Photos and Words of Patrick Calder

I live in Washington, DC with 1 cat named Pixel, 6 cameras, 3 computers, 158 movies, 286 books, and 1 bowling pin. I own the Design Foundry and pretend to be a graphic designer by day.

Please keep in mind that this post is more than 3 years old. Opinions change. Tastes change. Everything changes. I may still agree with or like this, or I may not. But everything is kept up here for archival purposes.

Texas and everything after / June 24, 2005

So far, this trip could almost be called pleasant. The airport employees have been cheerful. The crowds weren’t particularly bad. Waiting at the gate in DC, a woman was brought in with a service dog the size of a Buick. It must have been part great dane, though I’d never seen its coloring before; a speckle of black, white, and silver. Near as I can tell, its primary attribute was the ability to be sturdy support for a woman who was obviously less than steady.
I just knew, when I was waiting on the plane, that the woman with the baby would be my seatmate. You know, babies are babies. But she was fairly well behaved. Had the most amazing royal blue eyes… crystal clear.
DFW gets a bit nicer every time I”m here. Looks like they finally finished most, if not all, of the people-mover. A nice replacement for the old tram. This gate may just be the nearest convenient one for a shuttle bus, but it almost looks like we may be taking a plane into SJT that holds more than 8 people.
Meanwhile I’m sitting directly below a T-Mobile hotspot sign, watching the crappy connection flicker in and out. Not like I’m gonna pay for it anyway. Why the fuck do they make it so difficult to sign up, and then lock you into more of a plan than you need. Give me a screen when I open my browser where I can Choose the number of hours and enter my credit card number at a fee of maybe $2/hour. No… I have to go create an account. Sign up for a plan. Or buy a card from someone. Kinds screws with the whole on-the-fly aspect of wi-fi.
There’s a heavyset old woman, with hair color that God never dreamed of, in a straw hat/blazer outfit that a Walmart greeter would scoff at, manning the Information desk. Texas has a very weird identity. Sort of a mutual hallucination of a campy western mixed with James Dean with a Clue. All rebellious, and proud of a norman rockwellish heritage that probably never existed. Eager to have you believe they live hard and don’t take shit, even though they’re the most laid back and friendly people I’ve met. I think they’d agree with the friendly part, if it was on their terms. Remember, they became their own country before they became a US state. “We’ll get around to it when we damn well please”.
I’m acutely aware that I’m burning precious battary here, and my brain seems to have run dry for the mo’. More later. I’m off in search of open wi-fi to get my porn fix.
Note (1 day later): Putting up the first of the pics now.

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