the mile-high club

I think a man feels more like a man if, when traveling on an airplane, he fires up his Powerbook at least once, just to show the other passengers that he is a member in good standing of the international order of techno-geeks.

And I think it's a rule somewhere, too. You can't lug that thing on board without taking it out at least once. Otherwise, what's the point?

So here I am, blogging at 32,000 feet. San Francisco to Philadelphia. Northwest Airlines. My Powerbook is telling me I only have eleven minutes of battery power, so I'm going to need to make this short (or type very fast). I left it on all night (in sleep mode) and didn't realize it would drain the battery so much. When we arrived at the security checkpoint, I took it out and saw the soft green glow of the power light. Worried that the X-ray machine might adversely affect my baby if she was on, I opened it up and started typing things into it and powering it down. I was suddenly and keenly aware of the fact that everyone was looking at me. "What's that guy doing?"

Corey and I are on our way back east for Christmas. The lack of entries over the last couple days have to do with an over-burdened shopping schedule, cleaning, partying, and packing. I'm hoping to be able to continue to post with some frequency through our vacation, as Corey's parents are equipped with WebTV through a dial-up ISP, even though they are situated in the middle of Amish country, in a deep valley full of farms and . . . well . . . more farms. And my parents have DSL.

Corey got me OS X Panther for Christmas, so expect to see some reviews in the next couple of days. (I can't wait!)

I'm not impressed with Northwest Airlines so far. This is an old plane, really cramped (moreso than some) and they aren't even showing a movie! The food sucks, but that's always the case, so we bring our own. The flight attendants have been about average. The seats are all ragged and crappy. We were scheduled for aisle seats and ended up with middle seats. And I only got two hours of sleep last night (which, in all fairness, can't be blamed on the airlines.) Worst of all is the fact that the seat in front of me has printed on it:

USE BOTTOM CUSHION FOR FLOTATION

I'm bothered and worried by the fact that the engineers who assembled this metal tube had trouble spelling "floatation". That's like President Bush saying "Nucular Weapons". (Maybe that's why his strategists told him to start saying "Weapons of Mass Destruction". I guess if you read this, you'll know we made it in one piece, and probably never had to utilize our bottom cushion.

I'm missing our little girl already. I know how hard it is on Meera when Corey and I are away for so long, and it's always really painful to leave her behind (she wouldn't fly well, or believe me, we would bring her).

My eleven minutes have elapsed and my Powerbook is now recalculating its battery power. Apparently, my writing has passed muster and I will be permitted to continue.

We're lucky this year in that Gina and Rachel will be looking after Meera. They really like her and will pay her lots of attention, so that makes me feel better. We used to hire a pet-sitter (yes, a pet-sitter) to come over once a day and feed her and play with her. Not only does that get expensive, but the person is always someone we don't know personally, and it's hard wondering if she'll be alright.

My knees hurt. And I have absolutely no place to put my feet. I swear these seats have gotten smaller. . . .

Posted: Sun - December 21, 2003 at 02:27 PM

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the mile-high club

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