You are currently located at another pointless dotcom, the personal website of Jonathan Horak. Enjoy.

pointless feeds

RSS 1.0 | RSS 2.0

shameless plug

The Writings on the Stall

Monday, 2004-12-20

the journey

Although this entry is most definitely not even close to real time, I've not been around my computer long enough to log the adventures in Scotland.

So we wake up — it's about time to start "the journey" as I'll call it. Ahead: 18 hours of travel. The taxi should soon be on its way to take us to the airport.

Walking out the apartment there's seventies music in the air. Rounding the corner of the stairs a heavy-set bald man feeling his music appears. The driver's side doors to his minivan face us, swung wide open. A bit odd, but that always makes it interesting.

We hop in the van; middle seats are gone. Didn't catch the driver's real name, but he did mention that others call him Honest Abe.

Honest Abe: Tell Sherlock Holmes Abe says hello.
Gemma: Isn't Sherlock Holmes English?
Jonathan [to Gemma]: Yeah.
[Gemma and Jonathan laugh, heartily.]

Austin to Houston. Houston to Newark. Read Bruce Sterling's Tomorrow Now along the way. Memorable passages likely to follow in the near future.

At Newark Gemma, Catherine, Jill and David played a little trick on this naïve American: they convinced me I've pronounced Dublin incorrectly all along. The proper way to say Dublin is "Dooblin"; thanks for the tip, guys.

Later at Newark I had a beer at the Brooklyn Jazz Bar. Having had Brooklyn Lager before, I asked the bartender for a taste of Brooklyn Weisse. Then ordered a pint of the lager and the bartender replied "figured as much." What, you figured I wouldn't want the weisse? "Scrap that. I'll have the weisse." Jackass.

Mid-flight, I heard Radiohead and found Gemma listening to Kid A on her iPod. Considering her distaste for Radiohead — and myself a fan — this made her boyfriend quite proud.

We landed safely at Glasgow Airport (obviously) and headed out the plane to pick up our baggage. In the baggage claim area is a smoking section, which I noticed on the last visit. What's peculiar about this particular area is that no walls separate cigarette smoke from the rest of the room. Instead, smoke bellows along the ceiling, rendering the division pointless.

After a brief drive through the country-side we arive at Ashita and Ian's house in Balfron.

Still working on other "catch-up" articles. Expect to see them soon.


post a comment