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Monday February 21, 2000, 00:16

Some people have parts that are so private
they themselves have no knowledge of them.

that's what my computer said to me when i logged into it tonight. the really funny thing about that is that i thought that it read

Some people have pants that are so private
they themselves have no knowledge of them.

doesn't that make it SO much better?


so i just got back from a super-fabulous weekend in chicago where i got to hang out with all these internet superstar people. we did completely non-dorky computer things like go to the museum and get harrassed by bible thumpers and humped each other on the L and consumed large amounts of alcohol. i have a feeling though that in the next couple of days there will be about 20 different accounts of this weekend scattered across the net, which means that we aren't a non-dorky as we thought. or as i thought. or as i would have hoped we would have been.

work did not happen on friday. instead, i got up, got dressed, at my bowl of granola and yogurt (because i'm all out of milk), and hopped on the train to get to the airport.

things were going along fine until i had gotten my boarding pass and was relaxing at the gate when they announced that my flight was going to be an hour delayed because of bad weather in st. louis. ah well, a little bad weather and i should be able to still make my connection. not a problem.

managed to do some networking on the plane and talked to some guy from a company which is doing internet radio broadcast type things. not sure exactly where he fits into all of my jobs right now, but i figured between the hot-wet-startup-action and the record label, there would be room for a content distribution/creation contact.

the announcement comes on over the intercom thing to tell everyone that we've shut the doors and that we should all turn off our cell phones or else the plane is going to crash into the ground when my phone rings. who should appear on my callerid, but benbrown.

"well shit," i thought, he's probably calling me to tell me that chicago has turned into a huge pile of ice and that i'd better get off the plane because it's not worth going any more. at that point the flight attendant (and why aren't they called stewards and stewardesses any more? the latter group sounds so much more, sophisticated whereas flight attendant sounds so much more like somone who is going to clean up your barfbag when you realize that the inflight meal was made out of something completely unlike meat) told me that i'd better turn off my cell phone because the doors were closed (and what she really meant was, "or else i'll bust your kneecaps") but by that point i had lost the signal and i couldn't get through to ben anyway.


meanwhile, in st. louis, benbrown had just been informed that his flight to chicago was cancelled and he had rebooked on the 6am flight out the next morning. ben called me to tell me, in no uncertain terms, that if i didn't fly to st. louis and get stranded there with him, that he would most certainly kick my butt the next time he saw me. ben proceeds to leave me multiple voice mails urging me to make it to st. louis.

then ben goes to the airport bar to wait for my plane, on which he was been put on the standby list, to arrive.


ben's voodoo worked, because as i stepped off the plane in st. louis, i was greeted by a large mob of people and the boards telling me that my flight to chicago had been cancelled. i found the long line full of angry people and began my hour+ wait to talk to get reooked on the next flight i could find. meanwhile, a call to ben informed me that he was in st. louis, that he was in a howard johnson hotel, and that i'd better come find him because st. louis was just miserable.

i got rebooked on a flight the next morning at 10 am. the person at the counter informed me that she wanted to quit her job. this was not a good start to my stay in st. louis.

i found ben at the hotel, slightly inebriated, and hankering for some good old missouri fun. we were in missouri. just consider that fact for a minute.


so anyway, armed with some information about where all the urban hipsters hung out in st. loius (missouri, still missouri), we headed downtown. or to what appeared to be downtown. we ate dinner at a railroad station, painstatkingly preserved and turned into a large mall. we saw the most pathetic man making balloon animals for an audience which didn't exist. and we realized that there was nothing to do there. so we trecked onward and ended up at the st. louis arch.

let me tell you a bit about this arch. the arch is big. and it's all silver. and it's not at all hollow, and doesn't make a satisfying gonging noise that you'd want it to. people have also carved their names into the arch. scratched their names into the metal. this seems wrong to me. scratching your name into the gateway to the west. or some such thing.

oh, and there's riverboat gambling right next to the arch.

we walked on. a phone call to chicago informed us that there was 6" of snow on the ground and they were expecting at least that much more before the night was out.

we were definitely in st. louis (missouri!) for a while.

a realiztion that bex was at washington university, st. louis prompted a phone call to my parents beggin them to email and/or instant message her to tell her to call me to save me from the hell of the city.

( while i was on the phone with my parents, ben was talking to a group of girls rushing a fraternity. one of them in antlers. he gets all the fun. )

we walked down to the bars, and the one club in st. louis to find the entire under-25 populartion of this city waiting to see the long beach dub all-stars. sold out. we saw a restaurant called "Show-mees," which is the missouri version of hooters, but with that "missouri is the 'show me state'" twist to it. we saw "doctor john's" sex shop and novelty t-shirt store. and we saw a lot of empty bars. it was now about 8pm.

salvation! or so we thought, as we saw a radio station van and some official radio-station types milling about outside of a bar. where there is a radio station van there must be people in the know about hip things to do. a conversation with the morning dj (who was working on a friday night) led us to realize that this was not the case.

the dj even appologized to us for what a shitty city st louis (missouri!) is and told us that was was going to go into the empty bar and watch hockey.

(we later saw him dj again, driving away, and he informed us that there was a band at the bar playing perl jam covers. they were pumping out a rendition of "jeremy" and that they were "actually charging a cover for it." he the appologized for the city and drove off.)

back at the club, a little st. louis teenager asked us if we had any tickets to the show. sensing an "in" into the st. louis nightlife, we said no, but asked what he was going to do if he couldn't find his way into the concert.

"dunno," he said, "probably going to illinois."

time and time again, we would ask what there was to do in st. louis and time and time again, the answer would come back that there really was nothing to do there and what were we doing there in the first place anyway?

we tried to rent a car to drive to chicago at that point, but st. louis, lacking a night life, also seemed to lack rental cars.

defeated, we started back towards the hotel, opting for an evening of pool at the fancy hojo bar. at that point, i got a call from bex. we were saved! we spend the rest of the night at her apartment talking about sex.

our time in st. louis drawing to an end, we returned to the hotel and scheduled wake-up calls.

coming soon: chicago.

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