traveling is dangerous

 
Flew to NYC today for business, and sustained an unusual injury.  Follow along.
 
I got to the airport later than I wanted to, and didn’t preprint a boarding pass.  So I got into line, checked in, and waited until the attendent called me to check my bag.  When she did, I went to pull out my ID.  I was wearing some of those goofy-looking, yet comfortable nylon pants with 10,000 zippers.  They’re suitable for braving the rainforest, or domestic airline travel.  I’d stashed my wallet in one of the zipped pockets.  Unfortunately the zipper stuck, so I stood there like an idiot, trying to unzip the pocket open and get out of the way of the angry hordes behind me, most of whom had been seriously delayed by a bad accident on I5 early this morning.  I tried to open the pocket first with a staple puller (hey – who brings pliers on a flight?), then gave up and requested scissors to cut the offending zipper off.
 
During the zipper surgery, I sliced one of my fingertips well enough to bleed a conspicuous amount.  Not enough to require medical attention, but certainly enough to reclaim some of that lost personal space I so crave.  Getting through security was a breeze as I tried to slurp off the excess blood (no tissues, no bandages, and no time to stop!).  One of the TSA folks took pity on me and fetched a bandaid as I clumsily tried to tie up my shoes without bleeding on them, and without hurting myself more.
 
I just had time to grab an espresso before boarding.  I had dried blood in stripelets running down my arm, and also noticed another small cut on the other hand that was bleeding.  When I took my seat, the young woman in my row, caught a glimpse and feigned sleep for the next five hours.  As we deplaned, I flashed her a winning smile while she furtively whispered into the phone, presumably to a protective spouse, or some of the local authorities.
 
It’s cold here.  I dressed for the Seattle winter, which is about 15 degrees warmer.  May have to go out shopping for some cold weather apparel.  Gloves would help.
 
Sounds like we might head into the city for a day out tomorrow.  Should be lots of fun.  This is the second straight year I’m accidentally out of town for Super Bowl Sunday.  Last year, I ran the the streets of New Orleans with 5000 of my closest friends, doing the Mardi Gras Marathon.  In the evening, I watched the Seahawks deflate in the face of the Pittsburgh Steelers in a half-empty sports bar in the Quarter.  Unfortunately for me, 90% of the occupants were Pittsburgh fans.  The bartender was nice enough though.
 
Meanwhile, here in NJ, I’m enjoying the tropical climes of my cousin’s place.  It might be 20 degrees outside, but it’s close to 80 here next to the heat register.
 
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