In years past, I've groused about the smokiness of this place, both in terms of my dad's house and just going to restaurants in general. Living in California has spoiled me on this point. But rather than bore what readers I have with a re-hash of an ongoing gripe, I think I'll look more inward this time...
]]>In years past, I've groused about the smokiness of this place, both in terms of my dad's house and just going to restaurants in general. Living in California has spoiled me on this point. But rather than bore what readers I have with a re-hash of an ongoing gripe, I think I'll look more inward this time...
]]>But I did make it, and since the layover here in Vegas was supposed to be pretty long to begin with, the lateness of the SFO leg didn't hurt me. And lo and behold, there was a Quizno's near my arriving gate, just as I was hungry for lunch.
Of course, I'm in Vegas, and that means two words: slot machines. In fact, I had expected them to be just everywhere, but I hadn't seen a single one even as I finished eating my lunch. But that was quickly fixed, as I walked towards my connecting gate. Sure enough, there was a little island with what was probably 36 or so slots. I'm prone to addictive behavior; I've known this for a long, long time. I had my first taste of slots in 1998 when I was bringing the rest of my possessions to my new apartment in Campbell, from the storage facility in Denver. I stopped at a place on I-80 just before you get to the California border. I learned quickly how easy it is to get caught up and instinctively go back for more tokens/change when you run out.
So I just walked on past, tempted though I was. And wrote this instead of feeding my quarters into the gaping maw of the beast.
]]>But I did make it, and since the layover here in Vegas was supposed to be pretty long to begin with, the lateness of the SFO leg didn't hurt me. And lo and behold, there was a Quizno's near my arriving gate, just as I was hungry for lunch.
Of course, I'm in Vegas, and that means two words: slot machines. In fact, I had expected them to be just everywhere, but I hadn't seen a single one even as I finished eating my lunch. But that was quickly fixed, as I walked towards my connecting gate. Sure enough, there was a little island with what was probably 36 or so slots. I'm prone to addictive behavior; I've known this for a long, long time. I had my first taste of slots in 1998 when I was bringing the rest of my possessions to my new apartment in Campbell, from the storage facility in Denver. I stopped at a place on I-80 just before you get to the California border. I learned quickly how easy it is to get caught up and instinctively go back for more tokens/change when you run out.
So I just walked on past, tempted though I was. And wrote this instead of feeding my quarters into the gaping maw of the beast.
]]>When I got past security (and I don't even want to go into the whole tirade about our "upgrade" to Threat Level Orange yesterday, but suffice to say everyone here is feeling the effects), I say a little island area touting free wireless connectivity. In fact, when I got closer, I saw that they even had a dozen or so laptops at various stations, for people to use. So, I thought I'd be a good WiFi citizen and let those without their own gear use the loaners, and wandered off to a corner where I could get some current and a signal, without taking up space that others could be using.
Well, it turns out that the "free" part only applies if you are using their hardware and their MAC addresses. When I tried to connect anywhere, I got the T-Mobile service screen, and an offer of 24 hours for $9.99, or 60 minutes for the bargain price of $6.00. I think I'll pass.
It's a shame. For all the fees that SFO gets you with, and all the extra costs (overpriced food, souveniers, etc.) one would thing that providing cost-free WiFi would not be unreasonable. But I guess they'll never pass up the chance to make a few extra bucks.
So I sit here, near my gate, writing this with the intent to upload it, well, whenever. No rush. And on the plus side, I was here at just the right time to help two nice Korean men, who spoke no English, to make a phone call. Speaking from my experience in London, when the local numbers just don't have what your brain considers the "right" number of digits, it can get pretty damn confusing. Once I figured out what they needed, it was just a matter of making the right pseudo-sign-language, and they were set. My good deed for the day...
]]>When I got past security (and I don't even want to go into the whole tirade about our "upgrade" to Threat Level Orange yesterday, but suffice to say everyone here is feeling the effects), I say a little island area touting free wireless connectivity. In fact, when I got closer, I saw that they even had a dozen or so laptops at various stations, for people to use. So, I thought I'd be a good WiFi citizen and let those without their own gear use the loaners, and wandered off to a corner where I could get some current and a signal, without taking up space that others could be using.
Well, it turns out that the "free" part only applies if you are using their hardware and their MAC addresses. When I tried to connect anywhere, I got the T-Mobile service screen, and an offer of 24 hours for $9.99, or 60 minutes for the bargain price of $6.00. I think I'll pass.
It's a shame. For all the fees that SFO gets you with, and all the extra costs (overpriced food, souveniers, etc.) one would thing that providing cost-free WiFi would not be unreasonable. But I guess they'll never pass up the chance to make a few extra bucks.
So I sit here, near my gate, writing this with the intent to upload it, well, whenever. No rush. And on the plus side, I was here at just the right time to help two nice Korean men, who spoke no English, to make a phone call. Speaking from my experience in London, when the local numbers just don't have what your brain considers the "right" number of digits, it can get pretty damn confusing. Once I figured out what they needed, it was just a matter of making the right pseudo-sign-language, and they were set. My good deed for the day...
]]>I don't know why. I've been too busy to write anything, and the only template change I've made was several days ago (and it would not have affected the checksums of the stories– it was to the <head> section of the page only). I would have thought if that were the cause, it would have appeared before today.
Sorry. Again.
]]>I don't know why. I've been too busy to write anything, and the only template change I've made was several days ago (and it would not have affected the checksums of the stories– it was to the <head> section of the page only). I would have thought if that were the cause, it would have appeared before today.
Sorry. Again.
]]>(Found via several of my LJ friends.)
]]>(Found via several of my LJ friends.)
]]>So anyway, off to Denver International Airport. Check-in was quick, but security was a drag since the "Concourse 'A' Trick"* no longer works– too many people seem to have caught on. On top of that, my belt buckle set off the metal detector, and that was an invitation to a full pat-down search. Both legs of the flight were packed, but uneventful. I slept what little I could on the planes, but not enough. It'll be an early evening (relatively speaking) tonight. Getting back to San Jose was nice, after a week at high altitude. Picked up the cats from the kennel, and they're both anxious for my attention.
I've caught up on most of my e-mail (I never ended up back online after Friday afternoon), and all of the LJ traffic I missed. Still more to catch up on in terms of news, software releases and such, but I've done enough for one day.
Oh, one other thing that just kills me: when I got all my stacked-up mail together and went through it, I had gotten four solicitations from Capital One to get their credit card. Four. Within one week. It is to weep.
* To understand the "Concourse 'A' Trick", it helps to know how DIA is laid out. The main terminal is essentially a square, and there are three concourses: A, B and C. The concourses are all parallel lines, essentially. A is closest to the main terminal, B is about twice the length of A or C, and is in the middle. Anyway, the important details are, that the security check in the main terminal is a wretched mess, and that you use an underground subway system to move from the main terminal to the concourses. As it happens, there is a sky-bridge from the main terminal to the A concourse. And up until recently, the security checkpoint was much less clogged and much quicker than the main terminal. So the trick was this: Go across the sky-bridge, go through security at Concourse A (in usually a quarter of the time it would take to go though security in the main terminal), then go down to the subway and take it to your concourse (unless your concourse is A). Usually saves you upwards of twenty minutes. But not anymore; today it was packed. I guess too many people have caught on.
]]>So anyway, off to Denver International Airport. Check-in was quick, but security was a drag since the "Concourse 'A' Trick"* no longer works– too many people seem to have caught on. On top of that, my belt buckle set off the metal detector, and that was an invitation to a full pat-down search. Both legs of the flight were packed, but uneventful. I slept what little I could on the planes, but not enough. It'll be an early evening (relatively speaking) tonight. Getting back to San Jose was nice, after a week at high altitude. Picked up the cats from the kennel, and they're both anxious for my attention.
I've caught up on most of my e-mail (I never ended up back online after Friday afternoon), and all of the LJ traffic I missed. Still more to catch up on in terms of news, software releases and such, but I've done enough for one day.
Oh, one other thing that just kills me: when I got all my stacked-up mail together and went through it, I had gotten four solicitations from Capital One to get their credit card. Four. Within one week. It is to weep.
* To understand the "Concourse 'A' Trick", it helps to know how DIA is laid out. The main terminal is essentially a square, and there are three concourses: A, B and C. The concourses are all parallel lines, essentially. A is closest to the main terminal, B is about twice the length of A or C, and is in the middle. Anyway, the important details are, that the security check in the main terminal is a wretched mess, and that you use an underground subway system to move from the main terminal to the concourses. As it happens, there is a sky-bridge from the main terminal to the A concourse. And up until recently, the security checkpoint was much less clogged and much quicker than the main terminal. So the trick was this: Go across the sky-bridge, go through security at Concourse A (in usually a quarter of the time it would take to go though security in the main terminal), then go down to the subway and take it to your concourse (unless your concourse is A). Usually saves you upwards of twenty minutes. But not anymore; today it was packed. I guess too many people have caught on.
]]>