It has been two weeks since wedding day, and it's interesting to see the interactions we prepared for finally coming to light. An obvious example: During the ceremony we both read off a pre-vow speech, highlighting our excitement over the upcoming marriage and declaring some of the things we were looking forward to. I made this statement:
I look forward to the things we now can share: our home, our bed, our checkbook, and, if I sometimes have need, your toothbrush.
Of course, everyone laughed at the silliness of it, knowing we were sure to have many interactions that two people usually don't have, but realizing a toothbrush is typically off limits. The words were apparently prophetic though, as within 7 hours I had to use my wife's toothbrush!! Talk about starting a relationship off by sharing everything!
Saturday, January 27, 2007
Saturday, January 13, 2007
Tuesday, January 02, 2007
it may smell bad, but it'll save your life
I recently returned from an enjoyable trip to Denver, which was highlighted by two brief layovers and widespread pandemonium as the city was smothered in blizzard. On the day we arrived, we were greeted at the airport by hundreds, no, make that thousands of passengers who were trying to leave the city but couldn't get out. The security lines wrapped around the terminal. Suitcases lay neatly scattered all over the baggage claim. Had we been going in or out a day earlier, we would have been stuck.
The interesting thing I noticed in all this happened to be a little sign posted on the entryway to the bathroom. It showed a miniature tornado and words that read "Severe Weather Shelter," with the sign proceeding to lead deeper inside.
Now it's one thing to be stranded at an airport when severe weather is happening nearby. Even though you have the tremendous capacity to leave and fly far far away (on massive metal airplanes with enormous quanitities of gas), you are restricted to the limited mobility of your head, shoulders, knees and toes. No matter how strong the plane, a good wind gust or a funnel of fog and you're left at the ticket counter. That's tough.
But I think it struck me even more, when I was wandering through passengers on the way to our community storm shelter commode, that having a bathroom as your designated area for disaster recovery is not entirely a good idea. It's mind boggling. To begin with, airports already are areas that people come to to wait, many often for longer peroids of time than they'd like. Is it really a good idea to accentuate that wait by sending people in varying levels of panic (whether they have to go to the bathroom or not) into the one area where waiting is all the more highlighted by a natural urge to do your business and leave? That doesn't make sense. And then secondly, and even more obviously, the bathrooms are way too small. They could hold 35-40 people ... tops. I would imagine among the three concourses and with counting both male and female restrooms, there are about 24 bathrooms in DIA. Maybe there are some behind the scenes that the public can't see, but I'm still wondering how they will account for thousands of passengers in the event of incliment weather.
So here's the big question: Let's say at the time of a hurricane/tornado/snow storm/earthquake/mountain fire/moose attack they have enough room in the restrooms to accommodate half of the people currently in the airport. The security guard comes up to you and your family and says, "I'm sorry, we only have room for half of you. Some of you can join us in the handicap stall. The rest of you can go hide out in the McDonald's kitchen." What would you do?
The interesting thing I noticed in all this happened to be a little sign posted on the entryway to the bathroom. It showed a miniature tornado and words that read "Severe Weather Shelter," with the sign proceeding to lead deeper inside.
Now it's one thing to be stranded at an airport when severe weather is happening nearby. Even though you have the tremendous capacity to leave and fly far far away (on massive metal airplanes with enormous quanitities of gas), you are restricted to the limited mobility of your head, shoulders, knees and toes. No matter how strong the plane, a good wind gust or a funnel of fog and you're left at the ticket counter. That's tough.
But I think it struck me even more, when I was wandering through passengers on the way to our community storm shelter commode, that having a bathroom as your designated area for disaster recovery is not entirely a good idea. It's mind boggling. To begin with, airports already are areas that people come to to wait, many often for longer peroids of time than they'd like. Is it really a good idea to accentuate that wait by sending people in varying levels of panic (whether they have to go to the bathroom or not) into the one area where waiting is all the more highlighted by a natural urge to do your business and leave? That doesn't make sense. And then secondly, and even more obviously, the bathrooms are way too small. They could hold 35-40 people ... tops. I would imagine among the three concourses and with counting both male and female restrooms, there are about 24 bathrooms in DIA. Maybe there are some behind the scenes that the public can't see, but I'm still wondering how they will account for thousands of passengers in the event of incliment weather.
So here's the big question: Let's say at the time of a hurricane/tornado/snow storm/earthquake/mountain fire/moose attack they have enough room in the restrooms to accommodate half of the people currently in the airport. The security guard comes up to you and your family and says, "I'm sorry, we only have room for half of you. Some of you can join us in the handicap stall. The rest of you can go hide out in the McDonald's kitchen." What would you do?
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