From the Ludite

Today I write from the comfort of Cameron and Una's Hapkido class. I am typing with my thumbs on a tiny little pocket computer via someone's unprotected wi-fi connection (thank you, whoever you are. No one keeps their connections open anymore, and I don't want to pay for a media package.) For most people of my age group this is not terribly unusual. I, however, am fascinated by this possibility. A computer in my pocket? How did I get from wanting an electric typewriter to having the internet in my purse? When did it become expected that I could carry around an entire encyclopedia at the same time I am shopping for shoes (theoretically), all from my hand held electronic device? I am living the Star Trek dream, minus dating captains! Fascinating.

Ruminations

It is interesting just what comes to mind while you are parked on the tarmac, in an over crowded tuna can airplane. Mostly, I find myself ruminating on things that I would otherwise never notice- how large my feet are (in comparison to what is described as ‘ greatest legroom in the industry’), the breathing pattern of the person behind me, what the odd sounds the plane are making are, how greatly this experience differs from the first-class experience to Paris I dream about daily...

I have already been through the security experience that inevitably makes no sense and makes me want to run through the airport yelling ‘shoebombershoebombershoebomber’. Sitting here does not necessarily dampen that desire. In fact, boredom seems to increase my destructive tendencies and I am now ready to start mumbling, loudly, about god’s plan being ready. I could get cagey and repeat over and over, ‘now is the time, now is the time. get ready, get ready’. This would be just vague enough to cause some excitement, but not enough for actual imprisonment.

What if we could just fly off somewhere else? SFO doesn't want us right now. Maybe the Virgin Islands would take a plane full of frustrated Americans in need of umbrella drinks. Bellarouge? Topeka?

There is a TV in front of me as i am on Jet Blue (A+ for the TV, F for the tarmac parking). I find my self watching an add for ‘full figured’ Playtex bras. Never thought it would take sitting in an extra long mailing tube to find out big boobed girls can have lace undergarments. Of interest here- there is no language censoring on airplanes that play ‘South Park’. ‘Asshole’ is less offensive when the censor knows you are stuck on a fucking tarmac.

How cool is it that I can blog in this situation? Can we quantify this?

I really want a shot of my beautiful Manacmore. 120 proof, single malt, Scottish gift to humanity. A couple of shots of that would make this a great deal more interesting. If I gave some to everyone on the plane, maybe we could get some karaoke going. Or even turn into a plane full of soccer hooligans!’

If I call ‘Domino’s’ for a pizza, and they can’t get through security in 30 minutes, do I get the pizza for free? My goodness, I am hungry.

We should be landing by now, and yet we are still parked. Maybe we could all perform Chinese fire drills.