to go, but I promise that the general way of life shall remain unchanged. mmmm, except those pants. those need to go too.)

I will catalogue and control how much energy is gained from different easy to use alternative energy sources. I will figure out what works, what is difficult to install, what takes maintenance, and what runs like a dream as soon as its in. Ill record watts per day, break downs per month, and repair costs per year. Ill know what generates more in different temperatures, and which systems take an Engineering degree to install. The whole time, I (and by this point, its really clear that I mean WE, because this will be a lot of work, and I’m Lazy) will stay on top of the costs of each, while also tracking and researching the newest and greenest of energy resources, so that by the end of the project I can say objectively what works the best and what combination of green energy you can use to make you feel like a better person. (I actually know the answer already. Eat Right and exercise more. But we’ve been ignoring that for generations, why stop now??)

I will also have a Video Camera, so that I can sell out to MTV and spend the rest of my life relaxing in the comfort of my horribly energy inefficient McMansion while I feed Empire Penguin meat to my Pit-bull named “Nuge”. Ahh, to dream the impossible dream.

Read on to discover the basic outline of what the project will look like.

1.) Step one: Start a Commune

2.) Step two: ???

3.) Step three: PROFIT!

The concept looks like this: A main house (built like a regular commune type structure), with four cabin satellites around the outside. Each Cabin runs on a different type Alternative Energy source, and supports a like number of people for a set amount of time. We find out what its like to live under these conditions, when we "stop having fun, and start to get REAL". No, sorry, I got carried away there for a moment.

A definition of Green Energy, as described by the all-seeing-all-knowing Wikipedia is as follows:

“Green energy includes natural energetic processes which can be harnessed with little pollution. Anaerobic digestion, geothermal power, wind power, small-scale hydropower, solar power, biomass power, tidal power and wave power fall under such a category. Some versions may also include power derived from the incineration of waste.”

For the sake of an easily linked article, we can assume that the definitions of these things, as broad as they are, are the categories that I am going to use as demarcations.

We can also eliminate a few of the runners in this discussion: We won’t have access to the scale technology to successfully run Anaerobic Digestion, and neither will we have the infrastructure for incineration as an energy source. These two are out. We are also probably not going to be able to locate near enough to an ocean to have a legitimate shot at Tidal Power, and Wave Power is pretty much on boats only, as I understand it. These two, for the sake of this discussion, are also out. Geothermal Power, also dependant on massive amounts of heat generated in a single place, is also not practical for this discussion.

This leaves, as basic building blocks for my experiment, the following: Wind Power., Solar Power, Bio-Mass Energy and Small Scale Hydro-Electric Power. Wind, water, sun and… stuff. For the sake of this project, that leaves us with 4 Cabins, each trying to get to the point of supporting 2 people full time for 1 year. Thus, we are looking at 8 people, with a potential support/research staff of up to 2 more: living in the main house, and working on different forms of insulation etc. Variable cast: 8-10.

Each house has the express goal of creating enough energy to allow two people to live in relative comfort. The goal is not minimalist living, but rather luxurious living with minimalist tactics. Thus, we would make each cabin into a one bedroom apartment, with a larger common room/kitchen and a smaller sleeping area. We would attempt to equip each with running water, a fully equipped kitchen and bathroom, a television and a P.C. We would build each house within a budget, and hopefully insulate in such a way as be both the energy efficient and most cost effective. (if it were a really good experiment, we would run three cabins with each type of energy source, and record different levels of insulation as well. We are almost certainly not able to perform to that level of scientific rigidity.)

We will do our best, over the course of this experiment, to share equal time spent in each cabin. (E.G. people living there, cooking there, watching TV there, throwing parties there, etc.) And we will try to remove as many of the nearly limitless other variables that will be thrust onto the scene as we possibly can.

More (hopefully much) to come.

Sometimes I become upset about my place in life, and start to believe that I am basic, even boring in my simplicity. But then, I think about the small events that spatter my day, Pollock-esq, with drama and intrigue. Frankly, sometimes more life is more exciting then I would like. Take for example:

That moment every day when I speak to someone who has a complaint. Let’s imagine that they have expressed the problem, and lets say I have answered it, to the best of my ability. Sometimes answers are better then others, but either way, I eventually have to pause. My point is made and I lapse into silence. (Of course, there are those that do not allow me to even get to this point, but they are not drama. They are not intrigue. They are just anger, with a touch of stupidity.) Regardless, the pause must come. And this is the crucial moment: will the caller be pleased with my response, or is their own agenda stronger then anything I could say? It's a tense moment. If the first word out of their mouth changes the tenor of the discussion, or moves its phase, then all is well. However, if they pause, or bluster for a second, it often means that their brain is deleting what I tell them and they about to launch into the same diatribe again. It’s as if they re-connect to the heart of their original argument, and, like Popeye and his spinach, are reenergized to return to the fight. My arguments are brushed aside like the Lilliputians who foolishly have landed a few blows on King Kong: for a moment it appears that the beast has fallen, but in fact it has just gathered its strength for another more violent upheaval.

Sometimes, this moment is a passing grade on my success at answering questions. Other times, it is failing one. And still others are rendered moot by the grade giver, a sweeping incomplete as I realize that my answer was subsumed in the massive cloud of their own internal logic, sucked in one end alive and well and spit out the other, a loose fish skeleton wrapped in oily newspaper. Regardless though, it is packed with the great strength

Or that other moment.

Scene: Subway. The crush of people getting off the train, heading for the stairs.

Pontius is in line, but sees a small woman in front of him, literally half his size, angling in for the spot on the stairs. He pauses for a moment, she glances up and is past. The whole thing takes less then a second.

What I will never understand about the New York attitude is the Challenge that was in that woman’s eyes. She was small, under 5 ft 4, Latina, with a flat face and a frizz of hair under some sort of loose wrap. And she looked at me as if to say: you might be able to walk down these stairs, mi amigo, but know that if you do, I’m taking a testicle. I swear to god, her eyes said that to me. I didn’t really understand. I mean, I was trying to convey a sense of community, comradely, and general You-go-first-atude, but that was just destroyed by her frost! And at the end of the day, I had every intention of allowing her to go first. It just felt like my good deed was minimized by the fact that, offered or no, her eyes conveyed the understanding that she Would be going first, regardless of how I felt about it. This, frankly, was not a good feeling. How can I develop a sense of community when a little old woman looks at me like she would be perfectly happy to force me to lick the third rail? The moment in which she passed me, I was literally frozen in fear. It took me the rest of the walk home to stop checking behind me to see if she was coming after me with a baseball bat. If that’s not drama, I don’t know what is.

Or this one

There I am plowing through the end of my day, answering questions and entering data. Suddenly, a single sentence on the radio catches my attention. What was said? I couldn’t tell you, but when I return to my screen, there is a completely unknown thing there facing me.

MM: pldg RN, OP at $50, p07norah added to acct.

I feel a little ripple of fear in my gut. What do these strange letters mean? I believe that I have typed them, but it’s almost as though they are something completely new, beyond what I could have created on my own. I am angry at these letters and numbers. There they are, staring at me, chins jutted collectively in the air. I can almost here them, pounding on their chests, yelling: Here I am! And they are. But I don’t know why. The logic that once connected those pixels is completely absent and I am left parsing the different parts. MM? an expression of lust? Or an appliance warming up? Ask not for whom the refrigerator hums, it hums for thee. Then there is the illicit Dollar sign, that sexy capitalist S -- $. There is intrigue there, and a callous coldness as well. And what is this hint to a woman, hiding behind more inexplicable numbers? She is laughing at me, this Norah, and I resent it. After a few seconds, the meaning beings to filter back into this strange code, and I am able to take a deep breath and forge ahead again. But for the rest of the day, the things I type and the people that I speak to are tinged with the strange fear of illiteracy, and the chance at once again being plunged into the confusing world where I can only feel my way through hieroglyphs and signs.

Old stuff: The Airplane Disaster

This is my first ever “terrible business trip” experience, and as such I am going to begin recording my thoughts, fears, and concerns. Call it a tribute to the SportsGuy. I will begin as I awoke this morning, at local time 6:55, to once again sally forth to the Huston Airport. I’m not sure exactly when my journey officially kicked off, but lets assume conservative and say its when I arrived at the check in Desk in NYC La Guardia Airport. The time then was 10:00 AM, Monday the 16th. of October. We pick up the story early in the morning of Tuesday the 17^th.

Hour 20: I awake in my Hotel room after a fitful sleep. Apparently I’m nervous about making the plane, because I have awoken four times during the night. This is very unusual for me. I confess to having a strong desire to stay in bed, and not even make an effort to make the 10:45am flight to Lubbock, my final destination. .

Hour 20.30: I met a man just now on the train taking me from terminal C to terminal B. He’s on hour 36, and is trying to get to his sisters wedding in Tampa. Remember, it could always be worse! I feel a strange camaraderie with this man. I will certainly never see him again.

Hour 21: This desire to stay in bed that I referred to before. It was actually brilliant foresight. After hitting every line perfectly and arriving at the Huston airport once again (I have now removed my shoes three times, been patted up and down once… no serious invasive searches yet) I discover that the flight that I was on standby for has been canceled. The next flight will be at 2:15 this afternoon. I am, needless to say, still very much on standby. The woman behind the counter who gave me this information was surprised that I was at all upset. She said: “oh, I thought you already knew all about that”. The frustrating thing is that I DID know, and should have stayed in bed. However, in line, I struck up a conversation with a nice couple who were clearly suffering from sleep deprivation. They were on hour 26 of their journey to Oklahoma City. The husband had gotten a ticket on the next flight, (at 11AM) but his wife had been consigned to standby. This was creating some awkwardness in their interactions. He was claiming that he would, of course, wait for her and wouldn’t take the flight, but it didn’t sound like she believed him.

Hour 22: they keep making announcements that if you are caught making “inappropriate” jokes or comments about security, you could be arrested. The woman seems very friendly over the intercom though, so I have trouble believing that she will go through with it. I am considering making as many such jokes as loudly as possible, just because I can’t really face the reality of sitting here for another large number of hours. Also, wouldn’t it be interesting to see the inner workings of airport security?

I am also becoming friends with a suicidal looking woman with a five year old. The five year old is asleep now, which is nice, because his mother looks like she’s about to snap. She has the skin coloring and personal aroma of someone who has been up all night drinking coffee and smoking cigarettes to stay awake. Also, at this point, I just noticed that I am starting to smell bad (my cloths are somewhere between here and Lubbock, It’s unclear if I will ever see them again). I hope that my new found friends don’t hold it against me, but the stench of stale tobacco on her clothing makes me feel that I’m still ok.

Hour 23: The news is reporting that 10 inch’s of rain was dumped on the area last night. There have been four deaths, and a whole horde of lost livestock in the flooding. I’m starting to hate the airlines marginally less, and the general travel gods marginally more.

I’m going to go forage for sustenance and see if there is a way to get to a bus stop and check times and things. Any flight we could take at this point would almost definitely crash anyway.

Hour 23.09 AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA. But the breakfast burrito was yummy.

Hour 23.30: I’ve noticed a lot of people on cell phones telling the world their stories. I don’t think anyone has flown into or out of this airport in the last day. (the bus stop idea was a failure. No one here knows anything, and I am afraid to leave security areas because I don’t want to have to come back in.)

I have found a group of like minded Lubbock bound people, and I have to say, the crew feels mutinous. There are a large number of us Lubbock bound folk at this point, and there are talks of a second flight this afternoon to accommodate all the standby people. We are all bonding together in our upset-ness, huddling around the few of us with laptops. So far, two people have sent and received emails from my machine, and one person read about the Bears game last night. (Editors note: Bears Defense with a huge comeback win over Arizona to move to 6-0) We have also discovered that the website for the Airport is marginally more useful and informed then the people in the Airport themselves, and are thus checking it regularly for information that doesn’t seem to have filtered down to the peons at the desks.

The woman with her five year old went off on a wild goose chase for a flight that might get them closer to where they want to be. I wish them well, but I don’t have a lot of hope for their success.

Hour 24: I just realized that I have been calculating the time of my journey all wrong. It became an hour earlier when I arrived here. Thus, I should have been adding an hour to my total instead of subtracting it. If i started at 10am EST, and it 11am Central time now, then my new hour clock to this point is 26, not 24. However, Its only been a little more then a half hour since my last comment.

Hour 26: My new found power of the internet played me for a fool! There was a flight listed for Lubbock in Terminal A, and I raced over to see if I could get on it. Of course, as any savvy business traveler knows, listing flights in other terminals is simply a way to disperse the angry mo waiting at a gate for a flight they might not get on. I have to say, I took the bait. Hook line and sinker. Of course it was a red herring, and of course no one would have heard of it in the new terminal, more the fool I for believing in easy solutions! However, I have to say that I now have a pretty good concept of the layout of the Huston Airport. I have now visited, in no particular order, Terminals A, B, C and E, and a Sub terminal of B that really looks like a third world country.

27.45: The Walls of this place are starting to close in! I have finished my book, and my Ipod is dying. All of my plugs and cords are in the Luggage which is somewhere between here and my desired destination. No one at the baggage claim can tell me where, exactly, that is, but they assure me that it will be there waiting for me when I get off. I am starting to become claustrophobic. Long halls with neon lights are glaring down on my exposed head and scrambling my brain. I need a tinfoil helmet! There are people camping out all around me, toys and food spread out in the hall like a refugee camp. The larger piles are people sleeping under thin airport issued blankets. I don’t know if I’m going to make it.

In a desperate bid to maintain my own sanity, as my cell phone fades into oblivion and starts making regular beeping noises (yes, the cell phone charger is in the bag too…) I have purchased “the plot against America” By Philip Roth. I’m excited. This could have a slight redemption as an event if this is A) a good book, and B) wastes some time.

Sometime around hour 28: So here I am, peacefully reading my book, when suddenly a woman near me faints. Like, a scary faint, complete collapse, sagging against the wall and then head hitting the floor pretty hard. Humor of my own situation aside, this shit was scary. Then she started having a seizure. I’m always amazed at how people don’t know what to do, and as a result, tell other people to do things but wont do anything themselves. Everyone was just paralyzed with fear for a while. I mean, I don’t know what to do either, but turning her on her side, and making sure that she had something soft under her head seem like safe enough steps. She was frothing at the mouth a bit, and threw up a little, so we got her a paper towel, and some woman donated her airplane pillow (sagely stolen from a previous flight!). We made her as comfortable as possible, but the paramedics took 20 minutes to get there, and the airplane staff did literally nothing more then cordon off the area. Well, that’s not fair. One woman in the crew came over and gave us an ice pack, and then a little while later told us we could leave the woman and she would wait with her while the paramedics arrived. The woman (about 35, black woman in a nice business suit) was trying to talk for a while, but now she’s just laying there looking sort of freaked out. Everyone, is, of course, stopping to gawk at her. Shitty. I will now resume my humorous account of these events.

Hour 28.09: I know I promise to be funny again, but the paramedics just got here. It took them the entire time I was trying to help my fellow refugees help this woman having a seizure, and THEN the entire time it took me to write about it, and THEN 5 minutes. I don’t know why, but I really assumed that the response times in an airport would be better then that. but it was more then 25 minutes from faint to response. You get that sort of time in Nelson County. Or a third world country.

Hour 28.30: She was one of us, the woman who had a seizure, but she has now essentially been forgotten. We all already moved on. It has been announced that there are 17 people on standby for a few slots on the plane, and tension is building as we approach the time for the standby flight. People who, mere hours ago, were my friends, are now glowering at me and keeping their children close. Already, the camaraderie that the hours have fostered is beginning to disintegrate. Eye contact that used to result in a shared smile and an eye roll is now a grim frown and a quick look away. I am pulling my things closer to me, because these people look like the untrustworthy sorts who would rob you blind or take your designated seat at a moments notice.

Hour 28.45: It will not be a lottery! Standby is apparently done by when you originally checked into the system! The fact that I am closing in on hour 29 can only help me at this point. There can be NO way that the 16 other people have all been traveling for as long as I have… Can there? I am excited for my success. Lubbock appears to be within my grasp. I confess, at this point, that the actual arrival in Lubbock Texas can’t help but disappoint me, but at this point I will still hold it up as a Golden ideal, a Shangri-La of beautiful women, cheap 36 ounce stakes, and free flowing libations.

I’m going to die here in this airport, aren’t I?

Hour 29.30: I met a man named mike, who is waiting to go on a flight to Baton Rouge. He is the angriest man I have ever met. However, he made the list for the Standby on Baton Rouge, and his parting words sounded more like an Oath: I will never make a connection here in this city again. May Texas burn in hell. I swear to god he said that.

Hour 30: I agree with Mike. I’m never flying Continental EVER again. I arrived yesterday at 2:pm and got put on a flight for Wednesday. Now, explain to me how multiple people who arrived today are booked on the 6 and 9pm flights today? HOW DOES THIS HAPPEN?? Should I, at very least, have a chance to be booked before the people who were bumped off flights after me?

Standby was a tad disappointing. No one got on off the standby list. No one. Now, there are literally 8 flights between the one I missed and the one I am booked on. Now, the fact that three of them are canceled is one thing, but that doesn’t mean that people who arrived in this morning should be prioritized ahead of me. This does not make sense. I don’t know what to do. I might be too angry to write about this now. I’m going to make a little hell.

Hour 31: It’s a sad referendum on our current travel system that it takes someone going and really making a stink to get you on a plane. I spent 24 hours being kind, friendly, and generally easy going, laughing with people, hoping to ingratiate myself with them, etc. Eventually, I think I was a combination of that leg work and that went along with me throwing a hissy, but the end result was that I’m going to be on a plane tonight. It starts boarding at 6. And it’s nearly 4 now. So I should hit into Lubbock almost exactly at hour 36. Suck it Adam.

So, it turns out that plane flights don’t have Wifi. Same with the entire City of Lubbock. City is being generous. But whatever. So I had to wait a few days to post my completed, transcribed journal that I took by hand for end of the trip. It seems only appropriate that these last 7 hours would be written by hand. In my own blood.

Hour 32: I have temporarily re-gained my sense of humor about the experience and the life lessons learned thus far. Just had dinner with a large guy who used to play lineman for the Ohio State Buckeyes. We commiserated about the sad state of football, American Air travel, and the general malaise of Kids these Days. It was awesome. I had three beers. Needless to say, the impending doom and disappointment of my 6 o’clock flight is going to be all the more devastating because of this.

Hour 33.5: in waiting for the flight to arrive, a strange mechanical human being approaches me and strikes up a conversation. And by conversation, I mean tells me his life story while occasionally asking me for input on how I think his life is going. This man apparently moved from his life in rural Pennsylvania working as an insurance agent down to Florida to be with his girlfriend. She thanked him by running out on him two months later and he was left high and dry in Florida with out a whole lot of a network. Something about the way this man was talking made me think that the girl might not have invited him to Florida as much as she moved to Florida to escape him, but he never picked up on the signals. Anyway, the really crazy part of the story is that he then spent the last 6 months, post breakup, trying really hard to become a TV anchor. For a news station. He told me he even had a demo tape up on you tube. I’m going to track it down and se if it’s any good, (editors note: Nope) but this feller was into talking. He was one of those that tried to strike up a conversation with everyone he sat near, and was clearly just a little too innocent for this world. If people were joking with him, he sought clarification and reassurance before laughing. Strange human being, who none-the-less seems destined for a job as an extremely sincere local news anchor. His eyes were set further back into his head then any man I’ve ever seen.

Hour 34: Someone just offered me $200 cash for my ticket to Lubbock. I almost accepted. But then I really would die here, cause I would never get on another plane again.

Hour 34.5: I am through the gate, onto a bus, and finally, finally, finally on a plane. The best part is that the four amigos that I have been with since 9 am this morning all made it onto the flight. We have the back four seats of a very small plane. Then, someone comes on and says that they let one too many of us on, and that they are going to read a name and that person has to get off. Dark looks ensue. Promises of bloodshed and camaraderie are muttered under our breaths as the time for the elimination grows near. God help the woman if she calls one of our names!

The tension is broken when someone near the front vomits on the Stewardesses shoes. No joke. Just threw up on the floor. Hurray! He’s the one who’s going to get booted off the plane! There s much rejoicing until we realize that someone just threw up on our plane.

Hour 35: They are still cleaning the plane.

Hour 35.15: Don’t worry. The time it took to clean the plane means we missed our spot in line to take off. I knew it was too good to be true. We have started playing poker for pennies in the back of the plane. One girl, the not hot one, suggests strip poker. The hot one laughs and is all about it. Redemption at last? No, she chickens out when push comes to shove. Still, at least this part of the “flight” is amusing.

Hour 35.45: After a beautiful sunset, there are some squawks about getting underway. I have even fastened my seatbelt once or twice, but its mostly for show. We at the back of the plane are having a fine old time. We have made friends with the stewardess, and after hearing our tales of woe, she opened up the Jim Beam and coke. We are buying the little individual shots in a bottle for a dollar a piece. The other guy from the amigos has convinced her that continental airlines owe us the discount. She is a very friendly woman. She is wearing cowboy boots and wants to know if we want to go out for dinner when we get to Lubbock. IF we get to Lubbock.

Hour 36.15: We have gotten the all clear from air traffic, and turned the back of the plane into a party. Everything is coming up roses! And, we are finally off the ground. Lubbock or bust, that’s our motto. I have just learned that I am flying to the home town of Buddy Holly. Who died in an air crash. This can not be construed as a good sign.

Hour 38: We are nearly to Lubbock. The booze and the long day made a nap necessary. I think im in love with one of the girls (the hot one). But im also aware that its probably just because we have gone through a traumatic experience together. Like Sandra Bullock and Keanu Reeves from speed.

Hour 38.09: We are touching down in Lubbock. I’m not dead! I am as surprised as you.

Hour 38.35: After getting off the plane, I realize my luggage is gone. Hmmmmm. It was supposed to be here.

Hour 39: After a little search and rescue, I have my bags in tow. I say farewell to the amigos. We all promise to stay in touch. Numbers are exchanged. It becomes clear that the woman I am in love with is being picked up by her fiancé. I am crushed as I head to my rental car. As I leave the airport, the live journal must come to an end. That is the way of the world. The journey began nearly 2 days ago, but it is only airport to airport, so we will cease now. Thank god.