I was not the best student in high school. I was never close to failing out and took Honors and AP classes, but I thought the whole grading scheme was bullshit. Whether you did HW or not and how often you participated shouldn't matter. Your grade should be based 100% on your test performance. I remember some classes where you even had to turn in your notebook and you would get graded on how neat it was and whether you had the right dividers in there. I should have just sucked it up and played there game, it wasn't like I was going to change the system. But, I was even more stubborn and unwilling to listen to opposing view points than I am now.
When it came time to apply for colleges, I noticed that you could apply to up to 4 State University of NY (SUNY) schools on one application. While most people were spending weeks and even sometimes months agonizing over college applications, I think I knocked it out in about an hour. I believe I applied to SUNY Buffalo, SUNY Binghamton, SUNY Stony Brook and the SUNY Maritime College. The first three were pretty typical large state universities with a large number of possible majors and your pretty typical college experience. The Maritime College was different though. Here your goal was to obtain a degree but also licensure as a third officer on a large commercial ship. Kind of like the ship from Captain Phillips.
It was the first school I heard back from, they offered admission and a full scholarship. They had an admitted student's day where you toured the school, got to ride on the school's training ship and meet with various students already enrolled. So my mom and I headed out bright and early. As it turns out a bit too bright and early as we didn't realize that this was the day that the clocks move an hour back for Day Light savings. Much like Clark Griswold's arrival to Wally World, we were the first one's there. This was a while ago, but I still remember a few things very clearly. First, it was a very impressive campus, lots of stately buildings and well maintained grounds. Second, the school had done a great job of putting this weekend together. There were lots of activities and it was all very informative. Even though this was not a military organization, all students were expected to wear uniforms and there were a number of military customs like marching and saluting etc.
Almost immediately, I knew, at least subconsciously that it wasn't for me. Maybe it was because of my maturity level or something else, but I couldn't picture myself wearing a uniform for the next 4 years and choosing such a specific career path. To my knowledge the graduates are typically employed, but generally you will working on a large ship. Of course, there is some irony here that I did join the Navy - yet interestingly enough have never been to sea. As the day went on, my feeling of unease began to become more of a panic. Until finally at lunch it grew to be too much and I ended up just bursting into tears in front of my Mom and telling her that I didn't think I could do this. She hugged me and told me it was OK and I didn't have to make any decisions right away and for some reason that was enough to change the whole experience. Looking back it seems so absurd, of course I didn't have to choose. But perhaps I had already told myself in my mind that I was going to go here, before even visiting the school because they had been the first to respond and had made such a generous offer. It may have been because things can quickly grow inside your own head to such epic proportions because you don't have that objective outside voice telling you the one thing you needed to hear to put it all in perspective. But, for whatever reason, the relief was instantaneous.
The rest of the day was quite pleasant. The culminating event is a brief cruise onboard the school's training vessel and I thoroughly enjoyed it. They told us that each summer we would take a cruise on this ship and gradually get more and more responsibility.
Of course, I did not enroll. That day was my first and only day there and I trekked off to Buffalo to go to college and begin the next phase of my life.
Looking back on it, perhaps it would have been fun. But it is a lonely life. Generally you are out to Sea for six months at a time. I am sure it would have led me to some adventures, but I have been lucky enough to have some wonderful adventures regardless. Spending evenings playing games with the girls and thinking about the family I have now, I am so glad I could not make it through that lunch!
Wednesday, March 18, 2015
Tuesday, March 10, 2015
Game Time
On the weekdays, the girls have a pretty strict
schedule. Bella does her homework with
varying degrees of protest, but I think she mainly protests just to be
funny. It would work with me, but T is
not having it. I get to hang out with
Erin at these times. True to form, I
never know if she is going to be super nice to me and want to snuggle and get
tossed around, or if she is going to give me the cold shoulder and act like she
has a restraining order against me.
After Bella finishes her homework we head upstairs to play some games
after brushing teeth and putting on pajamas.
There are 3 games
that we have to play to completion. The
first is a sort of charades game for kids.
You draw a card and have to act it out.
The girls are surprisingly good at it, particularly when they have to
act out an animal. They don’t just sit
there and mime it out, rather, they go full tilt around the room roaring their
heads off or screeching like a monkey depending on the card. Sometimes I have no earthly idea what they
are doing, like when Bella had to act out taking a bath and all I could think
was that she was having a seizure. She
sort of assumed the posture of a hunchback and did this weird one legged sort
of dance. My other favorite part about
this game is that Erin never wants to be wrong.
So if she has a guess about what the other person is acting, she will
say it extremely softly. Barely above a
whisper. Once she finds out she is
right, she of course shouts it like she has never been more sure of anything in
her life! My entire goal, in this or any
other game, is to annoy T. I feel like I
always more than accomplish my goal.
Next, we move on
to sequence. In this game, you get dealt
cards with various animals on them and try to make a line of 4 of your chips
before someone else does. Here the girls
have learned that sometimes a good defense is as much, if not more fun, than a
strong offense. Bella in particular seems
to enjoy thwarting my plans and blocking me at the last moment when I am one
chip away from getting 4 in a row. I
have never been able to convince them to join me in an alliance to overthrow T.
Erin is very much a loose cannon in this
game. Sometimes she is intent on
winning, other times she is intent on playing a particular card regardless of
its effect on overall strategy. Perhaps
my favorite thing that Erin does in this game is after a couple of turns she
starts ending every sentence with “and I win?”
So for instance if someone suggests playing a certain card, she will ask
in her cute little voice “and I win”?
Perhaps even better than this is when she does win, because she stands
up, and starts jumping around and celebrating like she just won the lottery. She
has a huge grin and you can’t help but laugh along with her. T taught her good
sportsmanship so both Bella and Erin will acknowledge those less fortunate with
a handshake and a “good game”.
Wednesday, March 4, 2015
Like an Idiot
I have started listening to podcasts on my commute. I should probably listen to educational ones to make myself a better person, but I don't. I choose comedy. Two that I have been enjoying are "Topics" by Michael Ian Black and Michael Showalter. These guys are hilarious, they choose to discuss a variety of issues, or topics if you will, and are absurdly smug and over the top in pretending to be extremely intellectual. They are so good at putting on the act that you sometimes forget that it is all a joke. One of my favorite lines "You say that there are no grey areas, yet I see you creating grey areas left and right like someone shading in a pencil drawing!" The other one that I have been enjoying is called "How did this get made" where a bunch of comedians discuss bad movies and the absurd plots and holes in the story.
The problem is, this stuff is pretty hilarious and I cannot suppress a laugh or a smile, so I must look like a bit of a lunatic on the train either grinning like a moron or outright chuckling to nothing in particular!
Another reason to be happy is that we finally sold our house! This was the first and only house we had ever bought or sold, so it was all new to me. Buying was a lot less stressful than selling. I think our realtor was a bit of a snake oil salesman. Some of the shenanigans that he employed:
1. Every single e-mail that he sent me included his full signature, that was at least 20 lines. A good 18 lines were dedicated to these bullshit awards that he had evidently won. Some were really hard to interpret, like he had a four star rating. I have no idea whether that was out of 4 or 20 stars, or who gave these ratings or what the criteria was. Everything was cloaked in ambiguity. In addition to his 4 star rating he was also rated a "platinum" seller. Again, I have no idea where this falls on the precious metal scale of realtors. Is platinum better than gold? Is it based on the value of the metal or its conductivity? Regardless, even if it was a 5 word reply, I had to deal with his monster of a signature.
2. There were certain e-mails that he sent me every week, canned status updates. For whatever reason, he had programmed them so they were sent out at 2 am on a Sunday morning. I guess the idea was that I would think he was a real go-getter and constantly working, that or a meth fiend. The jig was up pretty quickly though because these e-mails were always sent at the exact same time and contained zero original content.
3. He loved creating drama out of thin air. I think he was upset that I did not use his recommended lawyer for the closing. So, in his passive aggressive way, he would send me e-mails that implied the world was about to end because my attorney had not responded to his e-mail quickly enough. He also loved throwing my attorney under the bus representing that she was not doing enough to move the deal forward even though this guy was getting a nice percentage of the sale price simply for setting up automated e-mails!
4. My personal favorite was how vehement he was that I not attend the closing. In his typical flare for the dramatic he admonished me that he had seen so many sales fall apart because of the buyer saying stupid things at the closing. I guess he thought I must be an idiot or have Tourette's and believed I would just blurt out absurd things like "Man that flood was a fun time" or "Never thought I would see a house fire like that". If I had been in the area I would have showed up at the closing just to spite him, but it wasn't worth the travel.
The one thing that surprised me about the whole process is how attached I had become to the old girl. Don't get me wrong, I am glad we sold her and it made no sense to keep paying the mortgage and utilities, but it feels a bit strange to know other people will be in there. We lived in that house longer than we have lived anywhere else and it was the first home that either of the girls really knew. I suspect that the nostalgia will fade, but probably never disappear completely.
The problem is, this stuff is pretty hilarious and I cannot suppress a laugh or a smile, so I must look like a bit of a lunatic on the train either grinning like a moron or outright chuckling to nothing in particular!
Another reason to be happy is that we finally sold our house! This was the first and only house we had ever bought or sold, so it was all new to me. Buying was a lot less stressful than selling. I think our realtor was a bit of a snake oil salesman. Some of the shenanigans that he employed:
1. Every single e-mail that he sent me included his full signature, that was at least 20 lines. A good 18 lines were dedicated to these bullshit awards that he had evidently won. Some were really hard to interpret, like he had a four star rating. I have no idea whether that was out of 4 or 20 stars, or who gave these ratings or what the criteria was. Everything was cloaked in ambiguity. In addition to his 4 star rating he was also rated a "platinum" seller. Again, I have no idea where this falls on the precious metal scale of realtors. Is platinum better than gold? Is it based on the value of the metal or its conductivity? Regardless, even if it was a 5 word reply, I had to deal with his monster of a signature.
2. There were certain e-mails that he sent me every week, canned status updates. For whatever reason, he had programmed them so they were sent out at 2 am on a Sunday morning. I guess the idea was that I would think he was a real go-getter and constantly working, that or a meth fiend. The jig was up pretty quickly though because these e-mails were always sent at the exact same time and contained zero original content.
3. He loved creating drama out of thin air. I think he was upset that I did not use his recommended lawyer for the closing. So, in his passive aggressive way, he would send me e-mails that implied the world was about to end because my attorney had not responded to his e-mail quickly enough. He also loved throwing my attorney under the bus representing that she was not doing enough to move the deal forward even though this guy was getting a nice percentage of the sale price simply for setting up automated e-mails!
4. My personal favorite was how vehement he was that I not attend the closing. In his typical flare for the dramatic he admonished me that he had seen so many sales fall apart because of the buyer saying stupid things at the closing. I guess he thought I must be an idiot or have Tourette's and believed I would just blurt out absurd things like "Man that flood was a fun time" or "Never thought I would see a house fire like that". If I had been in the area I would have showed up at the closing just to spite him, but it wasn't worth the travel.
The one thing that surprised me about the whole process is how attached I had become to the old girl. Don't get me wrong, I am glad we sold her and it made no sense to keep paying the mortgage and utilities, but it feels a bit strange to know other people will be in there. We lived in that house longer than we have lived anywhere else and it was the first home that either of the girls really knew. I suspect that the nostalgia will fade, but probably never disappear completely.
Monday, February 23, 2015
7-11
It all started off easily enough. I had a fresh podcast of "This American Life" and the soothing sounds of Ira Glass' voice as I set off on my virtual journey. Even though it was cold and icy outside, it was perfectly comfortable in the fitness room of our housing area.
So I figured I should start out at 6 mph, a flat 10 min per mile pace. Every five minutes, I would increase the pace a little bit, just to keep things interesting. The first piece of the podcast had to do with a guy from Missouri that had been convicted and sentenced to 13 years for armed robbery. The only problem was that he never actually served his sentence. Rather, the prosecutor mistakenly represented to the Judge that he had indeed began his sentence and was not out on bail (even though he was). So, everything seemed to be going well for this guy. He got married, started a family and ran a successful business. He almost got away with it. Ironically, approximately 13 years later, Missouri was going through the process of releasing him. It was only then that they realized he had never actually served any time. So, they sent a heavily armed squad of U.S. Marshalls to his house early in the morning and hauled him in.
I have mixed feelings on this guy. He knew that the State had screwed up. He was guilty and knew that he was only out on a technicality. On the other hand, he had showed rehabilitation. He was a functioning member of society, paid his taxes and was a good father. There seemed little reason to put him away for 13 years at a cost of $20k a year just to exact revenge. Besides, the State shouldered a fair amount of the blame. He wasn't hiding, they knew exactly where he was, they simply failed to come get him. Ultimately the State agreed and released him after a few months. Amazingly, he was picked up on a robbery charge a few months later. However, this time he was innocent, there was video proof that he was not anywhere near where the crime occured. Ultimately he was cleared of that charge as well.
That took me through the first twenty minutes and I was feeling great. I had a couple of miles down and was ready for more. The next piece was pretty lame. It was a short fiction piece that NPR had converted into a "radio drama" It featured a young lady out on a date with a pretty charming guy. Turns out that this guy is a pretty brutal African warlord, but he talks about it all, including the gruesome details inherent in the business of being a warlord, like just another job. The young lady, while taken aback, still goes forward with the date. I think it was well thought out and an interesting concept. The idea that a warlord is a person too, and even warlords may go on first dates where the topic of the absurdity of flour-less chocolate cake is discussed. (Flour is probably one of the healthier things in cake - so are they just bragging that their cake is butter and eggs). Overall, not a terrible segment, but just did not appeal to me.
That one probably took me to about the three mile mark. Three miles is tough, because you have knocked off a fair bit, but in the spirit of Robert Frost, I still had miles to go before I could rest (sleep). The next piece was very short, but good. It was a comedian reflecting on her middle school music teacher. Apparently this guy was pretty laid back and let the kids bring in their favorite records and play them for the class. (Incidentally, I had a pretty kooky guy for music class in middle school - he was big into playing weird music with the lights turned down and just lying on the floor and letting the music "flow" through you - pretty sure he would have passed a bong around if he was just a little bit more nutty). So this lady loved the Rolling Stones and the Beatles and always brought in their records to play. One day, one of the other kids in class asked her for advice on what song to play in class. He had brought his Dad's Rolling Stones album in and she immediately picked the song "You can't always get what you want" I am not a big Rolling Stones fan, but I do know that this song is pretty popular. However, the song is quite long and the first minute or so features what sounds like a children's quire singing the chorus very slowly and at a very high pitch. Unfortunately, for our story teller, the class ended before the song got good. This kid who had asked her for help thought she had played a cruel trick on him.
I think this took me through 3.5 to 4 miles. I almost gave up on the next story. Honestly, I am probably not giving it justice here because I was spacing out during a lot of it. It just seemed that the story teller was trying too hard to make his audience feel a certain way. He told the story of a long cab ride that he took in Israel shortly after his wife had a miscarriage and he learned that his father needed a risky operation due to cancer. In order to stand any chance at beating the cancer, the doctors would need to remove his dad's tongue and larynx. So, this guy is in a bad mood. For whatever reason, he takes it out on his taxi driver who is just trying to be friendly. The issue I had with it is that he never tells his taxi driver that he is not in the mood for talking. He just thinks it to himself really hard. As if this taxi driver is some sort of mind reader! In my opinion, taxi drivers are usually pretty interesting. They are often immigrants to the country, work extremely long hours and have a deep and never ending hatred of Uber! I have no problem chatting with them, in fact provided that they can get me to my destination (see last post) I am generally pretty easy going on them. Not this guy though, he just ends up unloading on his taxi driver telling him to shut the hell up. This is shortly after the taxi driver has told a story of another taxi driver trying to screw his out a few thousand dollars. Our narrator, continuing his theme of being batshit crazy, tells the taxi driver to pull over at a bank and he will withdraw a couple of thousand bucks and give it to the taxi driver. All that the driver needs to do in return is create a scenario where the taxi driver's wife just had a miscarriage and the taxi driver's dad has cancer. What an asshole. I understand that people have different levels of pain that they are dealing with at any given time, but just because one person is going through some tough personal issues does not negate the troubles of others. Also, all this taxi driver did was pick this dude up and talk to him. This guy acted like the taxi driver was somehow responsible for all the bad stuff this guy was facing. I really would have liked to have heard the story from the perspective of the taxi driver. It probably would have been fairly interesting - something about making small talk with a dude and the guy completely losing his mind! I have spent enough on this, but ultimately there was some crap about the taxi getting hit with a bomb or involved in a traffic accident (see how little I was paying attention here) and the guy in the taxi not wanting to tell his Dad, so as not to worry him.
I was really hoping for something good, and NPR did not disappoint. The next segment dealt with the non-fiction story of the meat shortage in the US in the early 1900s. These two guys, incredibly smart and innovative men, came up with the idea of introducing hippopotamuses as a food source. It was actually pretty brilliant, because hippos could live and graze in land that was totally useless for cattle or other livestock. The other issue they could address is there was an outbreak of a particularly invasive plant in the wetlands at the time and the hippos could turn that into meat. While on its face it seemed crazy, it really wasn't. Most of the meat we currently eat (sheep. cattle, chickens) are not native to North America, we have just been eating them for so long that we don't consider them imported. Interestingly, the guy presenting the story seemed to think if they had e-mail and faster communication, it may have worked. Because both of these guys were constantly travelling, they were forever sending letters that were crossing in the mail. One of the guys went on to great success and both Yale and Stanford wanted his papers, as I am sure they will want this blog! Even then, many years later, he still believed that it was a good idea.
So ended the podcast, but not my run. I had hit six miles and was pretty much wiped. But I wanted that last mile. I had to reduce the speed to a pretty pathetic pace for a couple of minutes to get my second wind, but eventually it came and I was able to power through the last mile!
So I figured I should start out at 6 mph, a flat 10 min per mile pace. Every five minutes, I would increase the pace a little bit, just to keep things interesting. The first piece of the podcast had to do with a guy from Missouri that had been convicted and sentenced to 13 years for armed robbery. The only problem was that he never actually served his sentence. Rather, the prosecutor mistakenly represented to the Judge that he had indeed began his sentence and was not out on bail (even though he was). So, everything seemed to be going well for this guy. He got married, started a family and ran a successful business. He almost got away with it. Ironically, approximately 13 years later, Missouri was going through the process of releasing him. It was only then that they realized he had never actually served any time. So, they sent a heavily armed squad of U.S. Marshalls to his house early in the morning and hauled him in.
I have mixed feelings on this guy. He knew that the State had screwed up. He was guilty and knew that he was only out on a technicality. On the other hand, he had showed rehabilitation. He was a functioning member of society, paid his taxes and was a good father. There seemed little reason to put him away for 13 years at a cost of $20k a year just to exact revenge. Besides, the State shouldered a fair amount of the blame. He wasn't hiding, they knew exactly where he was, they simply failed to come get him. Ultimately the State agreed and released him after a few months. Amazingly, he was picked up on a robbery charge a few months later. However, this time he was innocent, there was video proof that he was not anywhere near where the crime occured. Ultimately he was cleared of that charge as well.
That took me through the first twenty minutes and I was feeling great. I had a couple of miles down and was ready for more. The next piece was pretty lame. It was a short fiction piece that NPR had converted into a "radio drama" It featured a young lady out on a date with a pretty charming guy. Turns out that this guy is a pretty brutal African warlord, but he talks about it all, including the gruesome details inherent in the business of being a warlord, like just another job. The young lady, while taken aback, still goes forward with the date. I think it was well thought out and an interesting concept. The idea that a warlord is a person too, and even warlords may go on first dates where the topic of the absurdity of flour-less chocolate cake is discussed. (Flour is probably one of the healthier things in cake - so are they just bragging that their cake is butter and eggs). Overall, not a terrible segment, but just did not appeal to me.
That one probably took me to about the three mile mark. Three miles is tough, because you have knocked off a fair bit, but in the spirit of Robert Frost, I still had miles to go before I could rest (sleep). The next piece was very short, but good. It was a comedian reflecting on her middle school music teacher. Apparently this guy was pretty laid back and let the kids bring in their favorite records and play them for the class. (Incidentally, I had a pretty kooky guy for music class in middle school - he was big into playing weird music with the lights turned down and just lying on the floor and letting the music "flow" through you - pretty sure he would have passed a bong around if he was just a little bit more nutty). So this lady loved the Rolling Stones and the Beatles and always brought in their records to play. One day, one of the other kids in class asked her for advice on what song to play in class. He had brought his Dad's Rolling Stones album in and she immediately picked the song "You can't always get what you want" I am not a big Rolling Stones fan, but I do know that this song is pretty popular. However, the song is quite long and the first minute or so features what sounds like a children's quire singing the chorus very slowly and at a very high pitch. Unfortunately, for our story teller, the class ended before the song got good. This kid who had asked her for help thought she had played a cruel trick on him.
I think this took me through 3.5 to 4 miles. I almost gave up on the next story. Honestly, I am probably not giving it justice here because I was spacing out during a lot of it. It just seemed that the story teller was trying too hard to make his audience feel a certain way. He told the story of a long cab ride that he took in Israel shortly after his wife had a miscarriage and he learned that his father needed a risky operation due to cancer. In order to stand any chance at beating the cancer, the doctors would need to remove his dad's tongue and larynx. So, this guy is in a bad mood. For whatever reason, he takes it out on his taxi driver who is just trying to be friendly. The issue I had with it is that he never tells his taxi driver that he is not in the mood for talking. He just thinks it to himself really hard. As if this taxi driver is some sort of mind reader! In my opinion, taxi drivers are usually pretty interesting. They are often immigrants to the country, work extremely long hours and have a deep and never ending hatred of Uber! I have no problem chatting with them, in fact provided that they can get me to my destination (see last post) I am generally pretty easy going on them. Not this guy though, he just ends up unloading on his taxi driver telling him to shut the hell up. This is shortly after the taxi driver has told a story of another taxi driver trying to screw his out a few thousand dollars. Our narrator, continuing his theme of being batshit crazy, tells the taxi driver to pull over at a bank and he will withdraw a couple of thousand bucks and give it to the taxi driver. All that the driver needs to do in return is create a scenario where the taxi driver's wife just had a miscarriage and the taxi driver's dad has cancer. What an asshole. I understand that people have different levels of pain that they are dealing with at any given time, but just because one person is going through some tough personal issues does not negate the troubles of others. Also, all this taxi driver did was pick this dude up and talk to him. This guy acted like the taxi driver was somehow responsible for all the bad stuff this guy was facing. I really would have liked to have heard the story from the perspective of the taxi driver. It probably would have been fairly interesting - something about making small talk with a dude and the guy completely losing his mind! I have spent enough on this, but ultimately there was some crap about the taxi getting hit with a bomb or involved in a traffic accident (see how little I was paying attention here) and the guy in the taxi not wanting to tell his Dad, so as not to worry him.
I was really hoping for something good, and NPR did not disappoint. The next segment dealt with the non-fiction story of the meat shortage in the US in the early 1900s. These two guys, incredibly smart and innovative men, came up with the idea of introducing hippopotamuses as a food source. It was actually pretty brilliant, because hippos could live and graze in land that was totally useless for cattle or other livestock. The other issue they could address is there was an outbreak of a particularly invasive plant in the wetlands at the time and the hippos could turn that into meat. While on its face it seemed crazy, it really wasn't. Most of the meat we currently eat (sheep. cattle, chickens) are not native to North America, we have just been eating them for so long that we don't consider them imported. Interestingly, the guy presenting the story seemed to think if they had e-mail and faster communication, it may have worked. Because both of these guys were constantly travelling, they were forever sending letters that were crossing in the mail. One of the guys went on to great success and both Yale and Stanford wanted his papers, as I am sure they will want this blog! Even then, many years later, he still believed that it was a good idea.
So ended the podcast, but not my run. I had hit six miles and was pretty much wiped. But I wanted that last mile. I had to reduce the speed to a pretty pathetic pace for a couple of minutes to get my second wind, but eventually it came and I was able to power through the last mile!
Friday, February 20, 2015
Back at it and thoughts on airports
Feels like forever since I last posted. I have resumed my Marathon training, or that is to say, I started over at week 1 again. But, this week I have done three three milers, with just the long run to go on Sunday. If I can, I'll push for 7 miles, which is the recommended distance for the week 2 long run. If successful, then I will move on to week 3. If I only get 6, then I will have to continue with week 2. I am cautiously optimistic because today's run went really well, 3 miles at just under 8:30 pace. This was a huge turnaround from the run the day before, where I had struggled to go under a 10 minute pace. Part of that may have had to do with the fact that I was sore from an impromptu truck pull the day before ..... but that is a post for another day.
This week, winter has really come to DC. So much so, that Bella only went to school one day this week! Perhaps it feels particularly cold because the week before we were out in San Diego where it was in the 80s. The only low parts of the trip were the flights. On both flights I was put in the middle at the very back of the plane and every single seat was taken. It seems now that the last highlight of flying coach is snagging a coveted spot in the overhead bins. I think part of it has to do with the laissez faire attitude flight attendants seem to have adopted. People bring these huge carry-on bags and no-one seems to bat an eye! Sure, there are those metal bins placed around the airport that tell you to check your bag for size compliance, but I have never seen anyone use one! Since most airlines allow you to check bags for free if flying with the military, I didn't even bother but I did witness some pretty funny stuff.
First, you get the people that are able to get their bag in the overhead, but many rows back from where they are sitting. So they have to swim against the stream at boarding to try to get back to their seat. Usually, people let them through, though begrudgingly. What is more fun to watch though is at arrival, there is always one person who thinks that they will be able to travel against the mass of people in the aisle to get to their bag. I have yet to see that one work. Trying to cut the line of people departing an aircraft is one of the hardest lines to cut. The other exercise in futility is when the flight attendants ask those not making a connection to remain seated so that those making a connection can leave the aircraft first. Bullshit! I place myself in the category of always making a connection. Also, even though it seems like an eternity, it doesn't take that long to actually clear the aircraft. I doubt the success of most people making a connection hinges on gaining a couple of minutes from deplaning first.
The worst part about the middle seat is the war of the armrests. The problem is, that you cannot divide 4 armrests evenly by three people. The one nearest the aisle and the one nearest the window are clearly spoken for. However, I think people feel that if they have one armrest, they should naturally get the other, to balance out. F that. I am getting at least one armrest, and if I have to sit in the middle, I feel like I should get the other as a consolation prize! My strategy is to wait until someone leaves the armrest clear for even a second, perhaps to turn the page of a book or get something out of their bag. Then I pounce! I plant my arm there and I will try to hold that territory as long as possible. On my flight out, I was sandwiched between two pretty large people, luckily they decided to hibernate on the plane, so the armrests were mine!
The flight back had even more hijinx. First, I passed a guy in the security line who looked like he had come right off a pirate ship. He had the giant 3 pointed hat, the pirate shirt, everything. The best part was that it looked like he was travelling with his wife and she was dressed as plain as could be! Perhaps he had some sort of pirate engagement immediately after his plane arrived and there was simply no time to change. I wish I could have talked to him a bit more.
The next funny part was that the plane was predictably extremely full and they made the announcement that those who were boarding last would likely have to check their carry-on bags. They try to upsell this by explaining that it is 100% complimentary! That takes some balls. Here they are initially telling people that you are allotted a carry on bag, but when they cannot fulfill their side of the bargain they try to explain that the concession is that they won't charge you for their screwup! So they keep repeating the message, encouraging, then urging people to check their bags. Finally, the inevitable happens and they report that indeed all the overhead bins are full and remaining passengers must check their bags (but still absolutely free!) A few people groaned, but this one middle aged old lady who looked like she might be a 7th grade English teacher dropped a pretty loud Mother F&*%ER to no-one in particular. I guess she really didn't want to check her bag.
In the continuing tradition of older white people raging against nothing in particular, my seatmate on the return flight was an older white guy. Probably in his 60s. On most long haul United flights the planes are equipped with direct TV, for a cost. JetBlue pioneered this, as far as I know, and even offered it for free. But with United, only unwanted bag checks are free. I noticed that the old guy's screen wasn't working, and he was not happy about it. The entire time we were on the ground and for the first ten minutes of the flight, he was trying to fix it. It started off calmly enough, he tried pressing the various buttons. Eventually both the pace and the intensity increased to almost a frantic level. Finally, he too decided to drop a pretty loud F-bomb. And amazingly, the screen started working at that exact moment! The great part was, he never looked at the screen again. He had no intention of actually paying for the service, I guess he just wanted the option. It would be a bit like going ballistic about not receiving a dessert menu when you had no intention of actually ordering any dessert.
My wife and the girls were not flying with me, but there flight was at almost the exact same time. Consequently, we were both flying through the same weather. The descent was pretty rough, there were extremely high winds and the turbulence was pretty good with some big jolts here and there. I was worried that the girls may have been afraid. Turns out it was just the opposite, they were having the time of their lives laughing their heads off and wanting more!
Perhaps the icing on the cake was our taxi driver home though. Maybe I was a bit short tempered from the long flight and the early start but this guy seemed to have no business driving a cab. We all pile in and I tell him our destination, which is pretty close to the airport, probably about 7-8 miles away. He then asks me which way I want to go. I tell him that I really don't care. At least to my knowledge, no one route is better than another. So I tell him to take the highway. Now, apparently, he is under the impression that I am his co-pilot and will give him step by step directions. I did not realize it until we are getting dangerously close to blowing our exit. I tell him, but it is too late. Anyway, I let it go, getting off at the next exit is not that much slower. Then I realize that we are about to miss another turn, and this time I don't think it is too late. But he does. So we have to make a U-turn. I then explain to him that GPS is pretty standard technology, particularly in the taxi business. He retorts that he thought I would give him step by step directions since I told him I wanted to take the highway. The problem is, he never gave any impression that he was waiting for my input until it was too late. Also, he seemed to blame me, rather than simply apologize. This was probably the first time I didn't give any tip for a taxi ride.
All in all, a hell of a trip!
This week, winter has really come to DC. So much so, that Bella only went to school one day this week! Perhaps it feels particularly cold because the week before we were out in San Diego where it was in the 80s. The only low parts of the trip were the flights. On both flights I was put in the middle at the very back of the plane and every single seat was taken. It seems now that the last highlight of flying coach is snagging a coveted spot in the overhead bins. I think part of it has to do with the laissez faire attitude flight attendants seem to have adopted. People bring these huge carry-on bags and no-one seems to bat an eye! Sure, there are those metal bins placed around the airport that tell you to check your bag for size compliance, but I have never seen anyone use one! Since most airlines allow you to check bags for free if flying with the military, I didn't even bother but I did witness some pretty funny stuff.
First, you get the people that are able to get their bag in the overhead, but many rows back from where they are sitting. So they have to swim against the stream at boarding to try to get back to their seat. Usually, people let them through, though begrudgingly. What is more fun to watch though is at arrival, there is always one person who thinks that they will be able to travel against the mass of people in the aisle to get to their bag. I have yet to see that one work. Trying to cut the line of people departing an aircraft is one of the hardest lines to cut. The other exercise in futility is when the flight attendants ask those not making a connection to remain seated so that those making a connection can leave the aircraft first. Bullshit! I place myself in the category of always making a connection. Also, even though it seems like an eternity, it doesn't take that long to actually clear the aircraft. I doubt the success of most people making a connection hinges on gaining a couple of minutes from deplaning first.
The worst part about the middle seat is the war of the armrests. The problem is, that you cannot divide 4 armrests evenly by three people. The one nearest the aisle and the one nearest the window are clearly spoken for. However, I think people feel that if they have one armrest, they should naturally get the other, to balance out. F that. I am getting at least one armrest, and if I have to sit in the middle, I feel like I should get the other as a consolation prize! My strategy is to wait until someone leaves the armrest clear for even a second, perhaps to turn the page of a book or get something out of their bag. Then I pounce! I plant my arm there and I will try to hold that territory as long as possible. On my flight out, I was sandwiched between two pretty large people, luckily they decided to hibernate on the plane, so the armrests were mine!
The flight back had even more hijinx. First, I passed a guy in the security line who looked like he had come right off a pirate ship. He had the giant 3 pointed hat, the pirate shirt, everything. The best part was that it looked like he was travelling with his wife and she was dressed as plain as could be! Perhaps he had some sort of pirate engagement immediately after his plane arrived and there was simply no time to change. I wish I could have talked to him a bit more.
The next funny part was that the plane was predictably extremely full and they made the announcement that those who were boarding last would likely have to check their carry-on bags. They try to upsell this by explaining that it is 100% complimentary! That takes some balls. Here they are initially telling people that you are allotted a carry on bag, but when they cannot fulfill their side of the bargain they try to explain that the concession is that they won't charge you for their screwup! So they keep repeating the message, encouraging, then urging people to check their bags. Finally, the inevitable happens and they report that indeed all the overhead bins are full and remaining passengers must check their bags (but still absolutely free!) A few people groaned, but this one middle aged old lady who looked like she might be a 7th grade English teacher dropped a pretty loud Mother F&*%ER to no-one in particular. I guess she really didn't want to check her bag.
In the continuing tradition of older white people raging against nothing in particular, my seatmate on the return flight was an older white guy. Probably in his 60s. On most long haul United flights the planes are equipped with direct TV, for a cost. JetBlue pioneered this, as far as I know, and even offered it for free. But with United, only unwanted bag checks are free. I noticed that the old guy's screen wasn't working, and he was not happy about it. The entire time we were on the ground and for the first ten minutes of the flight, he was trying to fix it. It started off calmly enough, he tried pressing the various buttons. Eventually both the pace and the intensity increased to almost a frantic level. Finally, he too decided to drop a pretty loud F-bomb. And amazingly, the screen started working at that exact moment! The great part was, he never looked at the screen again. He had no intention of actually paying for the service, I guess he just wanted the option. It would be a bit like going ballistic about not receiving a dessert menu when you had no intention of actually ordering any dessert.
My wife and the girls were not flying with me, but there flight was at almost the exact same time. Consequently, we were both flying through the same weather. The descent was pretty rough, there were extremely high winds and the turbulence was pretty good with some big jolts here and there. I was worried that the girls may have been afraid. Turns out it was just the opposite, they were having the time of their lives laughing their heads off and wanting more!
Perhaps the icing on the cake was our taxi driver home though. Maybe I was a bit short tempered from the long flight and the early start but this guy seemed to have no business driving a cab. We all pile in and I tell him our destination, which is pretty close to the airport, probably about 7-8 miles away. He then asks me which way I want to go. I tell him that I really don't care. At least to my knowledge, no one route is better than another. So I tell him to take the highway. Now, apparently, he is under the impression that I am his co-pilot and will give him step by step directions. I did not realize it until we are getting dangerously close to blowing our exit. I tell him, but it is too late. Anyway, I let it go, getting off at the next exit is not that much slower. Then I realize that we are about to miss another turn, and this time I don't think it is too late. But he does. So we have to make a U-turn. I then explain to him that GPS is pretty standard technology, particularly in the taxi business. He retorts that he thought I would give him step by step directions since I told him I wanted to take the highway. The problem is, he never gave any impression that he was waiting for my input until it was too late. Also, he seemed to blame me, rather than simply apologize. This was probably the first time I didn't give any tip for a taxi ride.
All in all, a hell of a trip!
Friday, January 23, 2015
Wishful thinking
On my way home yesterday, I stopped at a local CVS to pick up a drink for the ride. Ever since my old road bike was stolen, I prefer to never leave my bike unattended. Almost every store, particularly the big chain stores have no issue with me bringing my bike inside the store.
As I was preparing to enter the CVS, I saw this young girl, probably around 15, run up to the exit door at full speed and sort of bounce off. The door then slid open and she ran out at full speed clutching something under her arm. An employee followed, but declined to give chase once she left the store. It took me a second to process it, but clearly the girl was a shoplifter. I was so close, if I had realized what was going on I probably could have blocked her with my bike for that second or so necessary for the employee to catch up. But I didn't. I just stood there watching it unfold. They say that is a pretty common reaction in a stressful situation. That instead of fight or flight, it is really freeze, than fight or flight. By the time I had fully processed what was going on, she was 50 feet away and who was I to give chase. There have been stories about employees that are sued when they chase down a shoplifter and cause injuries during the apprehension. Not that I think this 15 year old girl had a strong legal team! The thing I remember the most, was as she was running out the door, she turned around and laughed at the employee. That made me think she was just stealing for the thrill of it, not because she needed whatever it was she took.
A similar thing happened a few years ago. I was on 2 week leave from the middle of my tour in Afghanistan. I had gone to a Best Buy store with my Mom and Sister. We had finished shopping and were in the parking lot getting ready to get in our car. All of a sudden, this young man, probably about 15, comes running by. You could tell from the way he was running that he had been running for awhile. He wasn't sprinting, he looked fatigued. Just as I was processing that, I see a New York State Trooper, also on foot about 40 feet behind. The microphone for his two way radio had fallen off the clip on his shoulder and it was trailing behind him. It was pretty clear that he wasn't going to catch this kid. Again, for a split second, I considered going after him. I had fresh legs so I probably could have caught him. But I didn't. I didn't even try.
The thing is, I would like to think of myself as having the natural instinct to give chase. But, experience has proven otherwise. Perhaps it has kept me out of trouble. But, you can't help but feel like a bit of a coward.
As I was preparing to enter the CVS, I saw this young girl, probably around 15, run up to the exit door at full speed and sort of bounce off. The door then slid open and she ran out at full speed clutching something under her arm. An employee followed, but declined to give chase once she left the store. It took me a second to process it, but clearly the girl was a shoplifter. I was so close, if I had realized what was going on I probably could have blocked her with my bike for that second or so necessary for the employee to catch up. But I didn't. I just stood there watching it unfold. They say that is a pretty common reaction in a stressful situation. That instead of fight or flight, it is really freeze, than fight or flight. By the time I had fully processed what was going on, she was 50 feet away and who was I to give chase. There have been stories about employees that are sued when they chase down a shoplifter and cause injuries during the apprehension. Not that I think this 15 year old girl had a strong legal team! The thing I remember the most, was as she was running out the door, she turned around and laughed at the employee. That made me think she was just stealing for the thrill of it, not because she needed whatever it was she took.
A similar thing happened a few years ago. I was on 2 week leave from the middle of my tour in Afghanistan. I had gone to a Best Buy store with my Mom and Sister. We had finished shopping and were in the parking lot getting ready to get in our car. All of a sudden, this young man, probably about 15, comes running by. You could tell from the way he was running that he had been running for awhile. He wasn't sprinting, he looked fatigued. Just as I was processing that, I see a New York State Trooper, also on foot about 40 feet behind. The microphone for his two way radio had fallen off the clip on his shoulder and it was trailing behind him. It was pretty clear that he wasn't going to catch this kid. Again, for a split second, I considered going after him. I had fresh legs so I probably could have caught him. But I didn't. I didn't even try.
The thing is, I would like to think of myself as having the natural instinct to give chase. But, experience has proven otherwise. Perhaps it has kept me out of trouble. But, you can't help but feel like a bit of a coward.
Thursday, January 22, 2015
Off the Wagon
My last post, which is still in draft form was about my six mile run. It was a good run and I kept the pace under 10 min a mile which was my goal. But unfortunately, it has been my last run for a bit. I travelled and then got a little sick and then got more into bike riding. All excuses. The plan is to start up again next week. Week 2 is essentially the same as week 1, just with a 7 miler on Saturday v 6.
I have been enjoying the hell out of my new bike. First, everything is tight and accurate on it. I had grown used to some of the foibles of my old bike, the fact that the shifting was a bit of a hit or miss proposition, that the bike may choose to change gear of its own accord etc.
What I love most about this new bike is the performance when I come off the seat and stand on the pedals. I had largely given up on standing up to climb hill on my old bike because the front shock absorber would continually articulate up and down with each pedal stroke. So even though I was expending quite a bit more energy, there was no real increase in performance. The same is not true on the new bike, it is like having a little bit of an afterburner now!
I am sure over time that I will forget about how much faster this bike is compared to my older one and wish for an even faster bike. However, I feel that I am very much in the region of diminishing returns. A bike that cost several times what my bike does may be a bit faster, but the real thing that is slowing me down right now is my own level of fitness. So I will be focusing on that for the near/far future and enjoying the hell out of my new ride.
With the chiller weather, there are less people using the path so not so many stories of crazy individuals.
I have been enjoying the hell out of my new bike. First, everything is tight and accurate on it. I had grown used to some of the foibles of my old bike, the fact that the shifting was a bit of a hit or miss proposition, that the bike may choose to change gear of its own accord etc.
What I love most about this new bike is the performance when I come off the seat and stand on the pedals. I had largely given up on standing up to climb hill on my old bike because the front shock absorber would continually articulate up and down with each pedal stroke. So even though I was expending quite a bit more energy, there was no real increase in performance. The same is not true on the new bike, it is like having a little bit of an afterburner now!
I am sure over time that I will forget about how much faster this bike is compared to my older one and wish for an even faster bike. However, I feel that I am very much in the region of diminishing returns. A bike that cost several times what my bike does may be a bit faster, but the real thing that is slowing me down right now is my own level of fitness. So I will be focusing on that for the near/far future and enjoying the hell out of my new ride.
With the chiller weather, there are less people using the path so not so many stories of crazy individuals.
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