I am not a fan of texting. As a friend once said, "If there is a hell, texting would be it's only means of communication." I'm in full agreement. It stunts the flow of thought, leads to published errors, and more often than not makes you look douchey being so absorbed by a little plastic gadget while life moves and breathes in the background. What could be so important that I would tune out to post?
Nothing. I'm sitting in the Pasco airport shortly before my plane boards. There are over 100 people milling about, mostly people on business returning home after a week if work in the Tri-Cities. I met a nice gent headed home to San Fran, but my usually chatty nature is still in the sheets. Getting up at 3 inhibits my inner Pollyanna.
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The rest of the trip was spent chatting to the annoyance of everyone else around my loud seatmate and me. How could I resist the life story of Don Johnson, a self-proclaimed asshole, unexploded ordinance technician, and compulsive gambler? Good stories.
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