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| Wednesday, March 12, 2003 |
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Road Rage 
| | I'm here. After hours of coaxing, the laptop has risen from the dead, though probably only momentarily. That's been the pattern. It should sieze up any second now. |
| | Rather than bore you with my tale of travel woe, I'll treat you to one nugget that encapsulates pretty much everything else that's happened today: Neither United nor Air Canada appears to have any idea where my bag is, because they have no record, other than the tag they gave me when I checked the bag in Santa Barbara, of its existence. |
| | At least that's what the disinterested Air Canada baggage professional told me at the airport. Hey, at least he exists. There was nobody at United's baggage counter at all. Their telephone baggage customer relations system appears to consist of an automaton with the worst speech recognition I've ever encountered. After it fails, it says it will "transfer your call to an attendant," after which it transfers your call back to itself. |
| | It's about ten degrees outside. Snow, ice and wind all around. I'm here in my loafers. My warm coat is in the lost bag, along with all the other clean clothes I didn't buy for tomorrow at the discount warehouse on the way here from the airport. |
| | It's 12:35am. Gotta get some sleep. Long day ahead. |
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