Tuesday,
September 25, 2001

The Brit is back in town

I am miffed at DFW Airport -- they lied to me.

Okay, well, they didn't exactly lie to me, but they confused me badly. See, every time one of us has flown out of Terminal B (which is the main terminal for American Airlines down here in Big D), our return flight has always landed at Terminal B, like a pigeon coming home to roost. Which is why I headed straight for it this afternoon when it came time to pick up Lyndon -- he hadn't sent me his flight details before he left, but I'd dropped him off at Terminal B, I knew he was getting in around 4:30 pm, and there couldn't be that many AA flights coming in from San Francisco at that time so finding him should be something of a doddle, right?

Ha. And Ha again, because when I parked (a challenge in itself -- could someone please tell me what kind of security is gained by closing the 1-hour parking spaces? Did the terrorists leave their cars in 1-hour parking spaces? I don't think so), and went into Terminal B to look for my beloved, I discovered that his flight wasn't landing at Terminal B at all -- it was landing at Terminal A.

Well, poop. I waited for a few minutes until I was sure the plane had landed, then went back out to get the car and go over to A. In the middle of extracting myself from the parking garage he called me and informed me of this dastardly switch, and I assured him that I was already on my way and to be standing outside looking pretty so that I could pick him up.

Apparently the flight back was as empty and comfortable as the one out, which bodes ill for the airline industry but well for me if I have to go to SF next month on business. Big butt = uncomfortable airline seats, dontchaknow. Most importantly, however, is that the boy is back home, at least for a few more days. Hey, I'll take whatever I can get at this point and be grateful for it.

Fen turn up in the strangest of places

It seems I have a comrade at work. The guy who sits on the other side of the cubicle wall from me poked his head in my cell this morning to ask me to turn down the ringer on my phone, as it made him jump every time it went off. While he was showing me how to do this (damn Nokia phones), he noticed the pictures I had of the Musketeer fencing demo from Worldcon and asked about them.

Turns out he was one of the staff photographers for MilPhil, so we spent a half hour talking about worldcons past and present, ConDFW, and other assorted fenly matters. Then we went off to a sushi place for lunch, and I found out not only did he used to live in Cambridge, England, but he's into photography, likes gaming. adores Weird Stuff and Frye's, and is a homebrew kind of guy.

Lyndon is either going to have a new best friend or hate him on sight, I'm not sure which. We'll find out Saturday -- I invited him to the housewarming party.

The nonviolent solution currently being circulated is to say to the Taliban:

Give us Osama bin Laden, or we will take all of your women. . .and send them to college.

I can get behind that.