Any sufficiently advanced technology is indistinguishable from magic

I’m a nerd.  Actually, I think I’m more of a geek.  I think nerds are supposed to be smart.  Basically, I’m whichever one really likes gadgets. 

For the record, I generally keep to myself while traveling.  My head is not on a constant swivel looking for someone to engage in conversation with, but when it comes my way I try to make the most of it.  I’ve been asked this question over 20 times in the last two months while traveling...how do you like your iPad?  For the most part I smile and politely share my feedback because I truly do like it, but at some point…and I don’t really know how to put this…I don’t reach my bubbling over point or get fed up or anything like that…but at a certain point I decided to have a little fun.

I’ve changed the names to protect the innocent, but here are a few of my conversations:

Montgomery:  “How do you like your iPad?”

Me:  “I can’t stand it.  It’s hard to type on and there is no camera”  (As if I would ever hold up an 8X10 rectangular object to snap a photo.  Might as well give me one of the old timey accordion looking cameras with the hood/cape dealy.)  “I can’t make phone calls and they don’t have a Words with Friends iPad app so I have to use the stupid iPhone one.  Do you want it?”

Montgomery:  “Really?”

Me:  “No, I’m just kidding.  I’ll probably just use it as one of those digital picture frames.  Have a nice flight.”

-

Timothy:  “How do you like your iPad?”

Me:  “Oh, this isn’t an iPad, it’s just one of those digital picture frames.”

Timothy:  “But I saw you checking your email.”

Me:  “Are you spying on me?  How dare you.”  (And I wrapped my arms around my iPad to hide it in a similar fashion as a fat kid with a pile of candy after Halloween).

-

Alfred:  “How do you like your iPad?”

Me:  “It’s great.  I really like…oh, hold on, I gotta take this.”  And I stand pretending to take a call.  I pace around the guy for a bit and a lot of “uh huh’s” and “no way’s” and then I sit back down and continue to my sentence…”I really like traveling with it.  The battery lasts forever.”

Alfred:  “I didn’t know you could receive phone calls on it.”

Me:  “You can’t, I was just messing with you.”

Alfred:  “What are you, some kind of nut job?”

Me:  “Yes.  Hey can I get your picture for my blog?”

-

Mary:  “How do you like your iPad?”

Me:  “Oh, it’s not an iPad.  It’s the new version of an Etch-a-Sketch.”

Mary:  “Really?”

Geoff:  “Yes.”

-

In addition to the iPad I also travel with a little Bluetooth keyboard that is flexible and actually rolls up so it’s easy to travel with.  It’s a little harder to have fun with people, but I give it a whirl.

Shirly:  “Is that a little keyboard?”

Me:  “No.”  And I got up and went to the bathroom.  She gave me the death stare when I got back.  When we landed I asked her if she wanted to grab a drink.  She said no.

-

Matty:  “Is that a little keyboard?”

Me:  “Yes, it’s the coolest thing every.”

-

Cords.  Can’t stand them.  Never have so I found a pair of Bluetooth headphones.  They are fantastic.  They hook up to my iPad and iPhone without wires and from time to time I get questions about them.  The real problem I have though is not the questions about the headphones themselves, but that the questions come in while I’m wearing them.  I realize this makes me sound anti-social and I don’t disagree, but if someone has headphones on they clearly aren’t interested in chit chatting or giving you their opinion of their iPad, however important that question seems to be.  At first I thought it might the size of the earphones.  I used to travel with the little white apple ones.  I thought that maybe people didn’t see them.  I’m a benefit of the doubt guy.  So I got a pair of those big ear muff Princess Leah sized ones.  Like I’m a DJ.  Like I’ve got two Big Macs covering my ears.  Like I’m…I got nothing else.  But even these, clearly noticeable from space, headphones didn’t deter the onslaught.  I tried ignoring their questions by pretending I couldn’t hear them.  I’d start nodding to the song I was listening to, but I’ll give it to my fellow Americans…they are tenacious.  Next up always comes the shoulder tap.  If it comes to that I generally pull my headphones off, politely answer their question, and bide my time. 

I wait until a movie comes on and hope they start listening to it.  I’ll wait until there’s about 10-15 minutes left and I strike up a conversation about the movie in question.  I can idly chit chat with the best of them.  “What do you think of the movie so far?”  “I think it’s really good, but it’s kind of hard to follow.”  Who’s that guy?”  “Oh, and why is he [insert on screen action here].”  “You know, I saw him/her in another movie.”  “Did you see that one?”  “What did you think of it.”  “I thought it was”…and I can easily keep it up for ten minutes.  And when they try to answer my first question abruptly and quickly try to put their headphones back on.  I give them about 30 seconds to get back in it and then give them a tap on the ole shoulder. 

But my favorite is when they fall asleep.  I wait for their head to start a noddin and then politely tap them on the shoulder and ask them “how they like their nap”.  It’s fun for me.  It annoys the crap out them.  And I’ve yet to have someone put two and two together.  That makes 4.

Usain Bolt and Mohamed Atta

A while back I wrote about the conditioned Pavlovian response to the ding you hear when a plane arrives at the gate alerting the passengers that it is now safe to retrieve their bags…I’ve subsequently dubbed this the HUAW factor…well, I feel like I’ve seen it all until a recent trip to Boston.  I’m sitting towards the back of the plane, in an aisle seat, and upon touching down the plane taxis.  As many of you know a plane may pause a time or two on the way to the gate to yield to service vehicles or other planes or maybe just to piss off travelers.  As mentioned, many of you are aware of this and you wait for the familiar “ding”, but on this particular day, on this particular flight, there was a fine young gentleman sitting somewhere behind me who wasn’t aware of these pauses.  Actually, he wasn’t really that young and probably not that fine.  He was probably closing in on forty.  Save your comments oldies. 

Anywho…at the first plane pause he makes a break for it.  Apparently determined to be the first one off the plane so he’s sprinting as fast as he can down the aisle with this big Jansport backpack swinging to and fro and smacking the seats and passengers as he passes.  The reaction of the passengers reminded of that moment when a bride enters the church…the audience hushes and everyone turns their heads in progressive order starting from the back of the church to the front.  A sort of wave of adulation and astonishment.  A collective “she looks beautiful, but is she really wearing white”.  Well, it was sort of like that in that it started from the back of the plane and moved forward, but in this case the heads swiveled the opposite way.  And everyone had the same thought, although in this case it was, “what the fuck?”  Everyone except me that is…I’m convinced this guy is Al Qaeda, but I’m thinking he might have that narcosleepy disease and he slept through the whole flight until the landing jarred him awake.  And suddenly he’s panicking because he’s going to fail his mission, burn in hell or wherever, and become Osama’s bitch boy.  Bin Laden that is, not Barrack.  So now I’m off flying down the aisle chasing this maniac with a plastic fork.  I’m not really sure what I’m going to do with the plastic fork unless he has a fruit cup or something, but I’m chugging down the…just kidding…I didn’t really chase him down.   

So this jabroni is almost to first class and the plane starts moving towards the gate again.  Everyone is looking on wide mouthed in wonder…will he come back to his seat, will they let him sit in an open stewardess seat or maybe first class, or will they just stop the plane until he comes back to his seat.  No movement.  Just an announcement over the intercom reminding passengers to remain seated until the plane has come to a complete stop and the captain has turned off the seatbelt sign.  A little passive aggressive, but maybe it will have the desired effect.  Still, no movement and then a second pause of the plane.  This time I’m sure the guy will be sent back to his seat, but after a few moments we start rolling again.  Finally, we pull up to the gate and I’m thinking this guy is on to something…and then we hear the captains voice…ladies and gentlemen, we have arrived at our gate, but do to FAA regulations the jetway cannot deployed until every passenger is in their seat.  Still, no movement.  Then, one of the stews from the back hurriedly moves down the aisle to collect this wayward passenger.  As he makes his way back down the aisle the same bride entering the church head swivel is happening only this time it’s starting from the front to the back and instead of happy, joyful thoughts everyone looks on with disdain and contempt.  “How dare you cost me 45 extra seconds.”  It should be noted we arrived 15 minutes ahead of schedule, but not being one to stray away from the herd I let out a boisterous, “Thanks Jerk” as he passed and stuck my foot out causing him to fall on his face, much to the delight of my fellow passengers.  There was laughter, cheers, and applause. 

And then it happened, the fine young fellow struggled to his feet with tears in his eyes and I realized he was a retard.  At this same time my fellow passengers realized the same thing and there were boos, hisses, and thumbs down signs.  How quickly the rabble turns.  Retard trumps everything I guess.  Defiant, I pushed him down again and called him Mary…just kidding.  He wasn’t a retard…well, I guess someone that makes a mad dash for the front of the plane at the first sign of stoppage has to have a bit of retard in him, but he seemed fairly normal and was oblivious to fact that he was tripped.  He made his way to his seat and bided his time. 

Ding, goes the seat belt sign and up flies everyone due to the HUAW factor including the track star behind me.  But now his path is impeded.  I’ll give him this, it did not deter him.  He did his best Bode Miller slalom impression and weaved his way through the crowd at a fairly rapid pace knocking people around with his massive backpack, undoubtedly filled with organ transplants of some sort. 

I shrug it off and figure he has some tight connection he’s trying to make…that is until I’m making my way through baggage claim to catch a taxi and see him calmly standing there waiting for his bag.  It was actually a pretty funny scene.  He had about a fifteen foot radius between him and the next closest passenger.

So now I’m figuring he has that fear of enclosed places phobia, nutzophobia.  So I head over to him and politely ask him if he has ever been to Carlsbad Caverns?  He quizzically peers at me and says “huh?”  Honestly, I didn’t have the energy to wind this guy up so I just ask him flat out, “What the fuck is wrong with you?  Why did you sprint to the front of the plane like that?”  He said, “Oh, I have claustrophobia.”  “They can give you penicillin for that”, I replied and walked off.