Well, here I am as predicted in the previous post, hanging around in Los Angeles International Airport and looking for love. No wait, I mean, looking for wireless access. LAX —or Terminal 4 at any rate—doesn’t have ubiquitous wireless service. Only the lucky few granted access to the Admiral’s Club are entitled to pay money to the T-Mobile network for the privilege of checking their email, downloading Marketing’s latest PowerPoint Disaster, updating their blog’s etc. Of course, I am not a member of the Admiral’s Club. Luckily Wireless Signals do not respect American Airline’s Caste System and are not bound by the barrier of cheap plasterboard (only actual brick walls). So here I am sitting on the floor in the corridor near the phones just next to the change machine and women’s bathroom. Frankly, these are absurd lengths to do to give T-Mobile my money. They should make it easier. I’d feel less like a junkie.

Some people have asked about the outcome of the great trans-Pacific book recommendation thread. The answer is that I’ll be reading The Quincunx by Charles Palliser, because it’s very, very long. I also have Absalom, Absalom as emergency backup.