I am sitting here in the tiny airport at Wenatchee, Washington bored out of my mind because I forgot to bring a book. With nothing else to do, I figure I'll fire up a game of Kitty Spangles Solitaire for an hour while I wait for my plane to arrive. But when I open my PowerBook, something very strange happens. A little dialogue box pops up saying "your wireless network is no longer available. Would you like to join the network "LINKSYS?"
If there was a button that said "f#@% yeah!" - I would have clicked it.
And so here I am with full internet access in a little nothing of an airport you've probably never heard of before. I have excellent signal, and the speed is fantastic. I contrast this with the shitty slow access I am usually paying big money for in larger airports, and have to ask... what the f#@%??
If a tiny airport can so graciously offer up free internet as a convenience for their passengers, why don't the big guys do the same? It costs practically nothing, but rather than treat you as a guest, they instead rape you for a few more bucks just because they can. So way to go Wenatchee for bucking the trend of outrageous internet access, and serving your customers better than facilities fifty times your size.
Just one more reason I'm happy to fly out local instead of driving over to Seattle.
One of the little tricks I use when traveling is to wear tired old underpants and socks, so I can just toss them in the garbage when I get to where I am going and have one less thing to worry about carrying around. It also keeps my clothes from smelling like feet. Today I found a pair of really nasty tighty-whitey underwear that are pretty messed up. They practically fell apart when I put them on, so I'm quite proud of that. My socks are in fairly good shape, but mis-matched and not really white anymore.
Anyway, across the aisle from me is a bitch and her three hyperactive, annoying kids. She has no interest whatsoever in keeping them quite, and is happy to have them running around screaming at people. If security (which is much tighter and far more thorough here than at larger airports) hadn't confiscated my shotgun, I can guarantee her mis-behaving kids would be quiet. DEAD QUIET!! (that's funny if you say it as Arnold Schwarzenegger). But oh no. She is obliviously chatting away to some poor woman next to her about how she's "scared to death of these small planes because they crash all the time!"
And that's when it hits me...
What if we crash?
And I'm wearing nasty fall-apart underwear.
My mother will be so embarrassed if she shows up to claim my body and I'm in holy undies. In fact, she may even disown me right there, and say that she doesn't know the guy on the slab. "No son of mine would wear such disgraceful underwear," she'll say.
So now I am really nervous about the flight.
Not because I might die... I have no problem with that... but because my horrified mother will have to identify my body while I'm wearing underwear with holes in them and mis-matched socks. She will then spend the rest of her life wondering where she went wrong with me, and calling my brother every day to be sure he's wearing underwear that's suitable for dying in.
I should have worn my lucky boxer shorts.
I can honestly say I never envisioned a time that I would be obsessing about my underwear in a blog entry. Maybe I should just shut down Blogography right now, because there's nowhere to go but down now.
But, seriously now, if the coroner who finds my mangled body in the wreckage reads this... I would greatly appreciate it if you were to change my underwear for me. Of course, if the crash was particularly scary, you may want to do that anyway because of their contents... but thanks just the same.
UPDATE: Tragedy averted! Me and my embarrassing underwear arrived safely in Seattle. I am now typing away in disgust because the stupid-ass Hilton here charges $9.95 for internet access. WIRED internet access... not wireless, BUT WITH A CABLE... CHAINED TO THE DESK!!! Hotels that charge for internet suck ass.