Sunday, November 12, 2006


Either purposefully or unpurposefully some company has left their wireless completely unprotected here at DTW. I sit in the "Irish Pub" (I assume some sort of marketing sneezitch of Guiness Corp--are they owned by Miller/Busch whoever now?) and have decided I have a moment to type. Yesterday was running solid for me from 5:30 a.m. to midnight (both Mountain time.) Busy is the name for conferences when you take on leadership positions.

Anywhosits since I don't write about my professional existence here, I feel I am breaching some confidence: even if it is with myself. I suppose Dr. Write might think my unwillingness to blog about my professional existence here as somehow unwholesome--or at least too compartmentalized. I prefer, however, to keep the job and all it entails mostly in its little cage in the attic--or is it the other way round? Anyway the professional commitments allow me to travel a lot so that, naturally, intrudes upon my personal life.

A guy right next to me just swilled a Tanqueray and something. Pre-flight jitters?

The best thing about this trip was a poetry slam last night led by local poet (and poetic impresario) Jeff Kass. I am not much on poetry slams as I think they are cliquish and generally ripe with the disaffected who feel they have a right to whine in quasi-poetry about anything and everything, but these kids were generally interesting to listen to--even the kid who had a poem about getting caught beating off--simply because he explained he wanted to get up in front of a crowd and recite about the most uncomfortable thing he could think of.

Now next to me is a teenager with a gold card trying to order a bloody mary and a beer. "Do you have some ID to show me?" the bartender asks. She is jaded and has a spider tattoo on her arm. The teenager runs off.

After the poetry event my professional friends and I headed off to an Ethiopian restaurant where we ate communally. Ethiopian food is more like Inidan than I expected.

So here I sit, working on my second New Castle, and now I think I've sort of become a barfly. A blogging barfly with my stuff strewn around the bar. It seems uncomfortable even for an airport. Security makes me come to the airport early, so I have a while to wait.


  1. Sounds like good fun. Yumm, Newcastle. Can't get that in a grocery store in Utah.

  2. Ah, the traveling businessman. Interesting paradigm. All you need is a couple of other dudes bursting with testosterone because they're away from their significant others/family etc., and you all could go to the local strip club!! After hitting on the female bartender, of course.

  3. SC, going to strip clubs is completely unacceptable in my line of work.