what’s your price for flight?

A few scattered, highly jetlagged notes so far:

  • Unless I was hallucinating — and after 13 hours in the air I’m not entirely sure — I was checked in on the last leg of my flight (Copenhagen to Z├╝rich) by a woman actually named Syter Kristiansen. No clue if she’s found Mister Right or not.


  • Business class travel lounges: holy god, the land of the white people. Actual overheard conversational snippet: “We’ve been to Thailand seven times now. It’s great, there’s McDonalds, 7-Eleven, everything you’re used to.” I have no words.


  • Speaking of white people: the air staff on Scandinavian Airlines? Very, very blonde. As blonde as you can get. Blondest. None more blonde.


  • There appears to be some sort of sporting event going on here in Zurich. People seem to be somewhat excited about it. Expressing one’s affection for the game seems to involve large bands of attractive young people wandering around wearing not-very-much, but not-very-much of coordinated colors and logos. (Actually there’s a lot more to it than that, but more on this later.)


  • …actually the general attractiveness level here is a little intimidating. I had thought that I had, over the last two years, done a little raising of my game with regard to my own personal hotness level (whatever that might be), but I really appear to have nothing on the average person wandering the streets here. It’s unclear if it’s just a temporary influx of pretty young sports fans or if the general cuteness status quo in Switzerland is just a sigma above what I’m used to. Obviously further investigation is necessary.


  • My hotel has the single dumbest internet connection system I have ever encountered. To begin with, no wireless. Okay, fine, they made their investment in the tech a little too early to catch that wave and don’t want to rebuild, and there’s an ethernet cable on the desk. But then it gets better: internet access is billed per hour. Better still: you cannot just punch in your credit card from your computer in your room, you have to go down to the reception desk and buy a “ticket” that gives you a username and password good for whatever amount of time you’re willing to pre-pay for. (n.b., this is allegedly a hotel catering to business travellers.) But the bsst part of all is this: while you can buy a “7 day unlimited” pass for the internet service, the system they use to do the billing cannot sell such a thing. So when you buy a ‘7-day unlimited’ pass, what actually happens is that the desk clerk prints up two 10-hour tickets and instructs you to come back and get more printed out when you run out of time. You really have to appreciate the amount of effort that’s gone into making sure that a shared DSL line operates like a long-distance phone line from 1977.


And now, I fall down.

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