Well, I’m back from Portsmouth and mostly scot-free. The shirtless redneck shipworkers that were hanging around the parking lot finally went to bed. Not only that, but my king-sized bed was especially comfortable. I got to sleep with no problem at all.

Things went swimmingly until about 4:15 this morning, when the shipyard shift whistle blew two times. After that, I pretty-much didn’t get back to sleep.

The demo went well, however. It just took forever, since the customer wanted to vulnerability-scan it before putting it on their network. Fair enough, but it took hours for Nessus to run, which means I cooled my heels most of the day. Success came around 3 PM, at which time I hit the road for the long trip back to Raleigh.

Portsmouth in the daytime isn’t too bad, either. I drove past many funky neighborhoods on Mount Vernon Avenue today. It was a whole streetful of cool old homes which would fetch half a million in Oakwood or Durham, but would probably go for a fourth of that in Portsmouth. Then again, there’s that whole “no jobs in Portsmouth” problem to deal with.

At any rate, I made it back by seven, in time to be a Daddy again, and spent the rest of the evening successfully fishing giggles and smiles from our cute daughter.

I’m putting my luggage back in storage for the forseeable future. It’s time to relax for a change.

What a difference a weekend makes. Friday morning, I was waking up early to see the sun rise over a Pacific beach. This evening, I’m in that crack pipe of a city: Portsmouth, Virginia. It’s a place that makes some of those shady ports of call I made in my Navy days seem tame. I kind of expected this place to be an armpit, but the city just outdid itself. It seems like every street I passed had a cop making a traffic stop. I think the producers of the TV show COPS have a permanent room rented at the hotel. It’s a place that shirtless drunk guys could call home.

Next time, I’ll let the reseller pick the hotel. This sucks. I think my traveling fun has reached an all-time low.

I’m meeting my buddy Clint and our reseller in a few to go out to eat (there’s safety in numbers, you know). Then I’m bolting the door and hunkering down until tomorrow’s 9 AM meeting. Maybe my days living on Clanton Avenue in Raleigh will come in handy and I can remember how to sleep through gunfire.

An article in today’s News And Observer alerted me to one congressman’s plan to eliminate spam by taxing email. If this plan was on Fark, it would have the “asinine” tag in front of it.

Spam sucks: there’s no question about it. But politicians like Dayton don’t know a mailserver from a hole in the ground. Most politicians still are under the misconception that the Internet is a US-only network, subject to U.S. law.

Here’s a clue to the clueless inside the Beltway: taxing spam won’t work. Outlawing spam won’t work. In fact, few if any laws would have any effect on the Internet, because it’s GLOBAL.

Internet traffic routes around stupid laws. If its designers were truly brilliant, Internet traffic would stay the hell away from Washington.

What a difference choosing the proper airline makes. My flight to Detroit was on Northwest, where the flight attendants were surly at best. On the way out to California and back, I rode Southwest. Those people bent over backwards to make their passengers feel comfortable.

The flight from Orange County, CA to Raleigh was one example. There were fewer than 40 people on the plane, the attendants were all extra helpful in seeing that people had what they needed, AND the flight came in 30 minutes early thanks to a strong tailwind.

I had to thank the crew at the end for their fantastic service. I’ll also write Southwest’s corporate office and pass on my thanks. How people treat you when you travel makes a huge difference in how you feel once you arrive, and there’s nobody better at it than Southwest. They totally rule!

I’m back from the West Coast after my marathon sales trip. Somehow I managed to work my ass off out there, and it took a lot out of me. Today, I had perhaps an hour or two before heading over to my brother’s house to watch the game. Tomorrow, we head north to visit the Naylors at their lakehouse on Lake Gaston. Then its back to work on Monday before driving to Norfolk, VA on Tuesday for another meeting.

Life on the road is taking a toll. It was pretty much ruled out when I signed up for this job. Now it seems the norm. My family and I have to get to know each other again, and that sucks.

I enjoy a trip every now and then, but this is getting pretty brutal. I look forward to things settling down again.

I just watched N.C. State go toe to toe with Florida State in double-overtime, only to lose 50 to 44. It was a tough loss, but a great game nonetheless. I’m happy to see all the great compliments that Noles fans are posting about Philip Rivers and N.C. State on their message boards.

Guess it was time for FSU to win. After all, rivalries are no fun if they’re one-sided, eh?

I slipped out of my hotel room early this morning to visit the beach. It felt like the first time all week that I’d been able to do things on my own. I dodged traffic in front of the hotel to make it to a state park across the street. The chilly morning air cut through my shirt and sweater, leaving me hurrying to get there, hands jammed in my pockets.

After a 10 minute walk, I was standing on the beach. The Pacific stood before me, serene behind the gentle surf in front of me. Hundreds of fat seagulls eyed me warily as I strode up to the water’s edge. I stopped and snapped a picture of the dawn. Putting my camera down to take it all in, I decided one shot wouldn’t do, so I took a panoramic shot of the immense ocean in front of me.

As I turned back to the east, I saw the sun begin to peek over the low cliffs. What an awesome sight.

I stooped to wave my hand in an approaching wave. “Hello, ocean,” I said to myself, reuniting with a friend I knew so well for three years.

My mission was accomplished. Walking back to the hotel, I was struck by the simple beauty that is the ocean. So calm and serene on the surface. So teeming with life just below.

As I crossed the street, I was almost struck by something else. A cyclist was cruising down the hill toward me. Seeing I was about to step into the bike lane (does ANYONE in California actually use these things, I thought), I stepped back onto the curb just in time. The cyclist whizzed by me, taking a moment to study me through amber goggles as he pedaled by.

Good morning, Lance.

It’s going to be a great day.

Last night it occured to me the outrageous amount I’m spending (well, the COMPANY is spending) for me to have a car. Meanwhile, back in Raleigh, I’m spending a somewhat less outrageous amount to store my car in the lot until I get back.

That made me think that there must be some way to cut out the middleman, in this case the car rental places. What if there was a service where a member could borrow the car of another member who was traveling from the airport you were going to? There is probably a lot of cars at the John Wayne airport where I’m heading, and the owners are paying for those cars to just sit there. What if the car owner (or member) could get paid to let others borrow their car?

The rates could be below the rental rates, but still be enough to make things worthwhile. Maybe we could have a third party at the lot who could meet the “renter” and make sure the car was in good shape when it came back.

Its a goofy idea, but with the right controls in place, it might work. It all hinges on the comfort level of the car owner. Gotta figure that part out.

I can really think up some dumb thoughts when there is nothing else to do, eh?