Airport Security

What is it about an expired driver's license that turns you into a terrorist? I am an idiot and somehow managed to forget that my driver's license expired two weeks before I tried getting on a plane to Chicago. The United Airlines check-in clerk at Sea-Tac Airport didn't seem to notice when she checked my license, but the dude checking at airport security sure did. He then asked me if I had any other forms of ID, such as a social security card, which isn't the smartest thing to be carrying on your person. Nevertheless, as I said before I am an idiot, and in this instance my idiocracy actually came in handy. I couldn't find my social security card at first, but I knew it was in there (I guess that's my own form of security - hide the card so well among business cards and things that not only could a burglar find it but neither could I). Security dude got tired of waiting for me to find something so he told me to go back to the United counter and tell them about my dilemma. I was still rummaging through my wallet as I begrudgingly trudged back to the counter (forgetting about my dad who had already gone through the line ahead of me and also had my cell phone) and finally found the SS card so I got right back in the line, which seemed to have grown longer in the meantime. Once I got up to the line, I flashed the card to the guy, who said "I told you before a social security card would work" (thanks, genius) and then proceeded through security like a normal human being/U.S. citizen.

At O'hare, on the way back, the United clerk actually managed to notice the expiration date and I got "special treatment" from there on out. Basically, it meant I got a star punched on my boarding pass, which means my bag I checked was supposed to be checked extra carefully (which it wasn't because another United employee put the bag on the conveyor belt before it could be properly marked) and I got personally escorted by a heavyset black woman to line 1 - aka "the terrorist line". Going through this line means every carry-on bag is thoroughly searched (no bowling ball candles get by them) and every person is given the "pat down" (not by the heavyset black woman). Despite all this, this time I got through security about 5 minutes before my dad did.

But what is it about an license that expired two weeks prior that makes me a terrorist? I'm still the same person, as evidenced by the picture, and I hail from the State of Washington, which is where I was the first time. Do they think I've moved to Iran in the meantime? I really can't imagine a scenario where a terrorist would try using an expired driver's license. And why was I able to get through the normal US-citizen line by presenting a social security card? It's just a card with a 9-digit number on it and my signature (which looks nothing like the signature on my driver's license since I signed it so long ago). The driver's license tells way more about me, and yet it gets trumped by a 9-digit number should it expire. Also, why didn't the security guy at SeaTac just point me toward the "terrorist line" as soon as he saw the expired license? It seems to me that would have been the whole point of going back to the United counter anyway. Whatever logic is there eludes me.

Oh, and for anyone that wants to try and burgle my wallet, I no longer carry my SS card. Sorry to disappoint.

Losing It

Is it just me, or is it ironic that I somehow manage to keep losing my compass - a navigational tool designed to prevent me from getting myself lost. So when I lose it (which I have), I could lose myself. Does that make sense, or did I lose you?

Other notes on the Mountaineers scrambling course, now that I've completed the structured part of the course (I still need to sign up for 2 hikes of my choosing to graduate):

• The age range is a bit too large for my liking. One person referred to it as a club for those that just realized that they were old and still wanted to prove that they could get outside and be active (some of them are actually in denial about that).
• I suppose it's better than a bar for a social dating type service, but as I said, many people are a bit too old for me, and even on the ones that look like they could be young enough, it's often hard to tell who's married and who isn't since they ask that you not be wearing any jewelry (rings can hinder your ability to properly grasp a rock). Plus, technically-inclined males such as myself (known by some as nerds or geeks) still are the majority. So sorry, dad, but I haven't followed in your footsteps of rescuing damsels in distress on mountainsides just yet.
• Actual scrambling is quite fun for the most part. It allows you to be a little more adventurous than the average hiker while not requiring (usually) all the technicalities of ropes and things. The only thing I didn't enjoy is doing a whole bunch of bushwhacking in an attempt to find a trail, only to end up at the edge of a cliff which required us to backtrack all the way back up through the bushes we just finished whacking. In other words, scrambling is more fun with GPS.
• Getting 50+ people off a mountain can take forever. 'Nuff said.
  
• They have funny terms that mean really simple things (I guess that's common for a lot of clubs if you think about it). For example, glissading basically means "sliding down a hill" and plunge stepping is just another term for "walking down a hill".
  

So it's been fun, but the jury's still out on whether I'll attempt any other courses within the Mountaineers (basic climbing, advanced scrambling, etc.) As long as they don't involve too much useless bushwhacking, I might give another one a try. But too much more of that and I might lose it (and I don't mean the compass).

I Got Arrested for Murder on a Train

When I stepped on to the Washington State Dinner Train last night with Steve and my parents, I knew I was about to experience a murder mystery, but I didn't expect to be the one leaving in handcuffs. The fact that I was even a culprit was only slightly surprising because my mother had been the one to call in the reservation and apparently we were still celebrating my birthday (wasn't that last week?) so of course leave it to your mother to rat you out and turn in a whole bunch of evidence.

I was culprit #2 out of 10 passengers or so - Brian "the Brain" they called me. The on-board detective interrogated me, insinuating that as an IT Analyst, I knew a good deal about computers, enough to write a piece of software that could analyze the outcome of every single sports game, which I could use for sports betting to soon become the world's richest man. The only problem was that one certain ball player was so unpredictable, that he was fouling up my program. This ball player was the one I killed.

Luckily, I wasn't alone in this. Oh yes, I had accomplices, such as "Evil John" who worked for Verizon (his network was somehow useful...I don't remember all the details) and had anger management issues. And nurse Angie who liked stabbing people with needles (she actually committed a separate murder). There were also red herrings being thrown around such as steroid allegations and the like.

Rather ironic is that I do have a piece of software called SportsGraphics that predicts the odds of what a ballplayer will do per any given at-bat. I haven't extended it out to calculate whole games though. Hmm, that's not a bad idea. Especially now that I know how to get out of handcuffs.