Confessions Of

Sometimes I like to open up Google News and do a phrase search for Confessions of, which can turn up some interesting reading. Sometimes.

Confessions of a Google Glass Explorer. I was told that I was one of the first few hundred Explorers in the city, which made me feel like some third-rate Shackleton embarked on my own Nimrod Expedition into the neon ice.

Confessions of a Drone Pilot. Chillingly, to mitigate these effects, researchers have proposed creating a Siri-like user interface, a virtual copilot that anthropomorphizes the drone and lets crews shunt off the blame for whatever happens. Siri, have those people killed.

Confessions of a TSA Screener. Every now and then, a passenger would throw up two middle fingers during his or her scan, as though somehow aware of the transgressions going on.

Confessions of Cruise Ship Crew Members. Are crew members allowed to fraternize with the passengers? On the mass-market and other large ships, the answer is a simple “no.”

Confessions of a Divemaster. If dive guides or any staff members misbehaved too much, they’d be “NBO-ed” — i.e., fired and sent away on the Next Boat Off the island.

Confessions of a Fed Up Flight Attendant. Maxi Pads.

Confessions of a Vine Dad. Maybe I should stop. And yet … strangers liked me on the Internet—every insecure writer’s dream.