Mr. Roboto

I went downstairs for my mediocre but free Hampton Inn breakfast this morning and the breakfast area was filled to capacity with nerds. Aparantly, there is a high school robotics competition here in St Louis today. Typical of most high school kids they are loud and rude. Nerd parents can be Little League parents too. Hover. Push. Back off, mom. And while you are at it you can stir your coffee and rehash your journey through diet soft drinks over at a table so the rest of us can get our caffeine fix?

Over in the corner two girls have notebooks spread out studying blueprints. At the big table in the middle a couple of Geek Sqaud wannabes held court with a few sycophant followers. Nervousness and excitement filled the air with an almost tangible electricity. I just wanted a place to eat my bowl of watery oatmeal. Apple Watch, here is you market.

As I headed to the elevators a group of moms and one dad were in the lobby making up sandwiches to throw into a big cooler. "Where is the ketchup?" One frumpy gal asked. "Didn't we buy ketchup? How can you eat a ham sandwich without ketchup?".  Some people eat sushi, monkey brains or snake. Pig's feet or kidneys or fried grasshoppers are some folks idea of tasty foods. Blood sausage, souse, duck feet, and  haggis are considered good eats. But ketchup on a ham sandwich? I think I'm gonna puke.