I unpacked my suitcase halfway at my parents' place in Jacksonville, then realized I was bringing the suitcase with me to Gainesville, and promptly stopped the unpacking. So there it sits, on my bed, half unpacked.
Scatter-brained notes:
I leave for DFW from JAX Friday morning, joined by the University of Florida Gator cheerleaders; they are on their way to the Arkansas game, which we will win on Saturday. Near the end of the flight, one of them launches a paper airplane throuh the cabin, to the amusement of all.
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"Thank you for choosing American Airlines, a member of the One World Alliance."
That's an eye-opener. The "please wait until the vehicle comes to a full and complete stop before gathering all personal belonging" message from our flight crew ends with this little bit. What is this One-World Alliance, and who are they, anyhow? I ponder the ominous answer for a moment, before being distracted by the excellent people watching.
"Hello. I'm just calling to apologize for my little psychotic episode last night."
An attractive lady leaning against a pillar was talking into a microphone hanging from her ear. Airports are great for people-watching. I spend the entire layover people-watching. Except for the time I spent eating.
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On the second leg of my flight out, a cowboy sits in front of me. Well, he had leather shoes and a Timberland cowboy hat, but he was also wearing a tee-shirt with what might have been Hindi. He was on the phone with his friend as much as is legal on American Airlines, and had the strange habit of not just left hand through his hair--which isn't really strange--but of playing with his eyebrow.
Someday maybe I can be that cool. (no sarcasm)
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Downtown Mountain View is a great place for eating. I walk up and down the strip a couple of times, observe that Sue's Indian Cuisine has the thickest crowd, and request a table for one. Lamb curry: hot, fast, and yummy--the best meal I've had in a very long time.
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Ten or more managers. Fifteen green kids. A full day of interviews. The first manager introduced himself, asked about the spike-detection project, and opened up a whiteboard to my happy delight. That interview--and most of the rest--went very well. Afterwards they bussed us over to a couple labs, where they touted some unclassified spiffyness. I impressed myself with the ability to ask pertinant questions questions and show of my lab's research into high dynamic-range CMOS imaging (>100dB!).
After the fiend-trip, we were brought back to the recuiting center, and several among us were dragged off for an additional interview. I was upset; my plans to organize a spontaneous group trip into San Fransisco had been disrupted. By the time I was out, all but a couple kids had vanished. Not all had been lost: a local Chris from UCLA agreed to join me.
Chris and I walk around Haight Ashbury in full interview gettup: coat, tie, shebang. We stand out like halloween freaks. Savor the irony. Savor the yummy carribean food of Cha Cha Cha. All in all, a good time was had. Then I tried to take 101 South out of SF. Fortunately the stop and go didn't cost more than half an hour--the causal accident wasn't very far up the on-ramp. I was home and in bed around midnight, giving me a good 2 or 3 hours of sleep before I would have to get up to catch my plane.
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I look out the window as we back away from the DFW terminal to see a lone, tagged suitcase abandoned on the field of pavement. An empty baggage-mover drives by.
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The carry-on squirms. I can make out a form obscured by breathable mesh. I sense... cuteness. Later, a lady walks over and releases a 9 month pug, who happily licks her face, and the hands of nearby children.
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I meet up with the Gator cheer squad again in DFW. So tempted to blog from the internet terminals, but I've fogotten my movable type password.
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In conclusion, San Fransisco restaurants rock.
Other cities are for people who hate food.
I hope Lockheed pays good.