Memorial Day

Given that this is Memorial Day, I'd like to take a little bit of time today to highlight the sacrifice of those we're supposed to be remembering.  There was an article in the now defunct Rocky Mountain Times from 2008 that won the Pulitzer.  It's called "Final Salute, written by Jim Sheeler, and details the story of a Marine Corps Casualty Assistance Officer.  This is the position that is the liaison between the deceased's family and the military.


Click here for the article. 

Here is the pulitzer prize winning photo set. 

I know nobody reads newspapers anymore, but articles like this think that maybe we should.

Have a happy and safe day, everybody.

Photo courtesy of Todd Heisler

Capitol Limited: West Virginia

Greetings from Martinsville, West Virginia.  Of course, the town is actually rolling by me right now.  I'm sitting in a Sleeper car with my girlfriend Allyson and it's a little tight.  We're essentially in two seats facing each other with a big picture window and some hooks for clothing. It's called a Roomette, which you can tell by the suffix means its pretty small.  

The Lounge car is pretty cool.  It has panoramic seats.  We have 7 PM reservations in the dining car, which I'm looking forward to.  So far most of the passengers seem to be tourists from the UK and seniors.  I'll write more in a bit.  It's rude to type on the computer when you're 2 feet from another person who's looking right at you. 

Best Week for Kids with Aspergers

I think the only person who might know what week this is would be my friend Nicole, who is a child psychologist who works with autistic kids.  It's National Transportation Week.  Even the President says so. So I have some transportation posts this week, and by week I mean Thursday through Sunday.  I've been playing LA Noire nonstop since I got it and it's essentially taken over my life. 

So most people know about Zipcar.  It's a car sharing program that allows you to basically borrow a car for an hourly fee to run errands to see people.  Zipcar takes care of the insurance and the gas.  They'll even pay you if you wash the car.  And they're parked all over the place.  Well, last fall DC got this concept for bikes.  It's called Capital Bikeshare and it has changed my life.

Allow me to be honest.  I think the last time I rode my bike was in high school.  I'm pretty sure I haven't ridden a bicycle since then.  As a New Yorker, you pretty much walk or take mass transit.  And as a cop and then a Masshole, I ended up driving most places.  But when these bright red bikes started appearing all over DC, and they had a yearly rate of $50 for a limited time, I jumped on it.  I thought, even if I don't ride it, I'll support it.

 

They give you this cool little RFID fob that you place inside a bike dock, which looks like this: 

And then you hear a little bike bell ring, the light turns green and you remove the bike from the dock.  The first 30 minutes are free.  And then it's $1.50 for the next 30 minutes and like $3 for the next 30 minutes, steadily increasing as the time goes on.  They tell you flat out that this is not meant for bike tours.  This system is designed to run down to the grocery store, or to ride 6 minutes to your girlfriend's apartment.  In my 8 months of using the system, I've gone over 30 minutes once.  Some people are compulsive about it and end up docking and undocking their bikes mid-journey to restart the clock, but I don't really mind giving to a good cause.  Besides, my out of shape ass can't tolerate more than 60 minutes on a bicycle.

My first time riding to work, I remember pedaling down this hill towards Dupont Circle and I had this huge grin on my face and I think I actually screamed out "Wheee" which I'm sure got some looks.  But it just brought me right back to that joy of speed that you reveled in as a child.

The system has become wildly popular, which has it's ups and downs.  On the upside, more people are biking which is good for the roads because it increases awareness and drivers get more accustomed to seeing bikes and sharing space.  It also proves that this concept works , which wasn't a foregone conclusion given the last experiment in the district. And the downside is that it can be harder to find a bike when you want one, especially because all the traffic flows south in the mornings to the government buidings and then north in the evenings to the residential areas.  Also, there's a bunch of rubes pedaling around without helmets on their cellphones, so they could use some socialization as well.

I think that Capital Bikeshare is a definite perk of living in DC and it has changed the way I look at traveling short distances, because biking is always more fun and always faster.  It's coming to Boston this summer, and I hope my former neighbors have as much fun with it as I do.  Shout out to all the hard working people at Alta who actually operate the system and fix and move the bikes.  They are like the unseen gnomes of this entire process.  Though I'm sure some of them are quite tall. 

Stay tuned for my next entry as I take my first long distance train ride in a sleeper car this weekend. 

Hurrr...

Eating cottage cheese makes me want to vomit.  I woke up too late to make eggs and so I'm trying to get down this stuff.  I can tolerate it, but it's not pleasant.  They should make some bib that goes from the bottom of your nose to the top of a dish or a container, to prevent you from looking at what you're eating.  Because cottage cheese looks like something you eject and not ingest.  It also looks like the beginning stage for all of those things you love, but don't want to know how it's made, like Cheese Doodles. 

This is still better than that greek plain fat-free yogurt.  I need to wash my mouth out now.  Excuse me.  .

I'm on South Beach

Not in Miami, but in my kitchen 

I'm on the second week of the acclaimed South Beach Diet, which is a 3-phase test.  The first phase lasts two weeks and denies me:

• Carbs
• Fruit
• Sugar
• Alcohol

This, I'll admit sounds terrible.  But when you're able to eat a bacon and cheese omelet in the morning, it's okay.  I will admit it's weird eating deli meats out of the container and not in a sandwich.  I feel like a kid in Lord of the Flies as ham falls off my chin.  Salads are my friend.  Especially when you can have chef's salads and buffalo chicken salads.  Feels wrong, but it is sooo right. 

And the drinking thing isn't too tough.  Except for this past Saturday when I attended a wedding.  Now at the risk of sounding like a member of a 12-step program,  let me say that weddings without booze aren't much fun.  Everyone is drinking, hell the toasts require a drink.  I relied on the old AA standby of club soda with a lime.  Looks like a gin and tonic, but in no way does it smell or taste like a gin and tonic. 

And to top it all off, my bathroom scale is broken.  Well, that's somewhat inaccurate.  It works, but it just gives about 2-3 different amounts for your weight when you step on it.  But I have stepped on the scale a week into the diet and averaged the results from both weeks and it looks like I'm losing weight, even though I don't feel like it. 

I will clear Phase 1 just in time for a trip to Chicago, so I can have pizza and a hot dog in a bun at Wrigley, so I don't look like some freak. 

Clubs are like work....

So I promised to write about why I hate clubs and one of my few fans even said she was looking forward to it, so here gors.  I went to this club in AC called Mur Mur,  Yes, it's a dumb name.  I actually had to buy shoes to go in there because I was wearing sneakers.  I tried to explain that they were casual hiking boots, but that didn't fly with the woman with lots of cleavage.  So the group of guys and I went to the store at the Bellagio, where my old partner (who felt bad I had to buy shoes) bought me a pair of Calvin Klein slippers for $100.  Actually these shoes, which Zappos is selling for $98, so it's not as terrible a deal as I thought.  However I did end up looking like some sort of Italian jabroni.  For those not Italian or from Hawaii or the Pacific Northwest, the definition for that word is here. So I go into the club and there's a sign saying that men pay $25 and women pay $20.  I ask if it matters if I'm a pre-op tranny who may look like a woman but feels like a man.  This girl gives me a look like I went to her house, punched her mother in the stomach and told her Nonnie that she couldn't cook.  I paid the $25.

And now I'm in the club and there's lots of girls wearing not a lot of clothing.  And lots of guys with enough product in their hair to straighten Weird Al's hair.  And it's dark and loud and the fog machine is on overdrive. 

The guys I'm with wanted to get bottle service.  If you don't know what that is, because you're normal, it's when the club will sell you a bottle of liquor and allow you to sit at a table.  Let's say you like Grey Goose, and can buy the bottle for $40 at any store.  At a club, that bottle will run you $400, without tax and tip (which is mandatory 20%).  I should mention that they throw in the mixers for free, so they're practically giving it away.  The allureof bottle service is that you get to sit and look cool.  And many times girls will come over to drink your bottle and pretend to talk to you.  And you get to feel like a baller for one night before you go back to your job as an Asst Branch Manager for Enterprise or something.  The club wanted us to get 3 bottles which we declined. 

Things I don't like:

• Douchebags
• Expensive drinks
• Noisy ass places
• Cool, hip places

And I don't dance.  I dance the hell out of weddings, but I don't dance in the way that's supposed to attract the opposite sex.  Which is fine because I have a lovely girlfriend.  But I fully believe in dancing like no one is watching. And when drunk, I use moves like rubbing my nipples and biting the collar of my shirt.  Very hot, I assure you.

So I spent the night drinking $9 rum and diet cokes, and standing up against a wall with my arms folded and one foot propped agaist the wall, bent at the knee. Just like old times as a cop.  I look totally unapproachable, which is okay, because I'd have to yell at the top of my lungs to talk to anyone.  So I just sit there and marvel at the show, and how people can be having so much fun.

Fatburger at 5AM made up for it though......Faaattbuuuurgeeer (Said in affect of a zombie)  

The Vegas of the Mid-Atlantic

This Sunday, I had the wonderful opportunity to go to Atlantic City, New Jersey for a good friend's bachelor party.  This was probably only my second time in AC where I actually spent any time there.  When I was in high school, I had a friend who lived in Ocean City, NJ and I'd travel down there on the bus.  The buses would leave from the bus terminal in NYC and cost about $20 and then they would give you $18 in chips or quarters for the slots.  So if you're not going to play in AC, its essentially a $2-3 bus ride.

So we stayed at the Bellagio which was pretty nice.  I don't gamble as a general rule, but I'll dabble in the slots.  Atlantic City is a pretty interesting place.  It's hey day was back in the early 1900's where there were tons of huge hotels on the boardwalk and the city was an actual destination place where families would come from Philly and New York to spend a few weeks to recuperate and soak in the sun and the water.  There wasn't legalized gambling back then.  If you've seen Boardwalk Empire on HBO, it's set in this period.

The city then saw tourism drop off, until casino gambling was legalized.  Of course now, it's under attack from Foxwoods and Mohegan Sun for gamblers.  The actual city itself is pretty sad.  Apart from the casinos, the city is a pretty poor place. It still doesn't have a supermarket.  Seriously.  And I know that Vegas isn't all glitz either, but the transition in AC is so stark, it makes it depressing to go there.  Asides from some of the ugliest people you've ever seen. 

Coming up next....I'll talk about why I hate nightclubs so much.  Stay tuned. 

We Had to Defrost this Revenge on Setting 2

Good Evening.  I'm sitting in my hotel in Burlington, VT listening to Styx streaming on my computer and I have promised to be better at blogging, so I thought I'd knock out a post before I turned in.

As everyone knows, Osama Bin Laden was killed last night.  And I, like many Americans, was happy to hear that he's not on this earth anymore.  I think being a born and raised New Yorker and working for the NYPD on September 11th, his death was extra sweet.  I harbor no illusions that this means we've turned the corner on the war on terror.  I think we are still very much at risk and have spent huge amounts of money on security theater to prevent what really is unpreventable.  We should have been spending more time planning for what happens after something does happen, but that's not as sexy as toys.  I mean, look at this thing.  It's called a Bear.  It's fricken cool looking.  Who wouldn't want that over a paper plan?  I get it.

So I am glad he is dead.  It was odd how many students gathered in front of the White House last night to chant U-S-A.  Given that they were probably 8 when the Towers fell, it's been most of their lives that we've been looking for this guy.  So maybe this feels to them like how it felt for me when the Berlin Wall fell.  But even I understood in 89 (I was 13) that this was a game changer and things like communism don't end every day.

I lost some colleagues in the Towers.  None from my precinct, thank God, but a couple of guys from ESU Truck 2, which was located about 6 blocks from us.  So I used to see them around for jobs a fair amount.  I have however lost 2 men I worked closely with in the almost 10 years following the attack due to illnesses sustained while down there.  There were 23 MOS (Members of the Service) from the NYPD killed on 9/11/01.  There have been 29 killed since due to illness or disease.  Their badges are displayed at the top of the post.  Breathing the air we all breathed down there.  And the Republicans didn't want to fund the health fund.  And now, they have to make sure that you're not on the terrorist watch list before they give you benefits?  Seriously?   I get madder than Anthony Weiner about this stuff.  I personally think that only members of the NY/NJ/CT delegations should be able to vote on any 9/11 related bills.  What does Cliff Stearns know about what those men and women did?  Nada.

Things I Hate Edition: Number 312

This, dear readers, is the 4 door Wrangler.  It was introduced in 2007 and already makes up 60% of all Wranglers.  The Wrangler as many of you know is the vehicle of the young and male and white.  Or female lacrosse players, my empirical evidence shows.  My Dad had one in 1994, that I used to drive.  It was a stick shift that was loud and got terrible gas mileage.  But you could take the top off and drive up and down the main drag until someone noticed you.  Usually it was my Dad who noticed that I was wasting gas. 

For years, seeing a Wrangler in your rear-view mirror meant you should pull over.  Not because the vehicle demanded respect, but because the driver was clearly an 18 year old hopped up on Mountain Dew and Accutane and would probably ram into the back of you and not even notice. 

There are two rules with the Wrangler: 

1. You need to get a stick shift.  Period.  It's a Jeep, descendant from the original workhorse of World War 2.  If you need an automatic, you should get a crossover with blue tooth built in.  The jeep is meant to go off the road, even if you never let it.  And automatics don't do serious four wheeling.
2. Never get a four door Jeep.  Listen, if you're getting a 4 door Jeep it's for a couple of reasons.  You either have a bunch of friends, or you have a family.  If you have a bunch of friends, tell them to pile their fat asses in the back.  If you were a real Jeep owner, you'd have the top down and they'd be climbing over the tire anyway.  

If you own a family, you need to give it up man.  Yes, you had a Jeep in high school/college/the military, but now you're older and fatter.  And you can't recapture that youth.  Not by buying a vehicle you once had and putting a car seat in the back.  You are a sellout.  If you want a Jeep, have two cars.  The minivan/station wagon that you need to carry around your snowflake, and the Jeep that gets muddy and has knobby tires.  But stop disgracing a vehicle with a proud long history of utility and power. 

Sex can be scary for 5th graders

 

Found this on Fark.  This is from a Chicago Tribune photographer, Chuck Berman, at a 5th grade sex ed class in Illinois.   I just love the kid on the right.  God knows what photo they're showing.  The girl behind him looks like he's going to puke.  I'll run a caption contest in the comments. 

I Hate Times Square

I am a New Yorker.  I was born there 34 years ago and lived there for 27 years, with a 4 year stint about two hours north of it for college.  I love New York City so very much.  I like to say that if you live in New York City, you always live with another person, and that's New York City.  A living and breathing thing. 

Having said that, I hate Times Square.  I was in a cab that took me through Times Square and it reminded me of how much I missed the old New York. 

Some history for people, Times Square was originally named Longacre Square until the New York Times moved their headquarters there to 1 Times Square, which is the building they drop the ball from every year.  They are no longer in that building.  They actually moved out of it 10 years after they moved in..  The area was very popular in the 1900's, and fell into decline around the 60's and through the 80's.  In the early 90's the state took control of some of the historical theaters and a group of corporations and the city turned the tide between 1995 and 2000.  The Disney Store opened and that was when you knew the Square was different. 

I hate Times Square for two reasons.  The first is that I froze my ass off there as a cop for 4 years, surrounded by morons from out of town who were confused why there were so many people there.  I had some girl in 2000 tell me she needed to meet her friends about 10 blocks away but there were people in the way.  I was like "Lady, it's the millenium.  You should have thought ahead."  And it took forever to warm up and 30 seconds to get cold again. 


But the real reason I hate Times Square is because it's not part of New York City.  It's full of tourists all surrounded by dazzling lights of chains that they have 10 miles from their homes.  I took some photos in the cab. 













These are what I'm sure are the flagship locations for these middling restaurant chains.  I totally understand why tourists eat here.  The city can be so confusing and loud and there are so many choices, that you end up choosing something familiar.

But that's not why you come to New York City.  You come here to marvel at it being the city that never sleeps. And that doesn't mean Times Square where you tourists choose not to sleep.  A place where you can get anything you want anytime day or night.  A place that's different.  This is not different.  I saw a line at the Bubba Gump Shrimp Company.  Are you fucking kidding me?  Do the people going there even remember the movie that title comes from?


Times Square used to be seedy and dangerous.  With hookers and porno theaters.  It wasn't really dangerous, but it kept the tourists away.  Times Square was a rude awakening for people arriving to the city for the first time.  And it should be.  The city should give you a gut punch, almost as if to say, "You sure you're ready for this?" So that when you do make it, you feel an accomplishment.  You can call yourself a New Yorker.  Navigating Times Square is no more exciting or dangerous than walking from Epcot to the Magic Kingdom now and it's sad.  But the saddest thing is that those people who marvel at it, don't even know how special it used to be. Here's a video. of how it used to look before it got "cleaned up"

Blood goes out, blood comes in, never a miscommunication

Today, I went to the National Children's Medical Center on a glorious sunny afternoon for my monthly platelet donation.  The hospital is pretty cool.  It's on a complex with three other hospitals in Northern DC (VA Hospital, Washington Hospital Center, National Rehab Center) and it also has a Goodyear Speedwalk which is like a flat escalator.  It's made of rubber, which is wild.  I imagine when they put the first mall on the moon, the escalator there will feel like this. 

Some of you probably have given blood.  Due to the restrictions on blood donation, less than 40% of the population can donate, what with the rules on cancer history and gay sex and overseas travel.  Having said that, only 10% of the population do give blood.  When you gave blood, you usually give a pint of blood.  Whole blood contains a bunch of things.  Red blood cells, plasma and platelets.  When you give platelets, they take whole blood from you, remove the platelets in a centrifuge and then return the rest of it. 

Giving platelets is to an Ironman what giving blood is like to a 5K.  You can tell in the donor center, when you're like, "I'm here to give platelets." The staff looks at you and nods.  I also have a very high platelet count.  Which probably isn't a big deal, but I like to think of it as a blood donor center equivalent of "You have really big hands..."  The staff is terrific there, and I get as many Lorna Doones and Oreos as my fat ass can eat. 

And I get to help children with cancer and other diseases all while sitting on my ass.  Like the line goes in Boogie Nights, "I am a star." Though I keep my pants on.

The District of America: Congress's Bitch

So DC was abuzz last week with the possible shutdown.  It obviously would have been felt much more here than anywhere else, and so it was all that people talked about.  One of the interesting news items from that week, involved the DC local government, and the fact that they couldn't spend money either, if the budget wasn't passed, because all of our appropriations are approved by Congress.  Even though the city is spending the tax dollars that they collected from their residents, they are in effect a federal colony.

Most people know that DC has no representation in Congress.  Well, we have Eleanor Holmes-Norton, who is a delegate to the House of Representatives.  We essentially have the same status as American Samoa and Guam politically.  She used to be able to vote, as long as it's didn't break a tie (meaning as long as her vote didn't matter).  But the Republicans changed the rules to eliminate even that role.  We're currently like the Holy See at the UN.  Just sort of watching and hanging out.  Washington, DC has more people than Wyoming, but we don't have any Senators and one non-voting lady in the House. 

It's so bizarre, it's almost funny.  But when you realize that you can't call anyone who can doing anything to voice your concerns, it is frustrating.  And the reality is that because DC has been so transient, this issue hasn't been a huge one because people know they're going to go home and have representation there.  But the reality is that Republicans don't want representation for the District, because we have a lot of black people here.  Chocolate City is one of the nicknames of DC.  And black voters are generally Democratic voters, so that causes a problem.  There was a proposal a few years ago which would have given us one voting Rep and Utah would have added one as well, to ensure parity.

All I know is, it's nonsense.  And I hope these people eventually get what they want.

Update: I'm pretty proud of my Mayor today.  For the first time since he's been elected. 

Green Mountain Boys

I'm up in Vermont until tomorrow.  My journey here began with a flight on US Air from BWI to Philadelphia.  The air time of the flight is literally 19 minutes.  And I still got a beverage in first class.  This of course is the terrible irony of the free upgrades on US Air.  I only get them when it doesn't matter, like 19 minute flights.  5 hour flights from California?  Hells no. 

I also wanted to alert my 7 readers that I have found one of the most amazing culinary delights I could ever imagine.  Pulled pork inside a cheddar and scallion muffin.  No, seriously.  I would like to warn you that this is not the same thing as a pork muffin, which I learned through googling is:

a small chubby person with fire red hair, freckles, and milky white skin. Damn, look at that pork muffin with the pokemon backpack. I'd like to take him to a family reunion barbeque and introduce him to my aunt gracie.   The good news is that it's a small chubby person, ottherwise this would totally define me.

You are Here. (Here, clearly, means Nirvana)

I'm in Oakland for work and called some friends of mine who live in the area, and the guy invited me to meet him at his office for lunch.  Normally, I'm not big on office food.  But he works at Google in Mountain View.  If you don't know about this office, it's called the Googleplex.  And it's amazing.

The buildings all surround a large quad, and while waiting for him there, I noticed I was standing between the sand volleyball court and the lap pool with the Google lifeguard.  And there were all these fixie bikes around in Google colors that employees just rode from building to building and left for someone else to come out and use.  In each of the buildings, there's a room with a coffee machine with beans that grind while you wait, and free Coke and Pepsi products.

And then came lunch.  We walked over a bridge and got to the cafeteria.  Which had all kinds of incredible food.  The food all had descriptions and ingredients.  The ingredients were highlighted green, yellow and red.  Green for healthy, yellow for not so much and red for delicious.  I made my own salad with ingredients I didn't even understand and never are in a normal salad.  I also got a shrimp cocktail shooter, a sausage and halibut wrap and a wonton with steak on it.  I washed it all down with a sage and grapefuit concoction that was freshly squeezed.  Here it is....

My friend worked in an office with 3 other people, all managers.  Well, it's apparently a Yert, because it had a canvas ceiling.  And they had lots of Four Loko, which apparently is necessary for keeping the Google site up and running.  It was easy to see why people are so productive and like working here.  It's because they treat their employees very well and in turn they bust their ass for the company.  It doesn't hurt that they get stock options and as of the closing bell today, their stock was at 581.84.  A video they made of their complex is pretty cool.

The real pleasure from the day was getting to see my friends and their daughter, Taliesin.  (Yeah, its a Frank Lloyd Wright reference, and he dared his wife to name her that)  Friends and perhaps another glass of that sage and grapefruit juice.

Time Difference is a Bitch

This morning I had a conference call that started at 9AM EST.  I, however, am on Pacific Standard Time.  Which means I had to get up at 6AM to take the call.  Good news is that I could wake up literally 5 minutes before and just grunt as they did roll call.  However my morning wasn't so peachy. 

First, when I travel across time zones, I like to leave my Blackberry on EST, so I know what time my work is happening in.  It also lets me know when it's okay to stop responding to emails from people who don't know I'm on the West Coast.  My IPhone uses Apple magic to determine where I am and adjusts accordingly.  So I set the alarms on both my phones for around 6AM to make sure I made the call.  I'm sure you see where the problem is.  The Blackberry went off at 3AM, and in my sleep-deprived haze, I called in and waited on an empty conference line for about 5 minutes before I realized what I had done . Sonofabitch.

Then, when I was up and on the call, I was in desparate need of some coffee, but couldn't leave the room, because I didn't feel like getting dressed and I'm a lazy person.  So I used the coffeemaker in the room.  It looks like this.  As you can tell, it was made by Wolfgang Puck.  Well, that's a lie.  It was made in China by people who have no idea who or what a Wolfgang Puck is.  He just gave his name and got a check.  So I followed the Ikea-like directions on the front of it and brewed up a cup of coffee for my 90 minute call.  When the cheap plastic beast was done, it beeped and I went to get my coffee.  It looked dark enough.  I added some sugar and milk to guard against the possible poor taste and I took a sip. 

It was godawful.  No, that's not strong enough.  It was fucking terrible.  It tasted like it was brewed through the socks of the Jets Offensive Line.  I'd never tasted warm feet before, but if they were made into liquid form, I'm pretty sure this experience would have covered it.  I couldn't take more than two sips, even though my need for caffeine was dire. I've been on road trips to New Orleans and Omaha through the night and stopped at Mom and Pop gas stations where they poured coffee that looked like pudding.  Drinking that sludge was like drinking that coffee that comes from the shit of rats ( well technically civets), compared to this coffee.  So damn you Wolfgang Puck. 

Thank you for tasting my coffee.  It tastes like New Jersey.

Posting from 30,000 Feet

I have to admit a compulsion to send emails or blog whenever I'm in a vehicle that's traveling.  A bus, or a plane.  In this particular case, it happens to be an Airbus A321 on US Airways.  I was lucky enough to have first class on the flight from DCA to Charlotte, but this leg is packed and I am a lowly Silver elite member, so no dice this segment.  I do however have a seat in 9E, which is pretty cool. 

While US Air does have Gogo Wifi on it's A321 fleet, they do not however have power outlets, meaning that I will run out of juice about halfway through this 5 hour and 35 minute flight.  Boo US Air.  Also, allow me to crap on you for not offering any snacks in coach.  Not even pretzels.  Given that my flight r/t cost about $600, it seems a few starchy grains aren't too much to ask for. 

But still, blogging from the sky is pretty cool.  Talk to you from the Left Coast, my friends.

The Salty Banana

Given the amount of news coverage about the Fukushima Power Plant's "near-meltdown", I thought I would spend a little time talking about common misconceptions about nuclear power. 

How We Get Power

Traditional coal-fired plants operate by using coal from the ground as fuel to heat water which then turns into steam and pushes a turbine which creates electricity.  It's dirty and seems old-fashioned and Rube Goldbergesque.  Duke Energy is kind enough to provide a moving picture for you more graphically inclined. 

So nuclear power comes on the scene and it seems space-aged.  Granted, it was all during the 60's and 70's, so that added to it, but surely this was the technology that would leap over coal, right?  Well, nuclear plants provide power by using radioactive rods to provide heat to a pool of water which then provides steam which pushes a turbine.  Seems like a Jetsons beginnng with a Flintstones ending.  Here's the in-depth explanation of this process.  So we're really talking about saving the earth by not burning fossil fuels, which I'm all for, but still disappointed that nuclear power isn't powering my house by some sort of glowing orb. 


Potassium Iodide

There were reports earlier of people in the US who were looking for potassium iodide.  This is a compound that combines potassium and sodium, hence the salty banana, to protect your thyroid from radioactive iodine.  Mostly used for kids.  We give it out to people who live within 10 miles of a nuclear power station in this country, usually.  And some people treat it like the cure for cancer.  Lemme be real. You can eat kelp (seaweed) and get as much protection.  Additionally, this will only protect your thyroid from iodine poisoning, so if you're hit with gamma radiation, it won't do crap.  Also, if you take it and stay in an area of concentrated radiation, your thyroid will be fine, but your face could look like this.

For the Kids

Finally, you may have children and not know how to explain what's happening over there to them, or need to calm their fears.  If this is the case, I'd suggest you not let them watch this Japanese PSA on the disaster for kids.  The first time they fart, they'll start screaming.  Enjoy it. 

Why yes, there is someone on board who can fly this plane.

This morning, I experienced the marvels of flight.  From the cockpit. After my girlfriend's last surgery, she got me a Groupon for a "Discovery Flight" at the Washington International Flight Academy.  Given the types of planes they have, I'm not sure where the International comes from.  My guess is that most of the staff seems to be Israeli, so maybe that's it. 

I spent 20 minutes on ground instruction, which consisted of a guy putting a laminated picture of the controls in front of us and walking through what they do.  Then it was off to the tarmac and the plane.  We were flying a Cessna 172, which is a single engine, 4-seater.  On the way out, I asked my pilot how long he'd been flying.  He said "3 months" and then we all laughed as he was joking.  He then said "No, just kidding.  Two years." Which I gotta tell you wasn't that much better.  But he was a nice guy. 

So a few things about flying a Cessna....

• The plane is really simple.  The controls are all knobs and the yoke.  It's the essence of flight.  No computers.  The wind blows you left and you need to turn the yoke right to come back to your heading.  I probably flew the plane as long as commercial pilots normally do, as they just turn knobs for the autopilot except for take off and landings
• These planes last a looong time.  I saw the pilot manual and noticed that it was made in 1984.  To put that in perspective, Justin Bieber's mother was 10 when this place rolled off the line.  
• Wind is bad.  In a large plane you fly through clouds and you imagine sitting on them, like some sort of angel from an 80's movie.  In a Cessna, the cloud is not your friend and you end up bumping around a lot.  
• Cessna's are not built for tall people.  

It was an awesome experience.  They give you a soft sell to getting your pilot's license when you land, which would cost probably around $5,000.  Which is about $4,950 more than I have right now.  But it might be cool one day.  

Paging Dr. Bombay.....

So my girlfriend had ACL surgery on Friday and I've been playing nurse for the past few days.  I am not a very good doctor.  I'm trying though to be a good helper.  Which mostly includes heating Trader Joe's meals, refilling water glasses and assisting her hop back and forth from the bathroom to the couch to the bed. 

So she had ACL surgery. which takes about 6 months to recover from.  They actually replace the ACL one of two ways.  The first is to graft from your body, usually the patella or the hamstring.  The downside of this is that you're recovering from surgery in two separate places and recovery takes longer.  The second option is called an allograft, which is from a cadaver.  Allyson went with this route, meaning that she has some dead person's body part inside them. 

So that allows us to make up some awesome stories.  Like her knee will soon be possessed by a prisoner from Death Row and will begin killing people.  But only her knee.  The trailer would have her headed down into the Metro on a packed escalator, when suddenly her knee jutted out, pushing some young girl on her cellphone plunging to the bottom of the escalator.  The film would also have her sitting in her basement with a saw in her hand, staring at the possessed knee, pondering the impossible. 

Anyone else have any good ideas about this?  I'll give you a Producer credit when I sell the rights