Okay, I lied — I couldn’t spend much of my limited time in Seattle online. But hey, guess what? I am now rocking out in my apartment with dial-up, courtesy my DSL provider while (get ready for the shocker) BT fixes whatever the hell is wrong with the broadband connection. It’s like lending somebody a golf cart while their Ferrari is in the shop, but I’m so desperate I’m tooling around town in my golf cart, shouting at passersby, “Hey! Dig my golf cart! It rolls baby!”
So no pictures up until the Ferrari’s back, but at last I can send and receive e-mail at home. Woohoo!
Well, it’s 9:30 p.m. GMT, and the nearest internet access is in a hotel bar featuring cigar smoke, businessmen who can’t hold their liquor, and mad, mad, maddening Eurobeats. This explains why I never catch up on my e-mail.
I’m off to Seattle tomorrow, then it’s on to SoCal a couple of days later. Add in the trip to Marrakech last weekend (where I outlined a story that gave me The Feeling, as in The Feeling That This Story Could Find a Home Outside My Laptop, as in I Actually Know How It Ends), and I’ve got 31 hours on a plane inside two weeks. I think the word I’m looking for is “Yipes”. Or maybe “Gigantic Irresponsible Carbon Footprint”. Oh, wait — that’s four words.
Anyway, Seattle = internet access, so if I owe you e-mail, expect one soon.
Also, I’m gonna burn a hole in my Flickr account with stuff like this:
So hey, Escape Pod accepted “Just Do It” for podcastification. Which is super duper nifty.
Also, I’ve concluded my current battle with BT and have signed up for ADSL broadband with one of their competitors. So now they can do battle with BT, since BT still owns the phone lines. If all goes well, it’ll be 7-10 days until I have internet access (glorious, glorious internet access) from home.
So here I am posting from an internet cafe on Parliament Street, back after a visit to Dublin Airport, where I found out that my flight to London has been cancelled due to weather. Apparently 3,000 people are headed back into the city looking for accomodation. Thank you, E, for letting me crash with you one more night. I’m developing the theory that the difference between a disaster and an adventure is a comfortable place to sleep.
More later, because it seems wrong to sit here and write about Dublin when I should be out running around in Dublin, wind and rain be damned.