NAB 08: No Promises...

And….we’re off! Weaver and me, wedged into a silvery tube as it hurtles toward that neon-drenched blight known as Las Vegas. With a mere 48 hours on the ground, a dozen or so folk demanding a rendezvous and endless reservoirs of bourbon for sale in the naked city, it’s gonna be a blur. But know this: between the two of us, Weaver and I are packing enough laptops, lanyards and lenses to jumpstart a telethon - or at least get the TSA all in a tizzy. And while we damn sure plan to use them, I make no promises as to just when we’ll check in. (Remember, I’m lousy at live-blogging.) Then again I’m not flying across the continent to bury my head in a computer screen. I’ll be too busy working the room, snagging free t-shirts and takin’ the edge off my Southern accent. So while I’m offering no tangible timeline, rest assured there's a tsunami of tsnark and tsnapshots headed your way - just as soon as I finish twisting the top off this here little bottle. Anybody seen my Leatherman?