Yesterday's post was written with my dinky little Eee balanced on the dinky little tray table of a dinky little US Airways Embraer 170, winging through the air at 31,000 feet on the first leg of my journey from Indianapolis to New Hamster.
I hadn't flown commercially since... oh... I guess the mid '90s. Let's put it this way: The last time I flew commercially, I sat in the smoking section of the plane and my friends met me at the gate.
As a result, yesterday's airport experience was like a cross between 1984 and Brazil.
The folks at Indy's Weir Cook Airport were all totally nonchalant about checked heaters. As a matter of fact, I stood around in the TSA holding area while they checked my bag, and chatted with a guy who was on his way to Front Sight.
The flight itself was fine. I declined the $5 tin of almonds.
Things are stirring here at Castle Frostbite. More later.