The anniversary of the first controlled flight, on Kitty Hawk beach. Less than 15 years after this, planes were engaging in armed combat over the fields of Europe.
In Chicago, and the city seems different from when I was here last summer. Not surprising, as in a few days (though we aren’t sure when), one of its own may become president.
Or will lose.
Whatever happens, I get the feeling that Chicago will be very busy. Unfortunately, if he loses, for the wrong reasons. A hasty retreat onto a plane may not be possible as (a) flights are very busy out of the US next week and (b) from mine and another delegates experience, the taxi drivers of Chicago collectively don’t have a clue where this conference hotel is.
I suspect it’ll be difficult getting a taxi on tuesday to downtown anyway. Americans do things earlier than Brits. This is why Amtrak meal times have been driving me slowly mad. Breakfast at 6:30am, Lunch at 11:45pm, Dinner at the time when decent, civilised British people are conducting afternoon tea. Did you guys forget EVERYTHING we taught you before 1776.
It’s the same at academic and library conferences, like this one. Here, everyone went to bed by 11:30 at the latest. Effectively 10:30, as the clocks go back an hour here tonight. So I just went to the redneck bar and drank interesting beer on my own, while the other patrons (definitely NOT delegates at this conference) glared at my choice of political badge. And the clock changing thing makes it even more difficult to calculate when the Brazilian Grand Prix will start, US Central Time, tomorrow. As I have a lot of money on Lewis to win the championship (on the grounds that surely he can’t mess this up two years in a row), I’m keen to see it, even though this means missing the start of the conference.
Some of the delegates here are having a meeting at 8:30 tomorrow morning. And on Monday, conference breakfast is from 7:30 to 8:30, with the first speaker starting then. I’ve noticed this at lots of conferences. And it’s always easy to spot the US delegates (they’re the one waiting patiently for breakfast to open at 6:30) and British delegates (they’re the ones staggering in at 8:58 asking “Are you still serving?”). The graphic memory of a certain JISC event in 1996 at the University of Warwick, where three of us literally sprinted to get the last remaining croissant at that time is still vivid.
I think I’m the only Brit at this conference, so the breakfast zone is unlikely to be a barren wilderness of empty tables. Talk is already of what will happen on Tuesday and where we’ll go. Unfortunately getting a taxi looks like a rubbish option based on today’s experiences, and we are nowhere near any kind of bus or train route. Or are we? If the result is delayed (possible), or he loses fairly (possible), or the electronic voting machines are rigged so he loses (according to some here, possible), then things will get … interesting. It looks like the Virginia call (polls close at 7pm) will give the first indications.
One way or the other history will be made. We have some information on crowd prevention measures in Chicago which will come into play, but as yet no fixed plan for tuesday. Anyway; my fellow speaker has checked in (hurrah!) so once have emerged from breakfast and a hopefully Lewis-winning morning, I’ll be ready to conference.
It’s morning, and around 80 degrees. The eight lanes of traffic on the road outside are getting heavy. A mile or so away, jumbo jets are queuing up to take off, on their way to Japan, China, Europe and Australia. The view from the window:
As you may have guessed, I’m not in Berneray. Instead, I’m in an airport hotel in Los Angeles, California (Is that last bit necessary? Does anyone *not* know where LA is?). It’s about a week into the trip away, though it seems a very long time ago now since Shonnie Alick dropped me off at Benbecula airport. Yesterday and today are jetlag recovery days. As it’s my first trip abroad as a middle-aged bloke, and as jetlag has hit me hard on the last two US trips, am in chill-out mode for a while. Especially after the 11 hour flight here, though that wasn’t too bad. Heathrow Terminal Five was modern and relaxing, though the range of things to do was a little disappointing. The flight itself was pretty good; some spectacular views of Greenland (below), Canada, the Rockies, the vast midwest desert and Las Vegas
That Asus EEE is also damned useful in small spaces; I knocked off a whole presentation and about half of a paper in the seven hours of battery power (yay for solid state memory).
LAX wasn’t too bad this time, and I was out of there within an hour of the flight getting in. Non-US arrivals are thoroughly checked; passports are scrutinised (not just checked) on three occasions. Two fingerprints and a picture are taken. The questioning can be detailed; I was worried for a few moments that my reply to “Why are you here?” of “To encourage librarians to use Nintendo Wii’s in their libraries” (which it is) may have misconstrued as taking the mick, but they let me through. Today, like yesterday, I’m off to Santa Monica. Last evening was shopping and pier time; today will be beach time, a swim in the Pacific (surely warmer than the sea off the Uists, though probably not as clean), and possibly a trip to the Getty Center.
I’m travelling by Amtrak to get around the US on this trip. This’ll be an interesting experience, and it started yesterday when making the first reservations in the fabulous Union Station in central LA. Amtrak, oddly, seems to operate more like an airline (used to) than airlines do now. They advise you to arrive 90 minutes before, check in your baggage, and do other bits of admin before getting on the train. Tomorrows trip is a mere 8 hours (so no overnights) from LA to Salinas, after which I’ll make my way to Monterey where I’m presenting in a few days time.
Logistically, so far so good. Sensibly, US hotels often have laundry rooms, so I’m pretty up to date with clean clothes, supplemented by cheap purchases in the UK (Primark) and the US (Gap). And so, with just laptop, camera and towel packed, it’s off to the beach…