Right. It’s 11:55 in santa barbara and 13:55 here. my plane’s in an hour and I’m not sure what I need to do next to ensure I’m allowed on it. I picked up my bag from the carousel, told someone I didn’t have any food with me, and gave up my bag again. Then there was some rigmarole involving x-ray machines. Laptops on the belt, coats in the tray? no, change in the tray, bag on the belt, laptop out of bag, in a tray with the coat? er… got there in the end, though I’m not at all sure how happy the work laptop is about all its maltreatment.
The plan on the plane nearly worked, except the guy with something hidden in his shoe turned out to be a dull yet talkative bastard who, no matter how conspicuously I yawned and lay back with my eyes shut, was convinced I was really interested to know that “twenty” obviously came from the spanish “vingte”… I refrained from tentatively offering “twantig” and yawned all the wider until he eventually paused long enough for me to get off to actual sleep. I probably ended up getting about four bursts of about an hour each, rather than the intended fairly uninterrupted 6-7 hours.
I’m not really entitled to food just yet (I’m trying to enforce Santa Barbara time on myself from the get-go) which is a pity since it’s all there seems to be around here to do. I’ll try to find something for the next hour that doesn’t involve MORE sitting…
[addendum: I ate a pizza and read a book. Ho hum]
8 hours isn’t the longest flight I’ve made by a long throw, but it’s a good job I’m planning to sleep: previously I’ve flown cathay and emirates, and they both came with your own LCD screen in the seat-back in front, and showed a choice of movies and had simple tetris and backgammon.
We have rousing traveling wilburys style music but with a slight tom petty rolling-across-the-wide-praire thing going on in there, and the couple behind me are speaking in fluent spanglés. The guy next to me seems kind of nervous. I wonder if he has something stowed in his shoe.
Amazingly I’ve made it to my check-in desk early. There’s still plenty of time for unexpected setbacks. While I’m looking forward to the time-difference and the culture shock with some trepidation, this brief pause has given me a moment to reflect on this broken country, more specifically this broken airport.
The train arrived on time but the doors only opened part way until the guy at the front of the queue kicked them. The information screen has “doctor watson for windows NT” up and a windows desktop. The first self-opening door I tried didn’t, nor did the first lift. The first sign to Terminal 3 is side-on to the entrance from the trains, so is invisible until you’ve tried another direction then turned around. The trolleys have all four wheels as casters causing unnecessary strain on the back just to make them go straight, and lack the elementary safety feature of a brake that goes on when you let go of the handle. The trolleys come with built-in van de graaf generators and don’t go on the escalators, which is an odd decision since the airport is full of escalators. The general air is of a place that has been refitted in the last couple of months, and determinedly worn out in the intervening weeks. Even the poor souls in the coffee place had to contend with a temperamental water supply playing havoc with their italian coffee machine.
Well. Time to polish of this mocha and go through the scary SECURITY desk at american airlines checkin. My addled brain suggested that “hey, my girlfriend’s jewish you know!” might be a good get-out-of-jail card should any misunderstandings arise.
woo! Made the train! The demo/class with charlie went ok- the kids were too pissed to pay attention much but they were enthusiatic and some of them wanted to know more afterwards… Then on to Bar Med where loads of the York posse were out - it was great to see them all … everyone was on form and dancing ranged from comical to really sweet… rounded off the evening with half an hour of talking nonsense and some acrobatics from Kim.
The first scary part of my hare-brained plan for today was the hour or two between getting home from the club and getting on the train. Fortunately a call from Sheryl and texts from the guys kept me busy while the bath ran, then I freshened up in time to get really sweaty lugging the … er …. luggage down to the railway station… bro had kindly lent me his suitcase when my rucksack was looking a little overstuffed but he’d warned me that it drags along on its wheels at JUST the wrong height for comfort. he wasn’t wrong. I wonder how much it weighs and how that relates to the baggage limit on my flight…
Shades of sweden trip here. Then too I got a 5 am train. I thought I was fine until later in the day when I poured ketchup down myself and started to get paranoid… Fortunately this time by lunchtime GMT I should be fast asleep and my body clock half way to California time. We’ll see.
Here goes. In about half an hour I’ll be in Leeds, demonstrating salsa to a bunch of drunken students. Couple of hours after that I’ll be having my goodbye dance in bar med… back home about 2am then I have to kill 3 hours before train at 5:10 for a 10:30 plane. eesh! That’ll be 2am california time, so if I can make it that far, I can zonk out for 7 hours on the plane and wake in chicago ready to go for the onward flight… uh huh. 6 hours after that I’ll be driving thru LA, hopefully with sat nav in the car. I never got round to looking up the 4-way stop.
Wish me luck!
First I have to apologise for Feb 12th’s entry. I should have a separate blog for geek stuff. I have a separate room in my house (though the geek stuff leaked into my bedroom when I got a housemate)
Anyhow. Blogging has recently appeared as a Thing and a whole bunch of Thingers have started their own blogs and maintain them every day. Simong and my brother both maintain daily blogs. I just can’t understand how this is possible. Beyond brushing my teeth, which happens before my mind has woken up, I don’t think there is anything that I can rely upon doing every day. I also covet their “comments” features.
Anyhow, my employer is sending me to Santa Barbara, CA for a month or two on Sunday, so if I have net access and time, entries ought to get interesting around here for a while. But I don’t know how big an “if” that is…
Ok. This is why RPMs give me the heebie jeebies. From http://www.linuxgazette.com/issue68/nazario.html :
Sometimes RPM will whine about a dependency which is installed but isn’t registered. Perhaps you installed it not using an RPM for the package (ie OpenSSL). To get around this, you can force it to ignore dependencies:
rpm -ivv –nodeps (package)
Note that this isn’t always wise and should only be done when you know what you are getting youself into. This will rarely break installed stuff, but may mean the installed package wont work properly.
On rare occassion RPM will mess up and insist that you have a package installed when you don’t. While this is usually a sign that something is amiss, it can be worked around. Just force the installation:
rpm -ivv –force (package)
Wrong wrong wrong! wrong.
wrong.
rpm is supposed to take the hard stuff out of the hands of the clueless n00b. In the end it hides the complexity, denies the learning process, then still lets the user break his system!
The Age of Forced Leisure
In the industrial revolution, we (”us”, as opposed to “them”) were dragged off the fields and stuffed into factories. People worked for housing and a pittance or starved.
Now the factories are closed or automated, and we all have lots of free time. They (”them”) are now trying to force us to watch more TV and buy CDs and DVDs.
Don’t know how that’s relevant. Just thought I’d share.
Koreans Like Small Wheels
Have you noticed? Hyundai cars have various bodies, from the metro-style urban runabout, through family saloon, to the curvy, predatory big-bodied tourer. The coupe looks great from the rear and from the front, but something’s wrong from the side. Look at New Mini for a clue. The wheels are too small! On every hyundai I’ve seen! The only time this is marginal is on the urban runabout, where the vogue is for wheels that are too small. I think big wheels are judged to be intimidating to upwardly-mobile career mothers or something. Anyway. I’m only telling you this so you can share my wonderment at how they can get their cars so consistently wrong.