Recently in America Category

The new RDU terminal is shiny. Really shiny. It even feels like a real airport now, and what's more, a real airport with seats that have USB and normal powerpoints to plug all your stuff into. It's a geek-paradise! Except...I can't seem to connect to a wireless network. There's something called 'testwlan' which requires a password and an elusive T-Mobile signal that crops up every five minutes, but I'm not hopeful on getting a connection. Which is sad, as I meant to email Nikki a goodbye note, seeing as how she's been working all day and had to miss the yumminess, the sourness, Stacie's death-dealing, and a discussion on what exactly 'breakfast' means.

Bonnie on a chat to me sometime during the night of the November 2004 election:

they should've had gotten Obama out more. just stick him everywhere

I think they got that covered this time around.

Let me add to the chorus suggesting that Stacie needs to open a restaurant...

I would tell you what I did last night...I'm just not sure whether it was legal or not...

Some of you with very long memories may remember that I once spoke of Durham in less-than-glowing terms. I'm happy to say that five years later, downtown Durham is a much brighter place than it was on that January morning. Maybe not all of the empty shop berths have been filled, but many have, and a decent amount of people in the area means that it no longer feels like ghost town. The only slight downside is that a lot of the city's old buildings are being torn down to make fashionable condos for the gentrifying sect. Which is a shame, and perhaps unnecessary; I'm sure hipsters would jump at the chance of living in a converted tobacco factory.

Anyway, our Great Grits Gambit began yesterday in Durham. Two days, lots of grits. For those of you who think I might have gone crazy and started trying to eat the contents of gritting lorries, grits is a corn-based breakfast substance. There's been a long-standing joke that Stacie and I would go off to a restaurant in Chapel Hill so I could taste them for the first time, only to either forget, or get there after they've stopped serving breakfast. So this time, we're doing it properly - tasting the grits available in the Chapel Hill/Durham area!

We have problems.

Aside from the grits, we met up with Christa yesterday, interrupting her as she battled to get through her graduate work, kidnapping her scooter...the usual sorts of things. Plus a wander through Franklin Street, stopping at the new location of Chapel Hill Comics, Pumpkin Spice at Locopops, all while the sun beamed down on us. Oh, and we voted too! Well, I stood by while Luke went in and voted anyhow...

I'm not sure if it's the credit crunch or American Airlines just taking advantage, but flight AA173 doesn't seem to have taken the transfer from Gatwick to Heathrow all that well. Gone is the ultra-modern 777 with extra leg space and fancy game-playing TV sets mounted in the back of the seats, and in is a rather rickety 767-300 with three LCD panels for the entire cabin and a bit more room than your standard Ryanair trip. And the flight is an hour longer than it used to be. Still, considering the route doesn't really have a reason to exist I can't complain too much, I guess. Plus I still the new terminal at RDU to look forward to! And that airport won't have the smug face of George Osbourne glaring at me from all the screens like in Heathrow this morning.

I miss my polls. I've lost an entire day of watching - I boarded the plane at 10 am GMT, so it was before the R2K poll was announced - I have no idea if it's still 50/45, or anything...it disturbs me that the first thing that I want to do after clearing Customs is to go to openleft.com and check everything that's been released. I can't be cut off from the information four days out! It's not right!

Although, as it turned out, the plane landed an hour early. The new RDU (open for about a week or so now) is pretty good - the long queue for customs officials has disappeared (it took me two minutes this time, and most of that was winding through the empty queue barriers), plus no more having to redo the security controls afterwards! Wonderful stuff!

My first night in the Triangle? Going out in Durham, knocking on people's doors and making sure that they know where their polling place is and that North Carolina has early voting that extends until Saturday at 5. In a non-partisan manner, I swear!

Off again. Check back soon for shenanigans!

Pictures now up on Flickr as usual. Perhaps not a lot to say this time, except that it was stuffed with woodsy walks, compressed shopping, surprise appearances, drinking, a bit more drinking, New Order at 3am in the morning, getting a round of applause at IP3 for turning up in costume, seeing Obamarama come to Chapel Hill, and the usual wonderment. Here's to November!

Still here. Not for much longer, mind you. Will write a little on the plane home!

Yes, today's update comes from outside in 20˚C weather. It's quite nice.

(I expect to be slapped when I get home. Obviously)

As part of my shopping travels yesterday, I had to walk through UNC campus to get to the bus stop. Always an odd feeling. I know I made the right decision to come home again five years ago, and the only reason I met all my friends here is that I gave up doing the degree in the last three months of the semester, but whenever I walk through the throngs of students, I do always ponder what would have happened if I stayed.

But the thought went out of my head as I walked past the group playing in the Pit (to be filled with other, just as pointless thoughts, but they're not worth dwelling on either). It was time to go shopping! Now, normally, I'm reasonably sensible when it comes to this part of the trip (aside from getting it all in my suitcase at the end of the journey), but this time around Thursday would be the only day I could probably go shopping, because the buses wouldn't be running on Friday, Saturday Christa and I are planning for Europe, Sunday is Easter (and contrary to what you might think, America shuts down then even more so than the UK does) and Monday I'm flying home! So it was Thursday or nothing.

I started at 10. Christa found me outside Whole Foods a short time after five clutching a barrage of bags and about to head off to the ABC store to buy all the alcohol for tomorrow night's party. So I didn't have to walk a mile and a half back to Collin's with five glass bottles and a bunch of other shopping (including about 2lbs of sweets). Hurrah!

We also had foodscience! plans for last night. Specifically, hot ice cream. It involves a chemical called methylcellulose, which thickens as its heated. The idea is to add a bunch of the chemical to a liquid (in our case, a recipe that involved a blend of cream cheese, yogurt, agave nectar and vanilla) and then immerse scoops of the liquid in boiling water, which should make it set.

Should. Needless to say, perhaps because our measuring was off, or perhaps because we were doing it wrong, we couldn't get the liquid to set properly, except for a little bit at the edges. We need more experimentation there, I think.

On the other hand, frying oreos, cookie dough, brownie bits, cheddar, and cream cheese in 7up/Bisquick batter worked pretty well. Even if everybody else has a bad stomach this morning...

I suppose that even a month ago, my being off the coast of Canada right now was not something that I expected. But here I am, heading back to Carolina earlier than scheduled, a full seven months ahead of my trip in November for the election. Five days. If that seems crazy to you, then I agree. But here I am.

It meant I got to say goodbye to Gatwick one last time yet again; in two weeks, flight AA173 will move to Heathrow's Terminal 3 along with the rest of American Airlines. But one British airport is pretty much like any other, so I don't think I'll miss it too much. And the bus ride will be shorter from Oxford.

And then flashes of an uglier side of me; getting riled up at a group of British students dressed like they had walked off the set of Skins, mocking America even as they were heading over there, stocking up on vast quantities of alcohol. Effortlessly cool, girls in tow, definitely going to be voting Tory at the next election. My anger at them and the country was soon supplanted by a fear of becoming the next Robin Carmody; realising, like all good bullies, that the root of that was jealousy and envy on my part. And could I really blame them for their (totally imagined by me) choice? Given two parties who stand for the same middle class focus groups, you'd pick the one that wasn't in charge while the economy crashes around our ears. The free-market pixie dust isn't working this time around. If it ever really did.

Ashamed, I headed for the gate; retreating to the 1920s. Which, thinking about it, is probably the worst place to escape to, but the irony amuses me.

Japan entertained me with a tale of a teacher who keeps trying to commit suicide and a student who is utterly enraptured with life, America supplied the 1950s and the hey! SMOKING! of Mad Men, while the British contingent was The Century of The Self (or Perhaps L. Ron Hubbard Had A Point?). As with all Adam Curtis documentaries, a fairly depressing look at democracy and business in the latter half of the 20th century. It's funny how they are all the same subject, but approach it at different angles; instead of terrorism and the Cold War, Self concentrates on the impact that Freud had on shaping advertising, propaganda, and eventually even the very running of Government itself. Light-hearted plane fare, I think.

Another four hours to go. Halifax is underneath me now; not for the first time, not for the last, hopefully.

Between Christa and Mandy, I think I spent most of my final night in America being a deep shade of crimson. In particular, Christa made me blush so hard that I could feel my cheeks straining. Mandy couldn't do that, but did manage to create an image that will be impossible to scrub out of my mind without many years of therapy. It's what Eternal Sunshine is made for...

A good night then, although I wish I could have spent more talking to my friends instead of our stranger who took a shine to my accent and tried to talk to me about Formula 1 all night (I even got told off by a German couple for being to polite with him). Still, most of the gang was there: Heather, Emily, Christa, Eric, Mandy, Collin, Kaelin, Stacie, and Laura, and we had a good time, even if I got told off for buying my own drinks! I'm going to miss them all terribly once again...

(Incidentally, it was also the first time I've heard the word 'retcon' being used in a public area. Which only occurred to me afterwards)

Flush with our success with the agar tequila sunrises and the cornstarch rum pills —

Did I tell you about the candy cane vodka? I don't think I did. To sum up: 49¢ spent in Target on candy canes reduced to clear, left to dissolve into a potato vodka for a day. Filter to remove any excess fat and prepare yourself for the kick.

Testimonial from Emily: "It's actually kinda awesome!"

— Stacie and I had more plans. In particular, rum-flavoured lollipops and handmade aero chocolate. Simple.

It all went horribly wrong. Our first attempt at the aero bars seemed to go well; we melted the dark chocolate, warmed the iSi whipper with a hair dryer, filled it and shot the contents of a NO₂ canister into the chocolate, but as we watched the molds being filled, we couldn't see any evidence of bubbles.

I'm fully prepared to admit that the lollipop disaster was my fault. I assumed from what I had read that lemon juice could completely replace corn syrup, but I was wrong. So wrong. I also forgot just how much sugar syrup bubbles as it goes past 100˚C. Laura's stove got covered in napalm-like sugar goop, cracking and flaming before turning into a hard black sugar ash. Pleasant!

To make matters even worse, the thermometer wasn't properly in the solution, so when we thought it was reaching the hard crack stage, it was happily turning into caramel and bonding to the pan.

"You know, I think that's my housemate's pan."

Thank goodness for the way the sugar dissolves if you pour enough boiling water on top of it...

We then re-read the instructions for the aerated chocolate and realised that we'd forgotten to shake the whipper before firing the gas. Wanting to have something out of almost ruining Laura's kitchen, we melted the chocolate down and tried again.

Aero. On demand. We can do milk, we can do dark, we can do white. We can make orange flavour, mint flavoured, whatever else you want. We have the technology.

I'm not quite sure if I fully understood what I was agreeing to when Collin asked if I wanted to go to Atlanta to visit Esther and Ryan. It was only when I came back that I realised that the trip to Chapel Hill to Atlanta was actually longer than my flight home.

However, it was a fun journey, with time passing much quicker than you would think, passing the time discussing politics, switchgrass, and all sorts of things while listening to NPR. We soo crossed into South Carolina, where we were confronted by a hge array of McCain, Romney and Paul signs everywhere. You know, there might be a primary here soon.

While we were heading to Atlanta, we made a stop on the way to have dinner with Collin's grandmother. We went to a local Italian restaurant where it seemed that the only way to eat spegehetti and not induce heart failure was to order a half-order, and even then the mound of pasta reached three inches clear of the plate it was occupying. The lasagne was nice, though! And not quite so scary!

For those of you who have never travelled on an interstate before, there are often huge billboards on both sides of the road, promoting a) eateries / shopping at the next set of exits, b)radio stations, c) acts of pride and unity under God (We did pass Bob Jones University on the way down, after all). But then there's d) The Plain Crazy. Our favourites on the journey included this as we arrivied into Atlanta:

Christians Be Scary.

We got to Atlanta itself at around 11pm, the skyscrapers gleaming into clear black sky, looking like the great American city of cliché. You don't get this in Chapel Hill, you know (although it must be said that at the foot of the gleaming spires there seemed to lay a never-ending orgy of construction, making things a little less pretty).

Esther and Ryan live in the top floor of a fabulous house in the city of the city. The landlords, Seth and Westin, are a couple who live in the ground floor, and seem as nice and friendly as you could hope for in such an arrangement. Unfortunately, I arrived just as they were taking the Christmas decorations down - they must have been quite impressive, as it took two days for Seth to pack everything away and for Westing to bring it all up to the attic.

I've been to Atlanta before, of course; somewhere in my bedroom is a yellow legal pad that includes three or four pages of notes I made for blog entries while I was on the way to Portland in 2005, but I don't think I ever typed them up. Yes, a familiar story. That time, I stuck to the downtown area of the city, but Esther and Ryan wanted to show us some of the hipper parts of Atlanta, so we went to an area known as The Little Five Points, home to many a vintage clothing shop, a good record store, and yes, a co-operative local suprmarket! Hippies be thriving.

The next day started with breakfast at The Flying Biscuit, an Atlanta institution and also where Esther works.

Again, for those of you that are unfamiliar, the Americans at some point decided to go a completely different rout with 'biscuit' Whereas to us it conjures visions of garabaldi, digestive, jammy dodgers, ginger, bourbon, hob-nobs, and a nice cup of tea, to those across the Atlantic, it describes a bun of scone-like density, often made with something savoury like cheese. I know. I'm sorry for them too. But they won't listen to reason on this front.

After a turkey and chicken omelette that was good but not as good as Christa's lovely apple and cheese combination a few days earlier, Ryan, Collin and I went off to the High Museum of Art. I will pause to allow Mum to laugh.

The building itself is quite impressive; a blocked white monolith that looks as if it could double as the headquarters to an evil megacorporation in a 1980s film. The evil extends into the building itself; the higher floors are reached by a series of ramps which look over into the central atrium. How I made it to the top skyway level, I do not know (I'm just glad that the schoolchildren that seemed dressed as if they had just come from Chilton were nowhere in sight as I inched my way up the final ramp)

All too soon, we were back on the road home, seven hours straight back to North Carolina with the sounds of the BBC World Service to keep us sane. It was a little bizarre to be hearing about Newcastle firing Sam Allardyce as were were crossing the border from Georgia to South Carolina...

Ingredients for a great Gilmore Girls marathon:

• You will need a selection of episodes from culled from all seven seasons of the show, (approximately eight in number), highlighting the funniest moments and any other considerations deemed important.

  We chose a couple of episodes from Season 2, many from Season 3 (including deep-fried shoes and the evil of Cat Kirk) and one each from Seasons 4 through 6. Season 7 is still verboten. Special consideration was given to episodes with a surfeit of Jess scenes.
  

• Start early. Breakfast is ideal.

  We started at around eleven with hot chocolate / coffee and a wonderful apple and cheese omelette. I'll admit that I was skeptical, but it tasted so good!
  

• Watch episodes in chronological order, but don't worry too much if you have to skip back once in a while.

  Oops
  




• Shudder at all the ways that Paris makes you cringe.

  The deep conversation room! Her CSPAN appearance!
  

• Serve episodes with a snack and a refreshing drink!

  That would be ginger biscuits and the last of the gin that I brought over the Christmas before
  

Enjoy...we certainly did!

There are students everywhere. Grrrrr.

I'm off to Georgia for a couple of days. Update when I get back!

My Magpie Eyes Are Hungry For The Prize: £172 used on Amazon last time I checked (though it seems there's a few cheaper copies now). Used copy in CD Alley: $13. Hurrah!

Yes, I got sunburnt on Friday, and today it's snowing. North Carolina is odd. But in a good way! (except for the -7˚C temperature outside, of course)

Yesterday was a bit of a nothing day, as expected, though I did manage to do a little more than lie on the floor watching My Super Sweet 16 and eating two pieces of bread (I will mention no names!). Instead, I wandered around Chapel Hill enough to bring out my blisters. Hurrah! Still, I had a good evening with Collin, Heather, Emily, and The Rock, wherein we discovered that Heather has a much better grasp of the rules of American football than anybody else. And I'm two for two on getting a vodka and coke instead of vodka and cranberry!

It seems though, that the end is in sight already. Christa's off to Kentucky; Stacie to Philadelphia. We may not be able to make FOOD SCIENCE part II before I leave, and that makes me sad.

(Richard: the gist of the Second Coming reference - I think I came into the snooker room to do the laundry and you and Tom were playing snooker. For some reason, I ended up getting my portable CD player out, and I think it must have been in the drive, because we ended up listening to it while I dried my washing. Anyway, that was the first time I met you, I think. My memory is a little slack though!)

I've seen a few people walking around this morning in a slightly dishellved state, so I think it's fair to say that New Year in Chapel Hill/Carrboro was a successful affair. Gor my part, Stacie and I spent the early part of the evening perfecting our FOOD SCIENCE! rum pills and agar-based tequila sunrise cocktails. Then we took them to Christa's and eat them, along with sampling a Finnish drink based around liquorice and vodka. A somewhat quieter affair than Hell, but e did head off to OCSC after the stroke of midnight to experience the crazy celebrations!

Today seems to be very quiet - although there's a surprising amount of small shops open (including Chapel Hill Comics!). The sun is out and bright, but snow is a possibility for tomorrow. Along with temperatures of -6˚C. Eeep.

And I have blisters! Took me longer than usual!

Last night, I thought that coming up in the first ten Google results for AA173 was pretty bad. Then I remembered that I often recognise the flight attendants from previous flights. However, I discovered the most direct proof that I've done this journey an awful lot: I recognised passengers.

This is the last time I'll be flying from Gatwick to RDU - in April, American Airlines's last two flights move to Heathrow, which has the upside in that it's only an hour away from Oxford instead of two. But I'll miss...well, not much, really; Gatwick and Heathrow aren't really all that different from a passenger point of view (although, I have looked at the new flight times, and the plane seems to leave at 11am from the end of March. Which will wipe out the time I save from the shortened journey. Hohum...)

Today's SkyMall highlights: a low-quality video camcorder that sits on your car dash so you can give it to the police after an accident to prove your innocence (but remember to take it off before going on a ramraiding spree. Or at least don't upload it to YouTube afterwards). A "Swiss" watch that will make you the envy of all your friends and "making a big impression on business associates at important meetings". I can't really do it justice without the picture of the watch, which looks as if you could take the gold foil off and eat its chocolate contents. But it's only $250! Finally, and my favourite, a set of transponders and a motion tracker for a parent and child. So you can recreate scenes from Alien using your dear darling Jessica.

At which point the Mac died. I may need a new battery. Anyway. Here now.

The last week of being ill has somewhat derailed most of my plans here for December. Tomorrow, I'm off to Chapel Hill again, so I'll probably be back in the travel mood. Um, so those of you who were desperate to know my favourite song of 2007: Fake Empire by The National. Possibly more later on...

(and you be able to follow Twitter updates as soon as my phone gets reactivated. Exciting, I know!)

So, it's time to consult the notes for a quick précis, considering my blogging schedule quickly disappeared in a haze of vokda and duelling pianos. To sum up:

• Cute waitresses winking at you and giving you an incredibly strong drink — teh awesome.
• Travis and I talked about Transformers and computer games. Not a lot has changed.
• Duelling piano bars must be destroyed with hammers. And napalm.
• I was so right about the Coyote Ugly bar.
• Buying The Shock Doctrine in the dark heart of the American Dream seemed entirely appropriate.
• Fish costs more than meat in the desert because you have to ship it in…but don't you have to ship meat in too?
• The Cheesecake Factory: Skip breakfast. And any other meals you were planning.
• Ow, the blisters.
• Having an open tab behind the bar makes being 900ft up in the air so much easier to take.
• We have a consensus that the Democrats should field Hilary/Obama, because if they're going to go down in flames, they might as well try and get the South's heads to explode.
• I missed the South.
• Which I never thought I'd say.
• Vegas at night is still out-of-this-world.
• But staying too long will turn you into a Communist. Not a good idea in a Right To Work state.
• Plan to stay a while in McCarran Airport. Like Raleigh/Durham, they haven't adapted well to the post-9/11 world.
• Apple are liars when it comes to wireless keyboards.

That will do for now, but there'll be something else at the weekend. In the meantime, enjoy the pictures!

A wrap-up of the Lost Vegas days to follow soon, I think…

(anybody know whether anything else uses the LaCie power supply connector?)

Extended Play.

Or: in the end, I can only blame myself.

I had to leave. The machines were getting to me. The carpets were closing in. There was only one thing to do: get out of town. After one day.

However, being without a car, my options were somewhat limited. I settled for Primm, a city of the border of Nevada and California. Primm is home to a fashion outlet mall serviced about five times a day by a shuttle bus from the MGM Grand. The choice was clear: if I'm going to be stuck in this haven of capitalism, I might as well get something tangible in return rather than putting it in a slot machine.

I may have a Converse problem. I think I now have five different colours.

The mall also features a gas station, which would normally be rather unremarkable, except that the station is over the state line, so they can sell tickets for the Californian lottery. Which is a lot more complicated than ours…so many different options to chose from. But eventually I sorted it out and gave $1 to the California state funds. Hurrah for me!

In other purchases, I now have a Roddy Womble shirt. Now, that probably means nothing to the two or three people reading this who even know who Roddy Womble is, but I've been desiring one ever since their 2003 concert in Chapel Hill. So yay me!

I couldn't stay too long though, as I had to get back to meet Richard (and to tell the truth, after about an hour or so, there's not much to do). I do hope his bar experiences improve. Perhaps with a bit more sleep behind him tomorrow, and us paying attention to bar/restaurant boundaries, we'll do better!

One: The Strip isn't actually that long, but in 35˚C heat, it soon stretches over the horizon.

Two: Vegas never sleeps, but shops don't open until 11am on Sunday for the most part.

So, yes, I was stupid. I got up rather early so I could get a lot of things done before I met Travis in the afternoon. I could have stayed in bed a bit longer. At 8:30am, the heat was bearable; warm, but not quite burning up the tarmac off the roads. Just the right weather for my trek.

Perhaps in a premonition of what was to come, I went to the monorail to get a head start, planning on walking back later. Perhaps you can work this puzzle out: the system costs $5 for a single trip, $9 for a double-trip, $9 for an all-day pass, and $40 for a three-day pass. Another Las Vegas hustle? Or just the oddest ticket system I've ever seen?

Still, I got down to the Imperial Palace stop, got off, and started the walk to the Fashion Show Mall. It was around 9am. I realised two things: it was getting much hotter with every passing minute and that I could feel my face burning. Not good.

This was compounded twenty minutes later, when I finally reached the Mall, dehydrated and already reddened, only to discover it wasn't open for another hour and a half. Oops.

I trudged all the way back up to Caesar's Palace, dimly remembering a CVS on the road back in 2000 but not finding it (I discovered later that it was much further up, next to New York - New York in fact), before finally surrendering and buying sunblock from a shop in the Flamingo Hilton.

The city was filling up fast. Las Vegas is the end point of The American Dream, where money mixes with the two great cultural taboos: alcohol and sex. Back in the 1990s, there was a push to reposition Vegas as a family-friendly venue, but somewhere along the line, they must have decided that it wasn't making as much money, because the adult world is firmly in charge again. The MGM ripped up its theme park, replacing it with shopping and nightclubs, billboards mounted on trucks advertise naked girls that 'want to meet you now!'; even Cirque du Soleil do a topless show. Only the M&Ms, Circus-Circus, and the Excalibur remain.

I was propositioned by a hooker today. Though I didn't realise until about two hours later.

Eventually, I finally got into the mall. Where the Apple Store came up empty on wireless keyboards and my 1920s fixation broadened further. Borders Express tried to tell that Naomi Klein doesn't have a book out on Monday, and the Sanrio store is shockingly pink.

In fact, I think that aside from a pleasant couple of hours phoning home and talking to Laura, I think I've been walking around shops all day. Which isn't strictly Vegas is it?

Richard arrives tomorrow. I hope the machines don't traumatise him…

What you have to remember is that the hustle begins in Vegas as soon as you get off the the plane. As soon as you step into the terminal, you're presented with a bunch of fruit machines just waiting to be played. In the airport.

It continues at the hotel, when you step up to the registration desk. You have a pre-paid room, but did you know that they have a few large suites available? And don't they look good? With a jacuzzi as well? You don't want that one? Well, here's a cheaper suite…in the end, there's no real escape from the hustle; you're in Vegas, therefore you will lose money somehow. I ended up getting the $5/day 'resort package' so I didn't ruin the clerk's day completely. Although he got his revenge by apparently sticking me on the the floor where the club overspill sleeps at 4am. But then, in the grand scheme of Vegas, it's a victory.

One thing I forgot, having spent most of the five years in North Carolina, is how different alcohol is handled here. There probably are open container laws, but people walk down the street drinking, girls that look unconvincingly over 21 swig from Budwiser glasses or buy cans of malt liquor at service stations; it's like an average British town…oho. Except that every other woman seems to have work done, or at least in the area I've explored so far (the Stratosphere and the Sahara; forgive me - I've been up for more than 24 hours!).

But now, the city has claimed me. Tomorrow, I will explore the monorail, and get to the truth of whether OJ Simpson carried out an armed robbery on the Palace Station...

Heathrow is the last trick we play on tourists, a mean-spirited and cruel device to grind them into the ground for having the temerity of leaving our shores. Under the guise of construction, which seems to have been in progress since the airport opened in the 1960s, we huddle passengers through dimly lit corridors, along cheap wooden panelling, and queue after queue until their will is beaten into a bloody pulp.

I felt sorry for those who turned up half an hour after I arrived; the queue to the check-in desk had snaked past the overflow; the poor fools that attempted to join us were taken aside by officials and shown the overflow queue, stretching back towards infinity. You could see the holiday joy and elation disappear from their face, replaced by disbelief and annoyance as they trudged to the back of Terminal 3.

Once you manage to clear check-in, a trip upstairs leads you to the queue to security control. Boarding passes are inspected; your reward is access to another queue. This time, it's X-Ray. Once you've survived that experience, you think you're free. But it is not to be. Another X-Ray queue just for shoes, and another passport control. You are free.

Free to shop. BAA makes no pretence of being subtle about this; passport control is the entrance to their World Duty Free chain. Does any other country obsess about Duty Free as much as the UK? I wonder. The thrill of cheating Darling Darling out of a few pence on a bottle of Gordon's Gin or a box of 100 cigarettes seems to be highly significant to us, yet in all the other countries I've flown from, its importance is lessened. Or perhaps I've just flown from the wrong airports.

Las Vegas…Las Vegas…I've been in the air for five hours now, and we're only just half-way there. Scraping into Canada, still having to travel the same distance again to get to Los Angeles, then another hour on a plane to McCarren Airport itself.

some time passes…

I'll say this for AA. It may have been an eleven hour flight, but it saw THE RETURN OF THE PIZZA SNACK, and for that, all possible sins are forgiven. And they gave me a drink of water and a Toblerone while I was sleeping (briefly).

My usual Fear of Homeland Security was once again unwarranted; while I was in the air, thousands of SQL statements executed across the banking system, and a computer determined that seeing Helvetica wasn't a barrier to entry. All in all, it took about five minutes. And that included the agent filling out my form, stamping it, giving me back my passport, and only then realising that I had ticked one of the five boxes on the back. Honestly, it's a wonder that LA isn't awash with Nazis. Amusingly, she told me something that conflicts with both the document and the previous five years of travelling to America. A little strange.

Hunter S. Thompson wrote in Fear And Loathing that Las Vegas in the 1970s was behind the times somewhat; it's idea of "hip was Frank Sinatra and Dean Martin". These days, I guess that isn't the case - after all, it is Britney's party area of choice, but LAX upholds the 1950s throwback by having its flight to Las Vegas depart from the original airport terminal.

There's a shuttle bus that leaves from the modern era into the past. Which would be fine, except that as the bus pulls out of the terminal, you suddenly realise that you're sharing the road with 747s. This would be enough to brig on the Fear of course, but after being up for twenty hours, eyes bloodshot and mind slightly dulled by the ten hours of roaring engines, you might get a little cocky. Bring them on! American steel versus American rubber! Land against air…but on land's terms. All we need is a little energon…and a lot of luck.

Thankfully, the driver was having none of it, forcing us behind the yellow line, and driving in circles until the taxi-way was clear. In retribution, she drove us past the line of propellor planes lined up outside the old terminal. Now, I'm not someone who demands the very best, but I do insist on a jet engine. I Had A Bad Experience. I had been assured that jet engines would be strapped onto the wings of my plane, and if they weren't? Then it would be off to the Polo Lounge to hire a red convertible and find a Samoan attorney. And that would probably cause red flags on my return trip.

Incidentally, one day, we will have to go to LA and visit the 20th Century Fox building. And climb through the ventilation shafts, obviously. Welcome to LA!

I will leave you now, as they're about to call the flight. I will inspect, and you may hear from me again when I reach Baker.

Well, my visit to Duke was then followed by a very pleasant evening spent with Stacie and Srav at Chilis, followed by a reasonably relaxing night at Fuse…lots of dumplings, sweet potato fries, and saying good-bye to friends. Until next time, obviously!

More pictures are up on Flickr, and I'm beginning to sort some ideas out for Snappish Thoughts Version 2. Exciting, isn't it?

To come: the Wii, the Bis post, concert poster design, and oh, yes. Work. Boo.

You see, UNC's campus is somewhat welcoming, accessible, and open.

Duke, however, presents such an air of class and wealth that you expect Sarah Michelle Gellar to walk by snorting coke from a crucifix. And then making out with Selma Blair. Obviously.

Oh, Franklin Street, how we love you.

Some things:

• Don't wear flip-flops to Hell. The black sludge that ends up on your feet is very disconcerting
• Some people have a very keen eye
• The temperature drops considerably during a thunderstorm
• I can never, never show my face in VisArt ever again

Firstly, I will say again that you should try and seek out Helvetica if it's showing anywhere near you in the next few months, or try to get hold of the DVD later in the year. It proves that typographers are, in the main, somewhat crazy. I suppose if you stared at letterforms all day long, you'd go a bit nuts too.

I can also recommend Durham's Electric Blender for your thrift store clothing needs. Lalalala. Not obsessed.

My birthday started out a little quiet, as my phone somehow managed to not keep Laura's message when she left one the night before, but it was a fun afternoon of tracking down marzipan and other sundry items, for I remade the chocolate cornflake mushrooms (this time using milk chocolate so people would actually eat them). Still, though, I can never get it quite right; because I was using a small rectangular bowl to mix the cornflakes and chocolate together, I didn't quite get enough cornflakes in. Which resulted in marzipan-covered chocolate blocks. Not that people complained…apart from saying that they would get diabetes...

We also had an egg scavenger/trail hunt! This was organised by Naomi, who came dressed for the occasion in a trenchcoat and plastic coat. It was a touch windy outside, and perhaps we moaned a bit too much, as we did have a lot of fun. But I can never go into VisArt again.

And Ninja v. Robots cake from Laura, who also brought balloons and a cuddly squirrel that even right now is plotting to garrotte me when I least expect it. Presents abounded, wonderful things from Laura, Stacie, and Christa. Some of which will be making short appearances here soon, others will be used by Bonnie and me with relish!

I was mocked once again for using a knife. Silly Americans. Hehehe.

A big crowd: Mandy, Wyatt, Eric, Danny, Nikki, Heather, and Margee also present alongisde the others. Oh, and Collin! Whoops! His trumpet playing and the surge of patriotism will not be forgotten soon (when asked if I knew the words to 'God Save The Queen', I just laughed and pointed to Irish heritage ;)). A wonderful night.

Coming into the last few days. In fact, the first goodbye tonight. It all seems to disappear so fast, but there's little we can do about it…

One: Helvetica was responsible for all the American wars of the past forty years.

Two: Typographers are an amusing bunch.

Three: You can get away with wearing a full Doctor Who outfit in the middle of North Carolina, but you will get funny looks and compliments from passers-by…

Four: We're going to Hell!

More tomorrow…providing that we get back in time for tomorrow to have a morning. Heh.

I know carrots and peas exist here. And yet, I don't think I've seen any in restaurants. Lots of lettuce though. And peppers. Surely that counts as healthy eating? Tofu?

And a big hurrah to Laura for getting a full-time position! And only slightly mocking my attempts to pronounce a Spanish word!

Also: VG+ took my order for an American Wii today. Should be arriving home within two weeks. So, I'll be picking up Wii Play and Super Paper Mario before I leave here, I think!

Getting used to 4am bedtimes is a touch jarring. Oh, what a cross I bear. Hah. So, if today is Wednesday, what have I been up to? Well, Monday was my traditional Mall Day, wherein I tried (and failed) to resist the pressures of consumerism and the dearth of 34x30 trousers. Southpoint gets bigger and bigger all the time; since Christmas, a Best Buy appears to have appeared, almost from nowhere, making New Hope Commons look even more threadbare in comparison.

Yesterday started out as a normal walking day, going back and forth to Carrboro a fair few times, before meeting up with Christa, fresh from New York (and the proud new owner of a pirate ship. Arr!). I had dinner with her and Eric, which included my first taste of sake…and the earliest I've felt drunk in a long time (my family can write their own jokes here). Then, a strawberry milkshake at The Spotted Dog, a prelude for adventures with Sara, Wyatt, Collin, and Emily. It turns out that Wyatt is something of a master of air hockey, but, considering it was only my third game, I wasn't too bad (i.e. I didn't get completely slaughtered). Other things learnt from the evening: there is a tremendous dearth of decent available gay men online in the Triangle, and people will use Craigslist in the most creative ways to get back at others.

Hopefully, more soon. I have something of a response to the recent flurry of Bis reminiscences, provisionally entitled 'The Other Side Speaks: A Confession (Or: How I Learnt To Stop Worrying And Become Teen-C)'. I was going to write it today, but sleep got in the way, sadly. Soon, I hope!

Oh, also: pictures are up at Flickr, if you haven't been seeing them. I need to take more…

Are there going to be any teenage boys left in London by the time I get back?

Kelley said to me yesterday "Isn't a bit weird coming all the way over here and then going to a Britpop dance party?" And it is, I suppose, but it's interesting to hear what gets played and what doesn't in comparison to back home. Highlights of Saturday night's Modern Life (at the Local 506, Chapel Hill/Carrboro fans) included a rare outing by Dubstar, Altered Images, and, for perhaps the first time I've heard it played straight for…well, years, Slight Return. I had to restrain myself from doing the Lard bits. Also: amusing for five people on the dancefloor to all turn into Bez as soon as Step On started playing.

(I may have been responsible for Lucky Soul's first transatlantic club outing after they were played earlier in the evening. Do Ruffa Lane have a street team?)

Sadly, a wardrobe malfunction meant that fancy dress could not be worn, but I have rectified that today (buying a white shirt turned out to be a tougher task than it really needed to be), so it will get an outing sometime before I leave. Promise.

The Really free Market is one of those things that could only happen in Carrboro. The first Saturday in every month, people come to the town commons, bringing stuff that they no longer want and give it away to anybody who is interested. In a typical Carrboro fashion, that's it. There's no organisation; you just turn up and dump or browse to your heart's content.

If there's a flaw in the idea, it's that it could use the tiniest touch of order. People turn up in dribs and drabs, which means that there's a swarm whenever somebody new arrives, everybody eager to see what's inside the latest box. Also, we'd like to voice our disapproval at people who came along scooping up CDs and books without even looking at them. Bad form

Of course, it wasn't just clothes, toys, network cards, and yes, even a Voodoo 3 SLI (how much were those ten years ago, I wonder?). You could also get a birdhouse made for you while you waited, and the the friendly neighbourhood Carrboro anarchists baked vegan cookies, made potato and celery stew, and provided a host of guides and pamphlets on topics ranging from 'What to do when the cops come' to Herbal Abortions (a priceless excerpt: "We cannot stress highly enough the need for a back-up plan"). God bless them. Although they probably wouldn't appreciate that. Viva la Revolucion! There, that's better.

It's just a shame I couldn't bring the oars home with me…

…that birds do not respond to logical, well-reasoned arguments…

It's easy, what with the lack of jet-packs, flying cars, laser beams, and hoverboards, to be a little cynical about the state of things today. However, sitting here, 10,000 meters above the ground, having lost track of the amount of times I've actually been to America, a country that seemed so far away to me when I was, being told fabulous stories of television channels full of cartoons and Toys R Us shops that spanned multiple floors, watching Tinker, Tailor, Soldier, Spy on a box smaller than a pack of cigarettes that also happens to hold my entire music collection (and how we laughed at the Going Live April Fool of Chippy, all those years ago), well, we got some of the future, I think. Also, the SkyMall has adverts for an automatic margarita maker, a giant remote control the size of a kilogram bar of Daily Milk, and spring-loaded shoes that promise to make you two inches taller and feel like you're 'defying gravity'. Tom Cruise has probably ordered dozens.

(As an aside, A fun game to play while watching Tinker, Tailor is to wonder what you'd be forced to change if you were making it today. By my reckoning, the entire first episode would be compressed into five minutes, ten at the most.)

I have three hours left Time for some The Power of Nightmares (it restores my faith in William Kristol's punchabilty after all. Jarvis on the iPod. Coming over Halifax, Nova Scotia. Did the future contemplate INDIE KARAOKE? I think not. And that, my friends, is where Blade Runner failed. Along with thinking that everybody would simply forget to clean things for a decade or so.

Sadly, I have to report that change comes to everything eventually. Yes, the mid-afternoon snack on AA173, the long-cherished pizza with its dense dough, is no more. In its place? A vegetable cheese panini. Not quite as good, I think.

RDU: As cheerfully inept as ever.

Amusingly, Stacie and I went to Weaver Street Market to say hello to Collin before heading out to get something to eat with Laura. In the space of five minutes, I bumped into Janet Jones (who was in charge of looking after the CS grad students while I was at UNC), and Julia Grace, who took a class I was TA for back in 2002. She's now a grad student there herself. I can see why I like this place!

Going.

Or:

I have an iPod Video, as expected. It was a particularly gruelling day at the mall, one which eventually saw me return some stuff the next day, such was my guilty conscience (not assuaged one little bit by getting my copy of The Complete New Yorker in the post, either). But I have it now, and it is very shiny. Oh yes. I justify it to myself by thinking that I was about to hit the limit on my old 40Gb model, and the exchange rate is so good right now that it would be silly to pass it up. At least that's how I sleep at night.

Then, after a brief stop for EVIL, Christa, Collin, and myself headed over to Wyatt's again to help drink up some of the excess alcohol from the New Year party (but not before I was placed in the proverbial rock and hard place concerning a few issues). Which was fun, yet I do wish I wasn't quite so much of a wallflower.

Anyway, today, a chance meeting and heartbreak for Christa concerning the opening times of a pizza restaurant, back to the mall to return a pair of trousers, and now about to get ready for the return of Nikki and Danny! Hopefully, fun will be had!

Thoughts so far: I know it's supposed to be respectful, but there's something disturbing about the flags at half-mast outside Wal-Mart and McDonalds.

Thought 2: Chapel Hill Massage has a 'help wanted' sign on its front door. Oh my…

It turns out that I'm quite evil after all!

You have all failed in stopping me from buying second-hand Penguin books. I hope you can live with yourselves.

Last night, I did something that will cause Bonnie to hurt me when I get home. I suggested that we play Trivial Pursuit. Would it help if I added that it was the '90s Edition instead of the usual one? I didn't think so. Anyway, that's what we did; Naomi and Stacie on one side, Laura and me on the other, in a game taken to the death! Well, almost. Naomi and Stacie, in a fit of silly generosity let us have one piece question when we perhaps shouldn't have; two rolls later, we had won the game. As ever, the NFL, NHL, and MLB questions were our major stumbling-block. But we prevailed!

Today, after buying the illicit Penguin (and it really is illicit, seeing as how it has "because of copyright laws, this book cannot be sold in the U.S. or Canada" printed on the back), I finally got to experience Tofu Tuesday at Carrburritos, which Christa has mentioned a few times since April. After having lunch with her there, I can say to things: firstly, the tofu (fried with jalapeno peppers amongst other things ) is really good, and secondly, don't eat a burrito with a knife and fork. For you will be mocked. Which leads to other avenues of mocking and a rather pink face. I will have my vengeance! Hmm, perhaps I need to break out some of those evil moustaches…

I denied the iPod for the third time tonight. Which means I'll probably have broken tomorrow. Then Laura and I spent an entertaining twenty minutes somehow managing to lose each other in Southpoint. We are Special.

An Indian dinner, and I Am Curious (Yellow) to finish, I think. Return To Oz soon, too!

I'm still disappointed about Autobot City: Earth.

And: who on Earth stops Blue Monday half-way through? WHOO?

Anyway, happy new year! I spent the last day of 2006 on a candy thermometer hunt with Stacie. We went here, we went there, we went back there, to somewhere else, and eventually found our prize waiting for us in Target.

And then, well, after phoning home, it was almost time for the trip to Durham. I was told that I'd be picked up at 9:30 sharp, only for a clothing combination conundrum to delay that slightly. Christa and I made it over to Durham at a reasonable hour (stopping first at Alex's (Mandy's boyfriend) apartment, where I stared at the books in envy and realised I'm getting to the stage where I look at old editions og Pynchon books and think 'oooh, those are pretty. I'd like those!', despite having perfectly good copies of them back home. It's a disease. Just keep me away from bookshops selling old Penguin books, I beg your), and spent the first few hours of 2007 alternately dancing and sitting. Oh, and drinking. Yes, the drinking. I seemed to spend quite a bit of time with Heather (possibly because I looked sober enough to hold some of a conversation while her friends were in the other room dancing. I'm not sure whether I really was, but I tried to keep sentences as coherent as possible).

I think Collin and I finally went to sleep around 4am. Sleeping on the dancefloor itself. That's how hardcore we are. Erm, yes. Anyway. it was surprisingly comfortable for a wooden floor, or perhaps that was just the alcohol making us numb. Either way, a half-decent sleep, followed by breakfast a la Wyatt, and then a quick dash back to Carrboro for Collin to work a shift at Weaver Street. Goodness knows how he's going to do that…

Today? Today, I went for a walk and got completely soaked. The rain was really quite hard. Hopefully it won't last.

LAURA: So, have you eaten today?
IAN: Um, I think I had six or so tic-tacs earlier.

In fairness, the Mexican meal we ended up having could have fed an army.

Yesterday, then, I made up for the earlier Target Misadventures of April. I made it from Carrboro to Laura's house in Durham without getting lost once; the only trouble was waiting for the TTA and DATA buses to and from New Hope Commons. Hurrah!

I spent most of the day in Durham, meeting a still quite sick Laura and a on-her-way-to-getting-sick Naomi. There was chatter, Little Miss Sunshine, and much other fun. Plus, I finally got to find out where Laura works and what she does!

Afterwards, I had another mini-adventure, walking over to Christa's apartment for a night of gin, jewellery, and silent films from the 1920s. A very enjoyable Saturday night, there.

Umm, and at some point, I guess I will start taking pictures of people…

The most unlikely name for whisky ever?

I got PRESENTS last night! A weird and wonderful collection of chopsticks, tic-tacs, a pocket accordion, a device for throwing miniature babies, a set of EVIL PENCIL-THIN MOUSTACHES, and other delights from Christa. Hurrah! All that plus a return to OCSC!

Today - Stacie! We finally met up for lunch, but first we paid a visit to Srav down in the depths of Lenoir Hall. Plus a walk through Battle Park, DS experiments in Panera, a Starscream toy hanging lonely on the racks in Toys R Us (no Wii, but they do have classic controllers), and then a little rest back here at Collin's. The lazy day, then.

Today: Shopping.

As I've mentioned before, there's something about being here that brings out my inner "MUST CONSUME OMG!". So, after waking up at 7:30am, I went down to Franklin Street and caught the bus to Southpoint. That turned out to be its own mini-adventure, because South Road is closed for construction. As an aside, since I've been coming here in 2002, UNC has resembled a vast building site, and it seems to be getting worse, not better. They still haven't finished the work next to Sitterson Hall (the Computer Science building where I spent a lot of 2002, and somewhat less of 2003 ensconced in). Anyway, that meant there was a rather long detour before getting anywhere near the mall again.

And again, it marks me out as a good little consumer, but I really like Southpoint Mall. I don't even have to buy anything; just looking around the shops, checking mail in the Apple Store and reading in Barnes & Noble is good enough for me. Mostly. For today, I was on a mission! Off to American Eagle, where this exchange of events occurred:

CUTE GIRL: How are you doing today, sir?

FLUSTERED IAN: Erm, fine thank you;.

CUTE GIRL: Is there anything you're looking for?

FLUSTERED IAN (suddenly emblazoned with purpose): Actually, yes!


(Ian reaches into his backpack, pulling out an A4 piece of paper with a picture of a sweater on it)


FLUSTERED IAN: Do you have any of these?

CUTE GIRL (a little flustered herself, looks to her left): Umm, I think they're over there...

(Ian throws himself into the women's clothing section)


FLUSTERED IAN: Thank you!

But I got the sweater. So hurrah! Then, off to Gap to see if I could get anything approaching a sane price (and I think a thick scarf for £3 plus a jumper for £10 counts, there). Then the Apple Store. Oh, Apple, you temptress. But I was strong! I walked out with my wallet intact (besides, I have to wait for the traveller's cheques to clear. Which I thought would happen immediately, but, er, it hasn't just yet).

Eventually, I pulled myself back to Chapel Hill, getting a phone call from a sick Laura. Struck down with 'flu and popped ears. Get well soon!

I made my way back down Franklin, seeing how much work has been done on the new hotel, getting a little sad about the bookshop being offered for sale, and yes, going into the fine, the fabulous Chapel Hill Comics to pick up my copies of Phonogram (which would have been complete if someone had kept to a monthly schedule), picked up another book for the Secret 2007 Project (if I say it enough times, it'll force me to make it happen, I guess), and got some lunch at Wendy's.

Oh my goodness. I had forgotten that Wendy's changed all their sizes since I've been away. And not in a good way. For, you see, they got rid of their small combo, replacing it with the medium, and the large combo became the medium. The new large combo seems to come in reinforced corrugated cardboard plus a plastic 42 fl oz soda. And perhaps they call 911 for you after the heart attack too. Even the small was too much for me, and I'm still feeling bloated from it now (and I was glad that I went for chicken, otherwise I don't think I would have made it through the afternoon).

Sadly, tacie and I couldn't meet up today, but I did have a visit from Esther and Ryan before they headed back to Concord. And I got a lovely collection of little toys and a robot notebook from her. Plus, they might visit in 2007, which would be quite splendid.

And now? Now, I'm sitting back in Collin's apartment with my new shiny toy: an 80Gb USB-powered hard drive. It's going to come in handy for another little project lalalalalala…

Oh, okay, 38,000. You're sticklers for accuracy, and that's why I love you all (except for you, yes you, right at the back. Kindly remove yourself from these premises).

It has begun. It is weird that the only time I ever feel English is when I leave the country, but already my accent has began to sound strange, I've been called 'very polite' only an hour into the flight (moving to allow a husband and wife to sit together), and I'm hemmed in by Americans on all sides. A typical RDU flight. However, it is the first flight that I've had a huge bottle of gin stuffed into my bag.

But! Hark! What is this?! For the first time since I've been on this flight (starting in August 2002, so I've been doing this for four years now. A little scary, that), they've changed the menu! Slightly! For instead of chicken with a mush that once resembled pasta, now it's chicken with a green mush that resembles pasta with pesto! I was astounded. I just hope that the spongy, springy pizza hasn't been changed. It sounds horrible, yet somehow it always turns out to be an enjoyable experience.

Manic scenes at Gatwick this morning. The check-in desk was, as usual, almost deserted, but they still haven't adjusted well to the new security requirements, meaning that the queue for Security Control was so large that they had to have officials going around to pull people out of the queue in order for them to make their flight.

It's very disconcerting when the lights go off and then come back five seconds later. There should be less of that.

Anyway, the usual wander around the duty-free shops, seeing if Dixons had tax-free Wiis (they didn't), the sale items at HMV (at which point: Bonnie: they had the Clerks X edition for £5.17 in there — might be worth picking up!), looking in vain at various brands of whisky, and wondering whether other countries concentrate quite so much on alcohol in their duty-free shops (I know America doesn't). Absinthe with warning labels telling you not to even bother attempting to get it past US Customs, next to huge bottles of vodka and rum in a 2 for £20 deal. We don't have a problem really.

And now, for the highlights from this month's SkyMall magazine, Yes, I knew you were waiting for it. First up - the Pet Staircase. Designed to allow your cat to walk up to the top of your sofa before trying to tear it apart, rather than the usual method of having it jump up there. Excellent. A collection audio summaries of business books that you don't have time to read, but need to know about to stay current in the Exciting World o' Business! Only $169! Titles include Break From The Pack, The Giants of Sales, Loyalty Myths,, and The Enthusiastic Employee. Fabulous value, I'm sure you'll agree.

Oh, my they sell adult onesies. That's just a little freaky.

But I think the prize for this month goes to the Computer-Less Printer. This marvel of 21st century technology (indeed, it is when it all happens) connects to a phone line; every night, it dials out to a special toll-free number, downloads any emails in your messagebox, and helpfully prints them out. I'm sure we can come up with at least five different reasons why this is a particularly silly idea. If nothing else, at $169 plus a $10/month charge for the online service, it'll probably be cheaper after a year to have gone on bought a computer in the first place. And you know it would only be a matter of time before you came downstairs to be greeted by offers of millions from Africa or Christian dating services. The blurb also says that it takes 'standard' ink cartridges, so obviously it works with HP, Epson, Lexmark, and hell, you could empty a Parker pen into it and I'm sure it'll continue to print. Or perhaps not.

And now, turbulence.

Travelling for twelve hours now. It should be night. The wonders of air travel. Unfortunately, I am at loss of things to do. My fancy new iPod Shuffle has just looped, I have exhausted the SkyMall magazine, read all about Belgium in the American Way, I have got past a point in New Super Mario Brothers where I had given up a few months ago. Only to get stuck again a few levels later. Getting there. I have read, I have slept (for about twenty minutes; I can never seem to sleep well on aeroplanes), I have filled in my Customs forms. About the only thing I havent done is work on my secret project for 2007. Which I should, but I'm not sure whether Ill get anything useful out of my frazzled head at this point in time. Two hours to do. Well, I guess we should get our 'afternoon snack' soon…

there then followed an evening of…running around RDU looking for Christa, finding her only to be told horror stories about multiple murders in multi-storey cr parks, being warned that unusual methods would be taken to keep me awake, eating sesame chicken again, yay! Watching most of The Dark Crystal while discovering that birds can, funnily enough, peck quite hard. The usual fun with an exercise ball. Fingers caught in a door. That they've been saving New Order up for my return. A flapper hat and a walk in the dark. Then letting me have sweet sweet rest, 22 hours after this tale begins…