The Boston Diaries

The ongoing saga of a programmer who doesn't live in Boston, nor does he even like Boston, but yet named his weblog/journal “The Boston Diaries.”

Go figure.

Friday, July 06, 2018

Notes on the epiphany I had on elevator sticks while I slept

It may have been obvious to some, but not to me. It suddenly dawned on me what the elevator sticks were all about. The puzzle pieces were all there, I just hadn't made the connection.

I am not the target audience for using the elevator stick, nor is the staff the target audience. No, the target audience is the Little People, so they can use it to push the elevator button in case they can't reach it.

It's obvious in hindsight.

While I joked about the elevator sticks, it's not something I'm used to seeing. And here they were, just hanging out in elevators with no obvious usage to me, some one who can reach all the buttons. It wasn't until I was sleeping and my subconscience told me an old riddle I heard as a kid: “A man lives in a tall apartment building. On some days, he rides the elevator to his apartment on the 20th floor. On other days, he rides the elevator to the 18th floor and walks up two more flights. Why?”


“Yeah. ‘Ooh, ah,’ that's how it always starts. But then later there's running and screaming.”

[The other half is the madness that slowly creeps in as you attempt to make sense of the non-Euclidean nature of space around the Kingdom of the Rat God.]

Don't let the propaganda fool you—Orlando is trying to kill you.

Or at least drive you mad and empty your wallet.

One must always make sure to get the cruelty-free pizza

In the lobby of the hotel is a store by the name of “Market Orlando.” I can only describe it as if hippies-cum-yuppies from Berkeley ran 7-Eleven. Gluten-free, organic, farm-fresh snacks, chips, salads and sandwiches.

Oh, and cruelty-free pizzas. Can't forget those.

It has an extensive wine selection (Napa Valley present!), but the soda selection is pretty much limited to Pepsi and Diet Pepsi (which sucks because I'm a Coca-cola person myself). There's also about a bazillion brands of artisanal water.

Oddly enough, I did not see any granola for sale.

I'm telling you, Orlando is weird! When it's not trying to kill you.

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