Sitting in the Airport

Waiting for my plane. And it’s on time, so far.

Being at the airport means I have officially started my tour. Very exciting.

Will be in Seattle in, oh, eight hours or so. I’ll check in then.

5 Comments on “Sitting in the Airport”

  1. It’s gray and 50 degrees in Seattle, which is a pretty safe bet to forecast for any spring day. It’s not actually raining though. :)

    Safe travels! I take it someone got your ‘puter to you?

  2. It’s gray and 50 degrees in Seattle, which is a pretty safe bet to forecast for any spring day. It’s not actually raining though. :)

    Safe travels! I take it someone got your ‘puter to you?

  3. changterhune – Before you hear lies from Chang Terhune himself, we thought we’d tell you the truth: without us, his old action figures, he’d be nowhere. He loved science fiction from way back and began reading it at an early age, but it was through us that he acted it all out. That’s what led to the writing. He watched a lot of science fiction shows like Star Trek, U.F.O, and movies, too. But we were always there to do his bidding. And it’s like they say: you always forget about the little people on your way up. Oh, the 70’s and early 80’s with him were good times! He’d use these blocks and make all the crazy buildings for us to be in his stories. I gotta say the kid’s imagination was pretty damn fertile. Oh, he had friends, but they just weren’t into it like him. He was like the Lance Armstrong of action figures. And of science fiction. At first, when he began writing in the eighth grade, we didn’t mind. He still made time for us. And we knew that when he was holding us in his sweaty little hands and he got that far off look in his eye, he’d come back to burying us in the back yard or - god forbid! – blowing us up with firecrackers. But it was worth it for a part in one of those stories. We loved him for it. He kept us around even when we were minus a leg or two - or even a head. In that mind of his, he found a use for all of us. Then he discovered girls. October, 1986. It was like the end of the world. One day we’re standing in the middle of this building block creation he’d pretended was some marble city on a planet near Alpha Centauri and the next we were stuck in a box in the closet. Not even a “See ya later!” Nope, it was into the closet, then we heard some high-pitched girly-giggles then silence. We didn’t see him for years. We got word about him once in a while. Heard he took up writing, but it was crap like “The Breakfast Club” only with better music. We couldn’t believe it. Not Charlie. What happened to those aliens with heads he’d sculpted out of wax? Spaceships? Those complex plots? All gone. For what? You guessed it: Girls. Emotions. “Serious fiction.” I tell you, it was like hearing Elvis had left the building. During our two decade exile in the closet, we heard other things about him. He went to college. He wrote a lot, but not much he really liked. We knew it even then. It was like he didn’t dare write science fiction. Some of us had lost hope and just lay there. Others kept vigil, hoping for a day we didn’t dare speak about. Then we heard he’d stopped writing in 1996. Did he come to reclaim us? No. He took up music for ten years or so. He took up yoga. Once in a while, he’d visit us in the closet. But it was half-hearted. His mind was elsewhere. Then one day, he really did come back for us. One second we’re in the dark and the next thing we know we’re in a car headed for Massachusetts. Suddenly we got a whole shelf to ourselves out in broad daylight! Then he bought a bunch of others form some planet called Ebay. He’d just sit and stare at us with that old look. But why were we suddenly back in the picture? He had a wife now, who didn’t mind that he played with us. So what had happened? Turns out he’d never forgotten about those stories. He’d been thinking about all of us and the stories he’d made up and then remembered he’d been a writer once. From the shelf we could see him typing away. Before long he’s got a whole novel together! Then he’s working on another one. Word is there are two more in the planning stages! Some short stories, too! It’s good to see him using his imagination again. Its good to know he never abandoned us. He returned to his true love of science fiction. We hear the stories are pretty good. Someday we’ll get one of the cats to score us a copy of the manuscript. Man, it’s good to be out of the damn closet! --- I'm smarter than you I'm harder than you I'm better than you I'm just raw I'm hotter than you More popular than you More clever than you And goshdarn it, people like me I'm smarter than you I'm harder than you I'm better than you I'm just raw I'm hotter than you More popular than you More clever than you And goshdarn it, people like me
    Chang, for rizzle.

    Don’t forget you lap-

    Oh, sorry.

  4. On another subject, even though I suspect you may have other plans – if you want a great breakfast, go to Maltby Cafe, which is up near Woodenville, NW of Seattle itself.

    I love the Maltby Cafe (though I don’t love the long line to get in). The food is fantastic and since I live in Mill Creek, it isn’t all that far from my house. Mmmm. May have to go there this weekend.

  5. Miscellaneous Steve said:
    I love the Maltby Cafe (though I don’t love the long line to get in). The food is fantastic and since I live in Mill Creek, it isn’t all that far from my house. Mmmm. May have to go there this weekend.

    The line can be quite long on the weekend, but it is not as bad during midweek. Also, they have a counter with 9 stools, so if you are alone – which I was when I was on a job assignment in Seattle in 1997-98, the wait is normally not too bad even on the weekend, assuming that you are willing to sit at the counter.

    BTW, if you are not already aware of it, watch out for the speed trap that the Highway Patrol likes to set up on the road that runs over from Mill Creek to Maltby. They love to set up at the bottom of a hill in a zone posted for 30 mph so you are toast unless you constantly ride your brakes going down the hill. (I lived in Mill Creek during my 14 month assignment in Seattle, and saw the Smokeys lying in wait on that road almost every weekend.)

    With best wishes,
    – Tom –

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