But hey, it's Burlington!

There's a bird flying around the boarding area, keeping everything in order, making sure that all the people heading up to Burlington, Vermont are legit. Annnnnd that's about it as far as security goes in this peninsula of Terminal 3. You'd swear you were in Pleasantville: “There's old Bart, the lovable black security man who spends his days napping just inside the door in the bank.”

Spread across two bags, I have enough camera equipment to shoot the next James Cameron movie. Combine that with my outside appearance. I look bad, I smell bad and I'm giving off a bad-air as if to say, “Get close to me and I'll infect you with Polio.”

If I was a security guard and some douche-bag with an arsenal of gizmos was walking through my line, I would search the shit out of him. Shoes off? Nah, I'd make him strip for a human physiology checklist. And then I'd go into his bags and take apart anything with an on/off button that weighed more than 3 ounces. I'd make sure he missed his flight to do an interview with the Grand Dragon of Airport Security (whoever the hell that is). Annnnnd I'd break his gear.

But hey, it's Burlington! Look like shit and have a cache of detonators in the form of Flash-Cards and USB cables? Welcome aboard!

Okay. Okay. I think we can all agree that Burlington, Vermont is not a high-priority target. No offense B-town, but even the security guard at the tunnel of gamma-rays was falling asleep checking passengers through the line. “What's that sir? You want to leave your shoes on? Well, you look old and friendly so you go ahead and do whatever you like.” I'd say Burlington's most valuable asset is cheese but I'll bet most of it comes from other towns. Sorry Bur, looks like you're fucked.

As I sit typing this, there's a flight attendant reading over my shoulder, giggling. Apparently, she thinks that Burlington is just as important as I do.

It sounds like I'm complaining, doesn't it? It sounds like I'm complaining about a relaxed security team and comfortable flight attendants. Whatever. I'm just salty. Time to go to Dudley.

Rich Loves Science

“If you asked the little boy what he’d be when he grew, he said I’d rather be a fireman than paint.”

-Mr. Oysterhead

How does it work? Apparently, that’s what I asked Mrs. So-and-so when she brought an Apple IIe into our nursery school. I vaguely remember the rooms of the school, goldfish (the crackers, not the vertebrates), and the computer. I do not remember asking how it worked but I’m not surprised that I did. Mrs. S turned to me and explained again about the mouse and the keyboard and a bunch of other bullshit. I looked back at her and repeated, I know, but how does it work?

She was stunned! She called my parents after school and told them I was a brilliant four-year-old who’d probably end up working for NASA. Twenty-two years later, I wonder whimsically if my parents are disappointed. Thing is, I always want to know how it works, whatever the “it” is. As soon as I read about a boy who took things apart, I realized I could take things apart as well. And so I took shit apart. I’d unscrew any screws, pop off lids, dig around inside trying to understand what was going on, and then put it back together again.

There was another thing about nursery school: I was in trouble a lot. I was always running a little too fast when I was supposed to be sitting quietly. And biting people. I did that too. Maybe I’m part wolf or something. Wouldn’t that be funny? Call National Geographic. Anyway, my teachers and just about everyone in my life are divided about me. Half of them think the energy is great and want it around. The other half want to lasso me into a spiky pit at the bottom of the earth.

As the great chemist, Hughch Von Chuh pointed out: it’s the combination that makes the lolly pop stay on the stick. We take a little insatiable curiosity, mix in a few drops of explosive tenacity and…

An obsession with solving problems and answering questions. Especially tangible, mechanical queries. Can we paint it? If we put a support rod here, will it hold up the camera? Does the weight balance out? But go a little further and… Does this file work when you load it to YouTube? What type of compression is it? What is video compression? Why does the screen show these lines when the action moves too fast?

If I’ve got a “problem” in front of me, it doesn’t matter if it’s hooking up a stereo or taking apart my laptop. I won’t eat. I’ll push past tired and fall asleep at the desk. Trying to answer questions and get at a finished, working product is an addiction.

And my favorite question still remains: How does it work?