Author: Dave

Posted on

kick the can

Ward.
7:30am on Monday morning… I’m sitting here watching the minutes tick by before I have to get up and go to work. Back to the US and the reaction is pretty standard: I see all the things I’ve been putting off as if for the first time. The backyard that I’m not quite done creating, now overrun with winter-rain-fed weeds where sod should be. The front yard planters not weed-blocked yet, also blooming full of winter-weeds. The 2″ high grass waving in the breeze. It’s all calling to me, “do something.” The backyard has been so close to done for so long… I use the rain as an excuse to not get out there and do it. But now is a great time to get sod down, when there’s still some moisture before the ovens of summer.

July is my ten-year high school reunion. Ten years; I’ve been out of high school for ten years. Only thing is, talking to the friends I still talk to from high school – not one of them is planning on going. They just don’t want to go. Up until recently, I was thinking how it might be fun to see everyone again. But, if no one is going… why am I going to fly across the country? I imagine the idea of a high school reunion might be scary to some. Maybe to the the go-nowheres or the do-nothings. Maybe to those who got fat or those who lost hair. Maybe to those who feel old without the children so many others have. Maybe to those who are afraid their success will make others feel bad, or those who have no success at all. Maybe to those who have gone those ten long years without a relationship to speak of. Or those who feel those who’d actually attend are beneath them. Whatever the reason, I’m certainly not making a several-hundred dollar trip home to see no one. And before you say it, yes I realize some may just “not want to go,” rather than being afraid for one of the above reasons.

I’ve been quiet about it too long now, but Pitchfork’s new site layout really blows. It’s cluttered, poorly organized, and requires hated side-scrolling because it hangs off my screen edge even in large resolutions. One of my favorite features, “Best New Music,” has been moved off the mainpage onto some clickthrough link. The news is buried somewhere mid-page which requires scrolling, and there’s way too many flashing/blinking ads to distract from the content – it looks like a freakin’ Christmas tree. I miss the A-Z artist list for easy review access – now you have to search for everything. It just plain out sucks compared to the old layout. On top of it all, they don’t have an RSS feed so I can read it in the uncluttered interface of Feedreader.

Longer than a child's face on the first day of kindergarten.

I rumble and grumble a lot about mowing the lawn, trying to find some excuse to get out of it, but when I’m actually out there watching my late-evening shadow stretch out long in front of me – I really enjoy being a homeowner. I take a certain pride in it, almost smiling like Ward Cleaver would as he tread the lines on any Saturday. And even though it’s barely 70° I still sweat like it’s 95°, it’s just in my blood. This time though, it took forever. I left work at 4:30pm to get a jump on the task, knowing the lawn was extra-long. And forever it took, I finished up just as there was no light left to work by. It looks good though, and it was long overdue. The only thing that coulda made me feel better woulda been if I’d managed to fit a haircut in today as well. Maybe tomorrow.

‘Nite.

Posted on

home again

GIS for captors.
Got back Saturday around noon. Another long flight, although I slept through most of it – waking for the bad food and to use the facilities. Wayne and I stopped on the way home from the airport to pick up some good old American hamburgers and chili-cheese fries. Rolled into the garage around 1pm, driving past my waist-high lawn on the way in (the season of weekly mowing has dawned again it seems). I always get the same sensation when just home from an overseas trip. Like people should know and respect the fact that just that morning, I was eating eel in a restaurant in downtown Taipei. The lady ringing up my goods at Wal Mart, she should know that. Hours ago, while you were sleeping, I was singing Chinese songs and drinking beer at an all-night karaoke. Wake up and recognize me as the world-traveler I am people… this lame-o in line behind me?, he was picking his nose when I was 30,000ft above the earth traveling 700mph just 3 hours ago. Marvel at me, won’t you?

Slept in until almost 1pm Sunday, must still be messed up from the travel and time-change. Sucks to sleep away your first real day back, but I suppose it is a recuperation day. I was hoping to mow the lawn today, but I’ve already made up my mind I’m putting it off… I even checked the sunset time for tomorrow to see if I’d be able to get it done post-work – since it’s long as balls right now.

If I may, I would now like to make a short foray into the dark side.

We’ll start with the news that they’ve caught BTK. If you don’t know, I have a small obsession with serial killers. I hate saying that, because it sounds so very macabre… but I think my fascination lies more with the “hows” of human behavior that allow these acts. Plus, I really enjoy a good unsolved mystery. I’ve been following BTK ever since I read about him over at the Crime Library, and even more so since the launch of catchBTK.com and his recent string of communications and puzzles sent to police and media. My guess is that the guy was ready to get caught, anyone willing to risk open communication in this day and age of forensic science is asking for it. Glad they caught him, and with him behind bars and everyone knowing Zodiac is dead – now I have to find another unsolved serial killer case to follow. With the capture being such high-profile news, I’m surprised Tom hasn’t updated catchBTK.com yet – I’d figured he’d have had the template designed forever now – just waiting to artistically drop in the mughsot.

Shifting gears, another spat of information in the interesting-to-me Collarbomber case. Y’know, the pizza delivery man who was abducted, fitted with a locked metal “collar” containing a bomb, and given home-built James Bond weapons and impossibly complicated instructions to rob a bank lest his captors detonate his necklace? If you don’t remember, the man was killed when the collar exploded, as police and TV crews watched waiting for the bomb squad to arrive. Looks like the victim’s sister has put up a website in an attempt to expose shoddy police work and bring justice to the case. The crude site is really interesting, with phrases like “Killers Roam Free. They Will be Caught Because They Are LOSERS,” and a personal plea to the killers to give themselves up. Just this past week, the FBI released a picture of a black car that they are interested in.

In both these cases, I’ll be interested to get more details… the full stories will no doubt be fascinating. OK then, away from the doom and gloom and back to regular stuff.

I decided that I’m going to make sounds familiar a little more blog-compliant, namely by giving each post a title, and also by trying to use the “categories” feature more. Categories is always hard for me, since I tend to be pretty random in what I write. Beginning today, you’ll begin to see post titles sitting over to the right side of the header box, and if you use read this site via the RSS syndication feed, the titles should come through there too. An exciting task for me will be getting to go through all the past entries and titling and categorizing them all (I did a few last night), I’ve done it once before with the old software… but lost all the info. I fiddled with where I’d display the title for a long time, finally deciding on the right-align you see above – since it’s not too prominent and won’t mess up the layout of untitled posts. I’ve gone ahead and added the category breakdown to the sidebar… but since not all the entries are binned yet, it’s not that interesting. That sounds familiar for ya, always striving to improve itself for the readership.

Having my laptop flake out on me served to remind me I need to keep up with my regular backups of my home machine. I use Acronis TrueImage as my backup solution, and run a full disk backup every month which I then burn to DVD and keep on my RAID array. However, my RAID array has been acting flaky lately too – I think I have either a bad disk or loose cable… and I’ve been meaning to switch from the four-disk SATA solution I have now to a three-disk IDE RAID5 configuration. I know I’ll do it one day, I should just bite the bullet and buy four large IDEs (three for the RAID5 array and one to upgrade my USB2.0 travel-caddy which I use to bring my entire collection wherever I want). Anyone know of a good deal on 4 large (250GB+) IDE drives and a RAID5 capable card?

Goodnight.

Posted on

pantaloon problems

They don't look so bad... do they?
Today’s entry is mostly about pants. That may seem strange, or even boring, but I think it worked out pretty nicely. I mean, even I chuckled reading back over it. So, as I reach around to pat myself on the back… you can make your own judgments. Enjoy.

Wayne asked me today when I have time to write all the crap I write. I dunno… I write all the time. I write one or two sentences at a time; one paragraph one hour, another the next. When I can’t get to a keyboard, I use the voice-memo feature of my cellphone to record short thoughts for later. Like now, I’m writing right now, in the Taipei office. I didn’t really have to come in today, I planned this day as a free day… figuring I could catch up on some work on the flight tomorrow. But… I’ve got enough to keep me busy while here, and the meeting I missed at 1am last night got rescheduled for 1pm today. So, coming in for a few hours seemed like the right thing to do. Oh, I’ll be outta here after the meeting. Gonna buy some Cubans (the cigars, not the actual people) and make the final run to the tailor to pick up my pants. Which reminds me…

When I was getting measured for the pants, the tailor asked me a litany of questions about what exactly I wanted. That little fold-over flap button or just a plain zipper; straight pockets or angled; one or two pockets in the back; buttons on both of those or just one; cuffs at the bottom; and finally, pleats. I think I got most of them right, but walking out of the store I was unsure about my decision on the “pleats” bit. When he asked me if I wanted them, I vaguely remembered Sharaun either hating pants with pleats, or hating pants without pleats. I asked the Chinese tailor, and he said pleats can look “more formal,” and be “a little more comfort.” The part about “a little more comfort” spoke right to my heart – so I ordered pleats. Now, when I got back to the bar after the final fitting (got back to the bar, like it’s home-base or something), I mentioned to another coworker where I’d been – and that I’d ordered some custom slacks… he asked “flat front?” Uh-oh. This was my 1st indication that I may have committed a major fashion faux paus.

Later on, I spoke to Sharaun. With caution, I broached the subject of my custom slacks… and causally mentioned that the tailor had asked me if I wanted pleats. Her reaction cinched it: pleats = bad. “You didn’t get pleats, did you?!” she asked. “Ummm… yeah, the guy told me they look more formal and are more comfortable” I replied. “You’re in China, David, their fashion is from, like, 1982. Pleats are terrible, everyone will laugh at you.” My heart sank, all the pride and happiness I’d been feeling in finally getting some pants that fit, all the good I’d thought I’d done in taking action and picking nice material… all my hopes and dreams for pants with “a little more comfort” were dashed against the rocks. “Everyone knows pleats are stupid, don’t you know that?” Man, I’m really getting laid into here… “How much did you pay for the pants?” she asked – a baited question, since paying more than $5 for these detestable pieces of pleated filth would be sheer idiocy. “I dunno,” I lie, “I don’t know the price until I pick them up.” Whew, dodged that one, she may have divorced me if I’d admitted they were $70 a pair. “You’re stupid because you got pants with pleats; you wasted your money; you know you don’t like pleats, did you forget?”

Anyway… women can be evil… just when you think you’ve done so well. I will wear my pleated pants, with pride mind you. I will rock the pleats, perhaps even hang small bells from them that jingle and announce to the world that I am not ashamed of my pleats. Hell, I may even usher in a new age of pleats; I will re-cool pleats… I’ll be the cutting edge of custom dress-slacks with “a little more comfort.” And as for my wife, she’ll come around and realize that the Chinese people aren’t behind the fashion curve at all – they’re actually ahead of the next retro revival. Anyway, I make her sound meaner than she really is… but it’s all for comedy’s sake. Too bad they shoot homos here, I could’ve really used the Queer Eye guys. (Note to all my homo readers, I ain’t hatin’, the word “homo” is just too funny to pass up. Keep up the butt-love, you’re alright with Dave). So now I’ve got three pair of $70 custom slacks which all always feel pleat-conscious in… great. Clothes: I can’t win. Pleats discussion over.

The plan tonight is for one all-out karaoke blitz. No sleep. Karaoke until 4am, then hit the all-night dumpling house for some bleary-eyed shark-fin-stuffed dough-balls. Then, a quick return to the hotel room – where the bags will be packed and waiting. A quick shower to wash off the stench of beer, smoke, and Taiwanese women. The limo’s due out front at 7:30am. Airport; plane; airborne and asleep. Another fine trip to Taiwan has come to a close. Thanks to you, dear readers, for participating. That time you were with me when I chewed the betel nut; and the time when I was lamenting about customers; listening patiently as a shared my post-presentation nerves; sitting with me in the dark of Henry’s bar; laughing along at my bloody mary laptop collision. Even the times you weren’t with me: when my butt got sore and raw because of the poor quality toilet paper here; when I succumbed to my social smoking vice and had a few cigarettes in shame; when I got embarrassed because the tailor could see my lint-filled belly-button as he pinned my pants closed for fitting; tequila shots at the Thai place… wish you’d’ve been there.

Now, where was I… ahh… that’s right… bye.

Posted on

topic taboo

Something about overtime, I dunno.
If you’ve been reading me for a while, or… even if you haven’t, you may (or may not) know that I usually don’t talk much about work. Sometimes though, especially while traveling for work, I don’t have much else to talk about and work tends to dominate a run of entries. So, most of today’s entry is work-based… although I still stay away from specifics as much as possible – so as to avoid a sound doocing. Well then, with hopes that it’s not over-dry, to it…

Being in a country where you can smoke anywhere you want really makes you appreciate living in Liberalville, CA, USA. I’d forgotten what it was like to go out for an evening in Florida and come home reeking of smoke; having to chalk the night’s accoutrements up to a loss in terms of multiple-wearings, and waking up throughout the night to smell the nastiness that is your own hair and skin. When we walked into the karaoke room last night, the smoke was still thick from the last revelers to use the facilities. Every bar, every restaurant, even some of the conference rooms at the customer sites… nasty.

Well, I guess it was only a matter of time. I fear my laptop is beginning to protest the bloody mary bath I unintentionally gave it the other day. Yesterday, I couldn’t get anything but BSODs for a full two hours of rebooting. Today, I seem to get it randomly… but increasingly more frequent. Only when your laptop is acting up do you realize how crippling it is to be without it, especially on a business trip. I use it to take notes, to call up sorted and stored information when answering questions, and to do completely non-work activities like writing this paragraph. I’m just hoping she makes it through the week, so I can get a new one when I get back home.

One down, one to go. Lunchtime now, and then the final visit of the week before I’m cut free of all Taiwan-specific responsibility. Unfortunately, I’ve not been able to “detach” from my US-work as I’ve been accustomed to for a Taiwan visit. Home-stuff is still demanding and is unfortunately dictating some late-night US-time meeting attendance and e-mail attention. It was 2:30am last night before I shutdown the PC and headed to bed, and I’ve got a 1am meeting lined up for tonight’s fun.

Right now it’s dawning what promises to be a beautiful day in Taipei; it’s been warming up lately – and the rain is less frequent now than it was at the beginning of the week.

I’m sitting in bed with my laptop, having just woke up little over and hour ago and been responding to e-mail until now. It’s my last full day here, I leave mid-morning tomorrow. I came back to the room last night around 12:30am to get ready for my 1am meeting. Then, I woke up around 3am with my laptop and phone in front of me. I don’t know when I dozed off, but I totally missed the meeting. I crawled into bed, and then started off this morning with my “apologies” mail. Owell.

Outta here.

Posted on

high on betel

Maybe you'd be better suited with elastic, sir; you're very "strong"
Y’know, it sure feels like I’ve been to Taiwan more than 4 times. But, that’s what my passport says: 4 times. So, I guess it really only has been 4 times. I do know, however, that ever since my first visit here, I’ve wanted to try betel nut. Betel nut is actually a seed that the Taiwanese roll in a leaf and chew whole. It’s a green thing to begin with, but once you start chewing it it turns bright red. You see betel nut “shops” all over town, usually near major roadways. Most of them are setup similarly: a large window and with an attractive young woman sitting inside, wearing a short miniskirt and not much up top, rolling up the betel nut for sale. There are usually bright flashing neon tubes hanging above the storefront to help pull your eye. When you ask the locals about the stuff, they mostly just shrug you off – acting like it’s a habit that’s beneath a civilized person. If you press them on why people chew the stuff, they say that it “keeps you awake, helps you concentrate, makes you feel hot and sweaty, and maybe even a little drunk.” It’s always sounded to me like some mild drug, and I’ve always wanted to check it out -but my hosts have always managed to dissuade me from actually purchasing any.

Today, however, when we came out of our last customer’s office – I spotted a betel nut joint just across the road. I mentioned to Wayne how I’d always wanted to try it, and he didn’t put up too much of a protest. So once again, I asked some of the locals I was with about it. This time though, they escorted us right across and bought me a small baggie full. They kinda look like the fat end of a piece of raw asparagus, about a half-inch long and wrapped tight in a leaf. There were about ten of them in the 50NT baggie. Our host explained that you first bite off the “endcap” from the stalk, and then chuck the entire leaf-wrapped thing in your mouth and chew it. Due to some communication confusion, Wayne and I were left confused as to whether or not we were supposed to spit or swallow the resulting blood-red saliva, so we played it safe and spit every 30sec. Only afterward did we learn that it’s only customary to spit the 1st batch of juice out after you start chewing, and then you’re supposed to ingest the rest. Check it:



The betel nut joint.

The merch.


Scored a dime.

Makeshift spittoon.

Anyway, it was a new Taiwan experience for me. I’ve got the remainder of the stash tucked away in my mini-fridge (it’s a plant, I figured it may need to be refrigerated) – and plan to chew one properly this evening, swallowing the spittle and all. The locals reminded Wayne that the emergency number here is 119 and not 911 – just in case.

Right now it’s 3:42pm where my home and wife are. Here it’s 7:42am and I’m getting ready for my final day of “work,” as tomorrow’s a free day. I have to go back to the tailor tonight to do the final fitting on the custom slacks I ordered. Don’t I sound so regal? Right now, perhaps, there is some man sewing a pair of pants made especially to fit my legs. If these things really fit-fit, I’m gonna be elated. I may wear them all the time, just for the crap of it. Last night was another round of karaoke with some of the women from the bar downstairs, we had a good time – and I think, overall, we brought our A-game karaoke to the table last night. You should’ve heard Wayne and I belt out Avril Lavigne’s “Complicated.”

Well folks, I don’t have much time before I have to fill my breast pocket with business cards (English on the front, simplified Chinese on the reverse) and head downstairs. I’ve got all the cards I’ve collected on previous visits stowed away in my bag, and I’ll review them on the way to the customer – on the off chance that I’ll be able to recognize someone and greet them by name before we exchange them. This way, I’ll appear as the concerned and genuine businessman… the one who cares enough about you to remember your name. Other than that, today is pretty much full. There’s the pants-fitting, the stopover at the Cuban cigar place, and talk of an evening massage possibly followed by the night market tonight.

Good afternoon; good morning. Dave out.

Posted on

nervous laughter

Play with this, mouse.
P-Day. Presentation day in Taiwan. Right now it’s early-morning and Wayne and I are doing some last-minute tweaks to our material. Not oh-crap last-minute changes, just aesthetic changes and some acclimation exercises. Our timeslot in this day-long conference is at the very end, which can be good because you’re the taste left in the audience’s mouth as they walk away; and can be bad because attention spans begin to wane near the end of the day and the fidgeting begins to set in. One other plus, we have time to work on the material, do one last rehearsal before showtime, and take in the other presenters as a gauge of our “competition.”

There must be 500 people in here, maybe one day I’ll be presenting to these masses – but our audience today is a mere subset, less than 200 of the total gathered here for the conference. I just did my first speaking gig, a 5min introduction of the day’s discussions and presenters – and it felt good to be in up front. The cute girl who was here last year is here again, and she must remember my stares because she’s looking over at me and chatting to her friend. I see a lot of familiar faces, actually. There’s the one guy who asks all the detailed questions, I’ll avoid contact with him; there’s that one dude who’s always asking impossibly technical questions in what I deem as some vain attempt to appear intelligent, gotta avoid him in the halls. Man, almost presentation time… in fact, I think the next paragraph will be post-presentation; wish me luck.

Our presentation went great. We were relaxed; we got questions; we had note-takers; we got laughs. It’s always hard presenting to non-English-speaking audiences – but I think we did a great job. Overall the day’s events went down just like I’d wanted them to. Now Wednesday and Thursday will be spent doing the Q&A thing for various customers. Y’know, we sit up front in a panel fashion – and they ask whatever’s on their mind. It can make for some interesting discussion, and some outstanding pulled-from-your-ass monologues. Full of assurances like “… we’ve invested many resources to ensure success,” and “… we are committed to product XZY…” But today was good – I had a good time, and so far this trip is a big success – as far as the “work” part goes.

Sometimes I like to sit in this bar and try to imagine what brought everyone here. In a hotel bar in bar in a business city like Taiwan everyone’s here for a reason. Through a haze of smoke and over silver bowls of mixed nuts, deals are struck and partnerships are formed. My role here is less exciting, I’m just sitting in the back working on my presentation for tomorrow. It’s all bar-atmosphere dark in here, so I probably look like some pale ghost in the corner, awash in the glow of my monitor. Stupid computer… stubborn tomato-stuck keys.

One thing that always amazes me about Taiwan is the extent to which most westerners I meet use it as a sexual playground. Meeting ring-wearing men in bars who immediately steer the conversation to where the best “massage” places are, dropping twist-of-speech hints about their true intent. When I get in these conversations, I usually don’t say one way or another whether or not I participate – for fear of being viewed as some limp-dicked sexual leper; more often than not if you don’t say you don’t, it’s assumed you do. The whole “while the cat is away” attitude that men get here is really something else. I guess I’ve never been one to partake in “manly” activities like strip clubs or whatnot. Oh sure, I’m still a functioning male: I’ll watch my share of internet porn or sit on the john and flip lustily through a Maxim magazine. I guess I just draw the line at the “live action” stuff. Maybe I’ve watched one too many Andy Griffiths or something, but I’m just not down with extramarital sexual activity – I’d much rather make a seed offering to the hotel shower drain than some paid-nothing whore a musty Taipei backroom.

Sorry to those who’ve posted recently and seen your comments deferred in their appearance. I’m still getting the hang of WordPress’ new v1.5 comment moderation features. Your posts should be visible now, and I’ve sent those texas holdem bastards where they belong. Oh, and thanks for commenting – it’s part of what makes me enjoy writing every day… to have some validation that people are reading and perhaps even enjoying what the heck I’m on about.

Now, it’s time for breakfast, and a full day of customers. Until sometime tomorrow…

Posted on

travellin’ man

Your cocktail namesake does you well.
Asky at last. Somewhere over the Pacific en-route to Tokyo. My eight-hour laptop battery is holding up well. If you haven’t guessed, this paragraph was written on Friday. And man, I’m lucky to be on this plane right now. Turns out, my flight into San Francisco was delayed by 2hrs. Luckily, the ticket agent put me on standby for an earlier flight – which Wayne and I had showed up early enough to make (being that it had also been delayed). Wayne (remember Wayne? I’ve been to Taiwan with him before) actually got ticketed on the earlier flight – but I only made the standby list. Turns out, there were thirty people on the list, and if I missed my flight into SF, there wasn’t another flight leaving for Taiwan until the next day.

The gate agent told me there was no way I’d make it to San Fran in time to make the flight to Taiwan. Brainstorming, Wayne suggested that I still had enough time (barely) to rent a car and drive to San Fran in time to make the flight. So, I started moving towards the Hertz center – calling and reserving a car on the cellphone at the same time. Just as the agent was reciting my rental car confirmation number, Wayne called after me from back near the gate – and motioned for me to run. I ran, still on the phone with Hertz. Turns out, I was second on the standby list – the first two names were 200k+ skymile holders, who’d not answered when called. Musta been my lucky day. I was the absolute last person on the plane – but managed to make the Tokyo connection in San Fran with time to spare. Someone must’ve wanted me here.

When I got on the plane, the flight attendants did their standard safety mime, going over where everything is and how to use it. They have those fake lifevests, which look real but are just yellow fabric with the little pull-inflators for demonstration purpose. I was thinking, how utterly crappy would it be to go down in an ocean plane crash, miraculously survive, go to pull the inflate-tabs on your lifevest – and look down in horror to see the words “demo only” printed on the thing. It could happen, they look just like the real thing, they just aren’t. Yeah, that would definitely suck.

At the San Francisco airport, Wayne and I sat down in the international terminal to make use of the too-expensive wireless internet and send some mail. Right next to use were two ATM-looking machines with big “Department of Homeland Security” seals on them. The screen was showing a video of someone inserting their passport into a reader-slot, and right next to the passport reader was a thumbprint scanner. A large sign next to the machine explained how to scan your passport, and put your thumb on the glass to digitize a fingerprint. The machines, called US-VISIT, were so intriguing to me that I snapped some pictures, and even tried to scan my own passport to see what happened. Check it:



Welcome to the United States, please submit three strands of hair and a urine sample.

Hard to read, but it shows how to give left and right fingerprints , and pose for the picture.


How to insert your passport.

Yay! I’m not on the watchlist!

Once I made the plane, the trip was relatively uneventful. I sat next to a young Marine who was returning from leave. He reminded me of my brother so much, and we immediately struck up a conversation – becoming drinking buddies for the remainder of the flight. About 8hrs in, I managed to spill a completely full bloody mary all over my laptop, chair, shoes, and pants. I turned the laptop upside-down and watched tomato juice and vodka pour out from between the keys, then retreated to the bathroom looking like I’d been shot in the groin. Luckily, I was able to wash off all the stains, and by the end of the flight the only clue that my khakis had been covered with tomato juice was the funny smell following me around. And, as you may have guessed – the laptop also survived it’s dousing. Wayne, my new jarhead friend, and myself spent the last few hours to Tokyo standing in the exit aisle drinking Kirins… kind of like some strange in-flight tailgate party, an airborne version of the King of the Hill alley-scene opener. We were “shushed” by the attendants no fewer than three times, but luckily they didn’t kick us off the plane into the sea.

Checked in at the hotel, washed my greasy face and hair and brushed my teeth, then headed for Henry’s Bar. Tracy wasn’t working – but the guy behind the bar remembered me, and immediately picked up the phone to call someone. My mandarin is pretty rusty, but I did hear my name, and Tracy’s nickname for me: Davey. After hanging up, he admitted he called her to tell her I’d arrived. The poor girl much get so much crap. Later, we walked to a foreigner’s-favorite watering hole around the corner and met up with some drunken Australians and sheltering-from-the-rain Swedes. In the spirit of international relations, as Wayne so eloquently put it, we stayed and had a round or two with the gentlemen. Eventually, I ended up chatting with a young guy from Taiwan, only to find out that we not only went to college together – we had the same Microprocessor Design class. What a trip… halfway around the world and chatting about a shared college professor and your alma-mater’s football record.

Now seems like as good a time as any to post a picture of Debbie Gibson taken off the TV while watching Taiwanese MTV (whose logo is apparently differentiated from that of American MTV by the addition of a chicken):

While on the subject of tunes, this Ratatat album is busy marking this trip for me. Its wordlessness makes for the perfect travel-soundtrack… allowing whatever’s in my head to be the narration. Listening to the breakdown in El Pico right now, bobbing my head while looking out over the dirty sprawl of Taipei. Man… changing subjects… WordPress is so awesome. Being able to log on to my site like this and type out an entry wherever in the world I may be. So neat.

Man this laptop reeks of spicy tomato. Ugh. Until tomorrow.