We're Sorry For The Slight Delay ...

Years of travel for work involved a considerable amount of time spent in airports; and while part of that involved getting from place to place, damn near as much involved dealing with the inevitable delays involved in the process.  The holidays, with their high volume of traffic and potentially inclement winter weather were especially troubling where this was concerned.

"We're sorry for the slight delay," was a gate area death knell sounded all too frequently over the years.  One which was inevitably followed by a plethora of somewhat plausible, but often feckless statements like:

• The airport (though not necessarily the one you're at) is under delay or closed due to weather 
• Your incoming aircraft has been delayed
• We're experiencing a mechanical problem with your aircraft

It didn't matter what this moderately pleasant voice was trying to tell you however, since airline gate agents are well-schooled in misstating, misleading, and misrepresenting any semblance of the truth if it means maintaining the peace amongst a largely barbarian hoard of travelers.  (Those with advanced degrees often later became political spokespeople or press secretaries.)   

When a lack of additional information (accurate or not) began to fray nerves and raise tempers, bringing the palpable level of tension at the gate to a level that would normally snap a bowstring, equally distressing information was dribbled out in tone that now seemed not only less compassionate, but wholly unrepentant:

• We've discover the problem with the aircraft, but are now waiting on a part
• The weather's opening up at the airport, but incoming flights await their own ATC (Air Traffic Control) release   
• The incoming aircraft finally departed, but our airport is now below minimums and your flight will be circling the airport if and when it gets here
• The aircraft has been repaired, but must now be refueled/de-iced before we can even hope to board  

As continued delay and obfuscation finally wore down the spirits of a once raging throng, they became little more than a dispirited and wretched mob that was now dropping to their knees in tearful supplication to whatever Deity they believed in for deliverance from their airline oppressors.  Undaunted and unrelenting in their misery disbursement, these tormentors sought to inflict a final bit of auditory suffering to a now utterly cowed collective of traveling human debris:

• The aircraft you're waiting for has finally arrived, but instead of here at A-4, it will now be departing out of G-22
• Our aircraft is now ready to depart, but unfortunately the delay incurred means that the original crew is now being placed on forced rest and we must await the arrival of a new crew before we can begin to board 
• We're awaiting final paperwork, but if it doesn't reach us in the next five minutes, we'll miss the only departure window currently available and will have to wait for the next one 

-------------------------------------

I'm reminded of those days of abuse and sadism a lot lately as I watch Kathleen Sebelius, Jay Carney, the 'Waiver Granter-in-Chief' tap dance their way through recent press conferences and Congressional hearings on the Affordable Healthcare Act.  Accurate information on the ACA seems harder to come by these days than were details on the Manhattan Project during WWII.  It would probably be easier to hack personal information out of the system than it is to get a straight numbers from anyone with a government-issued microphone on something as simple as how many have successfully completed the sign up process and made their first payment.  (Where's Julian Assange or Edward Snowden when you need the creepy little bastards?)

The information that has been released to date is so full of obvious evasion and equivocation as to be next to useless (though most seem so happy to get it that no one seems to mind).  Any 'facts' or 'numbers' handed out carry more caveats than the sales contract warranty coverage used at 'Fly By Night Motors'.  The closest we come to anything resembling 'facts' as opposed to government issued 'truth' is when Secretary Sebelius or the President announce a waiver or delay in implementation; which at least tells us that that some part of the law either doesn't work properly yet, greatly offends a powerful special interest group, or would produce politically detrimental press coverage before the 2014 election.

Unfortunately, the strategy that the government has learned from the airlines has proved far too successful these days with a largely uninformed public.  Constantly lied to and recognizing that we've long since lost control of this situation (and the future), most now placidly await the next tidbit of disinformation with the same vague expression that the have for the next divorce announcement or plastic surgery attempt going on in the Kardashian family.  Fed up with months of inactivity, many get so caught up in seeing any movement of the queue that they forget to look down and notice that it's pushing them ever closer to the cliff's edge.  So desperate are they to get even bad news, that they gladly swallow the rosy interpretations and 'glass half-full assurances' delivered with them, and refuse to look beyond the sophistry and deception contained in the absurd pronouncements being made.   

The only thing missing of course, is government adopting airline language itself (and maybe a version of that's next):

"We're sorry for the slight delay in the implementation of the Affordable Healthcare Act due to circumstances that should have been well within our control, but which we mostly believe are none of your damn business.  We're sorry for the inconvenience, but since there's nothing you can really do about it now ... not so much.  We expect no change in the situation soon and little more than bad news to pass on to you; so sit back, relax your crack, and we'll get around telling you what we want you to hear when we damn well feel like it."




 

The New Travel Game

For those of you who weren't aware of it, last week's weekend rant was 'Missing in Action' because I was busy with a bit of family business.  It seems that my son had decided that the housewarming for his recently purchased abode provided an excellent excuse to kill two birds with one stone; allowing the opportunity to marry the love of his life Sarah Moglia at the same time.  The opportunity, not to mention necessity of attendance at such an event goes without saying; and Friday I found myself on an airplane for Columbus, Ohio.

Now while I had spent most of the better part of 35 years traveling on these 'Greyhounds of the Air', it had been a couple of years since the last such journey; enough so that most of the residual pain of doing so had worn off.  So it was with little trepidation that I prepared to visit three very familiar airports.  Kansas City's starting point presented few deterrents to travel.   Operating out of three separate and distinct terminals, it presents few obstacles to the regular traveler.  In fact, the obviousness of its conveniences has led city planners, in conjunction with federal authorities, to contemplate a complete redesign of the facility in order to make it more accommodating for TSA mall cops and less so for the traveling public.  (Heaven forbid that Americans should continue to enjoy the process of going where they please without the heavy hand of government to inject at least some minor misery into the process.)

The rest of the day's travel process went without incident (evidently they've finally taken the TSA 'Wanted' poster of me down), and I got to change planes in my former home base of Cleveland with relative ease before the short flight to Columbus (an airport that served as my launching point for over 20 years).  The weekend's festivities came off without a hitch (though I wasn't able to visit with all the folks that I would have liked to), and before I knew it I was once more at the airport, preparing for my return.  

As in many cases however, the apparent ease of the outbound effort was merely a set-up for a double helping of misery on the return.  After arriving earlier than normal for the first flight, I was quickly informed that there would be 3-1/2 hours of delay soon after I reached my gate.  With my original connection now lost however, I was re-booked to an alternate with plenty of layover time to spare.  The flight proved even later than expected however, and like the old days, I found myself racing through the neon tunnel between B and C terminals at O'Hare airport in an attempt to make up the difference.  I discovered that my exertions were needless though, when my arrival there at the next gate came just in time for the announcement of mechanical problems and a departure that would be later still.  After finally arriving home around midnight, I discovered that the result of my journey was that I could have instead driven to Kansas City in the time that it took me to enjoy the more expeditious plan of flying. 

Now those of you have read my offerings for any length of time, know that I am not easily dismayed by the aggravations of airline travel, nor am I easily taken in by the tireless efforts to thwart my travel plans of the ADL.  (For those less well informed, the ADL is the 'Anti-Destination League', a nefarious organization of ne'er-do-wells whose sole purpose in life is to prevent anyone in an airport from getting anywhere.  For additional information on them, search postings under ADL in this blog.)  In fact, I long ago created a game that I use at airports order to distract myself from the misery attendant with their machinations in such stalled efforts.  In this simple enough at some minor entertainment, I simply look around at my fellow passengers, robed in what I assume to be their sartorial splendor.  Understanding after all that my fellow travelers, knowing that they would be in a very public venue, undoubtedly chose their clothes with great care and at some point looked into the mirror to admire the result before their airport departure stating, "Damn, I look good in this!"  

Seeing them as I did (and you probably often have), I'm sure that you might have agreed with some of them.  Others however, might have used some assistance from one of the reality show fashion police, and some probably should have donated their choices to the Salvation Army rather than inflict them upon the rest of the traveling public.  Needless to say, I find that admiring the diversity of such choices the perfect curative for the tedium of such terminal (pun intended) existence and can also prove a vital part of the study of my fellow man in which I regularly participate.  These often endlessly amusing choices are not only a palative, but a constant proof that the ridiculous experience that we call life must be laughed at if it's to be endured at all.  Normally however, my play is forced to end as I board the flight; and I am left with whatever reading material I had brought along or in a pinch, the airline Sky Mall catalogue.  This weekend however, I added on new in-flight version of amusement that I'd like to share with you.   

Now as most of you know, the width of the average coach seat was designed around the size and comfort of the gluteous maximus (butt) of a 12 year-old, and only then, if it was one suffering from anorexia.  Not fitting any part of that description, I am therefore not normally surprised to be somewhat uncomfortable during my time in the air.  While attempting to endure such suffering in silence however, it suddenly occurred to me to wonder who might feel similar discomfort under similar circumstances (or perhaps, even more).  Knowing that most of the people I was thinking of would never be forced to fly coach in fact did nothing to detract from the amusement I felt as I imagined the pain that would be theirs. 

What are the odds, for example, of any female member of the Kardashian family could even get in or out of one of the poly-whatever Chinese finger puzzle that masquerades as commuter airline seat I was now calling home? (A thought which by itself, almost made my own agony bearable.)  How about the picture of Jennifer Lopez or Beyonce trying to get their famous and more-than-generous 'booties' into one of these less-than-generous chair offerings?  Could these transport torture devices finally give actors John Goodman and Dan Aykroyd the payback for inflicting upon us the Blues Brothers sequels?  As for the thought of Michael Moore's whining ass wedged in with his blue-collar brethren, it might well become a cinematic effort worthy of not only documentary award, but perhaps even of pay-per-view fees. 

As for our nation's leaders ...  

Oh sure, Senate Majority Leader Harry Reid might manage getting his 'Gollum butt' in what I'm convinced has long been a govt. issued seat design anyway, but I've got 3 to 1 odds that the better part of the House and Senate would have a bit a difficulty fitting in his place.  The President looks to be able to make the effort without much of one, but I suspect the First Lady might be less than amused with the opportunity of trying.  I might even suggest that avoidance of commercial air travel may be one of the few truly bi-partisan efforts inside the Beltway these days.  One might even go so far as to wonder whether the UN should be asked to step in to label the average seating experience on an airplane as a violation of the Geneva Conventions on the treatment of prisoners (which inevitably we are).

Oh sure, now safely at home, I recognize that the processes involved in such shoddy amusements are not only politically incorrect, but could probably be considered 'just plain mean'. I'm OK with that however, because it's my amusement after all, and these mental pictures were funny.  Maybe in fact, it's that very 'meanness' that appeals to the inner Curmudgeon in me (one that's surround by an increasingly larger 'outer curmudgeon' BTW).  While I am occasionally dismayed that to discover that I'm enough of a twisted Torquemada to be able to deal with my own discomforts by somewhat gleefully imagining those of others; it's nice to know that airline travel can still be used as an educational and inspirational experience.  And in spite of my misgivings over using such tacky mental distractions as a form of personal amusements, you will find this new entertainment added to my repertoire of travel games.

(Take that, ADL!)

The 'In' Crowd

Those of you who know me and those not new to reading "Just Blowing Smoke" have heard me talk about the fact that for many years, I basically lived out of a suitcase.  This is not because I was homeless (though it sometimes seemed that way), but because my job simply required it of me.  I've traveled to almost all of those in the Continental United States (though somehow my travels fall well short of the 57 States that the President visited during his first campaign).  I have also been to most of the Provinces in Canada (Beauty eh...), Mexico, a couple of interesting spots in South America, a few of the Scandinavian countries, and of course the ancestral home of the Higgins (O'hUig'in) clan in Ireland.

While having been in a number of places over the years however, I've never exactly been in what you would call the 'In Crowd'.  I fear that my own shyness and social awkwardness, coupled with an discomfort with crowds that's been increasing over the years, would appear to leave me little or no opportunity to gain entrance to such a social stratification.  There are other places that I've never been in (and some that I have), that I thought might be worth sharing however. 

I've never been in Cahoots for example. Apparently, it's someplace you can't go alone. You have to be in Cahoots with someone else and traveling companions are in short supply these days.  I've likewise seen in Justice, but can't say that I've actually been there.  From what I'm given to understand, it's everything that it's cracked up to be (unfortunately), which hardly make it worth any effort to get there.

I've also never really been in Cognito, though I've tried often enough. I hear no one recognizes you there, which at times sounds like an immense blessing; though I suppose it could get annoying when none of the bartenders know what to serve you for a refill.   

Early in my life, I was often in Experienced, though after a while its simple charms paled for me. Sometimes now I'm in Effective, and I seem to journey there more often since I changed careers (and have gotten older, of course).  I have even been told that I have occasionally managed to be in Ept if not crossing over the border to find myself in Competent; but normally look around and find myself merely in Capable, (though only temporarily) and therefore choose not to believe in crossing borders that I never noticed.  I have even been told a few rare occasions that I was in Valuable; but know this not to be the case, as everyone knows that when you're in Valuable, that you get a job that's personally fulfilling and pays you a lot of money besides. 

I have also been given to understand that I have from time to time been in Sane, something that I find far more easily believable. While never having admitted to it, I can tell you that I know that it doesn't have an airport; and that you have to be driven there. It's easy enough to believe that I've made any number of trips there however, thanks to family, friends, former bosses, and a never-ending stream of politicians who seem to take a particular delight in transporting me and other ordinary people there. 

I have also been in Doubt on a number of occasions. It's a sad place to go and often difficult to leave once you discover you're there, so I try not to visit there any more than I have to.  I'm careful about being sad, having heard that it can leave you In Consolable; a destination that does not appear on my travel agenda, now or in the future.

I grudgingly admit, to having been in Flexible from time to time; but only when it seemed very important to me to stand firmly in place (often for reasons I barely understood).  I would like some day to go to Conclusions, and while everyone tells me that it's a pretty easy place to get to (you just jump), my early training in logic and reason seem to keep me from the journey.  Besides, my interest in any form of such strenuous physical activity these days is not what it once was.

One of the exciting places that I usually find myself is in Suspense! It really gets the adrenalin flowing and pumps up the old heart! At my age I need all the stimuli I can get, as coffee simply isn't getting the job done any more.  Fortunately for me, the same bosses, jobs, and politicians seem to have no trouble getting me there as often as I would like. (OK, more than I really care for.) 

I have been told that as I continue to age, it's likely that I will someday be in Continent.  I've been unable to find it on a map, and can only assume that it's someplace like Florida that involves blue hair, white shoes, and retirement. While I understand that it's just an age thing, if it's OK with everyone, I will hold off (pun intended) on this journey for as long as I can.

In spite of all the places that I've been however, I still find myself feeling like I'm in Complete (perhaps much like this list); though I suppose that this only proves that with life, it's the journey and not the destination that counts. I often wonder with all the places I've been and all I still want to get to, if I shouldn't be renewing my Passport to have enough room for all the border-crossing stamps.  It wouldn't do to run out of spaces or let the damn thing unknowingly expire, which would leave me in Eligible instead of where I'm trying to get to.

It's been a while since I really traveled, and perhaps a little time on the road would broaden my horizons and help me to feel that I'm not spending far too these days on the border of in Adequate.  On the other hand, there's little doubt that no matter where I journey to or eventually find myself, it won't really matter.  Try as I might, I fear I will in the end remain outside of the 'In' Crowd .

In the spirit of full disclosure (or blame), I must give full credit for the subject of this post to an email sent to me by my sister, Kathy Richardson.  While I did not plagiarize it directly, I did manage to creatively pilfer a couple of the terms, as well as the general concept.   Quite frankly, the material so struck me that I couldn't help but use it as the basis for expansion and further twisting.  

Besides, my Irish Twin is about to experience that dreaded time of the year more commonly known as a Birthday, which will place her for a month and a half at the same level of decrepitude as this humble scribbler.  Oh sure, getting the Senior discount at the local grocery store takes away some part of the sting, but after calling me 'old' for the last 10-1/2 months, she now finds herself stuck with the very number she so insulted me with.  Perhaps pointing this out to the few twisted souls who read this efforts will in some way recompense her for the abuse I have suffered, and for bringing this material to me.

Fear of Flying

It's only now, having gone through a couple of weeks of intense therapy, that I have recovered sufficiently from the Post Traumatic Stress Disorder of the event to begin talking about my recent travel experience.  Of course, the whole thing was my fault.  It was I who decided to attempt to journey from the land of Oz to the Big Apple, I who decided to attempt to use last significant stockpile of frequent flyer miles that I had to make the journey, and I therefore who found myself standing in an airport on Christmas Eve.

Now lest you fear that these are the ramblings of yet another demented and cranky old bastard (which of course, they are), let me set before you my credentials for service as a Road Warrior.  I began traveling by air as part of my employment back in 1979, and did so on a very regular basis for about 30 years.  During that period, I managed to visit about 46 of the 50 states (oops, I almost said 58 there), all but one province of Canada, and a number of foreign countries in Europe and South America.  There were in fact many years during this period where I flew in excess of 100,000 miles on multiple airlines, achieving a rather exalted level of frequent flyer status.  I have flown in everything from single engine private planes to 747's, and have participated in two emergency landings (one in a 727 when an engine fell off, and another in a Shorts 360 commuter plane when we landed wheels up because the landing gear wouldn't lock).  None of this however, prepared me for the trials and travails of recent travel to visit my daughter's family near NYC.

Of course the ADL (Anti-Destination League) was in full attendance at all of the airports involved. (For further information on this nefarious organization, you can read about them in this previous post.)  Being well-schooled in their tactics however, I was able to strategically position myself in the boarding area and charge forward to the jetway before they were able to properly deploy the boarding gate picket lines.  I was equally successful in evading them in the baggage claim area, as since this was a short trip I had all of my worldly possession tightly grasped in my hands throughout the travel process.  (I was in fact only required to bludgeon three fellow travelers during the entire trip with a backpack which I had lethally prepared for just such a purpose.)   

Regardless of professional preparation however, dealing with fellow travelers whose lack of spacial comprehension convinced them that luggage the size of a sea trunk could be hoisted into the overhead space was a bit off putting. (And BTW, while gate agents are looking at the size of luggage, they might also want to look at the material of construction; and declare that rope handled shopping bags no longer qualify as luggage.)  I was similarly caught off guard by the Christmas cheer of the airline staff, having long ago grown accustomed to the type of surly treatment normally reserved by conductors on Japanese subway cars.  I had somehow likewise forgotten that the seat back that I was attempting to recline on placed this surface well within kicking range of crumb crunchers flying with their progenitors, producing movements far more violent than either of the emergency landings previously mentioned.

Speaking of children, while I have never been a fan of government agencies and their regulations, I would nevertheless encourage OSHA and the EPA to investigate the noise level on today's airlines.  Oh, I'm not talking about that of the engines, which was comforting enough to put me almost immediately asleep, but that of the shrieking children with whom I shared this all too cramped space, and whose hideous screeching soon after takeoff re-awakened me.  I neither remembered nor comprehended that infants and toddlers could produce sounds only slightly below a frequency level that only dogs can hear at a decibel level far beyond that of a newspaper printing press running at 60,000 copies per hour.  It's far past time that flight attendants issued the hearing protection required for such environments. (Which reminds me that I must remember to sue Sony for the failure of their noise cancellation headphones to perform anywhere near what was promised.)    

But of course no tale of the trials of travel would be complete without a description of the performance of those gallant mall cop wanna be's, the agents of the Transportation Security Administration.  What then can we say about the TSA that has not been said before? 

*  That their idea of cost cutting and maintaining work-site cleanliness was to not have me place the shoes that they forced me to take off into their plastic bins, so that they would not have to clean the bins of the dirt that might be on them (Apparently dirt in their X-ray machine was not seen as a concern.) 

*  That their concept of thoroughness was to challenge me when I said that I didn't in fact have a laptop in the backpack that I was carrying (I didn't).

*  That their attention to detail was to berate me for having the 3 oz bottle of shampoo that their rules limited me to in my shaving kit and not in the required zip lock bag (evidently the 3 oz cologne with flammable alcohol in the same shaving kit was of little concern).

*  That with all of their new technology, they are in fact no more efficient than when they had simple metal detectors, let alone X-ray machines; and no more effective than a Big 10 football team in a BCS bowl game.  

Oh it's true that I eventually returned Kansas physically unscathed, as befits its state motto "Ad Astra per Aspera" (to the stars through the rough); but the psychic scars of my recent travel may linger for years to come.  It's strange to comprehend that it's only now after long years of travel and many harrowing experiences that a true fear of flying has begun to grip me.  It's not the technology however that causes my skin to pale and my heart to race as I contemplate future travel in these 'Greyhounds of the air', but the collective insanity of my fellow travelers and the perverse nature and ludicrous methods employed by the government that seeks to 'protect' me while doing so.

On The Road Again

Next week will find me doing the first real traveling that I have done in over a year. In fact, with six flights ahead of me in about as many days, I will probably be doing as much traveling as I want to do for all of 2011. As much as I am looking forward to an opportunity to visit with friends and family during the upcoming period (especially being introduced to my youngest granddaughter Molly), I face the prospect of travel with a fair degree of apprehension. (Oh hell, let's be honest. I'm looking forward to traveling about as much as Sarah Palin would look forward to speaking at a MoveOn.org Convention.) 


I cannot say for example, that my visits with the agents of the dreaded Transportation Security Administration bring me any gratification (or at least no more than would a colonoscopy without anesthetic ... and for perhaps the same reasons). Neither can I say that sitting in a seat only slightly larger than an infant car seat while drinking from a plastic glass holding only slightly more liquid than a jello shot is high on my wish list. I likewise find no entertainment in listening once more to the flight attendant instructing me on the complicated procedure of fastening a seat belt that I am obligated to operate if I ride in a car on the way to the airport. As for the potential of bliss from clutching a seat cushion smelling of beer farts to my chest in order to prevent me from drowning, they have better odds of turning the plane into a pleasure boat during a "water landing". 


Of course I can always occupy myself by attempting to count the peanuts or pretzels in a package served by the employee of an airline almost as unhappy as I am to be on the plane (a process which normally takes up to two minutes), or succumb to the temptation to buy overpriced items that I don't need from a catalogue stuffed in the seat pocket for just such a purpose; but real Road Warriors (and those equally fortunate) usually manage to nod off before the plane ever leaves the ground. The greatest challenge of the coming week however, will be once again pitting my skills and training against the dreaded Anti-Destination League. 


For those of you who have not dealt with the nefarious minions of the ADL (or perhaps have simply failed to realize that you were), these are the people who do everything in their power to prevent anyone from getting anywhere. They slow the security lines by failing to prepare themselves for the personal scan by taking belts or shoes off or their carry-on items for the luggage X-ray, often further amusing themselves by suddenly finding change in their pockets after passing through the scanner twice. 


After doing their worst in the security area, they next attempt impede the progress of passengers by blocking the main aisle of the terminal by simply stopping in the middle of it for no apparent reason while looking about them with the pretense of a vague or idiotic expression on their faces. Having even then failed to prevent travelers from reaching their planes however, they assemble in groups to barricade the gate areas of planes they have no intention of boarding while other people are attempting to do so. 


Should you somehow manage to elude all of this effort and get on your flight, you can bet that when it reaches its final destination you will find them there as well, setting up an effective barrier around the baggage claim belt, appearing to wait for a bag that they never checked in the first place. Of course, having long dealt with the insidious tactics of these evil doers, I am well-skilled in their Dark Side mind tricks and do not so easily fall prey to their schemes. Having not flown in a while however and knowing of the continual adaptation of their evil strategies, I would be a fool not to admit to apprehension as I once more enter the struggle with these villains.


I am likewise convinced that knowing of my past victories against them, they have by now transmitted my reservations out over the internet in their secret code, and my name and picture have been once more been moved near the top of their 'Watch List'. So as I once more prepare for travel, I ask all of you to keep a happy thought for me on Monday (hey, it worked for Peter Pan), in perhaps the vain hope that I will somehow be granted the patience to endure what must be endured and overcome what must be defeated in the timeless struggle that means going back on the road again.

Airport Security Restrictions

TSA (the Transportation Security Administration) is rolling out yet another and perhaps even more intrusive security procedure in their continued effort to annoy the flying public in the name of making travel safer. Passengers will now be randomly selected anywhere from the security lines to the gate to have their hands swabbed for the presence of gunpowder residue. Of course this will also mean additional delays to the travel process, government spending (about $39 million for the portable detection devices), and will also call for spending on additional TSA staff to operate them.

On its face, this new level of airport security procedures appears little more than another government spending program and a chance to influence unemployment numbers by the creation of government jobs paid for by taxpayers. There is a more subtle message being handed to the American public however that I believe that few recognize, and it is that the movement of this country's citizens needs to be more controlled.

When I began traveling for a living in the late 70's, there was an unwritten guideline that if the trip was over four hours by car, we should fly to be more efficient. As security procedures increased around the 9/11 attacks, that guideline moved the line from 4 up to 6-7 hours before we went to the airport. Now we are told that with the new security procedures, that we should be at airports at least 3 hours in advance of the flight at a minimum. We are finally told to expect body scans, pat-downs, and these random swabbings in an attempt to make us more safe.

Added to the fact that owing to fuel costs and airline profitability there will be longer travel times to most destinations, what this means to me is that the unwritten rule will now say that spending more than a full day of driving from point to point will be required before considering trying to climb on an airplane. Not only is this counter intuitive to what we are told is the socially responsible thinking on private transportation vs mass transit in this country, but its outcome eventually leads many in this country to conclude that they will decide to travel (other than locally) only when absolutely necessary.

The United States has always been a beacon of freedom in the world in terms of travel, with no "border crossings" when traveling from state to state in a geography far more vast than that of Europe. There has never in fact, been a more mobile society than that in this country. Increasing government influence now forces us to admit that while the cost of gasoline is high, and the cost of airline travel is increasing as well, Americans are now beginning to rethink the mobility that they have long enjoyed in an attempt to avoid the increasingly intrusive government security inspections between the ticket counter and the gate at an airport. 




Amazingly, we allow all of this to go on while most would agree that the lion's share of these procedures do nothing to add to the actual safety of airline travel in this country. Most would likewise agree that the government imposed, politically correct nature of the prosecution of these practices does not effectively target the potential dangers to travelers that exist. We have become so fearful however, and so compliant as a society, that when our leaders tell us that we are in danger we willingly go along with this nonsense in spite of this knowledge. It may place the tin foil hat firmly on my head, but I would suggest that hidden in this apparent drive for safety is an agenda supporting an increasing role for Homeland Security and its TSA police arm that states that a population is easier to keep safe (and to control) if it simply finds it more convenient to stay put. 


Might I also suggest that the continued and gradual increase of these draconian security measures appears more an example of the practices of the old Soviet Union than the country designed by our Founding Fathers. Benjamin Franklin once warned us that: "Those who give up essential liberty to purchase a little temporary safety deserve neither liberty nor safety." It appears that we are becoming ever more willing to allow our government to take these liberties from us bit by bit in the name of a such safety while traveling. It also appears that once again, we are going to allow that government to impose new airline security restrictions upon us in the name of the the very freedoms that they take away.

Why Are Toy Trains More Fun Than Real Ones?

As Christmas approaches, I was thinking recently of some of the great gifts that I received over the years, and of course the most memorable of my youth were toys. None of these has left a more lasting impression than the Lionel trains that my brother and I received.

My father took the time to build a table for operating them that could be set up in the garage, and we spent hours on end setting up track and running them around it. We marveled at tiny steam locomotives that made smoke and whose lights shone brightly, even during the day. Tiny diesel locomotive replicas towing miniature passenger or freight cars provided hours of fascination. We reveled in being able to control their movement forward and backward, switching tracks along the way as they made their way round our private little world.

We later added to the reality of that world (with my father's help of course), acquiring, painting, and assembling various accessories for these trains. Trees, grass, buildings, crossing gates, and even tiny people soon became part of the bit of miniature reality that we tried to create.

Later on after moving once, we had an adult neighbor even more obsessed than we were, who had turned the entire basement of his house over to a small world of tiny trains. Mountains and lakes, tunnels and bridges, and even small towns and cities were a special part of this world in which he spent endless hours and which we were privileged to visit from time to time.

These days trains have a far different meaning for me. Government subsidies of Amtrak, the cries for additional funding for light rail and commuter rail in cities, and the need for railroads to run commercials to prove the worth of their existence seem to have dimmed my fervor.

Instead of getting eye level with miniature crossing gates, my mind is filled with thoughts of the needless accidents at unsafe railroad crossings. Instead of hours of the fascination of watching these tiny trains follow their fixed paths, I remember the wasted hours over the years that I have spent waiting for one to parade in front of me. Instead of seeing myself in those tiny Pullman car replicas (built not many miles north from where I lived near Chicago), I now mourn that there is no longer any such thing.

Perhaps it is simply that I have lost the ability to experience the simple joys of youth. Perhaps it's that the fantasy of trains (and most of life) fascinates far more than their reality. Perhaps reaching a level of understanding in the reality of such things as an adult (OK, in my case kind of an adult) ruins the fantasy forever.

I still dream of one day taking a long train trip across the country, and maybe even up the west coast of the US and Canada to Alaska. I dream of the endless scenery passing by the window to the repetitive sounds of the joints in the tracks. I dream of the hypnotic effect of such leisurely travel in a way that I have never experienced.

I fear however, that it will never be. The reality would (and could) never live up to such a dream. Travel is no longer the romantic experience that it once was, as anyone who has flown recently knows far too well. And even if it were, passenger trains themselves are no longer what they used to be. Besides, my understanding is that with the current level of repair of both tracks and passenger cars, such travel (and such fantasies) can be downright dangerous.

Off To Foreign Lands Once More

Yes ladies and gentlemen, I am off once again to foreign lands and will be out of the country next week in performance of the assigned duties that earn me a steady paycheck (I know, I too am often amazed that someone is willing to pay me to do anything). Have no fear my friends, for my intention is to continue to produce my normal level of nonsense while working at my assignment in Bogota, Columbia. (I simply have to take the exchange rate into consideration to do so.) In fact, I promise that if there is anything of special interest that occurs there during my travels, I will be sure to do special updates for you.

While the people at the newspaper there treat me very well indeed, they (and my employers) expect to get their money's worth from me in the form of hard work and long hours. Long hours as well, are involved in just getting there, with 12 hours of travel expected in both directions. I therefore ask that you grant me a small excuse for what may be the disjointed, mis-typed, and probably rambling postings that may come out during the upcoming week (and before you ask, no I have no excuse for those you have been getting from me for the last two years).

I also ask that you do what you can to keep Congress from screwing up the country while I am gone, or at least to limit the pace destruction to one no greater than they are operating on this week (which leaves it pretty wide open, if I do say so myself).

Hola From Bogota

Well today is day two of my trip to Bogota (I don't count the travel day, even though it lasted slightly over 13 hours). I can't tell you that I have seen much of the country or even the city for that matter since I got here, but that is not unusual with the almost all the overseas travel that I do. I can't even describe the airport, as I landed after dark. Since then almost every available minute has been tied up at the newspaper, with the occasional hour thrown in for a meal or sleep. 

My impressions of the place are mostly favorable. The people have been terrific both at the hotel (The Hotel Capital) and the newspaper (El Tiempo). They have been universally helpful, friendly, and accepting of my complete inability to speak Spanish. Some of their staff, being far more capable than I am, are bi-lingual, and have been able to make the process a bit easier. 

As a consequence of the language barrier, they will be supplying me with a translator tomorrow to perform the formal training classes. I have also been asked to speak more slowly, as I have asked them to do, in the hopes of finding a partial linguistic common ground. Traffic in Bogota is an interesting experience, and I am grateful for the cab ride (with a local to watch over me) to and from work. 

While Colombians drive on the same side of the road that we do with the steering wheel on the proper side as well, this is the end of the common automobile experience. The cabs are incredibly small (as are most of the vehicles), and if there is a pattern to the traffic in Bogota (other than if you aren't a local you don't get it) I have yet to discern one. The food is likewise a bit unusual, but I am sure that they would feel the same if presented with many of our menus. 

As for the exchange rate, I was handed $38,000 Columbian pesos for a $20.00 bill. The prices don't seem out of line, but seeing them in a peso rate can be disconcerting at first (unless you are unfazed by seeing a cheeseburger for $22,500). 

There are a few things to get used to however, especially the security. There are police and soldiers visible almost everywhere, and there are dogs sniffing luggage even at the hotel. The security at the newspaper is tighter than I have seen since the strike in Detroit a few years ago. 

These are not special circumstances here however, and my passport is collected in order to obtain a security badge to go to work every day. I will not bore you with any of the details of the work that I am performing, as it is far from interesting, even to those in the industry. My intention is to complete it by the end of the week however,and be on my way back to fair Toledo on Saturday. Until then, adios.  

I apologize for the lack of pictures, but the weather has been too crummy to take any. In fact I have been surprisingly cool, with highs in the 60's and lows in the 40's. If it improves, which appears unlikely, I will try to get a few. 

Off To Foreign Lands ... Again

As the title implies, I am once again leaving our fair shores on Sunday in the name of business, and as part of what I believe is a secret program to raise the national IQ (at least on a temporary basis). I suspect in fact, that this may some part of a larger international "sweeps week", and that forcing another country to take credit (or blame) for me is part of a program to improve a national reputation that has taken significant hits recently. 

I will once more be journeying south, this time to Bogota, Columbia. As with most of my previous foreign travel, I am completely ignorant of the city and country that I will be journeying to, deriving any information that I have from news reports over the years of the drugs that come from this country and of course the original "Romancing The Stone" movie. I am reasonably certain that I will be quickly disabused of all of my present stereotypes, since neither of these sources can be considered in any way credible (OK, maybe "Romancing The Stone" is). 

As I did with my travels to Trinidad (which I only discovered today is north of where I am going this time), I will attempt to post something from this foreign land, with pictures if I manage to take any worth sharing. While not looking forward to long hours in an airplane (a recognized form a torture which has been banned by the Geneva Convention), I will at least be able to escape for a few days the political nonsense that is winding up to a fever pitch in this country. While working long hours at the newspaper, I will at least be able to escape the endless political commercials, nonsensical pundits, and news reports filled with quotes of candidates saying the same things that they have said before when I return to my hotel and turn on the TV (of course I probably won't be able to understand the shows on TV, but that too may be a good thing). Basking in what I hope will be the relative peace and quiet of that setting, I hope to regain some perspective on life before immersing myself once again in the final stampede to election day. 

I have great faith that those remaining behind are more than up to the challenge of containing the madness and maintaining order in my absence. They may in fact be considering this a vacation for themselves. As the saying goes... "Absence makes the heart grow fonder, and the more he's absent, the fonder I become of it." 

 

The Road To Nowhere

My travels during the recent Holidays from Toledo to Kansas City placed me on I-70 for incredibly long stretches of time. While I am thrilled that the Interstate system in the US is able to aid us in our journeys from point A to point B in the shortest possible time, there are times when this drive can be about as exciting as watching grass grow. 

Now I have nothing against the states of Indiana, Illinois, and Missouri, as I was born in one of them and lived in another for years. That doesn't mean however that I am willing to spend what seemed to be an eternity crossing them. (By the way, for anyone who is into true self-mutilation, you should try the drive from Lubbock to Dallas. The drive is just about as long, and may be the only one in the country more boring. The land is so flat and featureless that there are times that you have to pray to whatever Deity you believe in to either take your life and end the mindless tedium of the drive, or at least provide you with a tree as scenery to break the monotony.)

Unfortunately, there are some days when I think that my entire journey through life is taking much the same path. I don't remember which turn I made that put me on the road that I am on today; but I can't say that I am entirely pleased with the scenery on the journey, or the fact that the destination and the purpose that were once so clear to me appear to be no longer known. Perhaps I simply fell asleep behind the wheel at some point and have awakened briefly now only to see Rod Serling waving at me from the roadside.

Don't get me wrong here, this is not a cry for sympathy for myself or anyone else finding themselves on such a journey. No, this is instead a warning. While there are many GPS systems today that can be used to guide us, step-by-step, from point A to B in our travels by car, there is no such system to help us on the journey we make of our lives. Use this if you will then, as a sign post on your journey of life. It may read "Winding Road Ahead", "Beware of Falling Rocks", or even "Dead End"; I'm not really even sure myself. It is however, a sign that points to a road ahead with many hazards. Take heed of the danger, keep your eyes on the road, and your hands on the wheel.

"Thanks to the Interstate Highway System, it is now possible to travel from coast to coast without seeing anything." 

- Charles Kuralt

Greetings from Trinidad

Greetings from the fair island of Trinidad and Tobago. I am currently hanging out just outside of the city of Port of Spain (for those of you who like to look at maps). This city is in the northwest part of the island, which seems quite beautiful.






Anyone who has ever been to LA knows exactly what fun rush hour can be and would feel right at home in Port of Spain. The rush hour traffic here, which seems to last most of the day, is a nightmare. We have been fortunate enough (or someone else planned it better than I could have) and are going in the opposite direction as the crowd during the peak traffic. For cars going with the flow, they can expect to seldom get into 2nd gear let alone past it. This is a right-side driver situation, with a bunch of local hand signals that makes it even more confusing to me; but fortunately I do not have to drive.

Since I am not here on vacation, but to perform some useful function (something that I seem to have a great deal of difficulty with); I am working some pretty long hours. As a consequence, I have seen nothing of the country or even the city (except what I can see here from my hotel). The days have been filled with the airport, the hotel, and the newspaper production facility. I am hoping that this will change before I leave on Saturday, but I am not expecting it to.



The city of Port of Spain appears to be bursting at the seams with new construction, and the hotels are booked solid even this close to the holidays. The people are exceptionally friendly and go out of their way to talk to you and tell you about the country. 

Communication is in English, but enough of the island slang leaks in that you are asking people to repeat things quite often to actually understand what they are saying. They also accept US dollars, but give change in the currency of Trinidad (TT dollars), which can range from 6 to 1, to 8 or 9 to 1 depending on who is doing it. I have not been able to sample local cuisine yet either, as most meals are rushed. For those who long for the familiar, there is everything from Ruby Tuesdays, to Fridays, to KFC to keep the taste buds satisfied. I am hoping to yet sample something more exotic, but again only if time permits. 

I have sampled the weather however, and it has been great. Temperatures get up into the 80's during the day, and only fall into the mid-70's at night; which seems a thousand years from the ice storm I left only Sunday. I am trying to savor it, as I know that the cold is only too close.

Well that's about it for now. Sorry to stick you with a travelogue instead of my usual wit and wisdom, but time and circumstance have not allowed more. Besides, it wasn't really that witty or wise when I was making a real effort at it. Hopefully I will be in better form after I return this weekend and can sit down and spend some time with the writing (but probably not).

Until then, and as Buckaroo Bonzai once said, "no matter where you go ... there you are".

Special Post: Off To Foreign Lands

Well the time has finally come for me to depart these fair shores ...  

No, I have not been deported (though I would probably not pass the citizenship test) and I am not being deployed (the Armed Forces are far too smart to take me, and the deployment of weapons of mass distraction are a violation of the Geneva Convention). Instead, I am journeying to the far land of Trinidad and Tobago for reasons of business for at least a week. Now the truth be told, I know absolutely nothing about this place except that it is off of the coast of Venezuela, has an Olympic team, and participates in the Miss Universe contest. 

It appears however, that some bit of nonsense stuck in the back of my head is required for a project that my company is working on for "The Guardian" newspaper down there. For those of you worried that they will miss some bit of wisdom or nonsense during my absence, I am grateful for your concern. I will attempt to continue my posting schedule while down there, and will include pictures if I can; but I can make no promises. 

For those of you grateful for the relief that this interval might provide, as Monty Python would say, "I fart in your general direction". I know that you will keep Toledo together in my brief absence, since I wasn't doing much to help anyway. I will be looking in on the goings on up here from this far away place, as I understand that Al Gore recently got the Internet installed in the area. By the way, while there appears to be some rain in my forecast for most of the week, the temperature appears to be varying from a nighttime low of 75, to a daily high of around 85.

Emergency Travel Alert

This is a special travel alert for any and all of you who are planning on venturing out during this final bit of the vacation season this summer. There is a malevolent group of individuals out there that is bent on doing unspeakable evil upon you and if you expect to survive your trip, you need to be on the lookout. No, I'm not talking about the guys with the cheese and cell phones or Islamic terrorists. I talking about a far more dangerous group, and one that has carrying out its nefarious schemes far longer. I'm talking about no less than ...

The Anti-Destination League

What, you say that you have never heard of the ADL? Well of course you haven't. This organization, steeped in secrecy since the beginnings of the public transportation, seeks only to make people's lives miserable while travelling. Recruitment methods and initiation rituals continue to remain a mystery (though it appears that having a mean spirit and rotten disposition seems to be considered almost essential for potential membership - you know, government employees). Neither has any successful infiltration of this organization led to revelation of their methods of operation or of the ghastly practices that they perpetrate on an unsuspecting public. It has been said in fact, that they taught the Masons about secrecy and the IRA about retribution.

Come on you say, no such organization could possibly exist and remain so completely unknown. Let me ask you this:

• Who do you think blocks ticket counters preventing anyone from checking in for flights?
• Who do you think are the people who block the boarding gates at airports preventing you from getting on a plane, even when they cannot or will not board themselves?
• Who stands next to the baggage carousel, apparently without bags to pick up, and prevents you from getting to your luggage?
• Who stops in the middle of a crowded terminal for no apparent reason, blocking your way when you are racing to catch a flight for which you are already late?
• Who refuses to sit in their seat and fasten their seat belt after boarding a plane, delaying its departure and insuring that you miss your connecting flight?
• Who do you think really runs the TSA security system?

Ah, only now do you begin to see that what you thought were simple misfortunes or random bad luck were in fact an elaborate strategy. Only now can you begin to conceive of the devious operations perpetrated on an unsuspecting public by this band of evil doers. No my friends, these are not amateurs, but experts in the art of preventing anyone from getting anywhere.

What then, is your defense against them? Can you hope to survive your coming confrontation with these masters of travel mischief. Ladies and gentlemen you can. While they cannot be avoided, their plans for you can be circumvented by following these simple procedures:

1. Keep a smile on your face and a sunny disposition at all times (it not only infuriates them, but can throw them off their game).
2. Keep your carry-on luggage close and firmly in your grasp no matter what. (Not only will this action protect the luggage itself, but may provide you a weapon of last resort in the event of a serious confrontation.)
3. Keep you plans flexible. (After all, no matter how well you plan, they may get to you.)

Good Luck, And Good Travels