So, I spent an extended Memorial Day weekend visiting friends in Minneapolis. I had a pretty good time, what with the copious amounts of BBQ, heavy drinking, and completely inappropriate leering at attractive young mid-western women. I really dig the twin cities, especially during this brief period of the year when the place is habitable (after the apocalyptic freeze, but before the swarms of man-eating mosquitoes arise from the infinite number of dank, humid little ponds referred to as “lakes” by the locals). Very laid-back place, at least compared to Seattle.

The flatness of the place freaks me out a little, though, and the fact that everybody actually obeys posted speed limits. What’s up with that guys?

This was actually the first time I’ve flown since 9-11. I’d expected an irritating security procedure when arriving at SeaTac, but I had no idea. Aside from having to take off my shoes and subject my laptop to the clumsy inspection of security, I had my very personal space violated by a hand-held metal detector. It seems my zipper was a little too metallic for the walkthrough detector, and therefore my jabberwocky needed a thorough probing. I was tempted to start singing “this is my rifle, this is my gun...”, but I somehow doubt the attempted humor would have been appreciated. Very dour places those security stations.

At least the old dude examining my scrotal area didn’t seem to be enjoying himself much, but you never know. This is Seattle we’re talking about here.

On the plus side, the security at MSP on the trip back was much more reasonable. No tallywacker inspections, and I didn’t even have to take off my shoes. Very nice.

Eight Little Songs arrived the day of my departure, allowing me to enjoy it on my flights. It’s quite lovely.