This sentence is a lie.
I'll use the following definitions:
TRUTH--Binary 1. Correct as a proposition. Exists.
FALSE--Binary 0. Can be stated as NOT. Negation.
LIE--Opposite of TRUTH. Is the conjunction of mathematical falsity(FALSE) and propositional correctness, i.e. NOT TRUTH.
Beginning from the sentence's internal logic: If the sentence is a LIE, then we can infer that "it is FALSE that it is TRUTH". We rewrite the sentence as: "This sentence is NOT TRUTH" or "This sentence is FALSE".
As the sentence states it is a LIE, but is NOT TRUTH and FALSE*, we can clearly negative it to get a TRUTH, since the opposite of a LIE is TRUTH, and negativing creates an opposite. Negativing "This sentence is a lie," we get "This sentence is a TRUTH."
Since the sentence states that it is a LIE, or the opposite of the TRUTH, the sentence is externally seen to be FALSE as a proposition.
To be FALSE as a proposition is to be the opposite of TRUTH, or a lie. So, we can say with some certainty that it is TRUTH that the sentence is a LIE.
The sentence states that it is a LIE.
Thus, the sentence is TRUTH.
Stop.
Friday, December 01, 2006
Wednesday, June 07, 2006
The Sidekick Incident
So, there's this interesting event that is making some waves in the internet community, what will inevitably become known as the 'Sidekick Incident' in the future. Apparently some girl found a sidekick in a taxi, and rather than return it to the owner, who sent many text messages, even offering a reward, she just replied with intransigent threats and illiterate attempts to justify keeping the phone that was now 'hers.' Because of the sidekick's ability to record the aol screen name and other info on the people using the phone, which information is then stored on T-Mobile's central servers, when the owner got a new sidekick, she was able to see everyhting the thieves had been doing with the stolen one, thus giving quite a few clues as to their identities.
A friend of the owner posted a blog about this event, at http://www.evanwashere.com/StolenSidekick/ and has been getting a lot of attention. The myspace pages of thieves were posted, the fake address they gave, as well as a bunch of really shitty photos they took with the stolen phone. Also, a link to a video that the girl who stole the phone had put up on myspace about a month before the phone was stolen was posted.
This video link is actually the topic of this little diatribe of mine. THe video, located at http://vids.myspace.com/index.cfm?fuseaction=vids.individual&videoid=743388586&Mytoken=8DCE707B-C335-14D8-099AEAB2528135642754597 is fairly mindane little bit of bad ass-shaking by the 16 year old thief and her 14 year old friend, all set to bad music and occasionally complimented with their bad english. The video itself is unremarkable--hundreds like it must exist all over myspace. But the comment log is itself something rather amazing. At the start of it, are just 4 or 5 comments from the thief's friends at around the time the video was first posted. As of 6-07-06, when the blog went up detailing the sidekick theft, an avalanche of comments begins. Starting with many pleas for the phone's return, evolving into all kinds of ad hominem attacks on the girtls themselves, comments like "I think i threw up in my mouth a little," to glee at the immense trouble the thief will be in soon(the blog noted that the police have been notified and are instructing him how to proceed), such as 'Hahaha you're going to get soooooo much shit soooooooo quickly.' There were an assortment of absolutely revolting pornographic images, mostly posted 15-20 at a time so they took up an entire page of comments: one, a syphilitic penis and the sores all over it, another, the infamous goatse. There was pride that a stupid thief was being caught and outsmarted by a savvy nerd: 'internet > you' THere were even plenty of racial epithets: from latinos or hispanics telling the girl she was making them all look bad, to comments about how they are a couple of 'dumbinicans', to 'DEPORT THESE ILLITERATE ILLEGAL ALIENS BACK TO THE SHANTYTOWN SHITHOLE IN MEXICO THAT THEY CAME FROM.'
In short, a video posted well before the theft, and really having no connection to it other than that one of the girls in it is allegedly the thief(I say allegedly, as there seems to be discussion as to whether it really is her, and the original blog only provides a link; no evidence), has become a sort of modern-day pillory. This is really somewhat of a unique phenomenon. Besides disregarding the fact that there hasn't been any sort of trial and that in America criminals are innocent until proven guilty, the commentors seem to have taken it into their own hands to dish out the punishment as well. To some extent this is sparked on by the orginal blog itself, whose stated goal is to make the perpetrators feel so ashamed that they are forced to return the phone, but even the blog's author asks that people be at least somewhat respectful, to leave race out of it, and has also asked that people not 'run by' the thieve's home in NYC, as has been suggested by some of his readers.
Is this wrong or right? There is no phenomenon like the pillory in today's society. Punishment is for the large part meted out in silence, time is served behind bars away from the eyes of the public. True, there are certain parallels between the internet response and the media circus that sometimes surrounds high-profile cases. But there's nothing high-profile about this--people find and keep expensive things in the back of cabs all the time. The only unique thing here is that the technology allowed the thief to be identified.
The vitriol springing up against the thieves is astounding. From the sounds of the blogs, they really do deserve our contempt, but for hundreds of non-involved parties to go out of their way to mock and deride the hapless crooks seems all out of proportion to the crime committed. Beyond being a testament to the ease of communication over the internet, this is seemingly a proof of the sense of justice that really pervades our society. What is happening here is not the justice of the courts, the justice of the law, but rather the mob imposed justice of ridicule and shame that had heretefore gone the way of the true pillories of dark ages europe.
A friend of the owner posted a blog about this event, at http://www.evanwashere.com/StolenSidekick/ and has been getting a lot of attention. The myspace pages of thieves were posted, the fake address they gave, as well as a bunch of really shitty photos they took with the stolen phone. Also, a link to a video that the girl who stole the phone had put up on myspace about a month before the phone was stolen was posted.
This video link is actually the topic of this little diatribe of mine. THe video, located at http://vids.myspace.com/index.cfm?fuseaction=vids.individual&videoid=743388586&Mytoken=8DCE707B-C335-14D8-099AEAB2528135642754597 is fairly mindane little bit of bad ass-shaking by the 16 year old thief and her 14 year old friend, all set to bad music and occasionally complimented with their bad english. The video itself is unremarkable--hundreds like it must exist all over myspace. But the comment log is itself something rather amazing. At the start of it, are just 4 or 5 comments from the thief's friends at around the time the video was first posted. As of 6-07-06, when the blog went up detailing the sidekick theft, an avalanche of comments begins. Starting with many pleas for the phone's return, evolving into all kinds of ad hominem attacks on the girtls themselves, comments like "I think i threw up in my mouth a little," to glee at the immense trouble the thief will be in soon(the blog noted that the police have been notified and are instructing him how to proceed), such as 'Hahaha you're going to get soooooo much shit soooooooo quickly.' There were an assortment of absolutely revolting pornographic images, mostly posted 15-20 at a time so they took up an entire page of comments: one, a syphilitic penis and the sores all over it, another, the infamous goatse. There was pride that a stupid thief was being caught and outsmarted by a savvy nerd: 'internet > you' THere were even plenty of racial epithets: from latinos or hispanics telling the girl she was making them all look bad, to comments about how they are a couple of 'dumbinicans', to 'DEPORT THESE ILLITERATE ILLEGAL ALIENS BACK TO THE SHANTYTOWN SHITHOLE IN MEXICO THAT THEY CAME FROM.'
In short, a video posted well before the theft, and really having no connection to it other than that one of the girls in it is allegedly the thief(I say allegedly, as there seems to be discussion as to whether it really is her, and the original blog only provides a link; no evidence), has become a sort of modern-day pillory. This is really somewhat of a unique phenomenon. Besides disregarding the fact that there hasn't been any sort of trial and that in America criminals are innocent until proven guilty, the commentors seem to have taken it into their own hands to dish out the punishment as well. To some extent this is sparked on by the orginal blog itself, whose stated goal is to make the perpetrators feel so ashamed that they are forced to return the phone, but even the blog's author asks that people be at least somewhat respectful, to leave race out of it, and has also asked that people not 'run by' the thieve's home in NYC, as has been suggested by some of his readers.
Is this wrong or right? There is no phenomenon like the pillory in today's society. Punishment is for the large part meted out in silence, time is served behind bars away from the eyes of the public. True, there are certain parallels between the internet response and the media circus that sometimes surrounds high-profile cases. But there's nothing high-profile about this--people find and keep expensive things in the back of cabs all the time. The only unique thing here is that the technology allowed the thief to be identified.
The vitriol springing up against the thieves is astounding. From the sounds of the blogs, they really do deserve our contempt, but for hundreds of non-involved parties to go out of their way to mock and deride the hapless crooks seems all out of proportion to the crime committed. Beyond being a testament to the ease of communication over the internet, this is seemingly a proof of the sense of justice that really pervades our society. What is happening here is not the justice of the courts, the justice of the law, but rather the mob imposed justice of ridicule and shame that had heretefore gone the way of the true pillories of dark ages europe.
Tuesday, April 25, 2006
3 Weeks, Condensed
It's been a while, so here's a quick breakdown of everything that's happened since I got back from New York and DC:
* Brittany came back from Uruguay with some sort of flu/cold and gave it to me. I've been sick as hell and am finally getting better. I've been going to work for the most part anyways(only missed one day!) but it's made the past couple weeks rough.
* Brittany had an awesome time over spring break and was primed to talk about it in every conversation for at least a week. I think she's totally sure she wants to take a year abroad in South America at some point, she's just trying to figure out when.
* I decided to accept Fordham's offer of admission and sent in my first deposit. AMAZINGLY, the next day I got an e-mail from their financial aid office telling me that they are awarding me a $7,500 per year merit-based scholarship, for all three years I am there. That was, by far, the most shockingly good news I have heard in a very long time.
* Brittany's roommate Laurel suddenly and unexpectedly went batshit crazy and decided she needed to move out, basically telling Brittany that she should trade apartments with me. She actually yelled that at her while I was sitting right there, talking about me in the third person, and never quite got around to asking me if it would be alright. Well, anyways, it did turn out to be the most expedient route, because Brittany's going crazy and needs someone to move in with her if Laurel moves out, which is inevitable at this point. So, long story short, I'm moving from Duck's Village to Brittany's apartment downtown and swapping leases with Laurel. I'm gonna miss living with Gabe, Mike, and Brandon, but I had to get Brittany's back on this or she'd be pretty screwed. Right now I'm in the process of moving all my junk, trying to get it done by next weekend.
I think that's about it for the major events of the past few weeks.
* Brittany came back from Uruguay with some sort of flu/cold and gave it to me. I've been sick as hell and am finally getting better. I've been going to work for the most part anyways(only missed one day!) but it's made the past couple weeks rough.
* Brittany had an awesome time over spring break and was primed to talk about it in every conversation for at least a week. I think she's totally sure she wants to take a year abroad in South America at some point, she's just trying to figure out when.
* I decided to accept Fordham's offer of admission and sent in my first deposit. AMAZINGLY, the next day I got an e-mail from their financial aid office telling me that they are awarding me a $7,500 per year merit-based scholarship, for all three years I am there. That was, by far, the most shockingly good news I have heard in a very long time.
* Brittany's roommate Laurel suddenly and unexpectedly went batshit crazy and decided she needed to move out, basically telling Brittany that she should trade apartments with me. She actually yelled that at her while I was sitting right there, talking about me in the third person, and never quite got around to asking me if it would be alright. Well, anyways, it did turn out to be the most expedient route, because Brittany's going crazy and needs someone to move in with her if Laurel moves out, which is inevitable at this point. So, long story short, I'm moving from Duck's Village to Brittany's apartment downtown and swapping leases with Laurel. I'm gonna miss living with Gabe, Mike, and Brandon, but I had to get Brittany's back on this or she'd be pretty screwed. Right now I'm in the process of moving all my junk, trying to get it done by next weekend.
I think that's about it for the major events of the past few weeks.
Monday, April 03, 2006
Travel Hell
So we left off and I was just getting to Dulles airport...
My ticket to Las Vegas, where I was supposed to transfer to a flight to Eugene, said United Airlines. Prominently. On the first line. WIth no other airlines listed anywhere.
Like an idiot. I believed my ticket, and so I stood in line at the United ticket counter for 45 minutes. At the ticket counter, they explained that although my ticket said United, it actually meant US Airways, and so I'd have to go there instead. I complied, walking briskly across Dulles' huge terminal, and naturally, the US Airways rep explained to me that I'd have to go to even further, to the America West ticket counter, because they had merged and I'd actually be on their airline instead. United is at the furthest possible position from America West i at Dulles. I'd estimate it was about a quarter of a mile walk, and I was encumbered by two very heavy bags. I go to the America West ticket counter at 8:03.
My flight being at 8:30, they calmly explained that I missed the 30 minute cutoff and they wouldn't let me check-in. There was no way I'd be able to get to the gate fast enough, they said, and there's no chance they'd even let me try. It would be a disservice to me if they did, they said.
I completely lost my shit, essentially demanding, pleading, begging that they just check me in. They're wasting valuable time, I tried to expalin, there's still 27 minutes, I can make... Then there were only 25 minutes.. then only twenty, and then they asked me to leave.
I called orbitz, screamed at them for a while, and they refused to take responsibility. "I'm flying America West, but my ticket says United.. You put the wrong airline on my ticket, so it's your faultthat I missed my flight I told them." "The ticket is supposed to say United," they rejoined, "They're the issuing airline!" "But it's misleading to put the wrong airline front and center on a ticket! You put the wrong information there!" "No," they replied, "We put the right information there, and we're not going t argue with you about that. You should have paid closer attention. It's all in the service agreement you clicked next on."
I gave up. It was 8:25, my flight still ahdn't left, but there of course there was no way I'd be getting on it. I went back to teh ticket counter and asked to reschedule my flight. THey were nice enough to waive the $150 change fee, and set me up to go Phoenix at 7AM the next day, and fly standby to Eugene once I go there. I called Mr. Cimino-Hurt, and like the hero that he is, he came and picked up, aying he didn't mind driving me back to the airport at 6 the next day.
Fast forward to 6 the next day. I check in, and then start my stopwatch. I walk deliberately to security. THey pat me down, the whole deal. They single me out for special inspection, swab everything for explosives, and riffle through my belongings. Stopwatch is ticking.
I walk to the shuttle to my flight, wait for it to leave, and then exit it when it reaches the proper terminal. I heave my enormous bags to the gate, and take a seat while I wait to board. 17 minutes had passed since I left the check in counter. Bastards.
The flight to Phoenix was uneventful. I slept most of the way because I was exhausted, and when we got to Phoenix, I had plenty of time to get to the gate where my standby flight was leaving from. I was one of the first ones there, but when I asked the gate agents if I was going to get on, they explained that the flight was overbooked, so it would take an act of God for me to make the flgiht. I bought a cinnabon for breakfast, and I waited. Julie Portnoy walked by, and she was taking the flight. We said hello. She got on board the aircraft, since she had a real ticket and wasn't on standby. I ate my cinnabon and watched a fligt going to Eugene take off without me.
The next flight to Eugene wasn't until 5:30, 6 hours later. So I sat around, read a little, and waited some more. Around 4:30 the gate agents came to the gate so I asked them if I might make this flight. It was even more severely overbooked. Furthermore, the next flight to Eugene from Phoenix wasn't until TUESDAY NIGHT. I sat at the gate, and chatted with Mark Johnson, a philosophy proffessor who was on the flight. The whole time the gate agent was asking ticketed passengers to give up their seats because they were so badly oversold. I could tell I wasn't getting on this flight, either. Eventually professor Johnson boarded the plane. Eventually the plane took off, and again I saw my ride home leave without me.
The only way to get back home was going to be to go to Las Vegas, wait 26 hours, then catch a flight that miraculously had 1 seat still open. Fortunately, my grandma lives there so I had a place to stay, and I actually had a decent time visiting with her for a day.
I only had one more flight left, but of course there was no way it could go smoothly. I got to the airport with about an hour and twenty minutes, waited in line for 50 minutes, then asked an agent if there was any way she could help me get to the front of the line, because I thought I'd miss my flight. SHe just laughed at me and shrugged. I was freaking out and thought I could feel an ulcer start to develop, when another agent who had overheard came up and actually tried to help. SHe checked me in, and then told me I probably wouldn't make it, but I had better go as fast as I can if I want any chance. There was no way I was going to miss this flight, so again I went as fast as I could to security, where, of course, they decided to give me the 'extra inspection.' They made me unpack everything, they even confiscated my tiny swiss army knife, which I'd been flying around the entire country with and no one had bothered me about before, even in my last flight where I was given the special treatment as well. I thought they had reformed the laws a litte, guess not. ANyways, when they were finally done with me I was again sprinting down the terminal, still lugging around all my clothes and the ten pound paperweight that used to be my laptop. Breathless and sweaty I made it to the gate just in time. I think sitting down on the too-small seat on the little regional jet was probably the happiest single moment of my trip. Secure in the knowledge that I'd actually be getting home that night, I took a deep breath and relaxed.
My ticket to Las Vegas, where I was supposed to transfer to a flight to Eugene, said United Airlines. Prominently. On the first line. WIth no other airlines listed anywhere.
Like an idiot. I believed my ticket, and so I stood in line at the United ticket counter for 45 minutes. At the ticket counter, they explained that although my ticket said United, it actually meant US Airways, and so I'd have to go there instead. I complied, walking briskly across Dulles' huge terminal, and naturally, the US Airways rep explained to me that I'd have to go to even further, to the America West ticket counter, because they had merged and I'd actually be on their airline instead. United is at the furthest possible position from America West i at Dulles. I'd estimate it was about a quarter of a mile walk, and I was encumbered by two very heavy bags. I go to the America West ticket counter at 8:03.
My flight being at 8:30, they calmly explained that I missed the 30 minute cutoff and they wouldn't let me check-in. There was no way I'd be able to get to the gate fast enough, they said, and there's no chance they'd even let me try. It would be a disservice to me if they did, they said.
I completely lost my shit, essentially demanding, pleading, begging that they just check me in. They're wasting valuable time, I tried to expalin, there's still 27 minutes, I can make... Then there were only 25 minutes.. then only twenty, and then they asked me to leave.
I called orbitz, screamed at them for a while, and they refused to take responsibility. "I'm flying America West, but my ticket says United.. You put the wrong airline on my ticket, so it's your faultthat I missed my flight I told them." "The ticket is supposed to say United," they rejoined, "They're the issuing airline!" "But it's misleading to put the wrong airline front and center on a ticket! You put the wrong information there!" "No," they replied, "We put the right information there, and we're not going t argue with you about that. You should have paid closer attention. It's all in the service agreement you clicked next on."
I gave up. It was 8:25, my flight still ahdn't left, but there of course there was no way I'd be getting on it. I went back to teh ticket counter and asked to reschedule my flight. THey were nice enough to waive the $150 change fee, and set me up to go Phoenix at 7AM the next day, and fly standby to Eugene once I go there. I called Mr. Cimino-Hurt, and like the hero that he is, he came and picked up, aying he didn't mind driving me back to the airport at 6 the next day.
Fast forward to 6 the next day. I check in, and then start my stopwatch. I walk deliberately to security. THey pat me down, the whole deal. They single me out for special inspection, swab everything for explosives, and riffle through my belongings. Stopwatch is ticking.
I walk to the shuttle to my flight, wait for it to leave, and then exit it when it reaches the proper terminal. I heave my enormous bags to the gate, and take a seat while I wait to board. 17 minutes had passed since I left the check in counter. Bastards.
The flight to Phoenix was uneventful. I slept most of the way because I was exhausted, and when we got to Phoenix, I had plenty of time to get to the gate where my standby flight was leaving from. I was one of the first ones there, but when I asked the gate agents if I was going to get on, they explained that the flight was overbooked, so it would take an act of God for me to make the flgiht. I bought a cinnabon for breakfast, and I waited. Julie Portnoy walked by, and she was taking the flight. We said hello. She got on board the aircraft, since she had a real ticket and wasn't on standby. I ate my cinnabon and watched a fligt going to Eugene take off without me.
The next flight to Eugene wasn't until 5:30, 6 hours later. So I sat around, read a little, and waited some more. Around 4:30 the gate agents came to the gate so I asked them if I might make this flight. It was even more severely overbooked. Furthermore, the next flight to Eugene from Phoenix wasn't until TUESDAY NIGHT. I sat at the gate, and chatted with Mark Johnson, a philosophy proffessor who was on the flight. The whole time the gate agent was asking ticketed passengers to give up their seats because they were so badly oversold. I could tell I wasn't getting on this flight, either. Eventually professor Johnson boarded the plane. Eventually the plane took off, and again I saw my ride home leave without me.
The only way to get back home was going to be to go to Las Vegas, wait 26 hours, then catch a flight that miraculously had 1 seat still open. Fortunately, my grandma lives there so I had a place to stay, and I actually had a decent time visiting with her for a day.
I only had one more flight left, but of course there was no way it could go smoothly. I got to the airport with about an hour and twenty minutes, waited in line for 50 minutes, then asked an agent if there was any way she could help me get to the front of the line, because I thought I'd miss my flight. SHe just laughed at me and shrugged. I was freaking out and thought I could feel an ulcer start to develop, when another agent who had overheard came up and actually tried to help. SHe checked me in, and then told me I probably wouldn't make it, but I had better go as fast as I can if I want any chance. There was no way I was going to miss this flight, so again I went as fast as I could to security, where, of course, they decided to give me the 'extra inspection.' They made me unpack everything, they even confiscated my tiny swiss army knife, which I'd been flying around the entire country with and no one had bothered me about before, even in my last flight where I was given the special treatment as well. I thought they had reformed the laws a litte, guess not. ANyways, when they were finally done with me I was again sprinting down the terminal, still lugging around all my clothes and the ten pound paperweight that used to be my laptop. Breathless and sweaty I made it to the gate just in time. I think sitting down on the too-small seat on the little regional jet was probably the happiest single moment of my trip. Secure in the knowledge that I'd actually be getting home that night, I took a deep breath and relaxed.
The next few days...
So, the rest of my trip was pretty nice-- I had good times in New York, hung out with Gavin on Tuesday, and then that night had dinner with my cousin Allison. I spent all day Wednesday at Fordham attending the admiited students day. It was really quite impressive.
THen I started having some real bad luck.
I should have known something was wrong when my laptop stopped working entirely on Wednesday evening. I was just sitting in Yerachmiel's apartment in Brooklyn surfing the web and it totally stopped responding. Cursor was frozen, alt-tab, ctr-alt-del, nothing. I finally did a hard shut-down, and when I tried to reboot I didn't even get a bios. I wasn't able to get any response out of it, no matter how I tried to reboot, restart, anything. I am pretty sure either the processor or motherboard just gave up. That was pretty disappointing. I'd had that laptop since freshman year and have replaced many components. I think now it's finally dead for good. Rest in peace, Little Computer that Could.
So, the next day another funny thing happened. I lazed around the apartment until about 90 minutes before my flight, then Yerachmiel and I started to drive to JFK. It was pretty nasty traffic, but we got there with about 25 minutes to go 'til my flight. I checked my ticket to see which airline I'd be taking so we eent to the right terminal, and it was about then that I realized I was supposed to fly out of Laguardia. Oh, shit.
Yerachmiel had no idea how to get there, and of course neither did I, but I broke out my handy subway map(which happens to ahve a few major surface streets as well) and frantically told Yerachmield to get on the Van Wyck, which would take us in more or less the right direction. Yerachmiel called one of his friends, and he told us which exit to take. We go to LaGuardia with about 10 minutes to go, I jumped out, ran to the front of the line, bolted through security and sprinted to the gate. I didn't check any luggage, so I was carrying everything--including my 10lb laptop which was now total dead weight. I made it with seconds to spare, got on the plane, and, of course we waited on the tarmac for about 40 minutes to take off.
When I landed in DC, I had to find transportation. There are signs everywhere at Dulles saying to only take authorized taxi services(I think the airport gets kickbacks), and at the taxi place there was guy giving out flyers, so I grabbed one, he wrote something on it, and told me where to go. I looked at the back and it said it'd be around $50(est.) to get to DC and they charge by the mile and by the minute. So I looked for other options, and found a huttle service hidden in the corner that would get me to my hotel for $27. It's a good thing i did that, because the 2 hour ride through the worst bumper to bumper traffice I have seen anywhere, Los Angeles included, would have probably cost me over $150 if I had taken the airport taxi.
My hotel was crappy, really more of a hostel than anything else, but I figured it would be since the room was only $50 a night. TO give a poignant example of just how run down it was though: the bathroom sink was the kind with a procelain base that is supposed to extend down to the floor. The procelain base on this one wasn't long enough, so it was sitting on top of a cut-down two-by-four. Really a classy fix-it job, if you ask me.
I went to a bar nearby for dinner and a beer, and talked to some of the locals. None of them really had much to say about American University, which I was going to visit, but they made DC sound a lot more livable than I had imagined. I guess it's gotten much better in the past few years.
Next morning, I cram onto the subway at 7AM to get to the American Law campus. Their presentation was nice, and it definitely gave me something to think on. I really will need to make a hard decision, because American seems to stack up to Fordham better than I though it might. I cut out early to go visit Mr. Cimino-Hurt, who was a teacher at my high school, my advisor, and also the Sensei of our Karate team. He lives in Virginia now, ao I made the trip out there by subway and he picked me up.
It was really cool to see him and his family. His wife was also a teacher at my high school, and really cool, and I'm friends with his sons Alex and Robyn, although only Robyn was home. We had dinner and he drove me to the airport, where I arrived with about 70 minutes to go before my flight...
well, i'm finally back in Eugene after
THen I started having some real bad luck.
I should have known something was wrong when my laptop stopped working entirely on Wednesday evening. I was just sitting in Yerachmiel's apartment in Brooklyn surfing the web and it totally stopped responding. Cursor was frozen, alt-tab, ctr-alt-del, nothing. I finally did a hard shut-down, and when I tried to reboot I didn't even get a bios. I wasn't able to get any response out of it, no matter how I tried to reboot, restart, anything. I am pretty sure either the processor or motherboard just gave up. That was pretty disappointing. I'd had that laptop since freshman year and have replaced many components. I think now it's finally dead for good. Rest in peace, Little Computer that Could.
So, the next day another funny thing happened. I lazed around the apartment until about 90 minutes before my flight, then Yerachmiel and I started to drive to JFK. It was pretty nasty traffic, but we got there with about 25 minutes to go 'til my flight. I checked my ticket to see which airline I'd be taking so we eent to the right terminal, and it was about then that I realized I was supposed to fly out of Laguardia. Oh, shit.
Yerachmiel had no idea how to get there, and of course neither did I, but I broke out my handy subway map(which happens to ahve a few major surface streets as well) and frantically told Yerachmield to get on the Van Wyck, which would take us in more or less the right direction. Yerachmiel called one of his friends, and he told us which exit to take. We go to LaGuardia with about 10 minutes to go, I jumped out, ran to the front of the line, bolted through security and sprinted to the gate. I didn't check any luggage, so I was carrying everything--including my 10lb laptop which was now total dead weight. I made it with seconds to spare, got on the plane, and, of course we waited on the tarmac for about 40 minutes to take off.
When I landed in DC, I had to find transportation. There are signs everywhere at Dulles saying to only take authorized taxi services(I think the airport gets kickbacks), and at the taxi place there was guy giving out flyers, so I grabbed one, he wrote something on it, and told me where to go. I looked at the back and it said it'd be around $50(est.) to get to DC and they charge by the mile and by the minute. So I looked for other options, and found a huttle service hidden in the corner that would get me to my hotel for $27. It's a good thing i did that, because the 2 hour ride through the worst bumper to bumper traffice I have seen anywhere, Los Angeles included, would have probably cost me over $150 if I had taken the airport taxi.
My hotel was crappy, really more of a hostel than anything else, but I figured it would be since the room was only $50 a night. TO give a poignant example of just how run down it was though: the bathroom sink was the kind with a procelain base that is supposed to extend down to the floor. The procelain base on this one wasn't long enough, so it was sitting on top of a cut-down two-by-four. Really a classy fix-it job, if you ask me.
I went to a bar nearby for dinner and a beer, and talked to some of the locals. None of them really had much to say about American University, which I was going to visit, but they made DC sound a lot more livable than I had imagined. I guess it's gotten much better in the past few years.
Next morning, I cram onto the subway at 7AM to get to the American Law campus. Their presentation was nice, and it definitely gave me something to think on. I really will need to make a hard decision, because American seems to stack up to Fordham better than I though it might. I cut out early to go visit Mr. Cimino-Hurt, who was a teacher at my high school, my advisor, and also the Sensei of our Karate team. He lives in Virginia now, ao I made the trip out there by subway and he picked me up.
It was really cool to see him and his family. His wife was also a teacher at my high school, and really cool, and I'm friends with his sons Alex and Robyn, although only Robyn was home. We had dinner and he drove me to the airport, where I arrived with about 70 minutes to go before my flight...
well, i'm finally back in Eugene after
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