The fanny pack

As we all know, airports are fabulous places to people watch. It can be quite the entertainment experience, really. Such a variety of performers. There's the clueless bumpkin struggling to deal with the sensory overload that comes with being in a "big city" setting (and yes, I use the term "big city" loosely, as this can be found in pretty much any airport based in an area with a population base exceeding 10K). And then, there's the poor mother of 3 trying to reign her offspring into a 20-foot radius (while silently cursing their father who conveniently opted to stay home this trip). Or how about the old couple in the corner yelling at one another about their forgotten prescriptions ("I told you not to foget them!" "I couldn't hear you!" "What?")? My favorite though? The generally nervous traveler constantly checking his watch, looking up at the gate ("don't wanna miss that plane"), who makes sure he is in line to board 20 mins in advance of the preboarders despite holding a ticket for seat #2 (meaning he will be the last to board). He's the same one who stands up immediately after the flight lands, regardless of the fact that on this flight he is all the way in the back.

Today, however, I get the pleasure of seeing something that I haven't seen in awhile: the fanny pack. Now, yes, of course I've see multiple members of the geriatric population sporting such style, but it's been awhile since I've seen a one on an under-65-er. This morning though we have a nice 40ish gentleman fashionista. To make matters worse, its clipped low under his middle-aged "I've been drinking everything alcoholic since 17" belly. In fact I doubt I would have noticed it (doubt I could have) except that when he bent over to get his bag, he had to shift it off to the side so as not to squish certain manparts while bending over the few degrees.

Had I been a little more iPhone sneaky, and had the oh so graceful move presented itself, I would have video'd it for you. That way you could have "enjoyed" the moment from your living room, cube, bus ride or wherever you are as much as I did.

Alright time to board to paradise... C'mon now, don't hate.

iBlog

As many of you know, I started out really wanting to hate the iPhone. Those crazy nutjobs at my previous place of employment were constantly tossing money down the tube and while, yes, many times such tossing greatly benefited me, I didn't always feel right about it. So when the iPhone first came out and the demented duo that runs the place insisted that we all get one, I immediately took the stance of "really, can we be any more frivolous?". Because lets face it: these things weren't cheap in those first couple of years. And, then I used my good girlfriend's when we were on a roadtrip. "Damn it," I thought within 2 mins of holding the revolutionary little device. "This is pretty f*ing cool." And so when I got back to the office on Monday, I had to admit it: I wanted one. Five days later I had one, and about one nanosecond after that, I was hooked (so much so, by the way, that the first place I went after walking out of Nutjob Central for the last time was... yep, you guessed it: AT&T, to get me a new one).

And now, 4 years later, just when I thought my love affair with iSara (yes that's it's registered name) couldn't get any more intense, I found one more way for it to enhance my life: an app to let me blog on the go: BlogWriter. (side note: there really IS an app for everything. I just learned that I could, if I was as sick and sex starved as apparently some iOwners are, take this love affair to the next level and download a personal massager app.... Eww! Really? Really? They're not that expensive ladies, just go buy a real one. Mental note: think twice before borrowing someone else's phone... But I digress...)

Anyway, all this to say: this is my test entry to see how well this will work. If it passes the test, this is going to be quite handy on the upcoming expedition I depart on next week. I hope to document the adventure here so as to satisfy the curious and, yes, slightly jealous minds of friends and family, as well as tame my mother's undeniable fear that I might have been kidnapped, run-over, or bitten by a malaria-ridden mosquito.

Supposedly I can post photos here too. So let's try that now as well. I think I'll choose a Kanoa photo... In case you haven't heard that little family unit of three that I love so much, just became a unit of four. GO TEAM KLAJA!

Alright, here goes nothin'! I guess I just push send to post?