Thoughts across the airports…

(Kind of a running commentary from Hartford to O’hare.)

Bored out of my mind, for starters.  Flight doesn’t leave until 7pm…and the rules say I can’t check my baggage in over four hours before the plane takes off.  I’m sitting here in the lobby of the airport right now charging up and playing around.

The day hasn’t been a total loss so far though, training is done for starters.  In addition I got to make the acquaintance of a very nice Scottish Terrier who was recovering his equilibrium from his first airplane flight.  Both owner and canine did just fine, by the way.  The only bad thing was explaining to the canine that he couldn’t get out of the carrier and investigate the pickup lanes in front of the terminal. 

The soundtrack for today has been weird…airline announcements, cellphone chatter, machine driven servos, the high scree sound of an industrial laser running at top speed, and The Dreamsides “The Quest” blasting at max volume through my headphones.  Oh, and I almost forgot to mention the yammering of transportation authority messages that are doing their damnedest to penetrate my music.

I have no idea what the alert level is right now, though I know it was being raised to Ernie, from Bert when I was getting on the plane back in Indiana last Sunday.  I still have the O’hare Airport dance to go through before I can get back and see the cat…which will make it around midnight by the time I am home for the day.

I’m getting a great deal of amusement out of two people walking around talking on their cellphones right now.  Both of them are doing the bluetooth headset thing, and for the longest time I couldn’t see the headsets from where I am sitting.  Two people, two totally different conversations…dueling lunatics in the airport shouting their self importance to the heavens…and a group of people milling about who really couldn’t give a fuck..

More than likely there will be no comic for Saturday.  I’m running on approximately 3 hours of sleep…and an airport is no place to do develop anything important.  Especially with the scale of what I am working on right now.  To pull off the current section I am in right now…I am having to use multiple working copies of the scene files, all of which are set up for different configurations of characters and events.  Just another way of dealing with the limitations of having a lot of people in a section…and only two gigs of RAM to play with.

I’m also playing with Poser right now, as well.  I finally got around to nabbing the Apollo Maximus character last night and it appears to have some potential.  Of course,  whole hell of a lot of people have already found that out by now…but in all honesty, since it is free now I figured it was worth giving it a whirl.  I need to hunt down some good textures to work with it though…or do some experimentation with some stuff I have floating around.

Did you know that, at least in Connecticut, airport cops are riding bicycles now?  Personally, I find that to be cooler than the Segway riding dudes I scoped out in Ohare last Sunday.

A lady out of the blue passed me the headphones of her iPod and I found out that she was listening to Mark Knopflers “Rag Pickers Dream” album.  In fulfilling my part of a fad that I thought was totally media created, I passed her mine for a listen.  At the time I was running Knopfler myself: “Silvertown Blues”.  She gave me a smile, gave me my headphones back…and disappeared forever.

Cleared the gauntlet…gear reloaded…crashed out on the floor in a corner of the terminal writing.  Carrara and Poser are percolating in the background as I use the time. 

I’m right across from the US Airlines club rght now, and every so often a person enters or leaves.  From what I have seen so far, airline clubs seem to have a clientele that is largely composed of senior citizens.  Of course, that may just be a gross generalization based on age and locality.  I have no statistical evidence to support my claim.  But i gotta tell ya: a whole hell of a lot of people that have been coming out of there are in the Geritol set.

Off to my side are two ladies in their early twenties.  Other than being absolutely striking, they are both not talking on cellphones which I find to be particularly amazing.  The two of them are at one of the windows by the gate and occasionally they steal sidelong glances at me as I’m putting together artwork on the terminal carpet. On my left hand side is a business man who is crashed out about ten feet away from me, sharing the same outlet.  He bares more than a passing resemblance to the Jamaican shuttle driver I was talking marijuana, and the legalization of such with earlier today.  His voice though, is pure Oxford. As is the suit which shouts”Saville Row” to anybody that has the ears to hear it. Getting hungry as the last panel of Saturdays strip finishes up.  Looks like there may be a strip tomorrow after all.
“It doesn’t even make any sense to me anymore,” he said.  “There’s too much of a disconnect between whats really going on in pieces of the job market and the performance of the Dow.”

I nod sagely, and do my best to pretend to know what the hell he’s talking about.  Things can get a little surreal when you have had only seven hours of sleep in the last 48.

I’m sitting at a little airport pub called “Last Resort”.  Of course, calling it a pub is definitely risking giving it delusions of grandeur.  It’s a small, open air bar crammed with tables and chairs and a whole passel of business types.  I’m sitting next to a financial rep from Deloit and Touche with a Sam Adams in his hand.  He’s been making it last as we both wait for food and watch the financial reports.  Silver is resting on top of my feet as my new single serving friend is tapping away at a Thinkpad in front of him.  The waitress calls out for a”PeeNO” at one of the back tables.  The surrealality meter goes into red line as the TV flicks over to FOX NEWS  and pictures of Joey Buttafucco and Amy Fisher assault my consciousness.

 “We’re coming up on 9 billion people, a whole hell of a lot of them don’t even have safe drinking water, and we’re worrying about what these two fucktards have to say,”  I comment to my drinking companion.
“Its just obfuscation,” he says.  “Things happen, we notice and get mad, and then somebody throws something on to the news to distract us from lynching someone.  You just wait, James.  The next time the government screws up, or we find out that we’re now all eating soylent green and that it is really people…just wait, we’ll have another sextape from some starlet…or somebody will throw something out there.”

I thought about that for a couple minutes after he settled his tab and left.  I did my best to put it out of my mind, I don’t need to be any more bitter and cynical.  In the process of putting it out of my mind, I got my comic done.

Waiting in line at O’Hare Airport in the hopes of obtaining a tasty beverage for myself, when I heard the intercom inform us that Homeland Security had changed the threat level to Orange.  At the end of the message, as I was reaching for my soda, I heard a number of different, unconnected  people in the crowd around me say loud enough to be heard: “…and as always, England prevails.”

Me thinks that the American people are getting  little cynical about the war effort.

And in the end…the motherfuckers lost my goddamn luggage.


~ by maximkovalenko on May 19, 2007.

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