Greetings From the West

"Fried Rice" used to be my street name. Did I ever tell you that, 6.5?

Well, possibly not, but it sounds cool, doesn't it?

I am in Denver International Airport, waiting on a long layover for the big bird to take me to San Jose and then points south, north, west and east.

I don't love hanging out in airports, but WiFi eases the wait a bit considerable much, as they say in the bayou. Well, possibly not, but it sounded interesting, didn't it?

I wish I could get some fried rice right now, but the only things here are a Quiznos Sub, an Auntie Ame pretzel shot, the everpresent Hudson News - perhaps I should get some Immodium just for the hell of it - a Pizza Hut and some shitty-looking yogurt joint. I think I'll eat in Santa Cruz.

I clearly have nothing to say, except "aloha" and "later."