Airport Blogging

I'm blogging in Narita Airport. Mostly just because I can. They got an internet lounge here with hookups and PCs. Since I'm lugging my own laptop around with all the requisite cables and spapoop, I thought I would get some payoff. The wireless network costs 5 clams for a day. Don't get me wrong. Someone has got to pay for it, and 5 clams is very reasonable (even in a country where every free-roaming clam is instantly devoured). But they have these two laptops that I can use for free. So I'm using MORE of their resources and not paying ANYTHING. But I still have to carry my laptop. Laptoppy things are the most fun to do. In case I can get a hookup I can spend all day on it. What if I'm stranded in Houston? (That thought seemed less tasteless in my head). The sad thing is that I can not carry only my laptop. Since I will most likely find myself in a place where I can't connect to the internet (like..oh, I don't know...the plane, maybe) I still need the books and magazines. Technology has packed a literllay a world of information into a thing the size of a frisbee, but it has only given me more things to pack. Don't get me started on the iPod.

Every time I travel I tell myself I'm packing slim next time. Just the computer. And a book. And I just got a new Economist in case I get bored with the book. And what a good opportunity to study; 13 hours I can throwaone stinkin hour in between Harry Potter and something with Ewan MacGregor in it at memorizing kanji. So I end up with a full bag. A full bag I don't mind, but I don't like a stuffed bag. When I want something I want it to be right there, and when I put it back, I want it to slide in as if it were covered in mucus -- dry mucus, somehow. I would rather have a heavy, but loosely packed bag than a light one that bounces when I drop it. Wife made me carry a puffy sleep mask and a beansy travel pillow. Plus my little ziplock of Important Documents bloated like Michael Moore. The nuclear option is to unzip the Make More Space Zipper around the outside of the bag. But to do this is to admit failure. I didn't pack well, and now I need to ask my bag for help.

I'm changing planes in Houston, and the only thing my wife knows about Houston is that it contains the Astrodome which is packed with refugees. In her mind, this connection with the Gulf Coast disaster makes Houston like the gulf coast; marauding gangs and famine. So she bought me some Calorie Mate and demanded that I pack bottles of water from Tokyo, in case I get stranded in Houston. We would think of Calorie Mate as distopian food of the future or lembas bread; one day's nutritional requirements packed into a dry cookie. Of course the Japanese eat them when they near passing our from working 16 hours straight without eating.

So with the lembas bread and bottles, my bag is a pork laden as a highway bill. Calling my flight. Gotta go make sure I get space in the overhead for this thing.