So I am on this train, a train that goes from somewhere in or near
Washington, D.C., to (at least) Pennsylvania Station in New York
City.
When I got on the train, the conductor lady told everyone going
in the door that I was going in that this car is the Quiet Car,
and no cell phones or long conversations are allowed.
And on the ceiling there are signs hanging down at each end
of the car, saying that this car is the Quet Car, and no loud talking
or cell phones are allowed.
And as the conductor lady checked overyone's ticket, she told
every person seated in the car that this car is the Quiet Car.
And the lady in the seat ahead of me said "does that mean we can't
use cell phones?" and the conductor lady said yes, that's what it
means, and if the lady wants to use her cell phone, there are two
other cars in that direction that she can move to.
I like the Quiet Car.
*8)
So as we're pulling out of the station the lady in the seat ahead of
me calls someone on her cell phone and leaves a message, saying that
she's on the train, and she's running a little late because mumble,
and she just wanted to let you know.
And then a little later as I'm falling pleasantly asleep in the
Quiet Car the lady in the seat ahead of me's cell phone rings
loudly, and she answers it and begins a long conversation about
how this person has been visiting this other person, and she talked
to this third person who she hasn't spoken to in years, and you
know how it is when someone is in that sort of circumstances,
and really it's hard to believe.
And about fifteen minutes later, when we're pulling out of another
station, and the lady in the seat ahead of me is still chatting
merrily away, the conductor lady goes by, and the man in the tie
in the seat across the aisle from me catches her eye and sort of
nods at the lady in the seat ahead of me, and the conductor lady
goes up, and leans over, and says very definitely "I'm sorry, ma'am."
And I figure she's going to make the lady in the seat ahead of me
stop using her cell phone, and she does do that, but she also makes
her get up, and leave the car ("I'm sorry ma'am, but I need you
out of here, we had this conversation earlier.")
Which I thought was sort of amusingly harsh, but also gratifying.
Silly lady.
Did you know Baltimore has a Pennsylvania Station also?
How confusing!
I wonder if there is a Pennsylvania Station in Pennsylvania.
I am writing this on the train (as you may have deduced), and on the
train there is no network connection, and my computer and my cell phone
are not clever enough to produce one (I suppose using my cell phone
that way in the Quiet Car would be okay, since it would be quiet),
so I don't know when I'll be posting this. Given when various trains
are supposed to arrive in various places and all, it might not be
until technically Thursday (or if I decide I'm sleepy when I get
home it might not be until actually Thursday), but that's okay.
It's Wednesday now.
Looking through my "to record in the weblog someday maybe" files, I
come across a very good example of the Law of Unintended Consequences.
Part
of the problem, Green said, is that the government has changed the money
so much to foil counterfeiting.
With all the new bills out there, citizens and even many
police officers don't know what they're supposed to look like.
I had this same thought last time I took this train trip, in fact;
at one or more stages of the trip some ticket-device gave me in change
some round metal coin-like things with pictures of United States Presidents
on one side, and like an eagle or something plausible like that on the other,
with words on them claiming that they are worth one dollar.
I had never heard of any such coin in circulation, but hey they're
chaning the money all the time these days, so who knows?
Later on I looked them up, and they turn out to be real!
But really, how can one be sure?
Notice: this machine gives change in the new "square pieces of cardboard
with 'One Doller' written on them in crayon" coins.
Sure, okay, whatever...
Today we present just a Mark Aster
classic,
which for some reason I found myself thinking of this morning.
Spendthrift
She has the most valuable thing in the world. Right now, she's
got it in her right front pants pocket.
I don't begrudge her having it; she deserves it if anyone
does. But I wish she'd take better care of it.
It pains me to watch her, sometimes, casually showing it
to her friends, juggling it idly between her palms as she
stands in the bus station talking into the payphone.
Once she almost left it behind on a table in some bar.
A guy sitting at the next table noticed it, picked it up,
handed it to her. "Oh, thanks," she said. How could
she even let him touch it?
The worst was last night, big party at Jamison's, and at
the height of it I saw her, probably drunk, hilarity
burning around her, writhing through the crowd and clapping
to the music with her hands over her head. Then she
took it out of her pocket and started to break off
little pieces of it! It was awful. She handed one to
the boy who'd brought her to the party, pressing it into
his palm. She gave another one to some sweaty stranger
dancing next to her, needing a shave, probably smelly
and illiterate, maybe homicidal. Just gave him a
piece of it, like it was a nacho. Another piece she
slipped between her lips and shifted around with her
tongue. I thought my heart would break.
I sat down next to her later on, in a lull, determined
finally to say something to her.
"Shouldn't you be more careful with that?" I said, unable
to think of any way to make my case more subtly, "It's
the most precious thing in the world."
She looked at me, her eyes a little red, her face a little
sweaty, shiny, so alive. She started to say something, stopped,
shook her head. "You can really be a jerk," she said. But
she smiled.
Welcome once again to the apparently every other Sunday weblog!
*8)
The secret other-words weblog has more recent updates on the
doings of Dale
and Spennix
and associates;
The doings of ordinary atomic-world David are not nearly as well
chronicled lately.
M is just back from a few days visiting a friend up North.
We have a new little round oak table in the living room (replacing a rather
battered-by-now white Ikea thing), discovered on sale cheap at some
northern antique store.
We have had take-out from the local BBQ place, and are lying around typing;
M is catching up with days worth of email and Google Reader and IMing the
college girl, the little boy is writing a paragraph for Spanish, and I
am writing in this here weblog.
I had a bottle of Anchor Steam with dinner; my doctor says I should have a
drink a day for the sake of my blood pressure or cholesterol or something.
I usually stick to Bailey's Irish Cream or some other sweet liqueur, because
the sweetness masks the taste of the alcohol, but once in awhile I like a
microbrew.
(More for the fun names than the taste; most alcohol tastes like lighter
fluid to me, which I really regret sometimes, given all the interesting culture
surrounding booze.)
Isn't that fascinating?
*8)
On the Omegle phenomenon mentioned last time, here's
Robot Stranger dot com, a site
that shows the results of setting what looks like a rather slapdash
Bayesian generator loose on Omegle.
Not too fascinating so far, but the idea does appeal.
Metahumor 'o the Day: You've seen one or two or ten of those YouTube videos
that put more or less amusing subtitles under the Hitler bunker scene from
Der Untergang?
Well here it is commenting
on itself.
Which is always worth a look.
Ironic Thoughtcrime o' the Day (well, o' the Day back in 1907):
the Lamentabili
Sane, which includes on the list of false propositions which are
"condemned and proscribed":
57. The Church has shown that she is hostile to the progress of the natural and
theological sciences.
You are prohibited from thinking that you are prohibited from thinking!
Heartwarming Robot Stories o' the Day:
Tweenbots.
Site with random and sometimes tasteless silly pictures o' the (hmm) Hour:
Picture is Unrelated.
And finally a User Interface Quandary: we've been using
Pandora dot com quite a bit lately
('cause it's free an' places music an' all), and on the Pandora dot com
music player there's a button that has a "play" symbol on it, and also a
"pause" symbol.
At any given time, one of these symbols is grey, and one is sort of dull
orange or bright brown.
The question is: does the colorful symbol represent the current state
of the player, or does it represent what will happen if you push
the button?
I've been using Pandora for a few weeks now, and I still can't remember.
Okay, let's check. Click, click. Apparently it represents the curent state
of the player. So if it's playing, the "play" symbol will be bright, despite
the fact that the button is actually a pause button. And if it's paused the
"pause" symbol will be bright, even though the button is a "play" button.
I've seen other things like this, where there is a button that says "On" or
"Off" depending on the state of the thing, and it's always very confusing.
Either it says "Off" when the thing is on, and "On" when the thing is off,
or you have to push a button that says "Off" to turn it on, and a button that
says "On" to turn it off.
Neither is very sensible.
The problem is that seeing what state the system is in now, and finding the
device (the affordance!) to put it into a new state, are two different activities,
and the same label can't really do both. (Well, the button could say "the
system is now ON; click me to turn it OFF", or vice-versa, but that's a lota
text.)
So designers shouldn't do this, even if it does seem to save them screen
real estate and visual complexity.
Is this a well-known UI faux pas, or did I just make it up?
