Picking up G II (* my son, not be be confused with G2 – Gaye at www.backdoorsurvival.com) Monday at Dallas’ Love Field, was a simple example of what the coming world of chaos will be like when it finally gets here.
Fortunately – with more details for Peoplenomics™ readers, we may have a couple of years of peace and order left, but after that, all bets are off.
It started with me leaving the house a couple of minutes past noon for the ride up to Dallas..
My son’s plane didn’t come in until 3:50 on Virgin Air, so it was supposed to be a simple drive.
Remember the note in Monday’s column from “warhammer” about engine software updates for Jets?
Well, maybe I should break down and buy the updated navigation CD for our old Lexus, since the one in the car now is the original. I may have mentioned previously on a trip a couple of years ago to the Colorado area, how the system would offer pronouncements like “In a quarter mile” turn right.
A quarter mile goes buy, and we’re hanging on the edge of a cliff with nothing but air and tree tops visible below and the (silicon bitch voice in the ) GPS says “Torn right, now!”
I should have learned something in Colorado…but did I? Naw… $150 for a nav CD seemed a bit much when I can get a paper map (once free at service stations, but now $7.99 and $8.99 – or more at fill-it-yourself, we just want your money and to sell you pogey bait stations.).
Without the update in the GPS, I had the choice between following the GPS voice commands or trying to read the Google Maps print out – which seems somewhat risky…so GPS voice it was.
Things were going along well until the consarned machine told me to take Exit 43 A off what I thought was 35-E northbound. After a couple of chandelles, a wingover, a legal U-turn, and a merge back onto… The GPS rode me in a complete circle, only to get back on the freeway one exit before where I can gotten off.
In programming, this would be like getting stuck in a GOSUB loop (if anyone remembers BASIC).
After laying plans to get me again, the GPS finally directed me to exit onto Inwood Road and promptly got me stuck at the intersection of Inwood Road and Lemmon Avenue, not far from Love Field. This is where a traffic light was on the fritz, being worked on. So it took 15-minutes to get through that intersection.
I really didn’t have a choice, though: There was a Bank of America on the corner that I needed to stop at, so stop and slow traffic to make it up to the light.
It was 2:30 by the time I made it this far, and the line in the bank was backed up all the way to the door. And there was a grand total of 1.5 tellers on duty.
I say 0.5 for one of them because rather than wait on people, the tellers were running off and bringing papers to people – I have no idea what that’s about, but I think it has something to do with welfare payments. I was one of three people in line that didn’t look like I was getting some of this paper that was being passed out.
After a 20-some minute wait, I finally get to one of the tellers and asked “Kinda busy for a Monday, isn’t it?”
The line had filled in behind me and was still to the front door. Again, more people with this mystery paper. Mayb e it was welfare somethings.
“Oh, no, this is about normal now. Someone in corporate made a decision to reduce us from five tellers down to two, and it’s like this most of the time now.”
Seems there was some remodeling being done on the drive-through, too, but I didn’t see how that would help things.
But it did bring up a spectacle in my head about how to cause bank runs to appear in America.
Simply have people in cost accounting of all the big banks keep shrinking down the teller count – which they are doing anyway – and the next thing you know, the bank lines will extend out of the front door.
And in all seriousness, public and banking officials will declare there is no such things as bank runs. Could it be that we’re getting “conditioned” to the idea of lines right now?
After that, my next task was to get to the airport. Never been to Love Field before.
Parked in the parking garage – which had almost invisible signage – and eventually (no thanks to the lack of signs) found my way to a sky bridge to the terminal and that was that.
The next 45-minutes was spent waiting for G-11’s plane, and he managed to be the last one off, having drawn steerage in the seating lottery.
It worked out OK for him, because he came off the plane all bubbly about the cool onboard chatroom that Virgin Atlantic has been phasing in. .
“It was really cool…I chatted most of the trip with a hot chic in 18-C” he proudly reported. “Then we had a shot at the bar when we got off…and I got a kiss and an email….”
We finally left the terminal after 10-minutes of going everywhere but out (again the signage was lacking while my son kept asking “You OK, dad?” I was fuming. Big cities stick in my craw anymore.
This is what Chaos and Bank Runs will look like when they arrive: Banks will have insufferably long lines, city services (like stop lights that work) will have all been hacked, and the world will look for all intents and purposes “normal” but it won’t be.
Or it will…still scratching my head about this one. Has the world slipped over some edge while we were out in the sticks?
2-hours later (of unbelievable stop and go traffic on 35E, 30, 45, and finally 175), and we were back out here to “Deliverance Country.”
There’s a whole world full of people who have never known a meal without an electric dishwasher, a microwave, and Lucky Charms cereal. These people live in cities and line up for everything. I HATE lines.
I’m going to go have a chat with Zeus the Cat and explain to him how good life really is out here in the boondocks. And if I don’t see another human all day (except family, of course) that’d be just fine with me.
Al least I won’t be in a damn line for something.
My biggest gripe this morning is the red tailed hawk is screaming and ZtC is meowing at the door reminding me not to get wordy since it’s holding up breakfast.
Somewhere in all this is a clear explanation of why witches prefer their familiars to the company of other humans, too.
I swear to you I wasn’t anti-social until Inwood Road and Lemmon Avenue.
Oh-oh. Another column has landed me in hot water with a reader…and I should apologize:
” A “memorial page” sounds a bit maudlin,…”
My Grandson (18)died of leukemia in January. There is a memorial page enabled by the funeral home that is still up. It is filled with well wishers and their memories of my grandson. A couple of weeks ago a family friend, whom no one had heard from in several years, found it and left word of his sympathy. Reading what others have written has been very comforting these past few months. My grandson and me were friends, I miss him immensely. Perhaps you have not lost anyone recently and have forgotten how such grief feels. We all grieve in our own way. for you to even think to call it “maudlin” is an affront to the memory that many of us would hold on to, with the help of such means as a memorial page. Shame on you!
Perhaps so, but no offense was intended.
What I was getting to was the superficiality of social behaviors. There’s just some things that (as a throwback) I have a difficult time virtualizing.
As a kid, many of my Asian friends had urns of passed relatives on the living room mantle – a few had full-on Shinto Shrines, too. And it was in this way, the specific memories were kept alive of loved ones long departed.
I still know grief now and then. And as Keeper of the Ashes in my family, there’s not a week goes by that mowing around where my mother’s urn is buried that I don’t touch that. I mean other than mowing around it, too.
When time comes for me to drink from that bitter cup, please make a note that I would rather have a phone call, a cup of coffee with someone, or a shot or two of scotch and a toast in their honor, than an email or post.
It’s a matter of personal taste (and you’re advised that I may have none) and no harm intended. My condolences for your loss.
And the Good News About Incense Is?
Score a great find by Madison Avenue Mike in this one: “Killer Germs” Obliterated by Medicinal Smoke (Smudging), Study Reveals.”
I read this and my brain fired off in 10-directions at once.
The most important thought? Is is possible that smudging (or its cousin incense burning) could be valuable for protecting people from airborne pathogens in general?
Next time anyone gets sick around here, we may light up (some incense) and see if it helps.
Scientifically it would be meaningless, but it can sure be a mood enhancer.
OK, off to work on Peoplenomics, which is focusing tomorrow on Templates, Boundaries, and Logical Limits of this here made-up economy.
Write when you break-even