I recently found myself stranded in an airport (again) around 1:00 pm. At 5:40 pm. I learned the plane might take off for Nashville before 10 pm but even this news was announced in a vague tone indicating a departure time was iffy at best. Ever the vigilant lunactic, I opened my computer to work and was typing away when my battery died. Great. Now to find an electrical outlet. Aha! There's one behind the trash can . . . and my laptop sits nicely on top of the trash can . . . and it is at the perfect ergonomic height for typiing. So what the hell. Of course, it wasn't until I was deep in a brief that I realized this is one of those fancy electric recycling trash cans. So every time someone dropped in a plastic cup the trash can came alive shaking and shimmying for a full minute before shuddering to a halt. That would be fine if the airport weren't packed and someone was dropping something into MY trash can every five seconds. After awhile it became quite funny, at least to me, and I began to invite people into my office as they cautiously approached the trash can and its current resident attorney.
So the humor went out of that exercise when the maintenance guy came to change out the trash bin and when he opened the door I swooned from the smell. With a fully charged computer I relocated my office to one of the many airport bars. The world just isn't the same without double for a dollar more. It's just wrong to sit with one puny little glass of white wine sweating in front of me. Wrong I tell you. Wrong.
So the humor went out of that exercise when the maintenance guy came to change out the trash bin and when he opened the door I swooned from the smell. With a fully charged computer I relocated my office to one of the many airport bars. The world just isn't the same without double for a dollar more. It's just wrong to sit with one puny little glass of white wine sweating in front of me. Wrong I tell you. Wrong.
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