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eorIt's good to be back. I'm concerned about my mom. She's doing better and has probably gotten through some of the worst bits, but I worry about how she'll cope emotionally and financially. There is only so much I can do in regard to the former and almost nothing in respect to the latter. But I can worry, it's what I do best.
The other morning I went to the airline's web site, put in my name, flight number, and printed out a boarding pass. I couldn't help but notice I didn't have to log in, or give any other "secret" information. That means anyone who knew I was flying on that flight could have gotten my boarding pass. A forged license isn't nearly as easy to get, but it does seem silly to talk about security then have boarding passes on a website with challenge/authentication.
I was sitting on the plane in Philly after an hour "maintenance delay" waiting for the plane to pull from the gate when I noticed a maintenance guy working on the plane beside us. He was standing on one of thoseflat bed lift trucks raised up under the other plane's wing. He was applying strips of aluminum tape to the control surfaces near the outer end of the wing. I recongnized the aluminum tape because its what I used to tape the leading edge of my '60 Chevy's hood together when it rusted nearly to oblivion. Now aluminum tape is neat stuff, it held satisfactorily at 70mph especially after I applied bondo and paint to it. But it bothered me to see it being applied to the control surfaces of a 737 ready to depart on another flight. I'm glad it wasn't the one I was on. It wasn't as unsettling as when Butonquail and I sat in Orlando for an hour while an engine was repaired before takeoff, on New Year's Eve, under a blue moon, but it adds to my pleasure at being on the ground.
Some bad poetry....
Five Days
It's been five days,
I've been a world away.
I wish to return
with life and vitality.
I want to return
all I bear is taps and dirge.
Sculking in the door
with demons, skeletons, and worries
I have no place
in the house of madness and love.
Five Days
It's been five days
there are still
no words to say.
No simple phrase,
no right song,
no story to relate.
It feels wrong,
to have no simple reply,
but perhaps it's right.
The other morning I went to the airline's web site, put in my name, flight number, and printed out a boarding pass. I couldn't help but notice I didn't have to log in, or give any other "secret" information. That means anyone who knew I was flying on that flight could have gotten my boarding pass. A forged license isn't nearly as easy to get, but it does seem silly to talk about security then have boarding passes on a website with challenge/authentication.
I was sitting on the plane in Philly after an hour "maintenance delay" waiting for the plane to pull from the gate when I noticed a maintenance guy working on the plane beside us. He was standing on one of thoseflat bed lift trucks raised up under the other plane's wing. He was applying strips of aluminum tape to the control surfaces near the outer end of the wing. I recongnized the aluminum tape because its what I used to tape the leading edge of my '60 Chevy's hood together when it rusted nearly to oblivion. Now aluminum tape is neat stuff, it held satisfactorily at 70mph especially after I applied bondo and paint to it. But it bothered me to see it being applied to the control surfaces of a 737 ready to depart on another flight. I'm glad it wasn't the one I was on. It wasn't as unsettling as when Butonquail and I sat in Orlando for an hour while an engine was repaired before takeoff, on New Year's Eve, under a blue moon, but it adds to my pleasure at being on the ground.
Some bad poetry....
Five Days
It's been five days,
I've been a world away.
I wish to return
with life and vitality.
I want to return
all I bear is taps and dirge.
Sculking in the door
with demons, skeletons, and worries
I have no place
in the house of madness and love.
Five Days
It's been five days
there are still
no words to say.
No simple phrase,
no right song,
no story to relate.
It feels wrong,
to have no simple reply,
but perhaps it's right.
