The first half of this was written on 9/25, as I waited for Delta for 3 extra hours to get home after a conference in Canton, MA. The title, of course, comes from Kip's song (after the credits) in Napoleon Dynamite.
I'm stuck in Logan Airport with an hour to kill before my flight. Logan advertises their WiFi all over the airport, but I'm too cheap to pay the $10 per day for an hour's benefit to get access to the net. Unfortunately, all my story ideas are on my Google Docs. It's so rare these days to not have access to the net that leaving my story ideas there seemed perfect – I could get to them from whatever computer I was using.
What does ubiquitous connection to the net really mean? Google is betting that it means having all your data in the cloud is the technology of the future. As I use more and more different computers (2 desktops and 2 laptops at home, plus a work laptop), it's easier to imagine not caring which machine I'm on. My daughters' generation assumes it; they have never used an email client that stored the messages on their local hard drive.
Having all my data on the cloud reminds me of when daughter Eleanor first became vaguely aware of the telephone. She assumed that our home number in Mt. Pleasant would follow us when we went to a friend's house. Before she reached adulthood, that was her reality. The dorm freshman year included a land line; I don't think she ever gave out that number. She certainly never checked the old-fashioned answering machine I attached to it. The cell phone in my pocket is now the best way to reach me also.
As I review my airport ramblings towards the end of the next week, it's clear that the theme I was trying to get to while stuck at Logan is the evolution of technology to meet at least some of our expectations. Eleanor expects her phone number to follow her and eventually that's exactly the way it works. I have always thought we should have a cashless society. Clearly, I was ahead of my time.
In 1984, six months after our nuptials, I was on my first business trip. NDC was selling its pharmacy system to Rite-Aid and somehow I was sent to a 2 day meeting in nowhere Pennsylvania. It took one day more than expected to close the deal, so I extended my trip. That meant that I used the last of my cash in Washington National airport as I changed planes on the way home. I spent $10 in 1984 dollars for an unappetizing hot dog. I arrived at Hartsfield about 10pm. I recognized my dilemma immediately in that my VW Rabbit was in the parking lot and I didn't have the cash to get it out. There were no ATMs at the Airport. The ticket counters were closed, so no one could cash a check for me. The worst part is that I spent an hour looking around to try to find some way to fix my problem by myself. By the time I called my bride about 11pm, our friend Kim had just left the house after giving up on waiting for my return. MA had to go to the ATM on Jimmy Carter Blvd (a sketchy place even then), and then drive 20+ miles to the airport. That's an awful lot to ask from a 22 year old girl raised in small town SC, especially very late at night. When I saw the maroon Renault Alliance approach the drop-off point on the airport road, I was thrilled. Herself, clearly less so. She stopped and I opened the door. She threw a 20 dollar bill on the passenger seat. I grabbed it and she sped off quickly enough that the door closed on its own. It was a long drive up I-85 to the Treehouse apartments.
Today, the parking ticket machines inside the terminal don't even take cash to pre-pay before leaving ATL; they only take credit cards.
I love technology.
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