tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-220565282024-03-14T03:47:14.617-04:00Ramblings of a Civil ServantWhile not currently a civil servant, I have government service in my bones, which means lots of naps and conference calls with no resolutions.Hero to the Masseshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07039148773925919239noreply@blogger.comBlogger608125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22056528.post-55809689690667063842015-07-29T11:29:00.000-04:002015-07-29T11:30:04.582-04:00Heart of Gold<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUidavS2-iHxIzgzXBf8CbtSlLXyT5VOhBGB9rk08x-E90bju0HiMSA2P2jLKizh1Nn8WaiFOogfbIiTffCYC3aiikd965SC_W_0cLxORmOAA0ETtot2HZ1G2Bl5_PklfzBOYOEA/s1600/Buck.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUidavS2-iHxIzgzXBf8CbtSlLXyT5VOhBGB9rk08x-E90bju0HiMSA2P2jLKizh1Nn8WaiFOogfbIiTffCYC3aiikd965SC_W_0cLxORmOAA0ETtot2HZ1G2Bl5_PklfzBOYOEA/s320/Buck.jpg" width="272" /></a></div>
I first met Rebecca Buck in 2000 at the 28th Precinct. I had just gotten out of field training and sent to evening shift. She was a 30 year old newly pressed Sergeant in the NYPD and she had come to evenings. Specifically she had come to the best squad on evenings, C-2. As a bit of an explainer, there are three Platoons in a precinct (Midnights "A", Days "B", and Evenings "C") In each platoon there are three squads that rotate five days on, two off, five on, three off. I had found myself placed in Squad C-2, the second squad of the evening shift. <br />
<br />
New Sergeants are an interesting breed. They just came from humping a radio car like you and so they understand all of the scams and the work, but they also have been told over and over in BMOC (the Basic Leadership class of the NYPD) that officers are not your friends anymore and they will get you in trouble or fired. And C-2 was a hot mess of officers who had lots of years on working in a busy precinct and a short, young attractive blonde sergeant was going to be tested. <br />
<br />
Right after she became our Sgt, she invited us all to this Brazilian steakhouse in Queens. The whole squad, which was like 12-14 people. And some of them were misfits. My favorite quote was a more senior guy asked her "Do we have to invite Satan?" referring to one of the more disgruntled guys we had. She insisted. So we went and ate and drank and she paid for the whole thing. I imagine this happens to Teach for America kids who get to their first school in a bad neighborhood and decide to give peace offerings as a first act. We even told her that she shouldn't do this because it wasn't necessary. But she insisted. And she spent <b>a lot</b> of money on us losers. <br />
<br />
As she grew into her role as our boss, there were some tensions. I remember we went on strike with our activity for some reason. Jose, a Dominican guy, thought it was a good idea and just kept yelling "STRIKE!" in a heavily tinged accent, which seems as good a reason as any to not write tickets. I'd ask him if he remembers why we went on strike. <a href="http://www.nydailynews.com/new-york/nyc-crime/ex-nypd-robbed-drug-dealers-18-years-prison-article-1.2147622">but he's currently on an 18-year vacation</a>. You have to turn in your activity sheets at the end of the month and as each guy handed in their sheet, her face dropped more and more, until she ran out of the room and went to the Lieutenant to try and figure out what the hell was going on. Fair question. We had no idea either and activity returned to normal as soon as Jose stopped yelling. <br />
<br />
What I remember most about Sgt. Buck was her kindness. I remember asking her to come to one of my calls to see if I had enough to make an arrest. And then we got into a discussion like this:<br />
<br />
<i>Me: So, Boss, here's the details, is that enough for an arrest? </i><br />
<i><br /></i>
<i>Her: You looking to make an arrest today? </i><br />
<i><br /></i>
<i>Me: I'm totally fine taking the arrest and staying on overtime, I just don't know if this is an arrest or not.</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
<i>Her: You got plans tonight? You want to go to court tomorrow? </i><br />
<i><br /></i>
<i>Me: Listen, Sarge, if I wanted to shitcan this (NYPD parlance for making things go away) you would never even know this address existed, but I called you and I embrace whatever decision you make, You have the stripes. </i><br />
<i><br /></i>
<i>Her: Lock her up. </i><br />
<i><br /></i>
<i>Me: Thank you. </i><br />
<br />
She also smoked like a chimney, which meant that when she took me as her driver, it made for interesting times. Point of reference, since all NYPD patrol units are two-officer cars, they give the patrol sergeant's a driver (operator in job speak) so they can respond to calls as well. Normally, i could just roll down the windows, but on the days I drove her and it rained, it was a scene out of a comedy. She would be smoking with her window barely cracked while mine was down. My left side would be soaked, and she would ask "Campbell, does this bother you? I can put it out." To which I always replied, "No Sarge. I just like the feeling of rain."<br />
<br />
Sergeant Buck went on to become Lieutenant Buck and retired from the job after 20 years of helping people and somehow not becoming a terrible, disgruntled person counting down their time like a prison sentence. Rebecca passed away last week after suffering from 9/11 related illness. Former colleagues turned out on Facebook to express their sadness and happiness at having known her. And out of those posts, an odd pattern started forming. Many peopl<br />
e said that she had reached out exactly two weeks before she passed and they had a great conversation where she said she was doing well and asked about their kids and lives. The theory is that she was gravely ill and wanted to reach out to talk to those she cared about to say goodbye without burdening them with her health. Even to the end she was selfless. <br />
<br />
She is being laid to rest today in the Hudson Valley in New York. I can't be there as I have a crazy work week and it hurts. As I've mentioned before I learned you always make the funeral and I simply can't. But she is in my mind all day and has been since I heard the terrible news. I am reminded again sadly that 9/11 has killed more officers (84) than were killed on 9/11 (24).<br />
<br />
Rest easy Rebecca Buck. Hope there's a smoking section in heaven. I'll miss you calling me "Big Bird." Don't spend any money buying people dinner to make sure they like you up there, because they won't be able to help themselves. Even without a green paddle for more prime rib. <br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><span style="font-size: large;">Fidelis Ad Mortem. Squad C-2 forever. </span></i></div>
Hero to the Masseshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07039148773925919239noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22056528.post-16158261633586150892015-05-26T19:06:00.003-04:002015-05-26T19:06:21.471-04:00Arrests Vs. Murders<u><i>Caveat Emptor</i></u><br />
<i>Greetings. For some of you, this is your first time stopping here after you found me from my <a href="http://www.buzzfeed.com/dashboard/dreamworks/why-cops-like-me-stay-quiet-about-police-brutality">Buzzfeed article</a>. Recently, my posts have been more police-centric, but this blog was a journal or outlet for me for many yeats and so if you spend time going back in time here, it could get pretty random, so be warned. I had to decide whether or not to start a whole other blog, just on law enforcement stuff, and in the end decided that this blog really is who I am for better or worse as </i><br />
<i>I've travelled through my life, and this focus on policing is simply the next chapter for it. So I just wanted to set that out up front for any new people. </i><br />
<br />
So Baltimore has had a terrible May. They are currently at 35 homicides for the month and it's not yet over. They currently stand at 108 homicides for the year, while Philadelphia at more than double the population (1.5 million to 600K) stands at 88. And these are just the murders. <a href="https://twitter.com/justin_fenton/status/603205465749721088">Shootings are up 78%</a>, and that's people shot. Not people just shooting. Those numbers are anyone's guess. At the same time as this terrible spike in violence, the news has trumpeted stats saying that arrests are way down. <a href="http://www.bbc.com/news/world-us-canada-32889836"> Some 45% over last year, our friends across the pond are saying</a>. Some are saying that the police are simply letting these murders happen as some sort of retribution for the indictment of the 6 officers for Freddie Grey's murder. <br />
<br />
Now, let me say up front, that I've never worked or lived in Charm City. I do very much enjoy their food and their people, but I am no expert on Baltimore. But I do know that we're talking about apples and oranges in many ways. <br />
<br />
Let's take the murders and the shootings. Again, I am no police mastermind, but the shocking amount of violence in a concentrated area (Western District) would lead me to believe that a lot of this is retributional. That is to say that people didn't just decide to embark on their shooting career in May. They are trading bodies for bodies. If this hunch is right, then these are incredibly hard murders and shootings to solve. As evidenced by the fact that after the initial ones, people turned to guns to solve them and not to the police. This is nothing new. There is of course a huge "stop snitching" culture. I've had crime scenes where the victim could tell me exactly where the guy was who shot him down to the foot, but couldn't tell me anything about their height, weight or clothing. This is how it goes. The cops know this.<br />
<br />
This is not to excuse it. Yesterday in Baltimore, a 9-year old boy was shot. These are people being killed with familes and mothers and sisters and kids, regardless of whether they're in the game or not. It's inexcusable and must be stopped, but it's hard when you don't have witnesses. It doesn't mean you don't try, but its hard. There is a tremendous impact to the psyche of this community. <br />
<br />
As for the arrests, I would wager to say that this represents proactive arrests. These aren't the arrests for people calling about getting hit by someone and pointing out the suspect, or people stealing from stores and being caught on video camera. These are the arrests that come from cops seeing guys pissing on the street, drinking in public, gambling, or looking suspicious and then later finding drugs or guns on them. Bear in mind, that last category fit Freddie Grey to a T, except he was only carrying a knife of questionable legality, depending on who you're listening to on Twitter. <br />
<br />
These are the arrests that people hate. Eric Garner, arrested for selling loose cigarettes. Michael Brown, stopped for walking on the street. However this kind of policing can also be good policing. Brian Moore, the NYPD officer who was killed weeks ago, saw a guy with something in his waistband. When he asked the guy about it, man turned and shot him in the head, a wound he later died from. It was a good stop. And clearly it was for cause. But they're not all going to turn up guns, which is where it gets grey again. <br />
<br />
There is not a true connection between the drop in arrests and the rise in shootings. For that, you would have to know what arrests<i> were not being made</i> this year. You also have to ask a community weary of police helicopters and aggressive tactics how they can earn that trust again. So when someone gets stopped wearing a trenchcoat in summer and gets patted down, they understand it isn't heavy handed tactics, but officers looking to literally stop the bleeding. <br />
<br />Hero to the Masseshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07039148773925919239noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22056528.post-59764454332131290952015-01-07T16:04:00.002-05:002015-01-08T09:39:53.487-05:00I Guess We Get WetThe forecast was 90% rain, but warm. This posed a problem. A new problem for us as it turned out. <br />
<i><br /></i>
<i>"So what do we do? Raincoat?"</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
<i>"I didn't bring mine. Umbrellas are out of the question"</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
<i>"I guess we get wet."</i><br />
<br />
It was Sunday morning, the day of NYPD Officer Wenjian Liu's funeral. Rain was scheduled which meant you were going to get wet. The whole point of a dress uniform is to look sharp, which is defeated when covered by a raincoat. Also, you can't carry an umbrella, so that meant it was going to be a long, wet day, which seemed fitting in many ways. <br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgp2e2_DRUkJRFNn-MJrB7OH_qu80_TUQrMiZnopIozsm-VNyoJkMxMwvvy88BjxYov7CcUuKnTnJUwR3JteJbqaMPj_WvDK9fumfd3TkG9SjPSCKVsKg3wxTrnxl4Mcve4qPUFFw/s1600/PANO_20150104_110955.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgp2e2_DRUkJRFNn-MJrB7OH_qu80_TUQrMiZnopIozsm-VNyoJkMxMwvvy88BjxYov7CcUuKnTnJUwR3JteJbqaMPj_WvDK9fumfd3TkG9SjPSCKVsKg3wxTrnxl4Mcve4qPUFFw/s1600/PANO_20150104_110955.jpg" height="137" width="640" /></a></div>
<br />
The ceremony was held in Dyker Heights, Brooklyn in a residential neighborhood. There were thousands of police officers milling around. There were canteens that had been sent from the various unions, local jewish religious organizations, and outside departments. There was plenty of coffee and hot chocolate, along with cookies and I even saw fresh empanadas. Line of Duty funerals are the strangest mix between laughter and tears. The laughter comes at the empanada part when people from all over who haven't seen each other for years or since the Academy are hugging and shooting the shit. It's like a bizarre state fair only for cops<br />
<br />
<i>"Where did you get the empanadas?"</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
<i>"Over by the plumbing supply store. I think the DEA (Detectives Endowment Association) one has pizza." </i><br />
<br />
Thousands of officers from all over the country. Large contingents from LA, Chicago and all parts in between. Normally, the men and women of the NYPD's Ceremonial Unit are buzzing all over the place putting people in formation and barking orders, but they had to make do with yelling at us over loudspeakers they hung from cranes. Giving directions without seeing any of us. There were too few of them and far too many of us. It was a little bit of chaos. But like any crowd, people started moving towards 65th Street and that got everyone else moving and quieting down. <br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiANkaTiioeMscrsx3rF8m8AnpyeJh6mmiWODu4AExb__wytO4f6pczRgFEi6JDhP1LQJvMbyzh4yL_rP1MnaO0VkFBBoEygxz66jpH3TP2v_UHFGIYoyh2tGBa7wVKhlxmc9Hm3A/s1600/IMG_20150104_110107.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiANkaTiioeMscrsx3rF8m8AnpyeJh6mmiWODu4AExb__wytO4f6pczRgFEi6JDhP1LQJvMbyzh4yL_rP1MnaO0VkFBBoEygxz66jpH3TP2v_UHFGIYoyh2tGBa7wVKhlxmc9Hm3A/s1600/IMG_20150104_110107.jpg" height="320" width="240" /></a></div>
<br />
This ceremony, like Ramos's the week before, was unique for me because the wake and the funeral were held at the same place. Normally, the wake is at a funeral home and then the body arrives and you salute as it enters the house of worship, along with the bagpipes, etc. Officer Liu was apparently a semi-practicing Buddhist, so they held the service in the funeral home he was waked in. So it was weird to just be standing around and hear people start talking. Another unique thing that showed the difference in how these officers were killed, asides from the sea of blue, was the video monitors they had placed along 65th St. Normally. once the service starts, they'll have a sound truck but the officers who can't fit into the church usually go find coffee or smoke a cigarette or connect with old co-workers. Not this time. <br />
<br />
The speeches came first. FBI Director Comey spoke on behalf of the federal government (Biden spoke at Ramos's), The Governor was unable to speak as he was handling the death of his father, though he did attend the wake. The Mayor spoke, and most of the people I saw turned their back. I didn't, because I didn't think it was appropriate at a funeral but not because I have any respect for the Mayor. The Police Commissioner spoke and spoke from the heart, giving the best "official" speech of the day. He spoke of how when he learned more about Ramos and Liu he wondered why it was always the good ones who were killed. He said it was simply the law of averages because the vast majority of cops are good, kind and well-meaning human beings. <br />
<br />
Then the family spoke, First came Wenjian's younger cousin to talk of how kind he was. Mr. Liu, Wenjian's father spoke next. Let me tell you that though he spoke in Mandarin, I understood every word he was saying. Grief is a universal language and it was clear to all those standing along that street, how much pain that man was in. I noticed many officers getting choked up by a language they didn't know. Wenjian's wife of three months spoke last in English, thanking the officers outside for coming and talking about how much he meant to her. This is why you come to cop's funerals. To show the parents and the loved ones that they do not grieve alone. That they are not alone. That from now until the hereafter, the department will look after them. <br />
<br />
And then there was a break for a personal Buddhist ceremony. I think. It was hard to tell because the camera feed stopped and there wasn't an announcement of when the procession would start. So with a light rain falling, Maslov's hierarchy kicked in. Officers started moving towards the restrooms and the 7-11 to get coffee and to shake hands and meet each other. I on my third sip of coffee when "DETAIL...." rang out. Cut to a scene of officers throwing coffee cups and running to get back in formation while putting back on their white gloves. "ATTENTION!" Officers now forming up ranks 4 deep, some 12-15 deep in places, standing at ramrod attention. Remembering not to lock the knees, having done this before. <br />
<br />
And silence. Dead silence. We were blocks away from the actual funeral home. Standing straight ahead, looking at the neck roll of the guy in front of you. Waiting for the next command. <br />
"PRESENT......ARMS!" The command echoing down the Brooklyn block as the fluttering of thousands of gloved hands come up to the brim of the dress cap. Taps is played by two trumpets. And as the last few notes of taps goes into the ether, here come the <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vzjPXtgaMnE">helicopters in the missing man formation</a>. No more than 60 feet off the street, the beating of the rotors making your chest vibrate as you hold the salute. I catch officers from smaller departments looking up at the helicopters as they pass by. Amateurs. You never look. <br />
<br />
"ORDER......ARMS". Hands snapping back to the right sides of bodies all up and down the street. Total silence. Then come the motorcycles, hundreds of them. They seem to go on forever. Here's an awesome video shot from a motor showing the incredible turnout. If you get to 2:47 and look right past about 8 guys, that would be me. <br />
<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" src="//www.youtube.com/embed/ua2UgLB-xKg" width="560"></iframe>
<br />
They were followed by the flower car and then the NYPD Emerald Society Honor Guard and Pipe Band. It was interesting because given the ancestry of Officer Liu, they didn't play the pipes. Just beat the drums as they marched slowly in front of the hearse. As the hearse arrived, this wave of salutes started from my left and carried down to follow his body. Salutes held for the family members in vans, and then it was over. <br />
<br />
Well, not really over. They kept us standing there for a bizarre amount of time to the point that after 40 minutes, when the pipes came back past going the other way playing, people just broke and dismissed themselves, many walking a mile back to their cars. <br />
<br />
People said the turnout was less for this one, perhaps being that it was two weeks after the shooting and on a Sunday. I honestly couldn't tell you because literally all I could see was cops in both directions and I know I only saw less than half of those there. I do know that this day reinforced my belief that you always make the funeral. I was disappointed in the low turnout from DC, given that its only a train ride away. Given how much it means to the family, you need a damn good reason not to make it.Hero to the Masseshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07039148773925919239noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22056528.post-74490866568080615032014-12-23T20:54:00.005-05:002014-12-23T20:54:58.026-05:00No Smiling<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBK-hI3WBcLnfzRAJWkx0uEslI2AVesULTlN0c2iT2JnxLdBi6nkCiqWlmQSoGRCAIrMfOPzJ_41seZhVsYu9vHz_AL3zVAfPWQ8t3c-eMyN0HcjvEBVINWWV6yO2ELvltTQJJ6A/s1600/HT_Ramos_Liu1_ml_141220_4x3_992.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBK-hI3WBcLnfzRAJWkx0uEslI2AVesULTlN0c2iT2JnxLdBi6nkCiqWlmQSoGRCAIrMfOPzJ_41seZhVsYu9vHz_AL3zVAfPWQ8t3c-eMyN0HcjvEBVINWWV6yO2ELvltTQJJ6A/s1600/HT_Ramos_Liu1_ml_141220_4x3_992.jpg" height="240" width="320" /></a></div>
<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: ProximaNovaRegular, arial, helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 17px; line-height: 23px;"><br /></span>
<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: ProximaNovaRegular, arial, helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 17px; line-height: 23px;">"No smiling." </span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: ProximaNovaRegular, arial, helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 17px; line-height: 23px;"><br /></span>
<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: ProximaNovaRegular, arial, helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 17px; line-height: 23px;">That's what the cop taking the photos you see above tells you when you sit down in a uniform shirt 8 sizes too large that probably has the germs and sweat of thousands of cops on it. It's a odd statement because you take this photo soon after you start the Academy, when really you're all smiles because you're looking forward to doing amazing work and helping people. It's also why there's no collar brass on your shirt, because you won't know what command or precinct you're going to. </span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: ProximaNovaRegular, arial, helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 17px; line-height: 23px;"><br /></span>
<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: ProximaNovaRegular, arial, helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 17px; line-height: 23px;">"You know why you can't smile?", the old timer taking the photos asks me. I don't. "Two reasons. First, if you shove an umbrella up some guy's ass and you're smiling, it looks like you wanted to do it. Second, if you get killed, this is the photo they put in the Daily News or the Post" </span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: ProximaNovaRegular, arial, helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 17px; line-height: 23px;"><br /></span>
<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: ProximaNovaRegular, arial, helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 17px; line-height: 23px;">His first example, though crude, was a lesson from 1997 when a savage named Justin Volpe wearing an NYPD uniform <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Abner_Louima">sodomized Abner Louima with a plunger causing internal injuries</a>. His second example didn't need much explaining I thought. </span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: ProximaNovaRegular, arial, helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 17px; line-height: 23px;">____________________________________________________________________</span><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: ProximaNovaRegular, arial, helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 17px; line-height: 23px;"> </span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: ProximaNovaRegular, arial, helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 17px; line-height: 23px;"><br /></span>
<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: ProximaNovaRegular, arial, helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 17px; line-height: 23px;">Their names are Wenjian Liu and Rafael Ramos. </span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: ProximaNovaRegular, arial, helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 17px; line-height: 23px;"><br /></span>
<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: ProximaNovaRegular, arial, helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 17px; line-height: 23px;">Liu was 32 and had been with the NYPD for 7 years and had just gotten married 3 months ago. </span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: ProximaNovaRegular, arial, helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 17px; line-height: 23px;"><br /></span>
<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: ProximaNovaRegular, arial, helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 17px; line-height: 23px;">Ramos was 40 years old and had been on the job for 2 years, coming over from School Safety. He was married with two kids, one of whom is an <a href="http://www.nydailynews.com/new-york/nyc-crime/13-year-old-son-slain-nypd-rafael-ramos-mourns-father-article-1.2052450">eloquent 13 year old</a>. </span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: ProximaNovaRegular, arial, helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 17px; line-height: 23px;">Both were Sons of New York City, Princes of Brooklyn. </span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: ProximaNovaRegular, arial, helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 17px; line-height: 23px;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: #222222; font-family: ProximaNovaRegular, arial, helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: white;"><a href="http://14173.blogspot.com/2014/08/law-enforcement-is-grey-so-is-life.html" style="font-size: 17px; line-height: 23px;">I talked about in an earlier pos</a><span style="font-size: 17px; line-height: 23px;">t what I thought some of core issues between the protesters and the police are, and it's literally like looking at that picture that's an old lady or a young lady depending on how you look at it. The issue here is that no one is helping the other side see it any differently, mostly because the rhetoric stakes are so high. We have a war on cops or the government sanctioned murder of thousands of black men. See how it's hard to find a common ground there? </span></span></span><br />
<span style="color: #222222; font-family: ProximaNovaRegular, arial, helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: white;"><span style="font-size: 17px; line-height: 23px;"><br /></span></span></span>
<span style="color: #222222; font-family: ProximaNovaRegular, arial, helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: white;"><span style="font-size: 17px; line-height: 23px;">When a cop is killed, it is devastating, but especially for the police. Because honestly, even though there are dangers in the job, you don't constantly confront them mentally because that would make you pretty useless as a cop. So you end up confronting your mortality when another officer is killed. What makes the death of Officers Liu and Ramos so especially cruel is how they were killed. They were </span></span><span style="font-size: 17px; line-height: 23px;">assassinated. See, when cops are killed, you try and put yourself in their shoes to see if maybe you would have done something different. Cop killed on a traffic stop? I may approach stopped vehicles on their right side. Cop dies of a heart attack chasing someone, I may think that won't happen to me because I'm in shape, etc. But every cop has sat in their car somewhere talking about something trivial or talking on the phone to a loved one, and so all of us are terrified of an ambush. The only way to prevent that is to not go outside, <a href="http://archive.freep.com/VideoNetwork/767998473001/Detroit-police-video-of-precinct-shoot-out">though even that might not work.</a> </span></span><br />
<span style="color: #222222; font-family: ProximaNovaRegular, arial, helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 17px; line-height: 23px;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="color: #222222; font-family: ProximaNovaRegular, arial, helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 17px; line-height: 23px;">Allow me to say off the bat that the only person who killed those officers was one man.* The Mayor didn't do it. The City Council President didn't do it. Pat Lynch, the PBA President has gotten into hot water for saying that the Mayor has blood on his hands. Listen, Pat is a cop from Brooklyn who rose through the ranks of the PBA many years ago. His job is to bring in money in the form of raises, which he does by making sweet love to the NY Post and giving them awesome quotes. No knock on the guy. He does a good job, but he's not a national media kind of guy. However, cops can't talk about these issues which is why its done through union presidents and these guys aren't known for their <a href="http://fox6now.com/2014/10/30/milwaukee-police-union-poised-to-take-no-confidence-vote-on-chief-flynn/">nuance</a> or <a href="http://www.clevescene.com/scene-and-heard/archives/2014/12/16/police-union-chief-on-msnbc-tamir-rice-shooting-justified">hidden messages</a>. </span></span><br />
<span style="color: #222222; font-family: ProximaNovaRegular, arial, helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 17px; line-height: 23px;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="color: #222222; font-family: ProximaNovaRegular, arial, helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 17px; line-height: 23px;">Quick Story: Once got accused by a gentleman I arrested of stealing money from him and so there was an investigation and IAB came and my union sent their guys. This happens a lot, not to me, but in general where people feel like it will help their criminal case if they lodge a complaint to tarnish the officer's reputation. So no big deal. We're all in a room, tape recorder is rolling and IAB asks "Officer, can you explain where you were on June 1, 2002?" At which point, my Union Trustee who I met 3 minutes ago says, "He wasn't eating cheese like you, you fucking rat." At which point the tape stops and it's clear that the IAB guys and the Union guys see each other all the time and they're going back and forth. But my point here is that the union is like the id for the police department. Perhaps like Sharpton or other community activists are to the community. </span></span><br />
<span style="color: #222222; font-family: ProximaNovaRegular, arial, helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 17px; line-height: 23px;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="color: #222222; font-family: ProximaNovaRegular, arial, helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 17px; line-height: 23px;">While I don't believe that Mayor DeBlasio is a murderer or has blood on his hands, I do feel that he has chosen the easy way out every step of the way. And to me, that's not leadership. He ran a campaign against aggressive police tactics like Stop, Question and Frisk and when elected Mayor, he got those policies pulled. I wrote about how <a href="http://14173.blogspot.com/2012/10/stop-question-and-frisk.html">SQF is a sham that had roots in a good place</a>, which was sound police work and instincts. However it was his <a href="http://www.nydailynews.com/news/politics/de-blasio-details-talk-son-dealing-cops-article-1.2036870">public comments where he said he gave his son the talk</a> about being careful around cops that really started the split. Look, I understand the issue, but to say this while men and women of the NYPD's Intel Division are protecting Dante DeBlasio with their lives seemed a little obtuse. The split continued as the protests began and continued. I also get it. He's super liberal, and he's not a centrist. [Honestly, the only reason he's Mayor is because Mike Bloomberg bent the rules to get a third term, thereby upsetting the delicate ecosystem that is term-limited NYC politics. Which is also why he DeBlasio beat Joe Lhota so handily, because Joe wasn't supposed to be the candidate. And DeBlasio is the un-Bloomberg.] But his base is not the police or their staunch supporters, so it was an easy call I think. </span></span><br />
<span style="color: #222222; font-family: ProximaNovaRegular, arial, helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 17px; line-height: 23px;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="color: #222222; font-family: ProximaNovaRegular, arial, helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 17px; line-height: 23px;">Let me say this about the protests. They're great. NYPD is awesome at handling them. Just look at the NYPD response compared to the response in Ferguson. Thousands of people get on the street and find it empowering and addictive when they get to walk in the street wherever they want, while cops hold traffic. But its not sustainable. People can't block the Holland and Lincoln Tunnel every day for months at a time. And the longer it goes on, the more it becomes an expected outcome. So when it's not addressed 2 months later, the cops tell people they can't cross the Manhattan Bridge or stand in the street, people object because they think this is how it always is and should be. Discussions should have been had early on with a plan voiced by the Mayor about how long it will go on for. </span></span><br />
<span style="color: #222222; font-family: ProximaNovaRegular, arial, helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 17px; line-height: 23px;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="color: #222222; font-family: ProximaNovaRegular, arial, helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 17px; line-height: 23px;">Recently Mayor DeBlasio said that the protests should stop while the officers bodies are being laid to rest. <b> Bullshit.</b> Don't hang this on Officers Ramos and Liu. They're gone and can't speak for themselves, but I'll say it for them. This is bullshit. If the Mayor thinks the protests are healthy and fine and a wonder of democracy, then let them continue. Or if he feels like they've gotten unruly or out of hand as the rhetoric has gotten louder, <a href="http://www.thedailybeast.com/articles/2014/12/23/who-started-new-york-s-dead-cops-chant.html">in some cases calling for cops to be killed</a>, then put on your big boy Mayor pants and say so. Take a goddamn stand, but don't put this on the cops. This is your job as Mayor of the City of New York, you need to walk the line between the police union bosses screaming on behalf of their members and the community activists screaming on behalf of the dead. And there might not be a good way out, but sometimes life is hard. Just ask Eric Garner, Wenjian Liu or Rafael Ramos. </span></span><br />
<span style="color: #222222; font-family: ProximaNovaRegular, arial, helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 17px; line-height: 23px;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="color: #222222; font-family: ProximaNovaRegular, arial, helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 17px; line-height: 23px;">Two days ago, I tried to engage people on Twitter on this issue, but I just ended up getting blocked because there's no air in the middle, much like our current national political environment. <a href="http://www.washingtontimes.com/news/2014/dec/22/protest-groups-demand-apology-nypd-linking-them-co/">The group Black Lives Matter recently wrote condemning the linking of the murder of Officers Ramos and Liu to the protest movement and said they shouldn't have to apologize.</a> This makes sense, as I said above, because only one guy pulled the trigger. However, what if I said that as a cop, I shouldn't have to apologize for the actions of my fellow officers. That when I pull a car over and the occupants of the car yell "Hands Up, Don't Shoot" as I walk up, that I'm insulted because I would never shoot someone who has their hands up. Why? Because I'm a professional and I take my job seriously and I did take this job to save lives, and because we're all not the same beneath the kevlar and non-breathable, highly flammable uniform fabric. </span></span><br />
<span style="color: #222222; font-family: ProximaNovaRegular, arial, helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 17px; line-height: 23px;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: ProximaNovaRegular, arial, helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 17px; line-height: 23px;">Their names are Wenjian Liu and Rafael Ramos. They are Sons of New York City and Princes of Brooklyn.</span><br />
<br />
<i>* I'm not going to list the killer's name, because he needs no more column inches. Fuck that guy. </i><br />
<i><br /></i>
P.S. I'm only claiming to speak for me. I no longer work for the NYPD, though it was an honor to wear the shield and serve the city I was born in and love. I often get asked what I think about events like this because most of my friends don't know any cops, and also because there usually isn't a voice from the police side save unnamed sources or union officials. <br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: ProximaNovaRegular, arial, helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 17px; line-height: 23px;"><br /></span>Hero to the Masseshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07039148773925919239noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22056528.post-80724399070512902772014-09-24T16:28:00.000-04:002014-09-24T16:28:58.313-04:00Dispatches From The Road: Hong Kong<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-tswt6IbyYtg/VBcbKlBkgTI/AAAAAAAARCM/s_EfhnQG33E/s1600/DSC_0025.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-tswt6IbyYtg/VBcbKlBkgTI/AAAAAAAARCM/s_EfhnQG33E/s1600/DSC_0025.JPG" height="267" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />
So a week or so ago, we returned from our 10 day trip to Hong Kong and Taipei. The trip was prompted by a desire to see my eldest brother and sister-in-law and their three kids. The secondary desire was a need to use my US Airways miles before their award chart goes through another devaluation. Right now both airlines are operating under their own carrier license with different pilots and crews, and different mileage programs. Once they begin using the combined certificate, which is assumed to be next year, then the remaining miles program (AAdvantage) will certainly want more miles for the same trip. <br />
<br />
<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-xiTZ-dgd4Ak/VAwWW5XRESI/AAAAAAAAQRY/dy-9y8lKelY/s1600/IMAG0707.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-xiTZ-dgd4Ak/VAwWW5XRESI/AAAAAAAAQRY/dy-9y8lKelY/s1600/IMAG0707.jpg" height="320" width="181" /></a>If you want the history of Hong Kong, you can read <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/History_of_Hong_Kong">this article</a>. The short story is that is was Chinese and then became a British colony in the late 1800's with an agreement that the three separate territories comprising Hong Kong (Hong Kong Island, Kowloon, and the New Territories) would be handed back over to the Chinese in 1997. The Chinese have controlled Hong Kong since 1997 and it is one of two Special Administrative Regions in China, the other being Macau, a former Portuguese colony. Government under the Chinese is like the government under the Brits, a Governor is appointed by the controlling country. Hong Kong had scheduled direct elections for Chief Executive in 2017, however recently Beijing said that there would <a href="http://www.nytimes.com/2014/09/24/world/asia/chinese-president-sends-signal-against-political-change-in-hong-kong.html">only be three candidates and they would for all intents and purposes pick those candidates.</a><br />
<br />
I'd only been there once before and it was for the <a href="http://www.irbsevens.com/">Rugby Sevens</a> with my other brothers, so suffice to say I don't remember much as I was pretty drunk. So it was nice going back and seeing things with non-blurry eyes. A few thoughts about The Kong<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<ul><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-eotYNXirOho/VAf9wqB8lHI/AAAAAAAAQK8/vWS4w9PrOc0/s1600/IMAG0679.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-eotYNXirOho/VAf9wqB8lHI/AAAAAAAAQK8/vWS4w9PrOc0/s1600/IMAG0679.jpg" height="320" width="181" /></a>
<li>Hong Kong is easily accessible to Southern China which has seen an explosion of money thanks to our need for cheap electronics and clothing. This means that there's lots of people shopping there. Store after store in Kowloon. People even bring suitcases to put their stuff in. </li>
<li>It was typhoon season, when we visited. If you want to know the difference between a hurricane and a typhoon, what matters is the location of the storm. <a href="http://oceanservice.noaa.gov/facts/cyclone.html">Seriously.</a> Also they hoist the typhoon flag, which is way cooler than issuing a Typhoon warning. </li>
<li>The food is amazing. We gorged on dumplings and dim sum and pork buns. If you come here, you need to eat your face off and then nap. </li>
</ul>
<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-DQU3yg6BhTI/VAwV8AR1LpI/AAAAAAAAQQ0/vmosBLGsf9I/s1600/IMAG0704.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-DQU3yg6BhTI/VAwV8AR1LpI/AAAAAAAAQQ0/vmosBLGsf9I/s1600/IMAG0704.jpg" height="181" width="320" /></a><br />
<br />
<br /><ul>
<li>It was hot there. Like Washington, DC in August but with more sun. I didn't pack correctly for the trip, meaning not enough for two wardrobe changes a day. Which means we would duck into malls with air conditioning. Malls that have ... dumplings!</li>
</ul>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<ul>
<li>The subway system is awesome. They have ads for science and math tutors that make them look like movie stars. See for yourself. It also shows that these kids will all be our future bosses. </li>
</ul>
</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-w66BEk03KWw/VAwXo-QcGcI/AAAAAAAAQSs/keyvHJxdOzo/s1600/IMAG0716.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-w66BEk03KWw/VAwXo-QcGcI/AAAAAAAAQSs/keyvHJxdOzo/s1600/IMAG0716.jpg" height="320" width="181" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
We had a terrific trip, and after the Kong we went to Taipei. I'll write more about that trip in the next post. Good seeing family and hope we can get out there again soon. </div>
Hero to the Masseshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07039148773925919239noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22056528.post-43060310853420445042014-08-23T17:29:00.000-04:002015-01-16T11:31:02.069-05:00Law Enforcement is Grey. So is lifeSo like the rest of the world, I've been following the shooting death of Michael Brown in Ferguson, Missouri over the past few weeks. This event, which many people are saying is not just a singular event, is incredibly hard to dissect. It's like pulling a string on the biggest sweater ever knit. However, between the media I consume and enjoy usually (Gawker, Twitter, etc) stating that cops are abusive and corrupt and murderers, and my Facebook feed which alternates between condemnation of Sharpton and the looters, condemnation of a brutal police state, and ice bucket challenge videos, I decided to get some thoughts down. <br />
<br />
<h3>
Where I'm From</h3>
<br />
I want to start at the beginning, because the reality is that I'm just one guy and I have one perspective. I was raised in New York City as a white kid who was afforded all opportunities in the world. As proof, I should tell you I attended <a href="http://news.google.com/newspapers?nid=1842&dat=19840706&id=82MeAAAAIBAJ&sjid=DckEAAAAIBAJ&pg=1472,1523714">sleepaway clown/computer cam</a>p in Avon, Connecticut for 2 weeks one summer. My all-boys private elementary school was mostly populated with the offspring of incredibly wealthy WASPs from Park Avenue, and it had a conservative ethos where sports were just as important as grades. As a theater kid, who never seemed to "reach his potential" according to my report cards, it wasn't a great fit. <br />
<br />
Then I went to high school at a more liberal co-ed institution, but still not that liberal. Our Gay/Straight Alliance club seemed to consist of straight kids eager to ally with any gays who wanted to make themselves known. We did have a lot more black students thanks to a terrific program called <a href="http://www.prepforprep.org/">Prep for Prep</a>. It was here I got to talk with and hang out with students of color, which was sadly and belatedly formative for me. <br />
<br />
Then I was lucky enough to get into Vassar College, and majored in Urban Studies and spent loads of time reading about poverty, gentrification and spending priorities that never seemed to prioritize people who needed help. Also my personal ideology shifted more left as I recognized my own privilege surrounded by friends on financial aid. In junior year, I applied to the New York City Police Department, which had been a lifelong dream just like many of my friends had wanted to be astronauts or cowboys when they were little. My obsession just stuck. I halfheartedly looked for jobs in government, but prepared myself for the police department. <br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBmvgtamq6bwYM8ykdZune5BXZCWtS1XfT5WeD8l14jeNcbhawiTPjZk0KpB5TT-3ifwqkvvXU8w0uX7rcOmnX7MpB5n-lssk-gQbV5r7xG-DI3RyJlEyjAD_GYaYjx8J7PgULJQ/s1600/NYPD+map+MN+North+(Large).jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBmvgtamq6bwYM8ykdZune5BXZCWtS1XfT5WeD8l14jeNcbhawiTPjZk0KpB5TT-3ifwqkvvXU8w0uX7rcOmnX7MpB5n-lssk-gQbV5r7xG-DI3RyJlEyjAD_GYaYjx8J7PgULJQ/s1600/NYPD+map+MN+North+(Large).jpg" height="320" width="145" /></a></div>
<br />
I completed the NYPD Academy in 2000 and was assigned to the 28th Precinct, which is in Central Harlem. If you took the east/west boundaries of Central Park and went straight for another 17 blocks that was my home. It's the smallest precinct in the city. .68 square miles. Solidly African-American at that time. I was warned that the black officers and the white officers didn't get along. What I noticed was that there are more black officers than white officers there which was unusual given that white officers were still the majority. <br />
<br />
<h3>
Observations as a Cop</h3>
<br />
A few thoughts on race as a cop. I learned that the white cops and the black cops who actually did work got along fine. The zips (NYPD vernacular for do nothings) were generally disliked by everyone. We did have several leaders from <a href="http://100blacksinlawenforcement.com/index.php">100 Blacks in Law Enforcement </a>who worked in the 28, which could make things tense when they had press conferences outside the precinct condemning the department. Some of them were good cops, some of them were better at their positions in the organization than their jobs in the department. But overall, we were cool. My partner for 4 years was a handsome Dominican lad from Brooklyn. He remains one of my best friends. I was best man at his wedding. <br />
<br />
White people would ask me sometimes if it was hard being a white cop in Harlem. I came to realize quickly that it was harder being a black cop which seemed to surprise them. But I didn't live in Harlem or grow up playing on those streets and I got to home to Queens when my shift was over. And though I would hear the occasional but still humorous "cracker ass cracker" thrown my way, I heard black officers called "sellout" or "Uncle Tom" and worse. And many of them still had friends and family there, and that had to hurt, and <a href="http://www.theroot.com/articles/culture/2014/08/black_officer_sees_both_sides_in_michael_brown_shooting.html">is wonderfully explained in this Root piece. </a><br />
<br />
Much has been made of officer-involved shootings and with snipers set up on armored vehicles, the issue bears discussion. Many people say it's not a dangerous job. And statistically this is true, as law enforcement doesn't even break the<a href="http://newsfeed.time.com/2014/01/15/these-are-the-top-10-most-dangerous-jobs-in-the-u-s/"> Top 10 according to the US Bureau of Labor Statistics</a>, coming behind fields like professional drivers, loggers, garbage collectors, roofers and others. And to be honest, asides from the occasional foot chase, wrestling with a perp or standing in the August sun at a parade, it's not really a physically demanding job. Many cops will tell you that roofing in the summer, construction, road work all work harder than they do, in terms of sweat produced. <br />
<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghJEhgYkleEps-eOxAgTIsA-GWPkVNbuDQ0DwlqqB2inZ3H2ZLd0cGRgo5ZUCwmWEppIXB07wyJpO4LPu_D8jotsgAURW-x2a8i6O2QJVQ9CWoA0Eyrfmz-OKHq9f0GaQwsos-NA/s1600/kUH7PJ1408828278.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghJEhgYkleEps-eOxAgTIsA-GWPkVNbuDQ0DwlqqB2inZ3H2ZLd0cGRgo5ZUCwmWEppIXB07wyJpO4LPu_D8jotsgAURW-x2a8i6O2QJVQ9CWoA0Eyrfmz-OKHq9f0GaQwsos-NA/s1600/kUH7PJ1408828278.jpg" height="204" width="320" /></a>But what you can't see, and what creates this deep rift in relations between cops and their loved ones, and anyone who's not a cop, is the mental toll the job takes. Let's take the danger aspect. We know the job isn't the most dangerous, and as of today, there have been<a href="http://www.odmp.org/search/year/2014?ref=sidebar"> 67 reported line of duty fatalities</a> from local, state, federal and tribal law enforcement. But the threat of danger is always there. When you're logging, trees can fall the wrong way and chains can snap and kill you in an instant, but the trees don't become self-aware and try and kill you as you log. The roof doesn't decide to become slippery and send you to your death. These other occupations are dealing with inanimate objects while cops deal with people. There are sadly <a href="http://www.reviewjournal.com/news/las-vegas/gillespie-police-killers-planned-ambush-more-officers">more</a> and <a href="http://www.cnn.com/2013/04/06/us/law-officers-ambush-killings/">more</a> cases of <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Lakewood,_Washington_police_officer_shooting">officers</a> being <a href="http://www.washingtonpost.com/posttv/national/nj-police-officer-killed-during-ambush-at-walgreens/2014/07/14/f133043e-0b61-11e4-bd2c-919fc31dc2e6_video.html">ambushed</a> while they ate or <a href="http://www.nydailynews.com/new-york/nyc-crime/hamill-safer-city-began-26-years-death-article-1.1703424">sat in their cars</a> or <a href="http://www.cbsnews.com/news/chicago-police-officer-thor-soderberg-killed-with-own-weapon-in-the-line-of-duty/">returned from calls</a>. Now, does this happen every day? No. Not at all. It's an isolated incident, even if it's sadly becoming more frequent. The chance is small that I will be killed as I sit in my car. But I have no way to mitigate that risk because it depends on another human being's state of mind. Hurricanes are incredibly rare in New England, but it doesn't mean that planners and meteorologists don't worry about them and plan for them. So all I can do is be on guard and make sure I see people's hands, because regardless of the whole "Guns don't kill people...." trope, police officers know that hands are the only thing that kill people. Until the bad guys develop shoe guns or something. So cops treat most people as a possible threat, until they determine otherwise.<br />
<br />
In addition to the ever present threat of danger, there's another more insidious threat to the mental health of a police officer, and that's the community they serve. So, when I worked in the 28, I'd say 93-95% of people in that community woke up, fed and clothed their kids, went to work, came home from work, read their kids bedtime stories, watched a Knicks game (they lost) and went to sleep. And that majority of the population we rarely saw. We did see, interact, and help the 5-7% of people that for reasons larger than ours to fix, required police intervention. A few of my favorites:<br />
<br />
<ul>
<li>Amanda M., 65 years old, who called the police every day drunk because her live in roommate, 40 years old wouldn't have sex with her. </li>
<li>Guy at the fish market who believe he was ripped off and his Jumbo shrimp were not jumbo enough. </li>
<li>Couple who have three kids together and fight all the time but stay together even though there's a restraining order in place, so he gets locked up while she yells at us not to. </li>
<li>Guy on PCP who bit my neck while fighting me in the middle of 116th St, which is how I still remember my last tetanus shot was in 2003. </li>
<li>Sisters who couldn't decide whether to watch Ricki Lake or Maury Povich and called 911 to have an officer settle the dispute. </li>
</ul>
<div>
These calls are every day, 5 days a week, for 8.5 hours a day. The screaming in your face, the parents with babies outside at 3AM in November with no coat, the shooting victims who never see who shot them, like ever. People lie to your face all the time, and they're terrible at it, or maybe you're just good at reading it because you're lied to for a living. It gets old and you begin to withdraw and think of people as less than who they are because they refuse to act with any respect for you or their fellow man/woman. I should say that the only time you normally get to interact with the 95% is for burglary calls, and it does help to remind you that there are hard working people who care and invite you to watch the Knicks lose on TV while your partner takes the report. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Everyone loves firefighters. They have a dog. They have calendars. They always seem so nice. Why can't cops be like them? Well, for one, they get to see everyone. Sadly, everyone's Aunt Milly can have trouble breathing at Thanksgiving or anyone can get into a bike accident, so they get to handle the public at large, instead of the smaller subset like cops do, which improves their overall demeanor. Also, the amazing thing about firefighters is that people love them even if they don't succeed. As a volunteer firefighter in the Hudson Valley for two years in college, I literally watched a fire on a back deck spread due to poor tactics and consume the house. You can have a firefighter bust out all your windows, saw your couch in half and you'll still bring them cookies to thank them. This is no knock on fire guys. They are brave and have a demanding job and I think being burned would be 100% worse than being shot. The same public that asks "Why didn't you shoot the knife out of the guy's hand" will never ask "How come you didn't vent the roof or stretch another Inch and a Half line around through the bedroom." That's just the way it is. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<h3>
Where To Go From Here</h3>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
I want to be clear that there are other non-environmental issues that create indifferent or troubled officers. A Lieutenant gave us this speech on the first day of the Academy that has always stuck with me. </div>
<div>
<i> 10 percent of you were meant to be police officers. You have it in your blood and bones and you will excel in this profession. For 80 percent of you, this is a job. Its a job you will do well and honorably for your career with the NYPD. 10 percent of you should never made it this far. You are too dumb, too damaged or too criminal to be police officers and you very well will be hurt, killed or arrested in the years to come.</i></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Indeed, I have met terrible officers. Sexist, racist and generally awful people. The smartest person and the dumbest person I've met in my entire life have had NYPD personnel tax numbers. If every department has a few bad apples, then the size of the NYPD guarantees it an orchard of assholes and misfits. But they are, on balance, the exception and not the rule. I have amazing friends and incredibly hard working and caring individuals that many people will never get to know behind the exterior of the blue uniform and the badge. I was once driving with a friend and got pulled over and my friend couldn't believe how the officer's demeanor changed once he saw my badge. My friend kept remarking how nice and interested the guy was compared to when he didn't know me from Adam. While some of this was probably because I was a cop, it was mostly because the cop knew I wasn't a threat and could let his guard down and be himself, which is a rare occurrence on the street. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Also, I think given the small segments of the general population you serve that you end up resenting and often times stereotyping the communities you work in. Regardless of whether that's an African-American population in Harlem or a liberal white population in Manhattan or Brooklyn. It's why I think cops should rotate their precincts, so they get to work in different communities with different constituencies. I realize the union will never let this happen, but even taking officers off the street and giving them an administrative assignment with decent days off every few years could help reset some of the issues. People do wonderful research on the effect that poverty has on communities and the children that grow up in severe poverty. You can't tell me that working in incredibly depressed communities for 40 hours a week for 20 years doesn't take a similar toll, regardless of where the officer calls home. </div>
<br />
<div>
I'm not sure anyone is still reading this (Hi Mom) and I recognize this is long and somewhat rambling. I'm happy to write more about the issues and difficulties surrounding putting officers on foot or making them live in the cities they patrol, or why perhaps more black kids get locked up for weed than white kids. But I'll save that for another day. I'm just one cop with an opinion and make no claim to have the answers for other cops or other departments. In the past weeks watching social media explode with comments by people about police overreach and brutality, as well as those who seek to elevate us as heroes draped in the flag of the just and righteous, I just wanted to put together some of my thoughts. I recognize that racism is alive and well and that black men do get stopped for driving nice cars all over this country or hanging out on the corner with their friends. Just as I learned that I can't assume the community I serve is represented by those who call 911 over and over, I wanted to point out that you can't judge an entire profession or calling based on the actions of a few. </div>
Hero to the Masseshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07039148773925919239noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22056528.post-14270590078487258622014-08-02T15:17:00.000-04:002014-08-02T15:17:17.808-04:00Remember CardilloWhen I arrived at the 28th Precinct in February of 2000, fresh out of the NYPD Academy, I remember walking into the locker room and on almost every single one was a faded sticker that said "Remember Cardillo." It was a powerful and quiet statement that something terrible happened and was now part of the building's DNA. And that feeling was right. A horrible injustice occurred that practically no one knows about. <br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5qHLpJjf3ljeSx-rtiiUnTrf2Pxh0BXs3uA8VRQrBunkHfq3e9GHPgYtFOzduSLihGioBghiKxYx_ss8XWRPqHsBXzUVJ81MNc3pEWxrDPlxrRdxGuc54-pkO46EycTFryPfEgQ/s1600/Cardillo.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5qHLpJjf3ljeSx-rtiiUnTrf2Pxh0BXs3uA8VRQrBunkHfq3e9GHPgYtFOzduSLihGioBghiKxYx_ss8XWRPqHsBXzUVJ81MNc3pEWxrDPlxrRdxGuc54-pkO46EycTFryPfEgQ/s1600/Cardillo.jpg" /></a></div>
<br />
This is Patrolman Philip Cardillo. He served with the NYPD for 5 years and was 31 years old when he was murdered. He was survived by his wife, and his three young children. I use the term murdered and not died or killed, because the incident that took his life was pre-meditated but sadly not as shocking as what followed it. <br />
<br />
On Thursday, April 20th, 1972, NYPD Communications received a 911 call of Officer Needing Assistance inside <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Mosque_No._7">Harlem Mosque Number 7</a>, headed by Louis Farrakhan, and helmed by Malcolm X for a time. The call actually just gave the address, not mentioning the mosque. Cardillo and his partner ran inside along with two other officers. <br />
<br />
I want to pause the story here and try and give some perspective. While Fox News recently made much hay of the New Black Panther Party suppressing votes using one guy in a kufi, it's important to remember the early 70's would have made the anchors on Fox's head explode. The Black Liberation Army had shot 6 NYPD officers in the 10 months leading up to the call that Cardillo got, and 4 of the officers had died. Officers <a href="http://www.odmp.org/officer/10661-patrolman-joseph-a-piagentini">Piagentini </a>and <a href="http://www.odmp.org/officer/7273-patrolman-waverly-m-jones">Jones </a>were killed in May of 1971 in an ambush outside the precinct just above Cardillo's. Officers <a href="http://www.odmp.org/officer/5032-police-officer-gregory-p-foster">Laurie</a> and <a href="http://www.odmp.org/officer/5032-police-officer-gregory-p-foster">Foster</a> were killed in Greenwich Village, shot in the back while they walked to their foot beat. <br />
<br />
The NYPD Patrol Guide still instructs officers to space out when leaving the precinct to get your patrol cars, which was protocol to limit the amount of officers that could be killed in one ambush. So there was a war going on in Southeast Asia and a war on the streets of New York. This was not just a NYC phenomenon either. 13 years after this in Philadelphia, <a href="http://www.npr.org/2013/06/25/195533165/the-fire-that-transformed-a-philadelphia-community">police dropped a bomb on a rowhouse to break a siege and arrest members of the MOVE Group</a>. Just think about that happening now. Seriously. Stop and just process that. A police helicopter dropping a bomb in a city neighborhood. Alright, unpause. <br />
<br />
So Cardillo and the other three officers were inside the mosque a crowd formed outside blocking other officers from assisting them. Three of the officers were able to escape but Cardillo was trapped behind a gate that was closed to trap him. He overpowered by many men and his service weapon was taken from him and he was shot with it. Officers were able to break back in and rescue the mortally wounded Cardillo. At this point, the crowd had swelled outside furious that officers, regardless of their skin color, had broken the sanctity of the mosque, or seeing an opportunity to hurt outnumbered police officers. A riot roiled for three hours. Requests for buses of recruits to assist went unanswered. Below is a photo of Detective Randy Jurgensen, who had just been struck in the head with a brick, falling into the arms of the 28 Precinct Commanding Officer Deputy Inspector John Haugh.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhL4C4aeCaiu3uwEnvzgxI_vgiYw3SXBf87XpqIVrFa-7cIwc6ursTlUpzDdYzwJC5LwIyEQXMIT872FXMxusEWrNSeUxh9jfCYDdbwd5IVJ_3aCGKi6NVEVo2jhThQN3RE5l5umA/s1600/RandyJurgensenHarlemMosque.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhL4C4aeCaiu3uwEnvzgxI_vgiYw3SXBf87XpqIVrFa-7cIwc6ursTlUpzDdYzwJC5LwIyEQXMIT872FXMxusEWrNSeUxh9jfCYDdbwd5IVJ_3aCGKi6NVEVo2jhThQN3RE5l5umA/s1600/RandyJurgensenHarlemMosque.JPG" height="320" width="297" /></a></div>
So we have a mortally wounded officer, cops pouring in responding to cries for help on the radio and hundreds of people responding to fight them. There were 12 suspects in the basement that they were searching to find Cardillo's gun, when Rep. Charles Rangel and Louis Farrakhan come downstairs and order everyone out of the mosque. Rangel and Farrakhan promised police officials that the men would surrender themselves at the precinct for interviews later that evening. No one ever showed up. Deputy Commissioner for Community Affairs Ben Ward, who later became Police Commissioner, ordered all the white officers to leave the scene, to relieve tensions, further destroying morale for all officers, black and white. <br />
<br />
I'm going to cut and paste from the excellent blog <a href="http://nypdconfidential.com/columns/2009/090413.html">NYPD Confidential</a> for the follow-up. <br />
<br />
<div style="background-color: white;">
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>Six days later, Cardillo died. He was 32 years old, the father of three. The day of the funeral, his commander, Deputy Inspector John Haugh, resigned in disgust, blaming the NYPD for failing to affirm publicly that Cardillo had acted properly on entering the mosque.</i></span></div>
<div style="background-color: white;">
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i><br /></i></span></div>
<div style="background-color: white;">
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>Within days, the department issued written rules for 16 “sensitive locations,” including Nation of Islam Mosque Number 7, forbidding officers from entering such places without a supervisor. It turned out there had been an unwritten agreement with Mosque Number 7.</i></span></div>
<div style="background-color: white;">
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i><br /></i></span></div>
<div style="background-color: white;">
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>So strictly did the department interpret these rules that, because of objections from the mosque, ballistics technicians were prevented for the next two years from gathering evidence from Cardillo’s shooting.</i></span></div>
<div style="background-color: white;">
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i><br /></i></span></div>
<div style="background-color: white;">
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">It needs to be said that neither the Mayor nor the Police Commissioner attended Cardillo's Funeral. That day was looked upon as an embarrassment by the Job and all attempts were made to sweep it under the rug. Thankfully, some have done as the bumper stickers have commanded. <a href="http://randyjurgensen.com/">Randy Jurgensen</a>, the same detective who was injured in the photo above, wrote a book called <a href="http://www.amazon.com/gp/product/1932857397/qid=1152930530/sr=1-1/ref=sr_1_1/102-9456715-1433763?s=books&v=glance&n=283155">Circle of Six</a> about the incident which is a must read. </span></div>
<div style="background-color: white;">
<br /></div>
<div style="background-color: white;">
No one has ever been convicted for the murder of Philip Cardillo. </div>
<div style="background-color: white;">
<br /></div>
<div style="background-color: white;">
The reason this post came up is because recently attempts have been made to one again name the street in front of the 28th precinct after Cardillo. This apparently is difficult because of the community and the sensitivity of the incident. The only thing that happened that day on April 20th, was a NYPD officer was murdered and the city and a department colluded to ensure that his murder was never solved. I think a street sign is the least, and I mean the very least, it could do. </div>
<div style="background-color: white;">
<br /></div>
<div style="background-color: white;">
I know that currently in New York and nationally that there is an anti-cop sentiment. The recent death of Eric Garner in Staten Island has inflamed simmering tensions that never seem to go cold. I'm not going to say that all cops are decent people. Some are even criminals in uniform. But Philip Cardillo was a son of the city, just like all the police officers who have been killed doing their duty. As a nation we are shamed by our handling of returning troops after the Viet Nam war and now we bend over backwards to support our troops as a nation. We should bend over backwards to correct this injustice. </div>
<div style="background-color: white;">
<br /></div>
<div style="background-color: white;">
That faded sticker on my locker was right. I will always Remember Cardillo.</div>
<div style="background-color: white;">
<br /></div>
<div style="background-color: white;">
<br /></div>
Hero to the Masseshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07039148773925919239noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22056528.post-27640800287254834692014-07-20T09:47:00.002-04:002014-07-20T09:47:34.060-04:00Dispatches From The Road: Grand Junction EditionSo this weekend, I'm in Grand Junction, Colorado, which is on the western border of Colorado, halfway between Denver and Salt Lake City. I was here to teach a class about emergencies to daycare and childcare workers. The class is only four hours, so it gives me a fair amount of time in the places I teach it. <br />
<br />
Grand Junction is the largest city in Western Colorado, which isn't saying a whole lot, as this area is pretty sparsely populated. According to all knowing Wikipedia, while it is the King of the West, it's only the 15th largest city in Colorado. It seemed like the cultural capital of the various small towns that are within an hour's drive. It has an 11-story building and everything. <br />
<br />
Everytime I come to places like this, I always wonder what people do who live here. At dinner last night there were a few couples getting drinks at the bar I was having dinner at who looked like they could be at a trendy bar in DC. Except they all appeared to be in their early 20's and married. On a sidenote, I forgot how fast meals go when I eat by myself. With no talking and only chewing and occasional sipping, I blaze through meals in record speed. <br />
<br />
Grand Junction has a cute and small downtown with a few brewpubs and other random stores that are closed on weekend evenings. They have a really cool <a href="https://downtowngj.org/art-on-the-corner/">outdoor public art program</a>, which was surprising for a smaller city. The downtown is like many others is the midwest with the largest buildings being banks and the new parking structure for the revitalized downtown. <br />
<br />
When I asked people what to do here, the responses were all outdoors-related. And that makes sense, because Grand Junction is a city surrounded by absolute beauty. I drove through the Colorado National Monument Park and walked a few of the trails within. I'm a city kid. As a matter of fact I'm such a city kid that when I was in rural areas visiting family or with family of friends, I would always read the local yellow pages to convince myself that civilization wasn't that far away. "See, I can get a limo and computer repair out here!"<br />
<br />
Though asphalt will always run through my veins, I was moved by the beauty out here. You can't help but be. It punches you in the gut with every hairpin turn that reveals another landscape that seems otherworldly. <br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEisV5ppTJRrKiTl5465gGoRVnYxWmUR3bez6-94bsk4aiKXT5sufEqkooiMt9fkxb7Tki0l9Fx8_TVqpi00ckgvTyYLsGqwKwstCok99sZo3t1T3crjQaNCx08KBsNFp2CbsmQD8Q/s1600/IMAG0600.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEisV5ppTJRrKiTl5465gGoRVnYxWmUR3bez6-94bsk4aiKXT5sufEqkooiMt9fkxb7Tki0l9Fx8_TVqpi00ckgvTyYLsGqwKwstCok99sZo3t1T3crjQaNCx08KBsNFp2CbsmQD8Q/s1600/IMAG0600.jpg" height="181" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhusnp8YjZzREm3Kf0Lc3-29LxDaVFegMV_Pft59yZecpuuYnLczc1KgHyfMsrdVJg1jixBeIwmCKtWvja-n6qO6T9vSiOeVfI7A3ZuMThhu-ZTh_34tp877_OfrlJ_Mn5zNEZ68w/s1600/IMAG0592.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhusnp8YjZzREm3Kf0Lc3-29LxDaVFegMV_Pft59yZecpuuYnLczc1KgHyfMsrdVJg1jixBeIwmCKtWvja-n6qO6T9vSiOeVfI7A3ZuMThhu-ZTh_34tp877_OfrlJ_Mn5zNEZ68w/s1600/IMAG0592.jpg" height="53" width="320" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
Now I'm sitting in the Denver airport, being lucky enough to change my flight so that I don't return home at 2:30AM. I really enjoy trips like this, even though I'm alone which generally isn't my thing. The loneliness is tempered by the excitement of exploring new places and knowing that I probably won't be back here for a bit. This country is an amazing and diverse place and its nice to have weekends to appreciate that. </div>
Hero to the Masseshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07039148773925919239noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22056528.post-35091509572587168162014-07-08T17:08:00.000-04:002014-07-08T17:33:49.319-04:00Driving Advice: Free of Charge<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhD67e95VtJlH2uijcz1XFsUxGxXfRs5pSQvXhtT5uOp-uxTAIUBbimH8L-K6vO6d47bCv1mnXsJ4_rhgh3kOeKw0CkRMZeFvVuRvyqzvYKbZkz37Ca6rm-AxSIkImTxA40VmrXjA/s1600/donny+driving.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhD67e95VtJlH2uijcz1XFsUxGxXfRs5pSQvXhtT5uOp-uxTAIUBbimH8L-K6vO6d47bCv1mnXsJ4_rhgh3kOeKw0CkRMZeFvVuRvyqzvYKbZkz37Ca6rm-AxSIkImTxA40VmrXjA/s1600/donny+driving.jpg" height="222" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
So this past long weekend, we spent a lot of time on the road. Some of it moving fast and much more of it moving slowly. As I was driving and cursing in many languages at people for not knowing how to drive, it occurred to me that maybe they didn't know how. They had their license and knew what a stop sign was, but never learned highway driving. So may I present to you, my rules for highway driving.<br />
<i><br /></i>
<i>Read the book Traffic</i><br />
It's really good, and explains why traffic happens. How we bizarrely conflate our auto with ourselves, and thus view merges as attacks on our personal space. Also this book explains that late merging (when you see that the road goes to one lane in a mile, you stay in that lane until the merge point) actually is better for the flow of traffic. So read this book before you attempt the next long road trip.<br />
<br />
<iframe frameborder="0" marginheight="0" marginwidth="0" scrolling="no" src="//ws-na.amazon-adsystem.com/widgets/q?ServiceVersion=20070822&OneJS=1&Operation=GetAdHtml&MarketPlace=US&source=ac&ref=tf_til&ad_type=product_link&tracking_id=rambofacivise-20&marketplace=amazon&region=US&placement=0307277194&asins=0307277194&linkId=Y25LUL2JFQMXN5MI&show_border=true&link_opens_in_new_window=true" style="height: 240px; width: 120px;">
</iframe>
<i><br /></i>
<i>Cruise Control</i><br />
Listen, this technology has been around since the 1950s. <b>USE IT.</b> I'm not talking about the fancy radar cruise control you see on TV, or the one that stops your car if a truck backs into your lane. I'm talking about the stick on your steering column that has the words Set, Accelerate, Resume and others written on it. Not only do you save gas by not speeding up and slowing down, but you also can maintain a constant speed which helps not get speeding tickets. Have you ever been in the left hand (high speed) lane and had the lane come to a complete stop and then speed up again like a rocket? Yeah, its because some dumbass ahead of you couldn't modulate their speed and floored it only to slam on their brakes as they almost hit the car in front of them. Also use this shit on hills where your foot naturally comes off the accelerator and you slow down by 10-15 mph. I know you don't mean to. You're simple. Of course its not your fault. <br />
<br />
<i>Passing</i><br />
Listen, the idea behind the passing lane is that it's used to pass vehicles slower than you. This means you pass the car or truck and then pull in front of them. This does not mean that you want to go 71 when everyone else in the right lane is going 70 and so you slowly pass the cars on the right for 40 miles. Also, if you're in the passing lane and someone is behind you, then you are not passing fast enough. So pull over to the "slow" lane which I know hurts in your Toyota Sienna with three bicycles on the back because you're still a "man" and you're driving fast. But seriously, let people pass you. <br />
<br />
If ever you're in the left lane and you're passed on the right, then that's the universal sign that you need to pull to the right. You're not that cool. Suck it up. <br />
<br />
If you are being passed on the left, please don't think this is some macho game and start speeding up. If you want to go fast, and just noticed that you're not, let me pass you before you unleash your inner Dale Jr. I'm not attacking you as a person. <br />
<br />
If you're passing a car and notice that a mile down the highway, there's a truck you'll probably pass later, don't stay in the left lane. Think of the passing lane as only existing in the present tense. Not the future (You <i>will</i> pass that car in awhile) or the past (You <i>did</i> pass a car and so you get to stay in the lane 4evah)<br />
<br />
<i>Feet</i><br />
<a href="http://14173.blogspot.com/2006/08/okayim-sexist.html">We have covered my issue with feet</a>, but please don't air your tootsies on the dashboard or out the passenger window. First, no one needs to see this. And we all can. Second, in the event that your vehicle leaves the roadway unintentionally, you are going to lose those things like an umbrella in a taxi.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />Hero to the Masseshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07039148773925919239noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22056528.post-9348553109984726982014-06-24T17:02:00.003-04:002014-06-24T17:02:51.408-04:00Tales the Unemployed: Day 147<i>This isn't a pity post. I don't want people to feel bad for me. I enjoy using this blog as a creative outlet and some of you bizarrely enjoy reading it as such. So this is not a cry for help, promise. It helps me process. </i><br />
<br />
Being unemployed blows goats. And there are stages. In fact if you Google "<a href="http://lmgtfy.com/?q=Stages+of+Unemployment">Stages of Unemployment</a>" you <a href="https://medium.com/@zahariades/the-five-stages-of-unemployment-2004d67451e6">will</a> <a href="http://www.gothinkbig.co.uk/features/the-various-stages-of-unemployment-complete-with-advice">find </a><a href="http://www.buzzfeed.com/alexreichert/the-5-stages-of-unemployment-axb5">plenty</a> <a href="http://open.salon.com/blog/the_suburban_guerilla/2009/05/07/the_five_stages_of_unemployment_a_primer_for_the_jobless">of</a> <a href="http://www.sfgate.com/opinion/article/10-stages-of-unemployment-3215341.php">articles</a>. Some say there are 3 stages, some say 5, some even say 10. But they essentially are broken into the following parts:<br />
<br />
<br />
<ul>
<li><b>Excitement:</b> You've thrown off your drone cubicle/lanyard wearing shackles and you get to sleep in finally. You can go to the movies and stand in line with the old people at the bank. All of your errands happen super fast and drinking on a Tuesday night is no problem at all. </li>
<li><b>Concern:</b> So you're spending too much money going out at night and it's time to find a job. You are calling all your work people to set up meetings and lunches and coffees and it's time to return to the workforce. You're perusing the job boards, but you're confident and hopeful that one of your connections will come through.</li>
<li><b>Fear:</b> So those initial meetings didn't pay off and you might have even had some amazing job lined up that never seemed to come to fruition after months of follow up. You're now spending time in coffee shops because the couch at home is not a good place. </li>
<li><b>New Job: </b>Ta-da!! You got a new job and you have business cards and once again all is well with the world. </li>
</ul>
<div>
I'm in the third stage right now, which is the problem with these lists. They all basically say that it's terrible until it isn't. I think the hardest challenge is the questioning. Not that I question if I am qualified for any of these jobs that I'm applying for or if I could do the job that is posted. I could. I am a journeyman who gets along with most everyone, meaning that unless the job has complex math involved, then I could do it and do it well. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
No, the issue is that after the first two months of talking to friends from the field I've been in and thus most suited to, I'm not sure that something will pan out there. So you begin to open your search. You start thinking of what else you could or would do for a living? And where could you do it. This is where the skills and abilities that allow you to accomplish all those jobs becomes a mind fuck as you wonder what should you be doing? </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
It's hard not just on you but on the people you care about. My girlfriend is supportive which is great, and she wishes she could do more, but she can't and that's okay. I've got policing some evenings. I give platelets every two weeks because there are tons of things that exclude you, including travel, and I'm sure that they won't want my anti-cancer juice forever. But these things are busy things, even if they are awesome and well intentioned. They don't get you closer to a new job, but they do keep you sane. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
I recognize that I'm very lucky. I live with a wonderful woman who has a job and I even have done part-time consulting work that pays really well when it comes. I recognize that I am in a way better place than thousands of other people who are in my position. I know this because sometimes when I think about driving for Uber or Lyft, I decide not to because I don't want to. That right there lets me know that I'm not that bad off, and there's perhaps another stage down before I get a job. I'm just hoping I can skip straight to the last one soon. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
Hero to the Masseshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07039148773925919239noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22056528.post-85006251244102321172014-06-17T18:18:00.000-04:002014-06-17T18:18:30.445-04:00Reunion 2014So this past weekend was my 15th College Reunion at Vassar College. I have a complicated relationship with my college. <a href="http://14173.blogspot.com/2012/12/open-letter-to-vassar-college.html">I wrote them a letter that I put on this blog</a>, that got some views and they in turn called me to talk about it. But I remain a proud Vassar alum and I went up to Poughkeepsie with my freshman year roommate who also lives in DC to check it out. <br />
<br />
Overall it was a great trip and I'm glad I went. The college raised a phenomenal amount of money from the returning alumni. They have a tradition where all the classes march in a parade with the oldest class going first. <br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEieOVV8GG2KhglYzHILWpzLpkQM3qS9KjvW3xSdZQ2JX93P_c62JZx0NnSw5ZUzuIfPTJIWOgQK_p0mIX9kFnttBjcwtGxrEc7R5tP2PF5O9v_sXwlx419hZizggNKOnl5hL94qZw/s1600/34+alum.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEieOVV8GG2KhglYzHILWpzLpkQM3qS9KjvW3xSdZQ2JX93P_c62JZx0NnSw5ZUzuIfPTJIWOgQK_p0mIX9kFnttBjcwtGxrEc7R5tP2PF5O9v_sXwlx419hZizggNKOnl5hL94qZw/s1600/34+alum.jpg" height="320" width="240" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
This young lady is from the class of 1934. She is over 100 years old. It must be slightly odd to be the only person from your class at a reunion. I'm not sure if she was the only person still alive, but it still is always cool to see the older classes, especially when they are full of spunk. </div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
So this parade leads everyone into the field house and then you hear the speaker say, "We need to have a short meeting." I'm thinking this is brilliant. Now they just need to lock the doors and display some photos of timeshare opportunities. That didn't happen, but we did vote in some new alumni association board members, though it was a voice vote and there didn't seem to be a chance to decline or abstain. I guess given how hard it is to get volunteers, democracy has its limits. </div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
Then came the fundraising totals. Starting with the earliest classes and ending with the oldest. Our class gave under $20,000 to the Annual Fund, I think. I do remember that we gave $50 in restricted gifts. That number looked like a typo. Especially when a few classes later, celebrating their 50th Reunion, this is the slide we saw. </div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhy-baiCV0018pPg1BmKjBa50RbnAJ6L-h-zz-ty8IMp9hZdBmkT9u5SfvXejxcyCDHjPUkQwNebKfMVmyl1dKW7tu2drPgXVExh8Fw12nX7k2roYqU0vq6ZBq4F_kxHJgJ_493qw/s1600/64+gifts.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhy-baiCV0018pPg1BmKjBa50RbnAJ6L-h-zz-ty8IMp9hZdBmkT9u5SfvXejxcyCDHjPUkQwNebKfMVmyl1dKW7tu2drPgXVExh8Fw12nX7k2roYqU0vq6ZBq4F_kxHJgJ_493qw/s1600/64+gifts.jpg" height="300" width="400" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
Right. In the middle of this slide, the fire alarm in the building went off, which made me think in an instant that the donation had broken the college mainframe. Or perhaps we won the largest game of Plinko ever. So that was cool. </div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
But the best part of the reunion was seeing old friends, including a dear friend who I also went to high school with and now lives on the West Coast. I think hanging out with your friends at reunion is awesome. But the much more awesome part is getting a chance to talk to people who I was friendly with but not friends with. It harkens back to those nights when you would have awesome conversations with people who were acquaintances and then for the rest of your college life you would see them at parties and nod your head as an acknowledgement of that shared experience. </div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
Most of the people who I got to know more about this past weekend were members of the Girls Rugby Team. who in all honesty were somewhat terrifying in college. I was an EMT in college and would staff the rugby games because they were a club sport and not eligible for athletic trainers through the college. At first I was thrilled. Getting closer to women who played sports seemed like a good thing. I quickly learned two things: 1) A fair number of these women liked other women. 2) They were all tougher than me on my best day. I remember starting to conduct an exam on one girl who had blood streaming down her nose, and she just screamed "GAUZE" in my face while I fumbled to open the jump kit. She grabbed it out of my hands, shoved it in her obviously broken nose and growled at me before retaking the field. We didn't cover that during breaks and sprains in class. </div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
I lost my voice screaming "Like A Prayer" at a giant tent at the All-Campus Party which is probably the most Vassar thing ever typed. It was a good time. I wish that more people from my class had been there. I didn't bring my girlfriend because we had a low turnout but next time I won't make that mistake. </div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
The only downside was that I wished the college took an opportunity to talk about the money it raised and what it was going to do with it. Our class clearly needs to step up its fundraising game, but it should be because the school needs it and not because we want to look better than another class sharing our reunion. In many respects, our totals were probably more in line with what the college wants because we gave almost all of it unrestricted (Whoever gave $50, show yourself) A discussion about giving might be a good idea for future reunions, given that the weekend is built around that event. </div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
So great times and great reminders of why Vassar students are awesome, and reminders of how administrations can also always be a little more transparent. </div>
Hero to the Masseshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07039148773925919239noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22056528.post-32325457555760345212014-06-04T14:20:00.001-04:002014-06-04T14:20:14.255-04:00Year of Fitness: YogaHer name was Lindsey, and she fit the central casting definition of a yogi: Cute, young, short with a calming voice and a confident pose. The title of the class was Power Yoga, which didn't mean much to me, given that it was my first yoga class. Well, I did stream a Youtube video to my TV and practice breathing and lying still for 20 minutes or so. <br />
<br />
I knew I was in for some trouble when she mentioned this was an intermediate level class, but I figured this is all about stretching and breathing right? Ah, no. 20 minutes in, I was audibly dripping sweat onto the mat like it was hot yoga, even though the temperature in the room was cool and climate controlled. Lindsey's voice was a constant and steady exhortation to breathe and elongate my body. I think that between her tone and the sitar in the background, I was in a state of mind control. If she had said the following, I totally would have done it:<br />
<br />
"Now breathe in, feel the energy filling your lungs and opening up your back, and as you exhale through your mouth loudly, strike your groin three times and feel the pain radiate to your fingertips and your ankles." <br />
<br />
Now I am one of the least flexible people I know, due to a combination of my height and whatever else conspires to keep my fingers from touching my toes. I thought yoga would be a chance to increase my flexibility while also checking the fitness box, but I did not envision myself in warrior pose and then losing my balance and slapping the mirror to stay upright. You know when people are talking and you can hear them smiling. Yeah, that's when that happened. <br />
<br />
I like going in the middle of the day because it breaks up my routine non-routine of looking for jobs and running errands. It also means fewer people in the class, which can be good because less people means less eyes on you. But it also means more special attention, especially in a class with four students. I'll keep at this one though. Not because I think it will have the pounds flying off me, but because it gives me some core strength and hopefully balance which I also have none of. <br />
<br />
Namaste yo. Hero to the Masseshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07039148773925919239noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22056528.post-68629609192846175982014-04-05T17:18:00.000-04:002014-04-05T17:18:34.192-04:00Wait, so you're a cop for free? So as some of you know, I'm a Reserve Police Officer for the Metropolitan Police Department in DC. The "reserve" part means that I collect no salary for this job. DC is one of the few departments on the east coast that allows volunteer officers to be armed. That was the reason I wanted to do it. <br />
<br />
Now let me simply say that I don't think a firearm is the most important tool on the belt. In many ways, <a href="http://14173.blogspot.com/2013/11/flames-flames-on-side-of-my-face.html">outside of pepper spray</a>, it's my least used tool I carry. However in this country, the police are armed and not having a gun sets you apart. And being set apart is not good when you're not a regular officer. Also, not being armed can have deadly results. <a href="http://gothamist.com/2007/03/15/cop_shot_on_hou.php"> In 2007, 2 NYPD Auxiliary officers, who wear similar uniforms but are unarmed, were shot and killed.</a> They were following a murder suspect who then stopped and started chasing them. <br />
<br />
MPD Reserve Officers wear identical uniforms and carry the same gear as their career brethren. The only way I'd come back, especially without pay, was if I could be seen as an equal. Of course, a uniform doesn't make you a cop. Rather, what you do in that uniform and how you act, is what matters. When told that I'm working as a cop for free, both cops and civilians are dumbfounded. <br />
<br />
For my friends, I tell them that this is an activity, like flying general aviation or rock climbing. It carries certain risks and I enjoy it. What befuddles them is why I would want to spend my Saturday evening getting yelled at by the public or fighting with crackheads. The simple answer is that I miss it. No, not getting bit, but the camaraderie and adrenaline and responsibility. I'll admit it's strange to have a hobby that involves copious amounts of paperwork, but it is so different from my normal day that I look forward to it. <br />
<br />
The cops are understandably confused by my choice as well. I would be too in their shoes. Working in a busy city can wear on you. Seeing the same people over and over and realizing that you're not making a difference as much as you are playing a role can be exhausting and make a person very jaded. Why would anyone want to do this for free? One of the great things about being a reserve is that it's not full-time, which means it takes longer to wear and grate on you. This helps a tremendous amount on my outlook and personality while working. Also, even the most jaded cops want to make a difference. It's just that those calls are few and far between sometimes. <br />
<br />
Of course another huge benefit is that I get to be a cop without any of the politics or the prison-like sentence that can come with pensions. If I don't want to work on a certain night, I don't have to. <br />
I get to serve the community I live in and laugh. A lot. I forgot how many laughs there were. And laughs are the key to a happy life. Hero to the Masseshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07039148773925919239noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22056528.post-79474093147318439712014-04-03T20:25:00.001-04:002014-04-03T20:25:32.297-04:00Year of Fitness: It's Still HappeningPerhaps you forgot that 2014 is my Year of Fitness. I forgive you. It was a cold winter. And to be honest, I'm taking the approach to this that it's a marathon and not a sprint. Some may say this is lazy. I say it's strategy. <br />
<br />
I returned to the gym today for a <a href="http://www.self.com/blogs/flash/2013/01/les-mills-new-grit-series-classes.html">GRIT class</a>. This is a 30 minute high intensity exercise class and they have different versions, Strength, Cardio and Plyometrics. I did the cardio class this afternoon and briefly saw my God I think at some point. Here's a video of the class:<br />
<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" src="//www.youtube.com/embed/xcBQGc53Aa8?rel=0" width="560"></iframe>
<br />
Whereas I looked like Mary Katherine Gallagher. Well her crossed with a drunken albatross. Group exercise classes are odd to me. In a room with strangers, being exhorted by another stranger to move faster and harder. The idea behind Grit is that it's only 30 minutes per workout, and because of that you need to work twice as hard as hour-long workouts. This means that I was pretty much done right after the "warmup"<br />
<br />
You know how I know I was the biggest mess in class? The instructor kept telling me I was doing a good job by name. No one else got as many atta-boys as I did. This only leads me to conclude that I must have looked like someone having a grand mal seizure to house music. The instructor did break the news that she was going back to school and wouldn't be teaching the 5:30PM class in the summer. I remember thinking that I didn't know that the CIA had a torture academy beginning so soon. <br />
<br />
It hurts everywhere, especially the next day. I don't know if I have GRIT. I do have cramps and the body of a giant baby. Hero to the Masseshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07039148773925919239noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22056528.post-74536156750509841262014-02-28T14:36:00.002-05:002014-02-28T14:36:55.116-05:00Thoughts on Spike's RantSo as a New Yorker, Spike Lee is a NY presence. Certainly <a href="http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0097216/">Do The Right Thing </a>was an incredibly authentic and wonderful capture of what NYC was like in the late 80's. He's also a Knicks fan, like our version of Jack Nicholson, except the Knicks are terrible. So it wasn't really a surprise when <a href="http://nymag.com/daily/intelligencer/2014/02/spike-lee-amazing-rant-against-gentrification.html">Spike went on a tirade about gentrification and compared it to Columbus discovering an inhabited land.</a><br />
<br />
And some of what he said was absolutely correct. I did respond to noise complaints by new white neighbors next to Mt. Morris Park who complained about the constant drumming from a drum circle. I vividly remember the conversation going like this:<br />
<br />
<i>Me: So you just moved here, right? </i><br />
<i><br /></i>
<i>Him: Yup. </i><br />
<i><br /></i>
<i>Me: And you probably would have rather lived on the Upper West Side or Upper East or West Village, but the rent was too expensive, right? </i><br />
<i><br /></i>
<i>Him: Uh yeah? </i><br />
<i><br /></i>
<i>Me: These guys have been drumming in this circle for over 50 years. This is what they do. You can't come into this building and expect that to stop. I can go down there and talk to them, if you want, but you might not find people very friendly. </i><br />
<i><br /></i>
<i>Him: ...</i><br />
<br />
But I knew my attempt at street counseling wouldn't stop the influx and if the new residents did stop the drum circle at Mt Morris Park, then that's a shame. Spike had the right concept, but the wrong line. He made it about race, which of course made lots of people turn off, and that's all wrong. Hell, he moved to the Upper East Side. Along those lines, people on Park Ave could say the same thing about him. <br />
<br />
This is not gentrification along national lines. It's not like thousands of North Koreans are pouring into Brooklyn and replacing all the bagel and pizza shops with kimchi parlors. That I would be more okay with. This is a gentrification of money and boredom.<br />
<br />
Let's take Grey's Papaya down in the Village which is closing after losing its rent. It provided food and sweet papaya juice for thousands of New Yorkers, including drunk NYU kids and the homeless. The landlord wanted to raise the monthly rent from $30,000 to $50,000 a month, which was too much for a place selling two hots and a drink for under $5. It's being replaced by a juice place, offering cleanses and other high priced drinks. It probably won't last, and then it will be vacant and might turn into a retail clothing store or some sexy maternity store. <b>But it will never be a place that sells 2 hot dogs and a drink for $5 ever again. </b><br />
<b><br /></b>
This is happening all over the city. Locksmiths, hardware stores, my local pizza place, diners. All gone, to be replaced by banks and Duane Reades and boutique stores. The trend though is the same, once these places leave, they will never return. If they do return, you get some new take on the concept. Take <a href="http://www.empire-diner.com/">Empire Diner</a> for example. My mother would take me here as a kid and it was so much fun. And it was a diner. This new concept, headed by Amanda Freitag (No one knew who was the chef when I went there as a kid) will have matzoh ball soup with bone marrow and skate. <br />
<br />
This is the existential threat that faces New York City. It becomes a city that loses its sense of place while the chains and feel of Times Square creep outward until they're next door. I don't need Lululemon to buy yoga pants. I can do that online, but without a hardware store, how the hell do I fix my sink. Sometimes Youtube videos aren't good enough. <br />
<br />
If you want to be really sad,about NYC, <a href="http://vanishingnewyork.blogspot.com/">then read this blog.</a> Hero to the Masseshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07039148773925919239noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22056528.post-78387997981678330712014-01-30T14:31:00.000-05:002014-01-30T14:31:02.585-05:00Car2Go = Maniac Behind the WheelSo if you don't know Car2Go or haven't seen their blue and white Smart cars speeding around your city, then you probably don't live in one of the 25 cities around the world where they operate. Basically, it's a one way car rental, which is much more useful than you ever imagined. Say you're going to meet friends out at a bar, but you're late, so you can take one of these cars there and park it and then take a bus/cab or walk/crawl home. <br />
<br />
Here's how it works:<br />
<br />
<ol>
<li>You give them your credit card and drivers license info and they give you an RFID card. <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRO9hJHFe9knWsUeEr8pRccLeWIOM35MHziz1MtBiQna8DgSpVs-HkrVqjRI83xFHXQg2ZsdsDBQq2UmixRS_cH5ZuWprOhW2Jf4gJDy0o5fCcfXq6RxARP80LA8GPmSq9Njq8fA/s1600/C2G+card.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRO9hJHFe9knWsUeEr8pRccLeWIOM35MHziz1MtBiQna8DgSpVs-HkrVqjRI83xFHXQg2ZsdsDBQq2UmixRS_cH5ZuWprOhW2Jf4gJDy0o5fCcfXq6RxARP80LA8GPmSq9Njq8fA/s1600/C2G+card.jpeg" height="212" width="320" /></a></div>
</li>
<li>You use this RFID card to open one of their 2-person cars, parked anywhere in a designated area (usually the boundaries of your city)<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiq0qzX_vUkn24t3rwmdc1-IcXnpLeaGHw2Qc77SjIP50v_FPv2STBuKkgBb5hvubzo_KXE4mxPanw3rXD0-cgb271cym6M8bmtjZYdA7KYNc-C9D3cE64zVuV0MEKsZhsDHbUyIA/s1600/car2go.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiq0qzX_vUkn24t3rwmdc1-IcXnpLeaGHw2Qc77SjIP50v_FPv2STBuKkgBb5hvubzo_KXE4mxPanw3rXD0-cgb271cym6M8bmtjZYdA7KYNc-C9D3cE64zVuV0MEKsZhsDHbUyIA/s1600/car2go.jpg" height="207" width="320" /></a></div>
</li>
<li><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
You drive wherever you want in that boundary and then you park the car, and leave the key and use the card to lock the car up again. As a city kid, the ability to park this thing almost anywhere is awesome and becomes a challenge to find how small of a spot I can find to put it in. (Note, this is not my parking job, but I am very impressed.)</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_HNgvQlT64f2DvpV_OuziXkfiKD38y6YH4rLGgAhAFw1DtOWsMI6heYBu2cnHz_6GXoc8D75C7-GsRlfnfBcT4RWNE7jXX9kTqxMW2oLhLD5XZEWGwoUrEAfHO3Tb7C2Kzp3_Iw/s1600/smart_car_parked.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_HNgvQlT64f2DvpV_OuziXkfiKD38y6YH4rLGgAhAFw1DtOWsMI6heYBu2cnHz_6GXoc8D75C7-GsRlfnfBcT4RWNE7jXX9kTqxMW2oLhLD5XZEWGwoUrEAfHO3Tb7C2Kzp3_Iw/s1600/smart_car_parked.jpg" height="239" width="320" /></a></div>
</li>
</ol>
<div style="text-align: left;">
So what's the big deal? This is great right? Well, mostly. Here's the catch. </div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWQzKrCUlIp9E8lzfew70PE7HIcbJCTmiblvoaCEnYbHFB3wDZjlIEEYSVpXY-rb1h1D2_yrxBF9-ESOn-vBbGTmPOtN19gr8Oc0G20gE5QdsYBk1hBw8SDvhxCNzhHJUWsLeUzA/s1600/Screen+Shot+2014-01-30+at+2.18.04+PM.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWQzKrCUlIp9E8lzfew70PE7HIcbJCTmiblvoaCEnYbHFB3wDZjlIEEYSVpXY-rb1h1D2_yrxBF9-ESOn-vBbGTmPOtN19gr8Oc0G20gE5QdsYBk1hBw8SDvhxCNzhHJUWsLeUzA/s1600/Screen+Shot+2014-01-30+at+2.18.04+PM.png" height="257" width="400" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
You get charged per minute. 41 cents per minute to be exact. So basically, you are trying to get to your destination as quickly as possible. What's that Grandma? You want me to yield so you can cross at the crosswalk? Do I look like I'm made of money? This cost gets internalized like a mental taxi meter and turns the most thoughtful driver into Dale Jr. I'm as guilty of it as the next guy, but maybe a different pay structure around pay bands might be better. Like $5 for 20 minutes, $10 for 40 and $15 for an hour? </div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
It's not just driving. There's a gas card in the car, and they will give you a credit of 20 minutes if you fill it up. But only when the tank is at 1/4 tank or less. This is dumb. By that point, you're going to be using 10-12 minutes to fill the tank anyway, what with the weird payment card and inputting mileage, etc. Why not just give everyone 15 minutes if they fill the tank, for anything under 3/4. You would have more thoughtful customers and the next drivers would appreciate it. </div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
Finally, unlike the other great sharing system in DC, Capital Bikeshare, the maintenance issue is not great. Yesterday, driving a Car2Go, I went to use the wipers and they didn't work. Nor did the sprayer nozzles. So I called using the in car SOS button and the connection was turruble, so she called back and I reported it and was thanked. When I ended the rental, I noticed that the car was ready to be used again. It seems like they could use a Maintenance Status so people don't keep getting in cars that have obvious problems. </div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
Hero to the Masseshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07039148773925919239noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22056528.post-2009689403302386282014-01-14T15:29:00.002-05:002014-01-14T15:29:50.387-05:00Netflix and Bourbon FTWThere exists in the gym a thing that lurks silently and unassumingly in a corner. Probably near the water fountain or some exercise mats. Not the dumbbells or free weights or the Cybex machines with the straps that are across between some sexual training device and a medieval torture machine. No friends, I am speaking of the medicine ball. <br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhC7MBe5Ui9Ow0DZMegN0jF4V3llM6F_TzyMpe1cD_STnMqwhXoUdNWM_vhXVs_oQVGzdpLs-Xh2xIkN6o4x9OmDxLM3-iFEEDBkdqpDgem2E12vVNSn_AXLy9gOgYV1zctcgiRuQ/s1600/medicine-ball-tree-mbr1-fs-chs-13.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhC7MBe5Ui9Ow0DZMegN0jF4V3llM6F_TzyMpe1cD_STnMqwhXoUdNWM_vhXVs_oQVGzdpLs-Xh2xIkN6o4x9OmDxLM3-iFEEDBkdqpDgem2E12vVNSn_AXLy9gOgYV1zctcgiRuQ/s320/medicine-ball-tree-mbr1-fs-chs-13.jpg" width="72" /></a></div>
<br />
Yes, this small ball filled with some sort of granular pain. It mocks you with small numbers like 8 or 12. Who can't lift 12 pounds? I found out after multiple reps that I am the guy that can't lift 12 pounds. I had my second personal training session this morning at 7AM. It went well. If well means rivers of sweat and gasping. <br />
<br />
I realized while I was seated and tossing this medicine ball to the trainer with my skinny arms, and almost hitting some poor bastard doing chest presses in the head, that I need a back story. I need a helmet. See, the only way that this level of weakness is alright is if it follows some sort of tragic accident. Or maybe I was teaching kids to read in sub-saharan Africa and caught Dutch Elm Disease or something. <br />
<br />
Because when I'm dripping all over the ground and struggling with my pastel colored medicine ball, I can't be like "This is all me, baby! Netflix and bourbon for the win!!!" Hero to the Masseshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07039148773925919239noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22056528.post-69685589485773942972014-01-09T14:32:00.001-05:002014-01-09T14:32:43.258-05:00Soy AmericanoSo I learned today at my Wellness consult that I have joined the ranks of <a href="http://www.cdc.gov/obesity/data/adult.html">35.7% of Americans</a> who are obese. This is not shocking. I knew when I held that not-X-Box controller thing that beeped in judgement that the numbers wouldn't be good news. To quote one of the finest thinkers of our time, these hips don't lie. <br />
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Also, the scale at the gym is different than the one at home, and I'm fatter by 3 pounds. But I'm taking a whole Biggest Loser approach to this whole thing. The bigger I am the easier the weight comes off. Finished the consult and then I was in the gym alone, and it struck me. My hatred of gyms. Take large amounts of people working out and add low self-esteem, and no idea how to use machines, and simmer until nervous gas. Now I'm a bright fella. I realize that most of these people working out joined this gym about 6 days ago and at least one of them is sitting on the machine backwards and is very close to putting an eye out. But that objective reality doesn't mesh with the fake reality that I create in my mind. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
See, I don't like exercise. It comes from a long history of loathing organized sports, brought on by attending a private grade school that put an emphasis on sports and academics. I was good at neither. With competitive sports mandatory, I simply would set the bar incredibly low and seek to trip over it. The only varsity letter I received in my collegiate career was in gymnastics, because you compete against yourself, and it wasn't physically possible that I could be worse than my first day on the rings. Thankfully, there were no cell phone cameras back in 1991, otherwise you would be able to see my floor routine which consisted entirely of forward rolls and skipping. <br />
<br />
The issue I have is that I generally haven't given exercise enough time to show results and then make me feel like its worth it. I don't get a runner's high. I'm often yawning while working out which probably isn't a good thing. I have my first training session tonight at 7:30 and I'm going to see the guy weekly and then go at least twice more per week on my own. That should help me get past the sense of uselessness I feel at the gym. <br />
<br />
I'll let you know how it all goes. Stay tuned, sports fans. </div>
Hero to the Masseshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07039148773925919239noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22056528.post-37085561177046523172014-01-05T21:33:00.000-05:002014-01-05T21:54:48.187-05:00YOF #1<b>Weekly Weigh-In: 233 lbs. </b><br />
<br />
Either I have been too busy toning my physique to blog or the Year of Fitness has gotten off to a slow start. Tens of readers, it was the latter. I cannot lie to you. Between the holidays and my birthday and my general dislike of exercise I have gotten off to a poor start. <br />
<br />
But today, January 5th, I went to the Y. I spent 30 minutes on the eliptical and apparently burned 450 calories. I don't believe that stat. One, because how the hell does this machine which is showing my Maury (He's not the father, by the way) know how many units of heat I'm burning. Secondly, its depressing knowing that 30 minutes of work was two bites of pizza. <br />
<br />
So I planned to do a before photo. You know the kind with the fat rolls and the frowns. That will happen, but not right away. I'm looking to get an Italian hero in the photo to highlight the gluttony. I've got a wellness consultation with the Y tomorrow. I'm expecting to hear from them that I'm not very well. <br />
<br />
In addition to my gym exploration today, I also had the chance to dine with Allyson and my friend Caitlin, up from Boston. I met Caitlin years ago at a college fair where we volunteered for our <a href="http://www.vassar.edu/">alma mater</a>. We kept in touch since and I always give when she runs Boston for <a href="https://www.teamintraining.org/ma/tntexperience/upcomingevents/bostonmarathon">Team in Training</a>. She's done 9 of them so far. Anyway, she's awesome and it was great hanging out tonight for a bit. If peeps want to help her out by giving to TNT, <a href="http://pages.teamintraining.org/ma/boston14/CDD">you can give here</a>. <br />
<br />
I will report back about the wellness consultation tomorrow. Hero to the Masseshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07039148773925919239noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22056528.post-10971561566260905832013-12-19T16:08:00.001-05:002013-12-19T16:08:40.354-05:00The YOFSo I like to try and concentrate on something each year, as a focus. Sort of like a New Year's Resolution but technically it happens 18 days before NYE. The focus of the 2013 has been the Year of the Law Enforcement (Again). I'm getting sworn in as a Reserve Police Officer tomorrow evening with the Metropolitan Police Department of DC if all goes well with the final exam tonight. This caps off hundreds of hours of training on Tuesday and Thursday nights and Saturdays over 9 months. I am glad to have that time suck behind me and to get out on patrol, so I can show my fellow rookies how to properly balance a hot coffee while going lights and siren around a corner at 50 mph. <br />
<br />
This next year will be the Year of Fitness. <br />
<br />
In truth, I don't know what this actually means, asides from me wanting to lose weight, gain muscle and be able to outrun fat people on Black Friday. I have a gym investment. Its not really a membership. I'm more of a donor, but its a Y, so I feel good that my money is going to community projects. I'm going to be getting a trainer and running more and you can track my progress on this blog. If people have any ideas, I'm open to trying then. <br />
<br />
Expect to see one of those before shots soon, with basic stats. My girlfriend goes to the gym all the time and sometimes even does double spin classes. She is clearly in shape and I am not. I am a guy, which means I get to be loved for my genial personality and sense of humor, while hoping that my lady is in shape. Though, in truth, I'm happy when she's happy, regardless of what she looks like. It makes for a stronger relationship. <br />
<br />
I've been a chubby kid for most of my life and have owned that title pretty well. I lost about 50 pounds when I went through the first police academy and that gradually returned, because chasing 17 year olds after eating chicken parm sandwiches does not a fitness routine make. While I don't hate my body, I'd be happier if it was a little trimmer. Every time I read those articles that show the guy going from Zero to Hero, it gets to the part where he eats brown rice and grilled chicken 8 times a day. Screw that. Life is too short to not eat ribs out of a school bus. <br />
<br />
So I'll post my stats and goals this weekend. Should be fun. Hero to the Masseshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07039148773925919239noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22056528.post-77438269641476330062013-11-27T11:37:00.001-05:002013-11-27T11:37:23.341-05:00Flames. Flames, on the side of my face"This isn't too bad."<br />
<br />
I had just gotten sprayed with pepper spray in an "X" pattern across the face, as part of the DC Metropolitan Police Academy's training for handling OC spray.<br />
<br />
<i>Quick primer on self-defense spray: The spray is called <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Pepper_spray">Oleoresin Capsicum</a>, or shortened to OC spray for short. Mace <a href="http://www.mace.com/">is a conpany</a>, which started the concept using teargas as the agent and then it too switched over to OC. There's a pretty good explanation of the ingredients in the wikipedia page linked above. </i><br />
<br />
MPD, like many other departments has officers get sprayed before getting OC so they know how to handle themselves when it happens to them. I say when and not if, because cops get sprayed a lot, 99% of the time by other cops. We call these cops, "dicks". So after being sprayed, they have to pretend to cuff a dummy and then read a number being held 50 feet away to simulate reading an address off a house and then finally you need to protect your firearm as someone tries to take it. <br />
<br />
I should say that in my 5 years with the NYPD, I had been exposed to OC several times, but always it was a contact hit. I was generally running into a cloud of OC after another cop has sprayed a perp. See, you're supposed to spray them and then back off and let the OC do it's job, but a lot of times you're in an apartment and someone sprays a guy and you're all in a closet and then you're playing Seven Seconds in Heaven with handcuffs and much more cursing. But this was a direct spray to the eyes, nose and mouth. Night and Day. Arbys to In 'N Out. OTPHJ to ... well you get the point.<br />
<br />
I keep referring to other people using OC, as the only time I used it, it had no effect on the 6'5" guy on PCP who later bit my neck. So just know this stuff doesn't work on everyone. Apparently 20% of the population is immune. I am not in that group of people. <br />
<br />
So we assembled outside, where is was rainy and cold, and lined up to get sprayed. When it was my turn, I closed my eyes and mouth, deep breath and then came the Devil's money shot. I could feel the heat on my face, but it wasn't until she told me to open my eyes and I found that I couldn't, did I realize that I had made a poor life decision in being a cop again, much less an unpaid one. So OC is a lacrimator, which basically means you cry a lot. But those tears feel like lava, and the remedy is sadly the hardest thing to do. <br />
<br />
I was coughing and squinting and cursing. If Popeye had a love child with Mr. Magoo, that would be me. You need to open your eyes to allow the air in, as air and water are the best ways to decontaminate. I passed the obstacle course, though seeing that number in the dark through my eyeballs of fury was not easy. My face felt like it was on fire and my eyes wanted to close, but when they were closed it hurt 100 times more to open them. And you needed to cry to get the OC out of your eyeballs. <br />
<br />
And the snotting. So much snotting. As my friend Steve used to say, my nose was running like Carl Lewis. Snotting everywhere. I was lacrimating out of every orifice on my head. I also managed to wipe some of the OC on my left neck so I had a nice burn developing there as well. I was blowing my nose on my t-shirt, because I didn't care about my looks at that point. Hell, I couldn't see enough to know what I looked like anyway. <br />
<br />
I haven't showered since, because the water reactivates the OC, and I'm waiting until I arrive at my mother's house where my crying will be mistaken for that of my new nephew who is 3 months old. I can still feel the OC in my eyes and on my face. And the experience reminded me again of why its so important to talk your way out of situations. My partner in NYC was a guy named Will who had a quicker temper than me, but we worked really well together. I often played good cop to his bad cop, as defendants would refuse to work with him and only talk to me. You need to be able to talk to people and also be ready to put your hands on people. But if I never have to pull that stupid can out of its holder, that's fine with me. <br />
<br />Hero to the Masseshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07039148773925919239noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22056528.post-51008220973318281102013-11-18T12:14:00.002-05:002013-11-18T12:14:38.646-05:00Cruises: A Binary ReactionI blame Dr. Cohen. Steve Cohen was my history teacher in high school. In 11th grade, we discussed Disney World and Dr. Cohen, who leaned a little left of center, said that theme parks were a terrible illusion, that took people's hard earned money and gave them only a glimpse of a false utopia, with happy people and clean walkways and constant parades. I never passed Exit 7A on the Jersey Turnpike again the same way. Thanks a lot, Dr. Cohen. I was reminded of that lesson when I took a 7-day cruise to Bermuda courtesy of my job. <br />
<br />
Now before I get into the cruise, let me say that none of my previous jobs have ever taken me on a cruise before and so I am incredibly grateful that Allyson and I could go on this cruise. I have learned that cruises are a binary experience. You either love them or you hate them. There is little in between. This very much depends on the kind of travel person you are. Do you like visiting cities and walking until you get lost or riding public transportation in those places to get a feel for the average citizen? Yeah, cruises aren't for you. Do you like your alcohol colored blue with umbrellas and plastic flamingos in it? Getting warmer. <br />
<br />
So, let's get into this, shall we. The ship, you don't call them boats, was the <a href="http://www.royalcaribbean.com/findacruise/ships/class/ship/home.do?shipCode=EX">Explorer of the Seas</a>, and she sailed from Cape Liberty, NJ. Cape Liberty doesn't exist, but it sounds better than its actual name, the Bayonne, NJ waterfront. The ship is one of the largest in the world, and carries over 3,100 passengers and over 1,000 crew. To put this in perspective, it is larger than the USS Intrepid, which is the aircraft carrier that most NYC kids know from field trips. The voyage was to take 7 days, with 2 getting to Bermuda, three in port, and two returning.<br />
<br />
This is not really a ship, or a boat. It had an Irish Bar and a rock climbing wall, and 6 hot tubs, and an ice skating rink. It was like a floating city. But not a city you would want to live. More like a floating Branson. The problem with all of these opportunities are that they are just okay. Don't get me wrong, seeing an ice show while sailing along the Atlantic Ocean, is wild. However, when you take the experiences and put them side by side, the shine dulls a bit. Let's take the food. <br />
<br />
One of the reasons people go on cruises I've learned is to eat. Not so much eat, as shovel food into their gullets and eat two bites of everything and throw the rest away. The main dining area has two seatings. 6:30 and 8:30PM. The room feeds about 1,500 people at once which means that all of your meat is cooked well done and the logistics of serving all of these meals is far more impressive than the actual dishes being served. The other dining option that most people go to is the Windjammer, which is the giant buffet that's open for most of the day. This is where you see the professional eaters. This also is where you see the absolute fear of the cruise lines about Norovirus, and the lengths they go to have you wash your hands. There is a gauntlet of Purell dispensers blocking the way into the buffet and a woman yelling "Washy Washy", which I still hear in my nightmares, at you as you enter.<br />
<br />
See, people come on the cruise to be gluttonous and cruise lines are all about helping you fulfill your goal. The buffet has many mediocre varieties of food, ranging from hot dogs and burgers to "build your own pizza". And it functions much like any other buffet, whether in a casino or strip mall. You get all kinds of different food, eat a bite of each thing, and then throw it all out. The most popular thing offered at the buffet was the Mongolian Grill. Which proves my point about cruises. When offered culinary options, the masses choose a meat and veggie concoction that is covered in a sweet sauce meaning it tastes the same regardless of whether its beef, chicken or rubber. <br />
<br />
I think cruises depend greatly on where you choose to go. If you choose a Caribbean or tropical destination, just know that the companies put their largest ships on this route with all the most attractions, from bumper cars to projected movies of the sea so inside staterooms feel like they have windows. <a href="http://www.royalcaribbean.com/findacruise/ships/class/ship/home.do?shipClassCode=com.rccl.value.catalog.ShipClassValue%40a437a1e&shipCode=QN&br=R"> I'm not kidding. </a> These voyages are filled with people who want to drink and eat and tan. These are the ships that allow you to do zip line and drink mai tais in Haiti . But <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Labadee">a piece of Haiti behind miles of razor wire</a> so none of the drunks realize that they're paying $10 for a daquiri in the<a href="http://www.worldbank.org/en/country/haiti/overview"> poorest country in the Americas. </a> Do you go on vacation to escape, as Dr. Cohen would ask? Then cruises allow that. <br />
<br />
There are smaller ships to Europe or the Greek Isles, and those ships are smaller with less of the attractions which put more of the focus on the destinations. This is how I may cruise again. May. It will need to be a little while before I think about setting foot on a boat. I still can't get this damn song out of my head. <br />
<br />
<br />
<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" src="//www.youtube.com/embed/qd6UI6wEIsU" width="560"></iframe>Hero to the Masseshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07039148773925919239noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22056528.post-20995044104044008122013-11-14T22:16:00.000-05:002013-11-14T22:16:25.908-05:00The Ad I Hate MostThere's an ad running right now from Prudential that is clearly designed for Boomers or those about to retire. Here it is:<br />
<br />
<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" src="//www.youtube.com/embed/zCnEto2m_FA" width="560"></iframe>
I get it. This ad is designed for long-time employees of companies like GM or IBM and others where you earn the gold watch and then decide what to do. I call bullshit. None of those jobs they mentioned couldn't have been had sooner. I get it. Its scary. I've worked in three states. I have two pensions and about 5 401Ks. This is how it works. Not for my parents. But for me. I'm not waiting for 65 to do what I want to do. That time is now. Life is way too short to toil at a job for 35 years to get to do what I want to do. <br />
<br />
Everyone wants their kids to have better than them. Even if I had kids, that wouldn't be possible. My Dad was a banker and my mom was an interior decorator. I learned to live my life whatever that means, and especially without kids that means being happy, which I am. Allyson and I travel to different countries every year and that matters way to me than saving an extra $35 a month so that maybe when both my hips are fake I can have the life I dream.<br />
<br />
Live the life you want now. No one will judge you later. They'll only be jealous.Hero to the Masseshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07039148773925919239noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22056528.post-19528049054894151282013-10-06T07:20:00.000-04:002013-10-06T07:20:27.783-04:00Sin City in 25 hoursThe title of this post would make this seem like an exciting trip. Perhaps some gambling, David Copperfield and alcohol fueled binge. It was not. I was there for work, teaching a class. I've been furloughed as part of the House GOP's <a href="http://www.politico.com/story/2013/10/government-shutdown-saturday-97872.html?hp=f1">War Against The American People</a>, so its nice when there are other things I have to make a little money. I also love teaching, so its a win win. So landing in Vegas at 9PM and flying out the next day at 10PM, here's some highlights and lowlights of the trip. <br />
<br />
<b>In-N-Out Burger</b><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhsPQw9ywNSkBgP4Y1a0tmE8Ea6v9FcOAc-HhPNmK6WKbSVEv-alhUQWtvF9uobECAatjtzuVFQsxrZfkckLEbMrQ695sDN1emF6wRGtrIC0ouaNQJpYWIsing8SeeJ6WT3Yfb82A/s1600/in-n-out-primary.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhsPQw9ywNSkBgP4Y1a0tmE8Ea6v9FcOAc-HhPNmK6WKbSVEv-alhUQWtvF9uobECAatjtzuVFQsxrZfkckLEbMrQ695sDN1emF6wRGtrIC0ouaNQJpYWIsing8SeeJ6WT3Yfb82A/s320/in-n-out-primary.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
A bit cliched I suppose, but my personal rule to get a Double-Double Animal Style on every trip that takes me to a place with In-N-Out has never proven me wrong. Watching the young kid destroying potatoes in that contraption that makes them into raw fries is fascinating. And yes <a href="http://www.snopes.com/business/alliance/inandout.asp">they do love Jesus</a>, but not with the political sideshow of Chick Fil A. I think the East Coast beats the West Coast, but I have to say that the fast food on the West Coast destroys the East Coast. You ever stopped at a Roy Rogers on the Jersey Turnpike? Ever see anything that resembled the photo above? Yeah.<br />
<br />
<b>Element Hotel</b><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtsBj8RFtM-0OZrGmNPKrnfCEqR8xgw5U9vcfH6wCurQU2rvqAorghuDnsTjpZQjzqCo443FT7NUmTm2HXjv7dtecsbT9wb5XCfsrO4_UxC3itr9aMo7XkzT1UXUwTzX7zblrw8g/s1600/entrance-element-las-vegas-summerlin-v468195-w650.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="168" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtsBj8RFtM-0OZrGmNPKrnfCEqR8xgw5U9vcfH6wCurQU2rvqAorghuDnsTjpZQjzqCo443FT7NUmTm2HXjv7dtecsbT9wb5XCfsrO4_UxC3itr9aMo7XkzT1UXUwTzX7zblrw8g/s320/entrance-element-las-vegas-summerlin-v468195-w650.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
This is one of the newer Starwood lines. It's a brand by Westin that focuses on sustainability. Honestly, I can't say too much about it because I got in late and left super early, but it was clean and nice. I like that they lend out mountain bikes and provide free breakfast, which is rare for Starwood properties. I would stay here again. In fact I'm staying at the same hotel in a month, but sadly only for a limited time again. Hopefully get to try the gym this time. <br />
<br />
<b>The Other Side of Vegas</b><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7zHrf_ypLupTVzVeDJCEAhFuZHtR32V-D30REgBSfwMPYuJcIq3pyYHOsnJ193_m1JzPcIkXxlg5ld5o42O2BEL2hTzyR8g54KVRSblk0xwFHtHioKWljmVNaUjhWwhnRiUnpuA/s1600/sun_leesbillboard_t653.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7zHrf_ypLupTVzVeDJCEAhFuZHtR32V-D30REgBSfwMPYuJcIq3pyYHOsnJ193_m1JzPcIkXxlg5ld5o42O2BEL2hTzyR8g54KVRSblk0xwFHtHioKWljmVNaUjhWwhnRiUnpuA/s1600/sun_leesbillboard_t653.jpg" /></a></div>
<br />
So most people who go to Vegas go to the Strip, which is where you can see thousands of people shuffling along wearing ill-fitting shirts that usually read something like "1 Tequila, 2 Tequila, 3 Tequila, Floor" or something equally as witty. However being there for work meant I got to see the other side of Vegas, which looks less like the glitz of the Bellagio's fountains and more like a sprawl of title loan places, pawn shops, psychics, fast food and liquor stores. I guess this isn't a surprise. Look at Atlantic City. It has one supermarket, <a href="http://www.pressofatlanticcity.com/communities/atlantic-city_pleasantville_brigantine/supermarket-chain-expected-to-open-store-next-year-in-atlantic/article_6fbac1c8-2c4b-11e1-844b-0019bb2963f4.html">which just opened in 2012. </a> It is weird though, because driving through Vegas can feel like a Hollywood set with the Strip being the side the camera faces and the plywood backing being for the residents. <br />
<br />
<b>Centurion Club at Las Vegas Airport</b><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzYl6vhEniinSqpid3by7XRHdmV7CQul-h9pHdNQV07jTv5bLErtBMN9plBHmYm5gQ8ZspQZOJuGukyJG-2MFqdMtUSJTGM4KNN07Yx7zDqVlZxjRPeIFbuutphInlV8zu2FoBlw/s1600/Centurion.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzYl6vhEniinSqpid3by7XRHdmV7CQul-h9pHdNQV07jTv5bLErtBMN9plBHmYm5gQ8ZspQZOJuGukyJG-2MFqdMtUSJTGM4KNN07Yx7zDqVlZxjRPeIFbuutphInlV8zu2FoBlw/s1600/Centurion.jpeg" /></a></div>
<br />
This was a highlight. I saw it when I landed and read about it. American Express built a travel lounge concept that is high class with hot food designed by Scott Conant and special cocktails also. It's unlimited, all you can eat or drink. They also offer showers, free tablets and headphones and chaises so you can nap or lie down and watch the airport. The catch? It's only free for Centurion (Black Card) members, with all other Amex cardholders needing to pay $50. I had won $40 on a few spins of the Wheel of Fortune machine at the Palms, because I'm a whale and so I thought I'd treat myself. Imagine my tears of joy when the woman said that they are now allowing Platinum cardmembers in for free also. Let the Bulleit flow like water, friends!<br />
<br />
Las Vegas, you are unapologetically American. I hope that the National Parks are not closed so I can see Red Rocks next month. Hero to the Masseshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07039148773925919239noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22056528.post-62388602563762447442013-09-24T14:52:00.003-04:002013-09-24T14:52:42.472-04:00Throw Off Those LanyardsLast night, I had the opportunity to see <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Measure_for_Measure">Measure for Measure </a>at the Shakespeare Theater in DC. It was brilliantly directed by Jonathan Munby and the acting and lighting and sound were terrific. A really enjoyable take on one of Shakespeare's not often produced plays. The cabaret that began the show for about 20 minutes even had boobs for the kids. <br />
<br />
But I was there to witness the performance of my friend, Miriam Silverman who was excellent as Isabella, as she is in really everything she does. She married my good friend from high school who is also an actor, and they come down to do shows at the Shakespeare Theater in DC with some regularity and my girlfriend and I are the lucky recipients of free tickets to see great shows. <br />
<br />
And it struck me that it's rare to see your friends at work. Sure you may see them on conference calls or mashing a reply to their boss on a Friday at happy hour on their phone, but actually watching them do their craft is rare. I don't like the word craft, but I use it here to make a point. I work in L'Enfant Plaza, and like Crystal City, where I've also worked, it is populated by office drones. You can spot them by their lanyards and <a href="http://www.fips201.com/">FIPS 201 </a>standard badges. And when asked "What's going on?" you will oft hear said "Same shit, different day." Many of these people have jobs, but they don't seem to have crafts. Granted middle management federal bureaucrat is not very craft-ish, even if they vastly outnumber actors, starving or otherwise.<br />
<br />
Perhaps arguing with IT about printer drivers really is someone's perfect day, but its not mine. I'm not sure what I'm supposed to do with my life and at 36 and three-quarters am still wondering what I'll be when I grow up. But I hope it doesn't involve a lanyard with an ID, because the idea that we can be truly happy outside of work while hating our job is a fallacy. We spend so much time at work, whether physically there or mentally due to smartphones. I don't mind work being a heavy part of a work-life balance. I just want the work part to count for something besides a 401 contribution and 10 paid holidays a year. <br />
<br />Hero to the Masseshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07039148773925919239noreply@blogger.com0