Perils of Caffeine in the Evening

Anyone here besides me willing to admit that they’ve answered a cell phone in the bathroom?

Last week, just as I was stepping up to the firing line, my phone in my shirt pocket buzzed.  I’d been waiting all morning for a call from a geographically difficult location, so I aborted my mission (not ready, at that particular moment, to repeat the transgression of conversing with the inevitable karaoke of aqueous sound effects).  Only after walking back to my desk, dealing with the call, and heading back to complete my business did I realize that I’d not completely secured certain sartorial ramparts and, though it didn’t qualify as a Janet Jackson-like wardrobe malfunction, still required a course correction in order to surreptitiously remedy the error.

I’ve completely forgotten how this situation would have worked back in the 80s, when only the elite got message beepers.  Oh, yeah, there was a human receptionist then, who would tease out an important call while she located you.  I love my Verizon service, but its capacity for diversionary small-talk is extremely limited.

trapped in a window seat with a rapidly filling bladder, and a large, sleeping woman in the aisle seat.  Pray for me.

Lest I leave you with the impression that I’m a west-coast chauvinist, and find nothing redeeming in my visits to the flyover puddles called the Great Lakes…I arrived in Milwaukee a little earlier than usual on Sunday to find a beautiful fall day in progress.  I remembered some lakeside parks and bike paths from prior flights into Milwaukee, and, after getting my rental car, drove to the shore, parked, and hiked along the lake for several miles.  It was a lovely way to spend the afternoon.