Note: I'm posting this near 2 AM from the middle of Wisconsin, long after I wrote it (Wednesday night and Thursday morning). My sleep schedule is really messed up. My body doesn't seem to know when to sleep or eat or anything.

Through a bizzare set of circumstances, I got a voucher for a free airline ticket. The catch: it expires next week.

So I'm off on a long working vacation. This weekend is the big Wisconsin vs. Michigan game, so I got a ticket off of eBay. Tomorrow will technically be a vacation day, while I'll be telecommuting from central Wisconsin (from 2200 miles away) on Friday (I'm a programmer. It doesn't really matter where I work). Oh, the joys of X-forwarded emacs.

I've been writing this post in bits on my way there; I'll throw it up as soon as I get to an Internet connection again. So far, I've taken CalTrain from Palo Alto to Millbrae, then BART to San Francisco International. Blogging is how I'll past the time for a while.

I just dealt with our friends from the Department of Homeland Security. I bet you I tripped a flag in their computer--I only booked the flight this morning and didn't check any bags. There's a little punchhole in my ticket. I wonder if that's why I got the "secondary security screening." They had the pleasure of going through all of my hastily packed underwear (I've got clothes at home that I'll bring back). I'm dressed like a bum student, but, excepting the lack of formal clothes, I'm packed like a business traveller--laptop, cell phone, iPod, and other devices.

Anyway, this plane leaves at 11:30 at night, and I get into Chicago-Midway at 5:30 AM (four-hour flight, two-hour time zone difference). I'll then take the Van Galder bus back to Madison, where I'll meet my dad at the Union in time to drive up to Wausau to catch my little brother's football game.

Right now, I'm in the terminal. I think this is a big connecting leg for overbaked tourists from Hawaii. They look like... well... stereotypical American tourists. A number of them are carrying home pineapples in cardboard boxes.

A woman just walked by me with a pair of bright yellow Crocs. They looked liked cheddar cheese--like the people that manufacture cheeseheads had gotten into footware.

Airports get odder clientle late at night. There aren't the business travellers walking around--rather, it's a lot of folks from middle America looking to save on airfare by flying at unpopular times.

I'm now at 33,000 feet, somewhere a bit south Reno, Nevada. I'll try to fall asleep soon.

I wake up and we're there. I blog to you now from the domestic check-in lounge. I'm waiting until the 6:30 Van Galder bus. I'd really like to sleep some more. The plane landed around 5 AM, but that's only a 3 1/2 hour flight.

Blog entry out. Writing bad. Sleep lacking.