Leaving on a Jet Plane

I suppose that if I were to say “jet” you wouldn’t also need to hear “plane” to know what I was saying — seeing as there aren’t very many jet boats around and the promise of jet cars was never fulfilled. All to my endless dismay. Todaymow (the amalgamation of today and tomorrow that is created when you are awake into the tomorrow of what was once today but is now yesterday, but nonetheless you don’t really want to let go) I fly to San Jose for a MySql conference. After three days of manning a booth and fighting sleep during sessions, I will migrate to San Francisco to accompany Sarah on miles of walking around the city. We just watched Zodiac. I’m not allowed to touch knives in Sarah’s presence anymore — or wear the black hood.

So, of course I can’t pack in advance, because the creeping dread overwhelms me. I count out articles of clothing and assign them to days. I try on all the pants that I have outgrown over the winter (and curse the dire cold and recent snows with every failed attempt at buttoning. So much for striding in purposefully and confidently, wearing a sleek new tie that sets off my shirt and hints at the wonder of color to be found in my socks which match my pants or at least my shoes (which, aside from having Minnesota winter ground into their leathers, are generally kicky, indeed) — no (and I realize that this is the mother of all run on sentences, full to bursting with asides and other mental wanderings, but my brain is limp and noodly with the terror of anticipation: O! the ocean, my mistress, whose iciness has embraced me but once, I tremble in remembrance) I will enter the convention center rumpled and shocked from air travel and spend two days smiling and running all my best routines to draw the eye of future employers, hopefully charmed by my pluck, stamina, and pile of chocolate candy.

Yes, Gallery’s booth will feature one elderly college student, an 11x17″ print of the Gallery logo, free Gallery VMWare appliance discs (to avoid the inhumanity of actually having to download the free software and various bite-sized candies. I don’t have a flight case full of plasma screens and elaborate animations proclaiming the awesomeness of our free software, just a winning (but chocolaty) smile, witty banter, and eyes that plead for additional developers to come in and flesh out our already talented but stretched thin crew. As I will be at the table for two days I might even get some coding (or at least reviews) done. I do have some stuff to do for the good Professor in the icon programming language — as in two credits of independent study by the end of the semester. Ouch.

That’s a lot of rambling, but I feel better for it.

Oh yeah, I’m renting a “Pontiac Solstice” for one day of varied shenanigans in San Francisco and the North Bay. I hear what you’re saying: it’s not a Mustang, and I haven’t found a Dodge Charger to chase. When you and I go to SF, we will rent those cars and be ridiculous. It will be fun.

3 Responses to “Leaving on a Jet Plane ”

  1. Have fun in San Fran! The fisherman’s warf is definitely good if you like seafood.

  2. Say hi to the gays for me!

  3. Dude! We should totally hang out. I know Paul Armstrong, you know Paul Armstrong… amirite???

    Also, I “know a guy” who I could definitely-maybe-probably get to come along and make up for my total lack of social grace.

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