Travelogue

Left at the virtual crack of not-yet-near-dawn to head off to the airport. Dark and cold and lonely, but warmed by a nice kiss from my sleepy wife.

They’re no longer doing security inspections at the entrance gates to the garage parking at DIA. Interesting. I parked over on the west side, for the first time in a while, then picked up my suitcase and my golf clubs — er, Friday team-building implements — and headed for check-in.

Little tables have appeared next to the ticket counters, where polite TSA folks swab your checked luggage for traces of whatever.

For whatever reasons, though, I got routed into the Inspection Line at the main security line. Wanding and shoe scanning and belt unbuckling and the like, while someone checked out my cable-ridden briefcase. No harm, no foul, and a decent amount of politeness made it harmless.

I was too early for anyplace to be open to snag a bite. Instead I sat there at the gate, and watched the inanity of CNN American Morning. Yeesh. How smugly self-amused can ostensible journalists be?

The flight itself to LAX was simple enough, and I dozed a bit, read a bit. Hitting the ground, I ducked over to a McDonalds to grab some breakfast, then off to the office.

A long day of valuable meetings, followed by dinner at Catal (hey, Downtown Disney has 3 hour free parking), and too much wine and pastis, neither of which is conducive to actually getting assignments done when one returns to one’s hotel room.

And on a completely unrelated note, I’ve noticed an amazing number of younger men shaving their heads. I blame James Carville.