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Yucks Digest V8 #15
Yucks Digest Mon, 16 Nov 98 Volume 8 : Issue 15
Today's Topics:
Administrivia
Adventures in Travel
Back home (2 msgs)
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----------------------------------------------------------------------
Date: Mon Nov 16 22:20:29 EST 1998
From: spaf
Subject: Administrivia
To: yucks
Well, you haven't seen Digests for a few weeks because I have been
traveling and unable to put one together.
Here is one based on my journal of my recent trip. This is similar
to my France journal in Yucks V8 #7. I dunno if you folks find these
funny or not. Let me know -- it people seem to like them, I may
do more of them. If not, then I may not!
I am also enclosing two responses that I got to my journal being
mailed to a small list of people as I wrote it -- both made me laugh,
so I am including them.
More later.
--spaf
------------------------------
Date: Mon, 16 Nov 1998 21:40:20 -0500
From: Gene Spafford <spaf@cs.purdue.edu>
To: Yucks
Compsec 98
- or-
Botswana, Here I Come
8 Nov 1998
Sunday
-------
Okay, so I'm sitting here at 33,000 feet (or, for those of you into the
metric system, 9.2 hectaliters) above the Atlantic on my way to London.
It is certainly not my intent to have any great adventures on this trip,
but things seem to happen to me ... and around me.
Last week I was traveling in Texas. As usual when I go on these trips, my
wife Kathy was transported into "Wild Kingdom." The cold weather appears
to have driven some field mice into the house via some entrance we have not
yet identified. Kathy discovered this while I was in Houston. I called
her from a barbecue joint where we had stopped on the road to Austin. As
the waitress brought my plate with a heap of steaming meat, Kathy regaled
me with stories of finding a half mouse next to the cat dishes. Dinner
was oh so much more interesting as a result (for me, as well as for the
cats). The other half was not to be found (of the mouse, not my dinner --
I found that). The cats feigned ignorance -- not difficult for our cats,
or for cats in general.
So, I returned from the Texas trip with two days to get clean laundry and
sort my mail, hunt mice, plus visit with my friend Danny from Australia
who was passing through. (Now there is a concept -- someone from
Australia who simply happens to "pass through" West Lafayette. As if there
is any place worth going that has WL in between it and Brisbane. But I
digress.) Two days is not enough time to adjust to the jet lag of Texas to
London. (And, two months wouldn't be enough to adjust to the culture
shock.)
So yesterday (Saturday) I spent doing some chores around the house. One of
those tasks was rearranging all my tropical plants. The plants had been
out on the deck, but there was a freeze while I was in Texas, so Kathy
spent an evening dragging them all into the family room (I have a lot of
large plants). She waited until Elizabeth was in bed, because she was
muttering all kinds of interesting statements about me, my plants, and our
assorted heritage and proclivities -- several wilted from the language, as
best as I can tell; I am unsure if one ficus will survive with its bark
blistered off. Yesterday, it was my job to rearrange them onto plant
stands so that they weren't arrayed all over the floor. Of course, I
dropped the biggest one and spilled potting soil everywhere. Luckily, I
was able to sweep it all under the rug before Kathy came back inside.
(Kathy, if you're reading this, you might want to vacuum under the rug.)
Then, as I got the last plants placed, I got a phone call from my Dad. He
had heard from my uncle that my cousin was in the hospital. Mark (my
cousin) had been hit by a car that morning (actually, I learned later, hit
by 3 cars -- he was playing pinball, where he was the ball). He was in
neurosurgery at the time because of severe head trauma. He had an aneurism
that needed immediate repair or he would be the one with a need for potting
soil. This was coupled with broken ribs, a skull fracture, a collapsed
lung and other associated bruises. His prognosis was *very* grim
(apparently, his prognosis was also fractured in two places). This could
cause me to cancel the trip to London. My uncle lost his wife of 60 years
in August (no, he didn't misplace her -- she died), and this is his eldest
son. 3 other sons have died over the years, and he's running out of
immediate family to lean on. I'm next in line, in several ways.
So, Sunday morning, I slept late (wrong thing to adjust to the coming jet
lag, but what the heck), and called the hospital in Rochester around noon.
Luckily, my cousin has a hard head (in common with my uncle, my dad, and
me). He was off the respirator and was actually responding to words!
They are still listing him in "guarded" condition, but he is much improved.
So, my trip was on again. Considering that I had to miss the Compsec
conference 2 years ago because my mother died several days prior, I am glad
not to have a repeat absence, for a variety of reasons.
Then, barely into my second cup of coffee, Kathy called me down into the
basement. She had found a spot where the cats had thrown up. Now, this is
not unusual. The cats have hairballs, and they are constantly chewing on
my plants and Elizabeth's toys. The resulting masses are then regurgitated
as little landmines for us to find if we are dumb enough to walk about in
bare feet. Anyone who has owned long-hair cats can describe similar
experiences. Cats groom themselves a lot, get a stomach full of loose fur,
wait until it is wet and gooey, and then leave it someplace where it will:
a) stain, b) gross out visitors who don't have cats, c) be stepped in by
the unwary, d) all of the above.
This mass was a little different than most. It was lumpy, had a lot more
fur than usual, and looked a little bloody. Kathy was worried that one of
the cats had eaten something particularly noxious and was gravely injured.
We could only be so lucky. So, there I was, trying to have some coffee and
wake up so I could pack. Instead, I'm playing detective, squatting by an
indeterminate gelatinous mass -- trying to analyze cat puke for
composition. Some poking revealed little vertebrae. Aha! The other half
of the mouse! (Or else the cats are really, really ill.) I was surprised
-- unless the mouse was green and sprouting from one of my planters, I
don't see why they would have tried to ingest it -- that isn't their style.
Oh well -- they are getting old and may have mistook it for one of
Elizabeth's stuffed Mickey toys.
Then Kathy found another mouse, in one of the traps. I was summoned (nay,
commanded) to dispose of those remains as well. My role in the house is
to be blamed for mice getting in, and then disposing of the residue when
they are found -- intact or otherwise. It's nice to feel wanted. Thank
heavens we don't have iguanas or skunks coming into the house (yet).
Through all of this, Elizabeth was demanding to see, and I was trying to
keep her from participating. She was also informing us (and the cats) that
she would never eat a whole mouse. Of course, I didn't want to ask her
about eating a half mouse: Elizabeth is precocious -- the cats might
actually have been innocent.
So, with the mouse situation temporarily under control, and the cats eyeing
my plants suspiciously, I packed my bags, threw them in the car, and headed
to my office to pick up my passport and tickets, and then on to the
airport.
As I parked my car, I saw the shuttle bus approaching. I hurried to pull
my bag out of the trunk. Of course, I wrenched my back in the process. I
am now discovering that airline seats don't do much to soothe muscle
spasm.....
At the check-in, all proceeded normally. The women behind the counter
closed her comments and questions with: "Who should we notify if there
is 'a problem'?" Well, that prompted some thought, especially in the
context of what happened to my cousin. There are a couple of people
who should be notified if something happens to me so they can start the
party early. A few others could relax (for instance, my student
Sofie wouldn't need to worry about me calling her sister in London and
getting good stories on her [hmm, it could also be that Sofie is
concerned for her sister's safety...?]). And there are a few people I
have rather perplexed right now who would undoubtedly breathe a sigh of
relief not to have to deal with me anymore or get more of my strange
email: I'm afraid I'm in a state of mind where I suspect a few of the
people who matter the most to me right now wouldn't miss me a whole lot
if I had "a problem' on-board a 767 over the ocean. (Of course, if the
problem is flatulence, incontinence, or stentorian borborygmi, I'm sure
they would much prefer to miss me.)
To stall for time, I asked "What exactly do you mean, 'a problem'? If I
was discovered in a compromising position with a flight attendant in the
airplane lavatory and refused to come out, would that be a problem?"
"Well, yes" she said.
"Okay, then I'd want you to tell *everyone* because they would get a heck
of a laugh."
"No, sir. We mean something serious as 'a problem'."
"So, if I got severe food poisoning on the plane, would that be serious?"
"Yes, it would!"
"Then I'd want you to contact my lawyer and a good doctor."
[Audible sigh.] "Sir, do you have a wife?"
"Yes. I suppose that could be considered a serious problem too, but
American Airlines didn't have anything to do with it that I know of."
"Sir, what is her name and phone number? There is a line of people behind
you."
"They're all going to call Kathy? No wonder she never has any free time....."
"Are you trying to be difficult?"
"No, I'm not." (I should have said it comes naturally -- I don't need to
try. But she was beginning to look hostile.)
At this point, I gave her Kathy's name and our phone number. After all, if
'a problem' occurs at 33,000 feet above the Atlantic, there isn't a whole
lot anyone else could do over the phone. This would at least give Kathy
some extra time planning what to do with the insurance money. I'm sure
buying some more mouse traps would be on the list, and lining up someone
else to dispose of Mus musculus parts.
After this exchange, the clerk undoubtedly tagged my bag as headed for
Botswana and threw it on the conveyer belt. I proceeded to my plane.
Which sat on the runway. And, after a 20 minute delay, flew to Chicago.
Where it sat on a taxiway for 30 minutes. By the time I got in the
terminal, I had 10 minutes to get to my plane. As I type this, I hope my
bag made it too. Unless it is headed to Botswana.
Monday
-------
Update, 8 hours later.
After writing the above, I fell asleep. This is not easy, considering I
was in one of the cheap seats that reclines a whopping 3 degrees from
vertical, and where the guy in the seat next to me was typing away with
great animation. Actually, I think there was something wrong with him,
because he didn't have a computer.
I was asleep as we crossed over to the next day. However, I doubt I slept
more than 20 minutes total. I had a very vivid dream about an encounter
with a tiger, and I awoke with a start. I tipped up my tray as a result,
and spilled a cup of water down my leg. The only benefit of this was to
encourage the people in line waiting to squeeze into the lavatory to give
way and let me in first. I let them assume the worst.
Otherwise, the flight was uneventful. We arrived at Heathrow early, I got
my luggage (not routed to Botswana after all), I cleared customs, and I was
on my way. I caught the new express train to Paddington station (nice
train -- much better than taking "The Tube").
To understand what was happening, you need to visualize me. (Sorry if
that is a discomfiting image. ) I am wheeling along a suitcase weighing 55
pounds (I brought a lot of papers to read), and a briefcase weighing about
20 pounds with my PC in it. I have on a sweater, a coat, and a hat. I'm
wearing some rather baggy khaki pants -- I've lost a lot of weight recently
and had no time to get new pants, so I cinched up the belt and went with
these.
London's Underground (the subway) is quite good. The stations are old &
quaint in spots, but the service is timely and clean (usually). However,
most of the stations were built many years ago. They have lots of steps.
No escalators. No elevators. Stairs.
So there I am, cursing gravity, carrying 75 pounds of luggage (it was
weighed at the airport, so I know this is correct) up and down flights of
20-30 stairs at Paddington, and my connecting stations, etc. With a
sweater and a coat and hat on. Where it is 62 degrees outside. I can say
that my perspiration system works. I can think of only one good reason to
get that hot and sweaty. And she wasn't there.
As I was stumbling up one set of stairs, I couldn't help but recall my
spousal unit's last words to me as I left the house hours before: "Aren't
you going to wear a heavier jacket? It's winter!" Clearly, the woman has
already made plans for the life insurance money. Luckily, I kept the
"light" jacket.
At the last station, I had a flight of about 50 steps to go up. So I
gritted my teeth (I would have gritted someone else's, but none were in
reach) and started up the stairs. To fully appreciate this, I should also
add that when I purchased my ticket for the Underground, I had received
about 500 coins in change. The British use a lot more coins than we do, in
various denominations. They are all very thick, and made of metals like
lead. Plus, the ticket machine had given me change using lots of coins of
smaller value than needed. So, I had dumped them all into my pocket.
Now, as I used the poor man's Stairmaster, both arms stretched out to the
max, the weight of the coins, the poor fit of the pants, and general
entropy set in. My pants slipped lower and lower, and then unsnapped.
I'm standing half-way up the stairs (wrong side, too -- here in London
everyone walks on the left except for sweaty Americans), I can't set my
luggage down without blocking the stairs, I'm flashing anyone coming the
other way, and another two steps and I'll be mooning whoever is coming up
behind me. How like me to let the natives see the sights rather than the
tourists! Sigh. I now know how to juggle luggage whilst getting
(re)dressed.
One good thing from this. I pulled my back again, only this time it undid
what happened at the airport parking lot. I think. I also believe my
arms are now a little bit longer. And I've lost about 10 pounds of water
weight.
No major further trauma occurred on the way to the hotel. I took off my
coat because I was overheating and wrapped it around the handle of my
luggage. Of course, it came off and I ran over it with the luggage.
Twice. But that isn't anything to speak of, compared to everything else.
My hotel is a 4-star hotel. I am unsure who gave it the 4 stars -- the
munchkins? The elevator door was so narrow (as was the elevator), I had
to turn my luggage sideways to get on it. I have a "double executive
room." My office at Purdue is bigger than the room, bathroom, and closet
combined. Heck, the bathroom in my room at the Hyatt in Dallas was bigger
than this room. There is only one drawer in the entire room into which I
can unpack any clothes. There is no shelf or mantle in the bathroom near
the sink to set things on. The desk has no room for more than one stack
of papers. It's amazing. I can think of a few women who would be
absolutely crazy if they were here. (Not only because of the size of the
room, but they'd be crazy to be in a hotel room alone with me. Or they
would be, once I finished with them. But I digress. :-)
After I download my email one more time, I'm going to go downstairs and
eat. I ate at the restaurant last year, and the food is pretty good.
Then I will come back up here to do some more reading for tomorrow. Then
sleep and perhaps dream of tiger hunting. In the morning, I will try to go
back to Paddington, sans impedimenta, and find the train to Exeter. There,
I will participate in a thesis defense as an outside reader. Then back
here for beers with conference attendees (unless I hear from Sofie's
sister).
Tuesday
--------
I got up early to travel to Exeter to sit as the external examiner for a
PhD thesis viva (exam). Getting up early wasn't much of a problem as I
wasn't able to sleep. I thus was not terribly awake as I stumbled into
the shower and pulled the curtain -- only to have the curtain and rod come
out of the wall and envelop me. I fought a brief battle with it, and
succeeded in getting it put back up. Out of my briefcase came my trusty
jacknife, and I reattached the rod to the wall (I'm told this is terribly
nerdy, but what the heck, I'm terribly nerdy).
After getting cleaned up and dressed, I set out for Paddington Station
(again) to catch the train to Exeter. I stopped along the way to grab a
bagel and a cup of coffee for breakfast. The coffee was way too hot, and
simply awful. Not only did I not drink it, but I managed to spill some of
it down the front of my shirt when someone bumped into me on the way to
catch the train. Sigh. I should learn to walk on the left here.
The train was late getting in to Paddington, and thus late leaving. I
spent some time in the on-board bathroom, trying to wipe out some of the
coffee stain. I emerged with a big wet spot on the front of my shirt.
This prompted some raised eyebrows from a matronly woman sitting on the
aisle. I simply said "turbulence" and walked by; I suspect I gave her
something to think about for a while.
The train ride itself was uneventful (and I fell asleep along the way,
awaking with the pattern of the seat cover on my face, my contact lenses
glued to my eyeballs, and a stiff neck).
The folks at Exeter treated me very well. I had lunch, sat for the defense
(the student passed -- that she was French, cute, and smart enough to base
her research on previous work I performed influenced me in no way -- well,
in no way related to the exam :-), and then dashed off for the train, which
I caught with 5 minutes to spare.
The train back to London was a local that stopped at every little village
along the way. Still exhausted and a little jet-lagged, I fell asleep
again. I awoke as the train pulled into another small station. I wonder
if I was talking in my sleep, for everyone who had been sitting near me had
moved elsewhere, except for one young girl with purple hair and at least 5
visible piercings. Also, either she had been in a fight or had applied
black eyeshadow very badly. She was sitting across from me and staring
until she realized I was awake, at which point she tried to surreptitiously
stare at me while bobbing her head back and forth to music played way too
loudly on her Walkman. I did a quick check, and there was no obvious
drool down my beard, and I had remembered to close my zipper at the last
loo stop, so I guess it might have been the killer bow tie I was wearing
(one my colleague Andra had helped me pick out -- thanks, I think).
I got back to the hotel in time to join the various attendees and staff of
the conference who had appeared for a reception. I renewed acquaintance
with many people there, including several people I wish I saw more often
than once a year. This included Leslie. Leslie and I met last year at
this conference. In the course of conversation (then), we discovered we
were born in the same hospital in Rochester, about 3 weeks apart. She had
emigrated to Australia and then England. I, of course, was off-planet for
a while. She also has a crazy sense of humor, so people around us were
speculating about the true nature of the hospital. We did our best this
year to reinforce those disquieting thoughts of mental instability. (As a
result of last year we were responsible for a colleague of hers doing
something embarassing with a Microsoft mailer, which ended up getting
written about in the Risks Digest. But I digress.) It started again with
Leslie taking my arm and introducing me to people as her twin brother.
The one guy who later said he noticed the resemblence was a real hoot.
I got to say hello to John and John, the erstwhile chairs of the
conference. John's lovely wife was not in attendance, unfortunately.
However, John's lovely wife was. This helped newcomers tell John from
John (but once Jon gets married and gets an "h" in his name we're going to
have problems). I also managed to say a quick hello to Tracy and Amy, two
of the most attractive, humorous and helpful conference coordinators I have
met. I later discovered that they are both engaged to be married later
this year (but not to each other), so my plans to campaign for a repeal of
the polygamy statutes was dealt a severe blow to morale. (However, it
would be difficult to deal a severe blow to my morals, which were repealed
some time ago.) Several other faces from other conferences were in
attendance, most attached to bodies, so it was a pleasant reunion despite
not having any glasses for the wine.
Some of us went out for Chinese food, then went to the hotel pub until
about 1am. I went back to my room and called home. Then I finished the
final touches on the presentation I had to do tomorrow. This was followed
by an attempt to sleep.
Wednesday
-----------
I arose at 7am. Yow! I gingerly pulled the shower curtain. No problem!
With a sigh of relief, I turned on the shower, only to blast my feet with
cold water because I turned the wrong knob.
Severely awakened, I went down for breakfast. They had a Scottish
breakfast buffet. So, I had broiled tomatoes, bangers (sausage), some
scrambled eggs, and....haggis. This is a great way to deal with a
hangover. Well, maybe not. This wasn't quite authentic haggis, because it
wasn't served out of a sheep's stomach, but the flavor was quite
...unique... nonetheless. Grapefruit juice seems to cut it, however.
Before I leave, I may also try the black pudding.
I walked over to the convention center, and gave my first talk. The
audience appeared to be in coma. At least they were quiet and
well-behaved. However, it is disconcerting to be lecturing to an audience
of about 150 , all of whom have their eyes closed, their jaws hanging open,
and they are snoring. Even more annoying, it kept *me* awake.
I spent lunchtime finding a place to dial in and check my email. I got a
bright idea and found a local dial-in for UUnet and used it to reach my GTE
account. Success! I now had 33.6K access with a local call.
My talk after lunch was exceptionally well-attended, and I was really
surprised -- it was really a talk about "blue sky" research, and I didn't
think this would be a good audience for it. Maybe word had spread about my
bow tie (another one Andra had helped me select). Actually, this is the
first conference I have been to in Europe where I saw others with bow ties
-- there were two people here with bows. The three of us were talking
together at one time and people clearly gave us a wide berth (afraid it was
catching, perhaps). We found we had basically nothing else in common, but
continued to chat because it clearly unsettled everyone else who viewed us
as a latent conspiracy.
I checked email again. I got one from the editor of Information Security
Magazine. The editors and readers of the magazine have decided to name me
as one of the 5 "Pioneers of Information Security." The other 4 are Peter
Neumann, Donn Parker, William H. Murray, and Ron Rivest. That's
distinguished company, but most of them have been at this about 15 years
longer than I have. So, I'm a little hesitant at being named a "pioneer"
because it makes me feel old. Also, I look lousy in a coonskin cap (unless
I can get a matching bow tie -- must ask Andra).
I went back and took a slight nap. Then, I joined the speakers and some of
the organizers and we went to dinner -- at a Tex-Mex restaurant: "The Texas
Embassy." This is right off Trafalgar Square. It appears that during the
few years that Texas was an independent nation, they had an embassy in
London. This was not it, but is a few doors down from it. It's run by a
Scottsman (am I detecting a pattern here?). Considering that I was in
Texas last week, this was a rather odd experience. The food wasn't bad,
however, and I'd recommend it to anyone seeking a chalupa in London (that
wasn't meant to sound risque).
I told jokes over salsa and beer for about 3 hours. Among other mayhem, I
caused one person to pass beer back up his nose, and another to choke on
his salsa, so it was a good performance.
We then returned to the hotel and closed the bar at 2am. Great Irish beer
(no Scottish beer that I could detect). One of the conference attendees
was a guy from Latvia. He appeared in the bar about midnight. He appeared
to have had a little too much to drink. He proceeded to drink more
(straight Captain Morgan spiced rum -- ouch!) until his minimal English
became completely unintelligible. After trying to make a pass at one of
the Elsevier staff, and then at a statue near the wall, he collapsed in a
chair and passed out. I was feeling a bit melancholy myself, so I stayed
to prevent some of the rowdier (than me!) ones present from decorating him
in creative ways. He was a long way from home, didn't know the language
very well, and was probably quite lonely. Too bad he didn't quite hit it
off with the statue.
We also had a young Englishman in a tux come in and ask if any of us had a
cigar for his girlfriend. He had no idea why the Americans in the crowd
were laughing hysterically, and got worse as he tried to explain. He was
sincere. We were clearly not.
Thursday
--------
I forgot to set an alarm. Awoke at noon!! This was clearly too late for
breakfast haggis, so I went over the conference and joined lunch. Then I
attended some talks and ran into Gene Schultz. Technically, Gene is at
Purdue now. However, I have seen more of Gene at conferences we have both
traveled to than I have seen him in Lafayette. Fascinating.
I spent part of the afternoon trying to find a phone number for Sofie's
sister. There is no one in the phone book for London with the same
last name (but, trivia fans, there are two Spaffords). I asked one of
my acquaintances with ties to New Scotland Yard, but he indicated he
wouldn't be able to help me unless I could convince him it was an
emergency. Not knowing if Sofie's sister has a sense of humor, I
decided not to make up a story about her being into smuggling and
espionage.
Then I chatted with some of the attendees, and sat in on the final session,
given by friend Leslie. Leslie managed to state that "E-commerce will
allow small companies to compete evilly on the network." This
"Leslie-ism" provided some mirth later in the evening. It also prompted
several questions about some well-known companies and whether or not they
were already competing evilly. It doesn't look so funny typed out here,
but it was hysterical to me at the time, so ....
After the conference ended, we all went back to the hotel, and shortly
boarded a bus for the conference dinner. This was held at the new,
restored Globe Theater. The theater has been 40 years in the making, and
is constructed near the original that burned down in the 1600s. It is the
first wood and thatch building constructed in London since the Great Fire.
Quite impressive. We got the tour, a lecture on the history of theater and
the origin of some words associated with it, then went to the new annex to
have dinner.
Dinner was some poultry (pigeon?) and vegetables. The food wasn't
spectacular, but it was good. The entertainment consisted of some guy in a
velvet, period costume wandering around playing a parlor bagpipe
(Northumbrian, he assured me -- not Scottish) and then a flute. I asked
him if he knew anything by Led Zepplin. He was not amused.
The best part of the meal was the view across the Thames of St. Paul's
Cathedral, all bathed in lights. Quite inspiring. I spent some time on
the balcony simply watching the Thames flow by. I got a bit introspective
(i.e., pensive, meditative; I've been gone for days, and my crack staff
back home has everything under control without me. If the University finds
out I am unnecessary, I have a problem). I was quickly hauled back in and
given some chocolate, which helped a little.
We took the bus back into the hotel, and crowded the pub. We continued our
technical discussions (really!). I had a long discussion with Winn
Schwartau, which was fun. I also chatted up several of the other attendees
and speakers, and got a few leads to pursue for the CERIAS later. After 3
years of this conference, I can say with great conviction that the most
interesting and valuable conversations occur in the bar in the evenings.
There are also some bizarre ones. I'm not sure I can capture the mood of
the group, so I'll just say we abused and slandered most everyone present,
and many not present, to general good cheer. I told more jokes, as did
some of the other loonies present. It was generally agreed that I was
"sick and wrong" and would be required to return next year. Our friend
from Latvia did not appear. Oddly, the statue was missing. I went up
before the pub closed and read my email.
I concluded the day by knocking all of my toiletries off the counter and
into the bathtub and toilet by accidentally brushing against them with my
elbow (dang small bathroom!).
Friday
------
Slept late again. I figure that if I am to return to Indiana tomorrow, I
can start time shifting. I am staying up until 2am here to type this,
so....
Once again, I accidentally ran cold water in the shower. The British
don't quite understand plumbing and make the system a little too
complicated....especially for people with no coffee in their systems.
I was going to go sight-seeing, but it was raining. So, I went over to the
conference, had lunch, and sat in some sessions. Bill Cheswick gave the
wrap-up and it was particularly interesting. I'm going to get him to
Purdue to give it there.
Afterwards, I went out to dinner with Andy Smith, my coauthor on my next
book. We went to dinner at a nice Indian restaurant. I came back, read
some email, did some packing, and wrote more in my journal.
I am going to be very happy to get home. Usually when I travel outside the
US by myself, I run into a "wall" at about 4 days where I get really
homesick. It was worse this time because Elizabeth kept telling me (on the
phone when I called) that she missed me. It was also better in that I had
so many good and friendly people around. However, it still hit hard
sometime last night and has continued through today. I can't wait to be
someplace where they drive on the correct side of the road and spell things
correctly.....
Saturday
--------
I didn't sleep well Friday night, which is always beneficial before a long
trip. Actually, I haven't slept well the whole trip -- the shift in
hours, the haggis, and other things all helped to keep me awake. And, like
the absent-minded professor I am becoming, I managed to leave my little
travel bottle of melatonin at home. I'm not sure if it really helps with
the jet-lag, but the placebo effect certainly seems to make a difference.
I tried replaying one of my lectures in my memory, because that usually
serves to put large numbers of people to sleep, but it didn't help me.
So, when the alarm went off, I got up and got dressed and packed. My
clothing seems to have absorbed matter while here. Everything fit in the
bag on the way over, with some room to spare. Now as I packed to leave, I
could tightly roll up items, such as my dirty laundry, my clean clothes, my
papers, and my spare shoes (hmmm, perhaps I'm a tad too tense if I can roll
my shoes) and they take up less space packed. At the end, the suitcase
would not close and was absolutely bulging. Maybe the gravity is not so
strong in London as in West Lafayette? Could be: this may be the origin of
so many people claiming that Indiana sucks -- it isn't suction, but
stronger gravity.
Luckily, I had thought ahead and packed a smaller, collapsible bag. I
expanded it and tried to decide what to put in it. I decided the dirty
laundry would be the best bet. I'd leave my important papers, medicines,
and so on in the hard-sided bag with wheels.
I went downstairs to check out, to get good news and bad news. The good
news was that the fine people at Elsevier had put my room expense on their
master account. The bad news was the incidentals. It seems that the
hotel's phone service was supplied by some 3rd party company of larcenous
individuals who didn't list the charges for phone service on the little
card in the rooms next to the phone. My "free" Internet connection hadn't
racked up any long-distance charges, but it had racked up a huge charge for
local usage. Something like 1 pound (British currency; for the metric
crowd, that's 2267.96185 metric carats, or .00044 tons of carrots, which
cost approximately $1.66 US right now) per minute. I had been working on
a paper and a lot of email while here, and had been online between 4 & 5
hours. So now, I need to find some way to recover some or all of that $500
or so from my University account. Ouch!
I made my way to a taxi (no sense lugging my suitcase up and down the
Underground stairs again), and thence to Paddington. The train was on
time. I found my way to the right terminal, checked in, and everything was
just fine. Made some purchases (two new single malt scotches to add to the
collection, some goodies for a few special people, etc) and used up the
remainder of my English money. I even had a chance to read the newspaper
before getting on the flight.
In an odd coincidence, the flight attendant who took my ticket at the door
was also the attendant in my section of the plane on the outbound flight.
She had made one round trip in the interval and was getting ready to return
to the States. She recognized me. She also looked at me and asked: "Did
you sleep this week?" Hmm, I guess the past couple of days have taken
their toll.
The flight was almost perfect, although sitting for 9 hours in a seat made
for someone with Kate Moss's hip width didn't really put me in the best of
moods. Every time I shifted position, my back end would hit the attendant
call button on the armrest. Each time, one or two of the flight attendants
would appear and ask what I wanted. On about the third instance of this,
I explained it wasn't exactly me, but my bottom was inquiring if there were
seats available for people with actual tissue layered on their skeletons.
Subsequent uses of the call button resulted in no response from any of the
crew.
The movie was fun ("6 Days, 7 Nights"). The food was okay. Everything
was fine until they served the snack before we landed. As I was eating my
sandwich, a little piece fell out and onto my shirt. I wiped it away.
Ever had a little, tiny bug hit your windshield and leave a streak about 8
inches long that makes you wonder if the bug was really pressurized to
about 100 psi? (100 psi is about 6.8 bars for the metric types, which
means a bladder under great pressure...and mine is after even 2 bars.)
Well, this little tiny speck of bread seems to have had several quarts of
mustard in it: "did" being the operative word. I spent the next 15
minutes using club soda to attempt to remove the stain. The lady next to
me was very helpful: "If you pour the soda on the napkin instead of down
your shirt, you won't get that puddle forming in your seat." (While
doing this, I harkened back to the Globe theater -- I wonder if Lady
Macbeth tried club soda too? )
The landing was a little rough. At least I think it was a landing. We
may have been shot down. Most landings don't involve that many bounces. I
wonder if the controls were affected by me shorting out the call button
with club soda? Whatever it was, I was glad to get off the plane and
walk. And walk. And walk. The international arrivals terminal at
Chicago O'Hare is clearly intended for the robust. Basically, the plane
pulls up to a gate in Minnesota, and you walk to the customs hall in
Chicago. By the time I got there, 20 minutes after leaving the gate, I
almost had circulation and feeling back in my lower body.
I was well-behaved at the passport control. ("Here's your passport. Your
passport photo doesn't include the mustard stain -- you should have it
updated." "Thank you officer.") I got both my bags and made it through
customs without being searched. I gave my bags over to the American agent
for the flight to Indy. I then had 90 minutes to wait for my plane. An
uneventful flight to Indianapolis followed. I waited by the bag return.
My bag of dirty laundry was one of the first down the chute. I waited in
vain for my other bag to appear. I visited the baggage office. They had
no idea where the bag went. I had lots of transit time, and the two bags
were together at one point. Apparently they had had some kind of falling
out, because they went their separate ways (if my errant luggage is reading
this -- come back. The duffle says it's sorry and really wants to see you
again).
Sunday
-------
The next day, 3 more flights from Chicago have made it to Indiana, and my
bag has not been on any of them. The folks at American are puzzled, to say
the least. Somewhere, my luggage is seeing the world. It has two of my
suits, about 6 of my best bow ties, my class's midterm exams, a pile of
papers to review, and my most comfortable shoes. It is clearly set to
assume an academic lifestyle wherever it ends up. This is more than I am
prepared to do tomorrow morning.
The folks at American assure me that they will find my suitcase. I have
asked them to check Botswana, simply to be sure.
------------------------------
Date: Sun, 15 Nov 1998 22:12:33 -0800
From: Aaron Lepold <Aaron_Lepold@hp.com>
Subject: Back home
To: Gene Spafford <spaf@cs.purdue.edu>
Glad to hear that you made it home in one piece. BTW, do you ever
have an "uneventful" trip? Given your amount of travel, it would
be interesting to understand what exactly is keeping you alive.
[Coffee and Irish beer. --spaf]
------------------------------
Date: Sun, 15 Nov 98 12:31:19 -0600
From: Pascal Meunier <pmeunier@purdue.edu>
Subject: Back home
To: "Gene Spafford" <spaf@cs.purdue.edu>
>It
>has two of my suits, about 6 of my best bow ties, my class's midterm exams,
It is a pure coincidence if the Botswana Liberation Army got a donation
from your class. We just happen to like them.
------------------------------
End of Yucks Digest
------------------------------