Conspiracy Theorists/Fry\'s Electronics/Chem Trails
So after picking up Kristie from her office, we stop by Fry's Electronics to pick up some memory for our home office computer.
Of course Fry's has the "Moscow Bread Line" method of getting easily shoplifted items. I've got to stand in a long line with other people to talk to one overworked "supervisor" that has access to the keys to either get my memory or to print out an invoice of which I stand in another "Moscow Bread Line"-style line to pick up and then pay for my merchandise.
Kristie's working on a "Top Ten" list for aviation stuff for a potential "Jetcareers in Vegas" T-shirt and the gentleman behind us is eavesdropping on our conversation.
The man looks a lot like the character from "Clerks" that asks for a magazine, some soft toilet paper and then subsequentially had a heart attack in the QuikStop bathroom in the movie.
Anyway, he asks, "So you work at the airport?"
I answer reluctantly, "Um, yeah, quite a few actually!"
"What do you do?"
"I uhh, drive the 'bus'"
"Are you a pilot?"
"Yup," I answer, fully prepared to dodge questions like why his airfare is so high from Phoenix to Lower Monrovia, et al.
"Hey, so what's up with those 'chem trails'?"
"Chem Trails?" I ask. "Actually, they're contrails and I seriously doubt there's anything beyond water vapor in them."
"No no no," he responds, "there are days when they cross the sky, linger all day and people start getting sick, I've researched it on the internet. Why do some linger all day above Phoenix?"
"I dunno, but I guess it's because there's relatively stable air at that altitude along a heavily traveled airway or departure/arrival corridor."
"How high are they?" he asked.
"Well, the contrails form about 30,000 I guess, probably depends on atmospheric conditions and..."
"No no no, I've seen them as low as 15,000 feet! On the intenet, some engineer discovered that some of the waste systems on some jets were being diverted to a holding tank that had some unknown chemicals and then he was escorted out of the maintenance facility and ordered by the CIA to keep quiet".
"Wow, gee, I dunno," trying to find my shortest route out of the conversation, "My wife is an engineer and studied environmental engineering as well, Hon? Do you know anything about this?"
Kristie shook her head and knew I was trying to throw her the 'lateral'.
"What about the ability of one pilot on the ground to take control over up to four aircraft and relinquish control from the pilots?"
"Well, on the aircraft I fly, good luck! But I..."
He interrupts with, "...That's one of the theories behind 9-11 is that they were able to hack into the system and guide them into the towers and how the..."
Ah! I'm next! I ask for some RAM chips, bid adieu to the guy who obviously spends too much time listening to Art Bell/Coast to Coast AM and head to another line to pick up my merchandise.
Another 15 minutes and I've been given the WRONG memory type, but in order to get the correct type, I've got to go stand back in the "Moscow Bread" Line with the wackoes for another 15 minutes.
"Nah, come hell or high water lady, I'm not standing in that line!"
So after picking up Kristie from her office, we stop by Fry's Electronics to pick up some memory for our home office computer.
Of course Fry's has the "Moscow Bread Line" method of getting easily shoplifted items. I've got to stand in a long line with other people to talk to one overworked "supervisor" that has access to the keys to either get my memory or to print out an invoice of which I stand in another "Moscow Bread Line"-style line to pick up and then pay for my merchandise.
Kristie's working on a "Top Ten" list for aviation stuff for a potential "Jetcareers in Vegas" T-shirt and the gentleman behind us is eavesdropping on our conversation.
The man looks a lot like the character from "Clerks" that asks for a magazine, some soft toilet paper and then subsequentially had a heart attack in the QuikStop bathroom in the movie.
Anyway, he asks, "So you work at the airport?"
I answer reluctantly, "Um, yeah, quite a few actually!"
"What do you do?"
"I uhh, drive the 'bus'"
"Are you a pilot?"
"Yup," I answer, fully prepared to dodge questions like why his airfare is so high from Phoenix to Lower Monrovia, et al.
"Hey, so what's up with those 'chem trails'?"
"Chem Trails?" I ask. "Actually, they're contrails and I seriously doubt there's anything beyond water vapor in them."
"No no no," he responds, "there are days when they cross the sky, linger all day and people start getting sick, I've researched it on the internet. Why do some linger all day above Phoenix?"
"I dunno, but I guess it's because there's relatively stable air at that altitude along a heavily traveled airway or departure/arrival corridor."
"How high are they?" he asked.
"Well, the contrails form about 30,000 I guess, probably depends on atmospheric conditions and..."
"No no no, I've seen them as low as 15,000 feet! On the intenet, some engineer discovered that some of the waste systems on some jets were being diverted to a holding tank that had some unknown chemicals and then he was escorted out of the maintenance facility and ordered by the CIA to keep quiet".
"Wow, gee, I dunno," trying to find my shortest route out of the conversation, "My wife is an engineer and studied environmental engineering as well, Hon? Do you know anything about this?"
Kristie shook her head and knew I was trying to throw her the 'lateral'.
"What about the ability of one pilot on the ground to take control over up to four aircraft and relinquish control from the pilots?"
"Well, on the aircraft I fly, good luck! But I..."
He interrupts with, "...That's one of the theories behind 9-11 is that they were able to hack into the system and guide them into the towers and how the..."
Ah! I'm next! I ask for some RAM chips, bid adieu to the guy who obviously spends too much time listening to Art Bell/Coast to Coast AM and head to another line to pick up my merchandise.
Another 15 minutes and I've been given the WRONG memory type, but in order to get the correct type, I've got to go stand back in the "Moscow Bread" Line with the wackoes for another 15 minutes.
"Nah, come hell or high water lady, I'm not standing in that line!"
