Fresh Air

Today is one of those days where you can tell the transplants from the natives. It’s 53 degrees Fahrenheit, which is an excellent Valentine’s Day present if you ask me. All the natives are walking around with light jackets on, if they have a jacket on at all. As I was walking to my Jeep the girl walking in front of me was removing her coat. Definitely a midwestern woman. All the transplants from warmer climes are still bundled in their puffy down coats. Brrr. The natives are driving around with at least one window down, sometimes with a hand hanging out. The transplants think we’re crazy.

The first USENIX conference I attended was in Anaheim in January, 1998. I set out one day between the afternoon sessions and the night festivities and walked around a bit, checking the place out. It was beautiful, maybe 60 degrees, and I had a light jacket on, unzipped. I must have been asked five times where I was from, “You ain’t from around here, are ya?” How could they tell? I looked like I was enjoying the weather. Of course, I got stuck in Denver in a blizzard on my return flight, but hey.

There’s just something about fresh air that does it for me. I have a bunch of windows in my house open right now. My house just starts smelling funny after a couple months of me living in it so it’s wonderful to let the nasty out, the fresh in, and start the cycle anew.