a native Austinite, I brace for the annual descent of SXSW madness upon
my hometown with a bizarre combination of excitement and horror. When
100,000 people pour into the hippest streets of your city, stumbling
around all the bars, venues, and restaurants you've loved since high school, the
feeling it induces is a lot like bringing your favorite toy to school
for show and tell, then having to watch while all your friends play
with it at recess.
Thanks to winter weather closing half the airports in the America, we headed out of South Station for Baltimore by Amtrak a few
weekends ago. Train travel, in case you’d forgotten, is wonderful. Slower than
planes sure, but from your total travel time you get to subtract the treks to
and from airports, the hour (minimum) sitting in a waiting room at your gate
listening to CNN blaring unwelcomely at your back with no representative of
your carrier in sight, and the seeming eternities sitting on the stuffy plane
CONFESSIONS OF A SMUGGLER20 years agoFebruary 5, 1988 | Nancy Roosa wrote of her experience as a smuggler in Asia.“The offers were almost too good to pass up. For simply carrying items from Hong Kong into Thailand or Taiwan, as we did, handwritten signs promised US $50 to $100. Even more common are ‘milk runs,’ where a group of milk-fed innocents are led by a smuggler on a five-to-six-day trip through Customs of three countries: South Korea, Japan, and Taiwan, carrying items that are limited, prohibited, or expensive in each country.
This past Saturday, I visited Gloucester, Massachusetts. While there, I didn’t duck into the Cape Ann Historical museum, didn’t check out the docks where the fishermen hang or any quant little art galleries. Instead, I searched with my friend for about 2.5 hours in the cold, armed with a little yellow and black GPS device, for a hidden treasure.?xml:namespace>