Airport profiles

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I've been to the airport a few times in the last month (to Vegas, San Jose and San Jose). I'll fly again next month as Amanda and I head to Indiana for her 10 year class reunion (gasp!), but that's another story.

You can't help but people-watch at the airport. You can't. Most of the time you're at the airport you're stuck and have nothing better to do. You're in the security line. You people-watch. You're waiting at the gate. You people-watch.

I saw a few funny people at the airport today.

Lost Backpacker. I think he was European. Maybe German. He could have been from Colorado though. All I know was that this dude was dirty and looked lost. He'd been on the road for at least a month. You could tell by the lack of hygiene. Still, he looked like he was on an adventure. His backpack was practically ripping at the seam. I was jealous. I missed the thrill of diving into a foreign city and figuring it out. I need a backpacking trip, soon.

Old Man Grumpy. He was just ahead of me in the security line. He walked through the scanner and set off the alarm. Old Man Grumpy was at least twice as old as the 30-something guard who asked him to turn around, remove his belt and walk through the scanner again. Again he set off the alarm. He was escorted to the screening mat with wife and granddaughter in tow. The guard used the wand and found something on every limb. Old Man Grumpy couldn't understand why he had to take off a pin and why he couldn't wear a watch. His granddaughter spoke to him like a toddler as she explained why he had to remove his tie clip. He had reason to be grumpy. It was all too, unnecessarily complicated.

Tech Nerd. He jumped up to the security line and pulled out three bins. Why does one person need three bins? He put his shoes, wallet and phones (two!) in one of the bins with his backpack. He took out of the backpack a laptop, and then another. This guy was double-fisting phones and computers. He was careful handling the equipment, which contrasted the behavior of the security guards. He looked proudly at his array of gadgets, framed by the plastic bins, like they were his children. Who needs to carry all of this technology while traveling? Me.

I concede to the Swedes

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On Saturday, Amanda and I made the silly mistake of going to IKEA with an agenda.

You can't just go to IKEA with an agenda. IKEA goes to you with an agenda. It chews you up through a maze of home furnishings and spits you out defeated, $200 poorer and with boxes that hardly fit into your sedan.

Damn those clever Swedes.

We had a game plan: Look for lanterns and candles for the wedding. Buy them. Leave.

IKEA had a game plan: Start us with a large yellow bag. Send us through a labyrinth. Entice us. Stop us at a deli. Make us pick up a shopping cart when we don't need it. Hide the bathroom. Make us pick up our own boxes. Let us check ourselves out. Send us home to put our own furniture together.

Do people even need to work there? The whole system is automated. Damn those clever Swedes.

We ended up buying the candles but no lanterns. We bought a couple large house plants, a Miami Vice-white executive chair (see previous post), a couple rugs, napkins, a chalkboard for the kitchen and other items that I can't remember but totaled more than $200.

IKEA, you took my pride and my freedom. I salute you damn Swedes.

Flattered(?) on Facebook

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Thanks to Al for the lovely photo he posted to Facebook. That's me, Al and Dad from left to right.

Al, this doesn't give justice to our original band, a jazz trio called Hot Albert and the PR Webbers.

On a related note, I've seen Blink 182 four or five times in concert. Fun band.

The dance, the chase, the save

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Last night, Amanda and I accidentally drank WAY too much wine.

As a result, we spent much of the evening dancing around the tree on our patio and admiring the paper lanterns we had hung up. We were elated to have created our own summer Christmas tree. Fabrizio was out celebrating with us and watched our stupor from the driveway.

Amanda and I fell to the ground to enjoy the motionless stars that were spinning in our vision when we heard a blaze of something speed past the hedge behind us.

It all happened so fast, but suddenly our cat was halfway up a telephone pole with a German Shepard barking at it from below. The dog had come out of nowhere and made a good 100-foot sprint at Fabrizio, who made like a squirrel and was now completely vertical - 20 feet up - and clinging for life to the telephone pole.

Fearless, Amanda launched at the dog and chased him away. I'm sure her mouth was foaming Merlot-red, though it was too dark out to tell. She called me over to assure the dog was gone and see how high the cat had climbed. After a few minutes, she coaxed Fabrizio to come down, which he did with an impressive, crisscross maneuver. I was relieved we didn't have to pull out the ladder to bring him down. We took Fabrizio inside to chill out with Sergio, who is always chill.

Unaware of our own volume, we created quite a ruckus outside over the event at 10:30 p.m., and our neighbor across the street came over to check on us. By this time, we had resumed drinking and recalled the story to him in one big mumble. I'm sure he thought we needed saving just as much as the cat.