The dream started well enough. I was in a hotel in Japan trying to get money changed so
seshat and I could go shopping. The next thing I know, I'm arriving back in the San Jose airport. I'm on one of those rail transit shuttle things for moving between terminals (of which San Jose has none) and I suddenly realize that Michael Schumacher and Rubens Barrichello are sitting right over there. They are in regular street clothes, but they are still wearing their driving shoes, which is how I recognize them. I ask them if it isn't uncomfortable running around on hard airport floors in driving shoes. They admit that maybe it's a little uncomfortable, but generally isn't that bad. Then I woke up. It being a quarter of seven on a Sunday morning of a holiday weekend, I decided to roll over and go back to sleep. I was quite bitter when I found that I couldn't.
(No, I didn't get up and watch the race sitting on the TiVo. I have a bunch of other things to do today before I sit down to deal with F1 Does Sweet Valley High. And no matter how the race itself goes, this one is going to be oh-so with the petty, high school level drama.)
