cancer – day 41

Ah, United. Nothing like paying hundreds of dollars (or expensing it) to be treated like disobedient cattle. Our pilots are cranky. Bad weather, justifying our soon to be late arrival. I read not long ago that United has a 40% on-time performance record. Meaning, 60% of the time, you can plan on being late. Granted, gate scheduling and part placement planning are not the easiest algorithms in the book, but come on. Too many different models of planes, too many places to go, too many people to keep track of. And so, off in anonymity to the airport I go this morning, one of the countless hordes of cattle being managed like disobedient children. Don’t you just love the guy who stands up to get his cell phone out of the overhead when the plane is landing to freak out the flight attendants?

But, speaking of United and flying, funny story. Years and years ago, I don’t even know how long, way before Artie died, I had a trip to . . . where was it? Home to visit my parents I think, and I think they were living in Bella Vista, AR then, and I was flying out of San Jose. Yeah, that was it. I was flying on miles to go home for a visit. So, usual deal, I call a cab to take me to the airport, I go, check a bag (I always seem to take too much stuff to go home), and stroll over to security. I think it wasn’t long after 9/11, because the security people were still new at screening and how to “randomly” select people and such. Anyway, I was traveling a lot then, and I ALWAYS got stopped by San Jose security to re-run my shoes in the scanner and run one of those little cloth things around my laptop bag. And this particular day, I notice that there are two other young women right there with me, waiting to get their shoes, and this one really tall guy who was right next to me and I joked something about “which one of these things is not like the other?” you know, like the Sesame Street song. It’s been so long now, I’m not even sure what I said. I rarely get a bug to joke while waiting in security line or at the airport in general, usually I keep my earphones on to avoid conversation, but for some reason I wasn’t on the phone this day, and I had to chuckle at this tall guy who had to be an engineer, because while waiting for them to scan his computer bag, he’s picking his loose stuff up out of the bin and putting it back on, you know, the phone, the Bluetooth, the Intel name badge . . . HA! I got a good chuckle out of that. Leave it to an Intel engineer to go to the airport from the office and forget they have their name badge on and then absentmindedly put it back on after security instead of putting it away with the computer. Anyway, they’re giving the guy his computer back and I’ve gotten my shoes on and now we’re heading down the same hallway, from which there is basically only one flight, it’s United, and the only place United goes from San Jose is Denver, then you have to connect. So, being in a wiseass mood and amused because this guy put his name badge back on after security, I say to the guy as we’re walking, “so, what are you going to do in Denver?” He looks at me shocked. “Lucky guess,” I say, “there’s only one flight out of this terminal this time of day, United to Denver.” He laughed and I think he told me he’s from Denver but he was on his way to Albuquerque via Denver. We chatted a bit going out to the gate, and sat down to wait. So then I decided to really throw the guy and asked “so what did you think of the casino party in San Francisco last weekend?” Utter disbelief. “What?” “You know, the casino party Intel threw up in San Francisco last weekend, did you go?” [I went to the party with this friend who worked at Intel who was a very competitive tri-athlete, he was a big guy all muscles, tan, and blond hair, I think he’d just broken up with his girlfriend and needed some last-minute eye-candy on his arm for the party or something.] Anyway, this airport guy is practically going into shock now, wondering who the hell this stranger is who knows so much about him. “How did you know about that?” “I was there.” “Nuh, uh, no way!” He didn’t believe me, so I reached in my bag and showed him my leftover casino chips. He asked if I’d seen him at the party and I was like, “no, I’ve never met you before.” “So how did you know I was there?” Ah, here’s the fun part! I point to his shirt pocket. “Name badge.”

And that’s how I met Brian Bradford. =D