Random Stuff

Malfunctions. ... 2 December 04

Ever have one of those weeks?

On Monday morning, I was bicycling to work across a frost-covered bridge, when suddenly I heard a loud “clunk” behind me. I looked behind and saw that the crossbar of my Kryptonite™ lock had come unattached from the U-shaped thingie, and fallen from my bike. It rolled several times and stopped just short of plunging into the canal. I somehow managed to stop my bike without collapsing into an undignified heap—did I mention that the bridge was like a skating rink?—and retrieved the wayward item.

On Tuesday, I had to fly to England for a one-day business trip. And when I got to Schiphol, I discovered that BMI’s computer system had broken down. This led to delays during check-in, more delays during passenger loading, and further delays during baggage loading—because everything had to be done by hand. My flight took off about 45 minutes late. I was not amused.

The rest of the trip proceeded without incident, except that I ended up spending 15 hours away from home for what amounted to a 5-hour meeting. And our group had to pay £120 for a round trip from Heathrow Airport to Bracknell (Berks.), a distance of about 15 miles each way. I mean, really.

Yesterday evening, I was fiddling with my new server—did I mention that I’m moving my blog to yet another new location?—and did something that caused my nice new domain, in which I had invested a certain sum of money as well as a not insignificant amount of time, to stop working. Frustrated, I decided to take my dog for a walk. We got into the elevator, I pressed the button, the elevator descended for a while...

and then nothing happened. The door didn’t open. None of the buttons responded. I quickly realized that I was experiencing the claustrophobe’s ultimate nightmare: being trapped in an elevator. I’m not a claustrophobe per se, but the experience was still rather unpleasant. I rang the alarm bell for several minutes; I pounded on the door; I yelled; I actually tried to open the door, thus causing my 40-year-old bones and sinews a fair amount of distress.

This went on for about half an hour, until finally someone in the building—which has only 7 apartments, so the odds of it being completely empty are quite good—heard me, and called the elevator repair people. Half an hour later, dog and self were liberated.

I’d like to be able to report that while I was stuck for an hour in a space measuring about three cubic meters, I had some sort of great epiphany about Life, the Universe and Everything. But actually, that occurred somewhat later. Because I realized today that yesterday, December 1, was the 15th anniversary of the day when a public-health official in Honolulu told me that I had contracted a terminal illness, and that I probably only had a couple of years to live.

So, I’m very pleased to report that I was trapped in an elevator for a while yesterday, and that my new blog is broken, and that BMI is a crappy airline, and that my Kryptonite™ lock needs to be oiled… because on this date 15 years ago, I was busy imagining what life in 2004 would be like inside a coffin.