Yesterday, I journeyed from Denver, to San Francisco. It was New Year's Day, so things were quiet on the roads, even heading up to Denver International Airport (DIA).

As-per-sodding-usual, my decision to carry something more technologically advanced than a quill pen and parchment, caused DIA's crack team of Government-sponsored loafers... err.. security personnel, to leap into action and dissect the entire contents of my hand luggage, and scan individual bits of it. Clearly they'd not seen a laptop computer before.

The flights (the bargain price of the trip meant that I flew via Salt Lake City) were uneventful. On the second leg, I was sat in front of a couple of kids and their mum. Junior found he liked slamming his tray table up and down a lot, but the moment I turned around, his mum spotted it, and gave him what for. It's so nice to see parents that pay attention to their offspring affecting others.

Above The Law
There is a certain type of person, who whilst travelling by air, seems to think that the rules don't apply to them. They probably act the same way, throughout all aspects of life.

In airports and aeroplanes, they:

1. Board before their row is called
2. Take excessive amounts of carry-on baggage
3. Hog the overhead lockers
4. Get up before the "fasten seatbelts" sign is turned off, either during the flight or after landing
5. Sit in your (better) seat, then suggest you have their seat rather than make a big fuss (this is a very rare one)

A saw all but the last one, yesterday. I'm just waiting for the day when one of these jerks decides to waltz about the cabin when they're supposed to be sat down, and the plane drops 100 in one go, and the jerk gets squished into the ceiling of the aircraft.

San Francisco
I took a minibus shuttle to the hotel. The driver bore a striking resemblance to "Bob The Killer" in Twin Peaks. You know, that long-grey-haired psycho from another dimension. Judging by the speed at which he drove the minibus, and the way he swerved around traffic, at speed, on the highway, I think he actually was Killer Bob.

He had the radio tuned to a station playing Ambient music. My assumption at first was that it was a CD playing, but then after five minutes of soothing sythetic sound, a DJ came on. I didn't catch the station's call letters, but I imagine their slogan is something like, "All-ambient, All the time!" or ""Puttting SoMa in a CoMa"

In the evening, I had an early meal (a day of airline snacks and lousy airport food, doesn't suffice as sustenance), at a Thai restaurant, and kicked back in front of the TV.

I went out later on, and sample the midnight streets and coffee joints of the Civic Center area. It's all a bit more "colourful" than the Financial District that I've stayed in twice before. I stopped just short of hanging a sign around my neck that said something like, "Driver carries no more than $5. Does not have access to safe."

Despite the Thai meal, by midnight I was hungry again, and so popped into a sandwich bar. The nice man there made me a ham sandwich by chopping the legs and head off a dead pig, and sliding it between two slices of bread. Well, that's my guess, judging by the size of the sandwich. It was like one of those sandwiches that Shaggy and Scooby used to make. When I came to leave, he called two of his friends over to help me carry the sandwich back to my hotel.