From the Los Angeles airport, or, as we call it, LAX—

Actually, this would have been live from the airport, if I thought it was worth $6.00 for 60 minutes of wireless use. There’s something pernicious about charging for wireless in a public place. I know it does cost money to shoot the waves around, but six bucks?

So I’m writing in the airport. Strangely, anyone shelling out the six clams to really blog on the spot will probably wind up, like me, sitting on the floor near one of the five outlets in the entire airport. No, I suppose they can afford to have laptop batteries that actually work, and thus seats.

We’re a strange tribe, we people who can afford airline tickets and laptops, but not decent batteries. I don’t properly belong to this tribe, since “afford” isn’t quite the word I’d use to describe my relationship to airline tickets, but even on this, my first such voyage in years, I recognize my fellow tribesmen with the traditional friendly, ironic nod as we make room for each other on the cold tile.

We share the territory in peace with our cousins, the tribe of cell phone chargers. And he would be chief could win the hearts of many if he but brought an extension cord. He indeed could bring unity to our peoples.

Or she, since it might take a woman to remember to pack such a thing.

A lot of people in this here airport. The night is young, so most folk seem cheerful. Here at the gate for the all-nighter to Dulles, there’s that camp out conviviality that, I suppose, cheers up a gym full of refugees after they forget why they’re there. I like it. Since I found an outlet.

As periodically advised by the ghost of the airport, I am keeping my eye out for unattended packages. Since I can only see about three hundred people from here, that shouldn’t be too hard. Terrorism does happen and I’m not saying we shouldn’t have some kind of security, but it is a bit weird to have the same cheery voice both wish you a pleasant journey and also command you to scream for the cops if an elderly lady waddles off to the bathroom and leaves behind her purse.

On the way in, I actually had one lady ask me, with a look of panic, if she could leave her bags for two seconds while she checked her flight info on the other side of the room. I said yes. They didn’t blow up. She came back.

We outlet hunters can also withstand our legs falling asleep. Sort of.

But we are also generally blocking some kind of thoroughfare, and they’re boarding in minutes, so I’ll see you later.

Posted later, but dated to the time of composition through the magic of WordPress Advanced Editing.