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January 2008 
A Night on Hoth
Posted on Dec 21st, 2006
by 
P'SAL
P'SAL
After dropping a friend off at DIA yesterday morning, I got caught in the blizzard and had to spend the night at Denver's giant airline facility, along with thousands of others. And you know what? It wasn't that bad. Or rather, it was hardly wasted time.
The blizzard raged at speeds up to 40mph, and over the course of the afternoon I watched it pile up and thought to myself "Yes! An ordeal!". See, I was raised Catholic, and must have inherited some sort of impulse towards self-flagellation from my ancestors in the Church. This was hardly an ordeal as ordeals go, more of a minor middle-class mishap than a full-on Katrinoid tsunami, a blip on the disaster radar.
But the governor did declare a state of emergency, the buses and planes were all shut down, the Red Cross emerged and blankets were passed out, and as night fell and the darkness howled outside, I felt a bit like... Han Solo. Ok, well, Han Solo with a Timbuktu bag and stomach full of Seattle's Best Coffee, reading a science-fiction novel and wandering around in a seemingly eternal tour of concourse bathrooms, marvelling at the many ways people get themselves to sleep.
Me, I chose the rugged floor by baggage carousel #6, and actually grabbed a few winks before the overhead speakers blared to life at seven in the morning (who ARE those people they keep asking to grab a white courtesy telephone, by the way? Is "Debra Hotter" a real name, or code for "the Red Cross is running out of shitty gatorade--please help!"?).
As the plows arrived later on the next day, I felt a certain sense of disappointment: my largely anonymous shipmates, cast adrift on the stormy seas of the high Colorado plains, were going their separate ways, and this small frustrating cataract of sedentation, this accidental hotel, this exact opposite reason why people from all over the world came to DIA, was once again fluid and dissolving into the 10,000 directions of the world at large.
Safe travels, silent friends.
The blizzard raged at speeds up to 40mph, and over the course of the afternoon I watched it pile up and thought to myself "Yes! An ordeal!". See, I was raised Catholic, and must have inherited some sort of impulse towards self-flagellation from my ancestors in the Church. This was hardly an ordeal as ordeals go, more of a minor middle-class mishap than a full-on Katrinoid tsunami, a blip on the disaster radar.
But the governor did declare a state of emergency, the buses and planes were all shut down, the Red Cross emerged and blankets were passed out, and as night fell and the darkness howled outside, I felt a bit like... Han Solo. Ok, well, Han Solo with a Timbuktu bag and stomach full of Seattle's Best Coffee, reading a science-fiction novel and wandering around in a seemingly eternal tour of concourse bathrooms, marvelling at the many ways people get themselves to sleep.
Me, I chose the rugged floor by baggage carousel #6, and actually grabbed a few winks before the overhead speakers blared to life at seven in the morning (who ARE those people they keep asking to grab a white courtesy telephone, by the way? Is "Debra Hotter" a real name, or code for "the Red Cross is running out of shitty gatorade--please help!"?).
As the plows arrived later on the next day, I felt a certain sense of disappointment: my largely anonymous shipmates, cast adrift on the stormy seas of the high Colorado plains, were going their separate ways, and this small frustrating cataract of sedentation, this accidental hotel, this exact opposite reason why people from all over the world came to DIA, was once again fluid and dissolving into the 10,000 directions of the world at large.
Safe travels, silent friends.
Access: Public
aghagagagagaagaga!!!
(that's how you write a chewbacca sound;)
1) It wasn't snow, but I had a similar experience in the early 90s. My family and I were on a cruise in the caribbean, around day 2 or 3 we got stuck in a hurricane (it was hurricane “a” something, not huge, but huge for us). We knew something was up when crew started going down the hallways, stopping at each cabin and bolting up the portholes with metal covers.
70% of people on board got sick in the next 8 hours, gift shops were a mess, and the Cruise Directors didn't know what else to do, so they put on “Field of Dreams” in the main theater to tide those over lucky enough to not get sick.
2) The scenes in empire where Han rescues luke and kills the bantha were shot less than 20 feet from the hotel the crew was staying in, they too were trapped in because of a blizzard.
Glad you are doing well, sweetie. Stay warm!
The weather in michigan is crazy! Crazy meaning that it's WARM! It's been in the forties and fifties here and a little rainy. In fact, we're supposed to get some thunderstorms coming up.
there's supposed to be snow now! Oh well… I kinda like it even if it is unnatural.
see, global warming isn't all bad ;)
I'm rather enjoying global warming so far, actually. I'm just hoping that higher sea levels will result in the reformation of what was once the North American inland sea. Then Boulder would be the seaside paradise it's always wanted to be. And the town that raised me would be deep underwater, but that's hardly relevant. Fuck Fargo.
By the way, Paul, when I first saw the title of the book you were reading I thought it was perhaps named for the last part of the small intestine. Upon wikiing “ilium” I discovered that, in fact, the last part of the small intestine is the “ileum,” which leads then into the ileocecal sphincter, the cecum being the first part of the large intestine. Digestive systems are neat. I assume that the title of the book does, in fact, refer to the part of the pelvis that shares its name.
Finally, glad Gwen made it out okay. Perhaps it's a karmic thing. You, like the bodhisattva we all know you are, took on the suffering that Gwen, as a flyer, ought to have gone through.
Denver Airport? I’ve heard about some spooky art there. Did you see any strange murals or things installed there that seemed… symbolic, Paul?
http://www.flickr.com/photo_zoom.gne?id=89883848&context=set-72057594052363322&size=l
I missed the storm by half a day, otherwise you would've had some company at the airport
You make me want to just go hang out an an airport for 24 hours and see what life brings. Speaking of, whatever happened to Stapleton? When I lived in Boulder DIA was just being built; I'm used to an airport closer to downtown. Any chance of you going to conduct an anthropological study of those abandoned terminals?
Secretly, I've always kinda wanted to stay the night in an airport. The closest I got was when BA announced our London to Marrakesh flight was having “mechanical difficulties” and we stayed at an airport hotel from 12am to 3:30am. They served us a buffet breakfast then put us, bleary-eyed, back on the bus about 3 hours later to catch the 5am out of Gatwick. Remind me to tell you guys that one in real life sometime. Kinda dramatic. Unlike the rest of my pedestrian travel stories. Ha!
In fact, ask Siona about the time SHE picked me up at the airport and we drove through fog and drizzle and battled our way up the interstate… Bad weather follows me like that kid in Peanuts with the dust cloud.
Pig Pen!
Pig Pen was the shit! A man of wisdom, clarity, intelligence, strenght of character, confidence… Truly, we could all learn a little from Pig Pen. But, ya know, keep showering.
Oh, and Tigana; those murals are fucking weird. I was at DIA last month and spent about fifteen minutes staring at them, unable to tear myself away despite being immensely creeped out. Why not something cheery and welcoming? Really…