Les Bonnes Choses

Nothing promotes blogging like sitting in an airport terminal with a laptop and refusing to pay $12 for 40 minutes of internet access. I just went through the airport security motions here at Pearson, which is somewhat safer than other airports on account of the fact that you don’t have to take off your shoes, putting air travelers at a lower risk of contracting athlete’s foot or plantar warts. In a few hours, I will be crashing Corinne’s birthday party. I really hope that she and Jeff didn’t have anything romantic planned. And I really, really hope that they don’t have anything romantic planned that involves me.

I’ve been doing a lot of driving in the last couple of days: Chicago to London and then London to Toronto. When I drive, I mostly only have my own thoughts to keep me company, so I spend the hours mulling over better ways of doing things, should the world ever come to its senses and elect me their benevolent dictator. I’d share them, except I tend to forget the ideas almost as soon as they come. I used to fret about that, but now reassure myself that if the idea was good enough, it’ll come to me again. It’s not like I don’t have a lot of driving time ahead of me.

Epilogue: I made it in to Corinne & Jeff's just after midnight, following an interesting taxi ride -- that's interesting, as in bizarre, not interesting as in we talked about economic policy alternatives. The cabby muttered in French pretty much the whole time we were on the island -- I'm not sure whether to me or to himself, because I gave an early and incorrect impression of fluency in the language. Note to self: start speaking french like an American. Anyways, staying here is much more interesting than staying at a hotel -- that's interesting as in talking about midgets, Doctor Who and volcanic ash babies, and not as in twiddling your thumbs and paying $220/night for the conference rate. Though they didn't have a mint on my pillow, Julio the cat was sitting on the inflate-a-bed, so that was a nice touch.