CODE RED

Aaagghhh!!!

We had a "Code Red" day yesterday and I just now found out! If I had listened to a mid-day weather report, maybe I would have known not to breathe or do anything that increased my respiratory rate. As it was, I probably got excited once or twice, and I know I breathed. All day long, in fact. (Rats!)

"Code Red," for the benefit of those of you in more hospitable climes, is a delightful condition officially proclaimed here on the East Coast whenever the air becomes too unhealthy to breathe. (Too much ozone, mostly.) It usually occurs during the summer when stationary high-pressure systems out over the Atlantic pump in gobs of ghastly jungle humidity. The heavy rotating air mass prevents the megalopolitain pollution cloud from dissipating, and millions go through their daily routines under an ever-thickening cloud of murk and death. Yes, death! Maryland has one of the highest cancer death rates in the country, a nasty fact for such a pretty place.

Think of it, though: literally too bad to breathe!!

That is, the air does quantifiable harm by damaging lung tissue and God knows what else. Since it's hard to get tens of millions of people to cease aspirating all at once, the regional governments do the next best thing and say, "well, O.K., just try not to breathe so much!" Don't exercise, stay indoors, etc. Today is supposed to be another hot one: Code Red, humid, 100 degrees! (My plan is to take only short little breaths, like the cat does when he's sprawled upside down in the kitchen window, waiting for nightfall. . .)

It's not like we didn't have advance warning, those of us who crowded into this particular piece of paradise. Someone should have remembered what happened to the first boatload to find its way up that Virginia river in 1607: in search of treasure they were, mostly, not overly inclined to homesteading, and ready for anything! -- or so they thought. But they had never experienced a Bermuda high.

The first Jamestown colonists quite literally went crazy from the heat, humidity, and insects. Some died of fever and others starved, having arrived well before the invention of scrapple or crabcakes. Now before I get nasty emails, let me say that the flat marshy coastline of tidewater Virginia is also a beautiful place! Where the water meets the the woods is a paradise for wildlife and a fine place to visit -- before early April, say, or after late October! But John Smith was in no mood to tarry. The Spaniards had found gold, hadn't they? The good captain and crew couldn't wait to sail up the Chesapeake Bay and kidnap a few locals to interrogate. There wasn't any gold, of course, so most of those they nabbed fared rather uh, poorly: "Hit him again, boys, he's almost ready to 'fess up! Oops -- oh well, back to the ship!"

What is it about Englishmen in a hurry? My wife's grandfather left Nailstone, England a long time ago to seek his fortune in the faraway land of Australia -- except that he got on the wrong boat! At least that's the family lore. He ended up having a very fine life in Illinois and Iowa until an unfortunate meeting with a draft horse's rear hoof.

These are the thoughts running through my mind as I try to get things sorted out before Macworld. ("Code Red" wll do that to you!) By the time most of you read this, I'll either be there in New York or on the way home. For me, the most amazing thing is that I'm actually going Yours truly is not accustomed to attending large clan gatherings of any kind -- for years I've identified with Groucho's line that he couldn't bring himself to join any club that would have him for a member. There's just something about being pegged or pinned down that's always sent me running screaming down the road. Maybe that's why I'm still working on my first million, who knows? The last time I went to an event where someone stuck a name tag on my jacket, I ripped the thing off like it was a 3-day old dead mouse! This is different, though. I'm actually excited, even proud.

I started writing for Applelinks a couple of years ago when Apple Computer was dead meat. You can imagine how I felt: "beleaguered" as hell! Not only did most people not use Macs, but the ones who did were made to feel increasingly stupid and out of touch. I was Mr. Defensive. I railed and bitched. I felt like an idiot, a paranoid idiot: "Macs are too better! Don't you love me?? And Apple would recover, if you'd just buy one!"

I mercilessly pummeled Windows-using friends up one side and down the other, browbeating them to within an inch of disowning me forever. (Captain Smith would have been proud. No one died or changed platforms, however.)

Now everyone except a few grumpy propellerheads and analysts know that things have changed: Steve Jobs is back, Apple is rolling in cash, and more and more people are looking to Cupertino for the Next Big Thing. What goes around, comes around. And this time I'm going to Macworld -- with my very own press pass! Yeah, yeah, I know. All you "been there, done that" types can stop rolling your eyes. For me this is validation. I like belonging to this club!

It may have been the underdog, outsider image I couldn't help rooting for, or the fact that I just really dig these machines. They aren't refrigerators or toasters and mine wasn't "free": I paid for the brand and I've never been sorry. Those people who continue to call computers mere appliances may have a point as far as it goes, but I would never let one of them: (a) buy me a shirt, (b) cook me a meal, (c) get me a date, or (d) recommend anything as vital as a computer or say, a car.

And why not?

Because I love cars! I like the aura of certain brands, the styling, the engineering, the physical experience of driving, listening to the engine, all that good stuff. And i don't require exotic machinery to have my fun. Example: my Ford pickup was entirely too quiet and wimpy-sounding, so when the old muffler fell off (really!) and things got suddenly noisy, I cleverly installed a glass-pack. You know, a cute red-enameled straight-through unit, barely worthy of the name "muffler." Har! It makes a gorgeous throbbing blat-blat-rumble that would never pass inspection in states that have real ones. And the F-150 has two, count 'em, two Apple logo stickers, one in the rear window and one on the tailgate. If I'm wearing my Apple hat, that makes three!

Moral: if you're going to breathe at all, make it count.

I wouldn't be driving off into the murk of another Code Red afternoon to go to New York if I weren't passionate about new media, new Macs, new faces, new fun. I'm certainly not doing it for the money, although maybe if I'm lucky and persistent, someone will show me where the gold is!

Too bad I won't be taking the truck up the Jersey Turnpike ("vroom, blat-blat-rumble-pop"). It isn't really roadworthy at the moment, but will be soon. The '87 Ford has to transport us and our Macs two thousand miles away, to where it'll take burning trees instead of too much traffic to pull off a good "Code Red" day.

I like those odds little better, don't you?

John H. Farr edits the Apple Computer News for Applelinks.com and writes things like this column. This week he's hanging out at Macworld Expo and looking for all the free stuff!

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February 09, 2012