I just got back from Alt Summit and realized I never had a chance to tell you about CES (that’s the Consumer Electronics Show for those of you who never had soldering kits as kids). Contrary to all my friends assertions, I loved it. Most of that story is over here. But there was a lot I didn’t have room to mention.
First, there aren’t a lot of women there.
Wait. There were a few.
But! There were products for women, subtly displayed.
Actually that brooch USB key is killer. I’m pissed I didn’t buy that. Other stuff I left behind:
A “personal humidifier.”
A retro microphone from Blue Microphones. I want to start a podcast just so I can sit in front of one all day with my hair in barrel curls.
A tiny karaoke machine you can take anywhere. Isn’t that a subway scene in a bad rom-com waiting to happen? I know! Screenwriters, start your engines.
A Holga Stereo and slide viewer that lets you see your photos in 3-D.
This super basic backpack from Isis would be great for travel.
And a set of creepy plastic hands to hold all my new gadgets.
There’s a lot more cool stuff in my Flickr stream, if you feel inclined to have a look.
Tomorrow, let’s talk about ALT.
You arrive at the Las Vegas airport with a group of exhausted, hung-over bachelorettes. You sleepwalk through check in, and slouch together at the gate in indoor sunglasses and smoke-stale tank tops. There is a collective sigh.
“Fuck. I have so much blogging to catch up on.”
Thus far, I’ve spent 32 waking hours in a car in the last seven days. Apologies for the lack of posts, I thought the place where we were staying had Internet access, but I was not correct. I am an utter failure at the NaBloPoMo experiment.
Yesterday, we stopped for a van that had slid off the road into a ditch in Nevada. There were three adults and a two-year-old girl in the van. None of them spoke English, and none of them had warm clothes. I stumbled along in halting Spanish, and figured out that two of the adults (the ones with the baby) were deaf and possibly mute. I briefly wondered how we managed to end up in a David Lynch movie.
We took those two and the kid to a dubious bar/grocery called Water Hole #1, and explained the situation to a weathered, unhappy bartender. “What am I supposed to do with them?” he asked. We told him we’d return to tell the other guy where they were, and he’d pick them up.
We bought them some food and drinks, and wrote down what was happening in Spanish so they’d know. As we left, one of the drunk patrons was ambling toward the counter with a variety box of travel-sized cereals for the little girl.
Right now we’re in a hotel in Reno, preparing for the rest of the drive home. First, we’ll need to get chains. And about 16 magazines. And at least three tubes of chapstick.
Tomorrow I’ll return to our regularly scheduled programming. I’m in karmic debt for six posts. Fortunately, I’ve got some time on my hands.