Made it out, safely and securely, to California for my first visit to a part of the state other than its airports since I visited a loved one in San Jose in 1998. I'm nowhere near Silicon Valley now (I'm in Pomona, well served by scenic Ontario International Airport, photoessay to follow), but I wouldn't have time to visit anyway. I don't even have time to write this.
The Special Attention I was given this time around -- I get something every time I fly from one U.S. spot to another -- came at Newark, when the guards asked if they could see the iBook for an extra test. Near as I could tell this test consisted of rubbing a cotton swab across my touchpad. I guess they're screening for obsessively high levels of Curell antibacterial hand lotion. (I know, I know, but it's a convention, I'm obsessive-compulsive, i'm entitled to use the stuff.)
I think the screener also damaged the little foam pad that separates keyboard from screen that most people would have thrown away when they got the computer, in my case, two years ago, that I saved because I am obsessive-compulsive and just can't throw stuff out like that. (Actually, it's a replacement foam pad, and there's a ridiculous story behind that too.)
At Denver of course I had to go from one terminal to another. The ``arriving'' and ``departing'' tunes on their little inter-terminal shuttle happen to be the ``level completed'' chimes from any Neo-Geo arcade game ever made.
Trivia: Thomas Eakins made his professional debut in the last of a series of three art receptions sponsored by the Union League of Philadelphia in April 1871. Thomas Eakins, Darrel Swewll.
Currently Reading: The Stars My Destination, Alfred Bester.