The Friendly Skies

From this article on the new flying regulations, Day One:

From London to Los Angeles, travelers on Thursday had found themselves unpacking carry-on bags on the floor in the terminals. Some tried to squeeze makeup, sunscreen and other toiletries into their checked baggage, where liquids were permissible. Others filled up the bins at security checkpoints, abandoning everything from nail polish to a bottle of tequila.

"I literally lost about $50 or $60 worth of things we were told to throw out," said Terry Asbury, who flew into Cincinnati from Albuquerque, N.M., and found herself dumping all her cosmetics.

At Minneapolis-St. Paul International Airport, Kristin Reinke, of Champlin, Minn., complained to her husband, Mike Reinke, "I just threw out $34 worth of hand lotion."

I wasn't there. But I'd reallly like to think that the Reinkes, Asbury and all of those other thousands who were left throwing out lotions and toothpaste and so forth actually considered taking clothing out of their bags and fitting all that expensive stuff in, while taking the clothing on board, which was allowed. I'd like to think that.

I tend not to, though.

In completely unrelated news, since yesterday turned out not to be a day of disaster, thanks to the Brits who are apparently paying attention to these sorts of things, I ended up having a very, very Duran Duran day. How did this happen, you may ask? (Or not.)

Morning:
Because I am a freak (and because I like to donate to good causes), I had ordered from the fan site a DD towel. Shut up. It arrived, this big fluffy blue thing with their block-letter logo on it. I left it in the FedEx bag to carry home.

Later Morning:
Had a legitimate, work-related reason to interview Nick Rhodes. The band is going to create avatars for this online MMOG called "Second Life" and have their own islands. Seriously. Anyway, they're all about self-marketing and branding, and we like that at work, so on the phone we got. He was lovely. He even made (at my request) a "get well" message for my friend Lynda, who's not feeling so hot lately. Nick Rhodes is a prince among men.

Evening:
Met up with H for dinner before heading to see "The History Boys," which won best actor and best play at the most recent Tonys. As we were leaving to walk the three blocks to the theater, it was raining torrentially. Insanely. Get wet in five seconds type of rain. We held back and waited for it to slack off. I rooted through my bag (because of course neither of us had an umbrella, though H decided he could carry his bag over his head). I found ... the towel.

Perfect. As Ford Prefect learned, it is always good to travel the universe with a towel.

Then, we got to the theater. I knew the play was full of Brits, which is always a pleasant thing if you're trapped in a small seat for 2 hours and 45 minutes, and I knew it took place in a grammar (aka high) school, but I didn't know it took place in the 1980s or that there would be a giant screen at the back which, during scene changes, showed the actors running around the halls and encountering one another or teachers or such like, set to the beat of various 80s music. The first song? "Rio."

Continuing into this morning:
VH1 Classic played "New Moon on Monday," the video in which the devilishly cruel director decided to keep in the brief scene where Simon gets rear-ended by a passing horse.

Aaaaaand....

The radio played "Ordinary World."

Either they're inextricably attached to the cultural bloodstream, or I'm being followed. Either way, it's all good.