Tuesday, June 28, 2005

Fan and/or AC

My mind is hollow. I don't mention this to exact a toll of sympathy from you, dear, demonic readers, nor do I wish to remind you of sad, cephalic truths. No, it's just as I predicted. Fatigue has me in its heartless clutch.

Took the 5:45 redeye from Heartsfield-Jackson. Too early for the terminal train to be running, so I and my fellow passengers had to hoof it. At least a mile from the TSA checkpoint to terminal C. The fatties were dying... Public address recordings reminded us to be careful while stepping onto the moving sidewalks. One golden moment: a couple with four asses between them sighed with resignation as they discovered the terminal A pedway was, in fact, motionless. Their mild imprecations echoed off the arched backs and stylized faces of the statues and explanatory panels of the terminal's Zimbabwe exhibit... The terminal C Starbucks opened at 5:00, and CNN droned on and on. Flight was maybe 60% full. Stopped at Columbia, SC - aggravating to have to change flights, but the ticket was only $92. Connecting flight to Newark was empty, maybe 40% of capacity. I tried to sleep, but the air crew were sitting behind me, gossiping about transfers and divorces. Accosted by a gypsy cab operator in baggage claim. Such cheek. "Fifty-five plus tolls and tip; it's rush hour, you know." Made short work of the fellow, then walked thirty feet to the legit taxi queue. AWK was awake; Don phoned during the drive into the city. Tourists were already clamoring aboard the Intrepid; the Westside Highway was relatively quiet. Miserable humidity in the city...

We hopped in a cab to the Village. Tower, Other Music, Kim's... None had what we were looking for. Lunched at Veselka, the Ukranian spot on Second Ave. The vegetarian borscht was killer.

Burned off lunch by walking back to the West Side. Phoned my parents along the way. Uncomfortably humid. I was wearing very causal gear, the usual semi-tropical attire one must wear during South Georgia's unforgiving summers. But poor Andrew... He was dressed nicely, and dripping. We were readymade for vaudeville.

Don dropped by after 6, and we began the mixdown. Mark Morgan showed a few hours later; he's beefing up a bit, losing the old tubercular sheen. A marked improvement.

Worked until 10:45, then collapsed into a heap.

Daily updates, etc.