It is either ridiculous, sad, pathetic or all three to think of how many gadgets I have dragged along with me on this trip. Compare this to my first trip to Europe, when I took exactly one gadget: A camera (which broke halfway through my Paris stay).
Gadgets Taken on Trip
HP Laptop
Droid Incredible smart phone
Droid Incredible smart phone charger
Nintendo DS Lite handheld gaming system
Nintendo DS Lite handheld gaming system charger
Sony PSP lite gaming system
Sony PSP lite gaming system charger
Kindle
Nikon D90 SLR digital camera
Nikon D90 SLR camera battery charger
Nikor portrait lens
Data dump for photos
Data dump charger
Computer cable for camera
Computer cable for data dump
C-PAP machine
Earbuds
World of Warcraft authenticator fob
This protects my World of Warcraft account from getting hacked again.
Of course, I have to now check each one of the devices or chargers and make sure they won’t blow up if I plug them into a European 220-230 volt outlet. I think they should all be fine, but I must make sure, because I’d really rather not sully my reputation with the Client by burning down the odd hotel in Russia or Belgium.
On the other hand, I must be prepared, because having useable electricity will be very important, and European hotel rooms are not famous for the bounty of electrical outlets they typically offer. I’ll probably need to get a little Euro power strip. Not being able to use my C-PAP machine would be . . . not good.
I do love technology, but I worry about how utterly dependent on it we are becoming. I assume that as terrorism evolves the attacks will be more and more on our technology infrastructure rather than purely physical targets.
It's all about the games, baby
I’m also trying not to be too anxious about Moscow. I think of it as a pretty dangerous place. Isn’t it? I don’t want to end up a footnote in the Los Angeles Times.
Average Rating: 4.5 out of 5 based on 276 user reviews.
Had a wonderful afternoon and evening with my friend Sara. We saw the new movie Pauland went for dinner afterwards.
Paul is a movie about a couple of British nerds who stumble across a real alien and try to help him, well, go home. Sounds hackneyed and overly familiar, I know, but I was surprised how much I liked it. It’s full of well-done references to popular science fiction movies. There’s even a moment when Blythe Danner gets to say to Sigourney Weaver, “Get away from her, you BITCH!!” I loved it.
Sara and I met in Beijing. We were both there working on a roll out for the Client. We ran into each other at, Pizza Hut. Yes, they have Pizza Hut in Beijing. Thank goodness. [PHOTO]
Robert, Sara and Ray on the Great Wall. I was the largest human in China.
I started out eating the meal alone. I sat near the All-You-Can-Eat salad bar. While I waited for my pizza I saw one of the most amazing things I have ever witnessed. A young woman was turning her salad plate into an art piece. She must have spent thirty minutes building the tallest, most beautiful, most soundly structured tower of raw vegetables the world has ever seen. I swear it was twelve inches high. It looked like an art project. This chick was going to by God get her money’s worth from the salad bar.
Sara spotted me and joined me. We both watched in awe as the Tower of Salad grew taller and more complex. It was like watching someone build the greatest sand castle you ever saw.
We got to talking and it turned out we were both in Pizza Hut for the same reason: We didn’t much care for the food in Beijing. Don’t get me wrong, I love Chinese food. And by that I mean classic New York Americanized Chinese Food like God intended it. The food in the capital of the People’s Republic was just a bit . . . dodgy. Sara and I bonded over a mutual need for the familiar comfort of and American franchise restaurant.
We have been fast friends since that night.
My last night in China I took her to a Tex-Mex place I’d found that made a surprisingly respectable chicken fried steak, and then had a harrowing rickshaw ride back to the hotel. Harrowing not for us, but for the poor rickshaw dude, who nearly had a heart attack having to move the two of us (this was when I weighed quite a bit more than I do now). The whole thing became unreasonably hilarious to both of us. It was a good send off.
So. I always look forward to getting together with Sara whenever I’m in Cleveland, which is her home base. It’s a shame she’s not going to any of the other offices I’m heading to.
Best Cities for Restaurants
Tokyo
San Francisco
New York
Paris
Munich
Average Rating: 5 out of 5 based on 230 user reviews.
Everyone knows I love to travel for work. I love almost everything about it: the change of pace, the change of scenery, meeting new people. I love cities and I love having the chance to explore different ones.
Whenever I’m in a city for work, I usually spend most of my time downtown, because that’s generally where the office of the client is and where my hotel is. This can be a good or a bad thing, depending on the city. Some places have downtowns that are fun and vibrant.
You can feel the excitement in the air even as you pull into the parking lot of the Severance Town Center.
Some don’t.
Which brings me to Cleveland.
Don’t get me wrong, I am not complaining. I’m sure there are nice parts of Cleveland. But downtown ain’t one of them. It’s pretty much desolation city.
Today I took an excursion out to Cleveland Heights to see two movies that weren’t playing at the creepy downtown cinema that’s the only one within walking distance of my hotel.
I am confident that I am the Caucasionist person who has ever attempted to use public transportation in Central Cleveland. Didn’t bother me of course, but I did notice it. Between waiting for the train and the bus it took me an hour and a half to get to my destination, but it was worth it. The movies were fun.
The bustle of the mall inside gets you into the festive mood!
The areas I went through to get to the multiplex weren’t terribly encouraging, though. It does look like Cleveland is having a hard time.
///
The first movie I saw today was The Lincoln Lawyer. I was apprehensive about this film for two reasons. First, the only other adaptation of a Michael Connelly novel that I have seen – Clint Eastwood’s Blood Work – was awful. It looked like a bad episode of “Mannix, ” and it needlessly changed the ending to accommodate the “To Famous To Just Be Playing the Nice Neighbor” Rule. Second, I just didn’t see Matthew McConaughey as slick defense attorney Micky Haller.
But I have to say the movie made a believer out of me. It reminded me of why Connelly is my favorite crime writer: He has a talent for telling stories that feel like they matter. And for whatever reason, McConaughey has decided to remember that he used to be considered an actual actor. He’s quite fine in the role, and the complex story crackles with energy just as the book did. Ryan Phillipe is also quite good as his rich boy client. The movie is lean and unpretentious. It also reminded me of the 1970s – but unlike Blood Work, it did so in a good way.
Remember to stay sharp as you drive around the hectic streets of Cleveland on a Saturday!
The second movie was the preposterous but irresistible Limitless, starring handsome naughty boy of the moment Bradley Cooper. Cooper starts off the movie playing against type – a scruffy, unattractive loser. Quite a stretch for someone as ridiculously attractive as Cooper. But as the crazy plot unfolds he quickly gets a chance to have his appearance polished to a mirror-bright shine. He does seem the perfect person to play a character who discovers a seemingly easy way to turn, overnight, into the perfect version of himself. This is good casting, because I’m sure there are many moviegoers who look at Brad and consider him the “perfect” version of themselves.
What if a little clear pill could make you smart and accomplished overnight? What would you do?
So . . what should we do first? The Segway tour? The historical walking tour? How about a drink at one of the local hotspots? Hey, is that Lady Gaga?
More importantly, what would you do when the bill eventually comes due, as it always does in stories like this.
I enjoyed the movie. It was fun to see Robert De Niro also playing against type (a ruthless but well-mannered finance tycoon).
All in all, it was a good outing for my first Saturday on the road.
Movies I’ve Seen Matthew McConaughey or Brad Cooper in
The Lincoln Lawyer
Tropic Thunder
Sahara
The energy is infectious in the bustle of the Arcade.
Reign of Fire
Frailty
U-571
Amistad
Contact
A Time to Kill
Lone Star
Dazed and Confused
Limitless
The Hangover
He’s Just Not That Into You
You never know WHO you might run into at the Arcade's fun, frenetic and festive food court!
Wet Hot American Summer
Average Rating: 4.5 out of 5 based on 207 user reviews.
Physically feeling better each day as this week progresses. Very glad it’s Friday! Tomorrow I’m taking a bus and going to the movies all day.
Next week could bring a lot of driving: East to Pittsburgh on Saturday and West to Toledo on Sunday.
I’m happy to be finishing up the first week of the trip successfully.
I’m a bit anxious about the upcoming travel itinerary. Not anxious about going, but about getting it settled and paid for. I hope to have that all settled shortly.
It’s worth being a little anxious: The Client has significantly increased the countries I can now check off my Visited list, so I do feel like I owe them.
Countries Visited Prior to the First Project for the Client in 2006/7
Canada
Mexico
Bahamas
United Kingdom
France
Monaco
Switzerland
Italy
Vatican City
That’s nine countries, which isn’t bad, I guess, but not that impressive, especially considering three of them are Monaco, Bahamas and the Vatican.
But here’s how the list grew thanks to the Client:
Countries in Europe I have visited after the first project with the Client in 2006.
Countries Visited by the Conclusion of the First Project for the Client in 2006/7
Canada
Mexico
China
Japan
Bahamas
United Kingdom
France
Germany
Czech Republic
Slovakia
Hungary
Austria
Monaco
Switzerland
Italy
Vatican City
Sixteen countries. That’s a whopping 77% increase in my total number of countries. Now, I didn’t work for the Client in all of those countries, but the ones I went to recreationally – Czech Republic, Slovakia, Hungary and Austria – only happened because I was already in the neighborhood thanks to work.
Of course this list will be even more impressive by the end of this trip.
Average Rating: 5 out of 5 based on 226 user reviews.
St. Patrick’s Day, a big deal here in Catholic Cleveland. Growing up in Texas, the only affect this holiday had on me is that everyone was supposed to wear something green or risk getting random pinches. It wasn’t until I lived in New York in the 80s that I understood what St. Pat’s really was: An excuse for hordes of drunk assholes to obnoxiously roam the streets all day.
Yay being drunk at 10 a.m. is fun but don't criticize me I'm Irish sort of it's my heritage and my religion kind of are you going to finish that beer?
///
I’ve been thinking about death a lot lately. A dear friend of mine, Ken, died this past New Year’s Eve. He’d been suffering for four years.
The last time I saw him I should have known it would be the last time I would see him, which means I should have said all those Big Things you should say during such a visit. I was a coward and in denial and so remained casual. He died less than 48 hours later. I felt, feel, like a real schmuck about that. Ken should have heard me tell him I loved him and appreciated his friendship and all of those other things.
I may have a chance to do better with another friend. Randy, the guy who owns and runs a website I’ve written for for eleven years, is in an exhausting fight with cancer. He lives in Pittsburgh, which it turns out is just a couple of hours down the turnpike from Cleveland. I called him yesterday and told him I want to come see him next weekend. Hopefully he’ll let me.
See you soon!
If he does, I need to make sure and say the Big Things this time around.
///
I’ve never handled the idea of death well. Never. It’s not that I’m particularly afraid of what happens after we die. It’s just that death seems like the ultimate gyp, the ultimate order of “get out of the pool” from the Cosmic Lifeguard. I think life is interesting and fun, and I don’t see why we should have to give it up.
I wish I could have my father’s equanimity on the subject. He always says, “I’m so lucky I had the opportunity to be a point of consciousness in the universe.” I applaud his attitude but have yet to achieve his peace.
I’ve always thought I’ve been relatively sheltered by death. I’ve never lost a sibling, or a parent. I lost far fewer friends to HIV than many people I know. Maybe I suck at death because I haven’t had enough practice.
But when I began to take stock of all the dead people I knew, I was surprised at the size of the list:
Looks like I don’t really have an excuse. I need to figure out how to be at peace with the idea of death. Because, as John Irving’s Garp said, we are all terminal cases.
[1] Yes, I knew all four of my great-grandmothers.
Average Rating: 4.5 out of 5 based on 268 user reviews.
Note to the manager who was working at Zocaro Mexican Grill on the evening of March 15: When I complain about a disappointing entree which was very misleadingly described on the menu and your response is a lame shrug and a feeble, “sorry, ” please understand that you are losing me as a customer.
I ordered the Carne Guisada, which was described as a “Mexican pot roast cooked with root vegetables.” What I got was a big bowl of stew that was mostly rice, potatoes and a few chunks of tasteless beef.
I try to find Mexican food wherever I travel. I don't always manage to find good Mexican food.
To be completely fair, I looked up “carne guisada” and it does seem to be known as a stew, but the menu never said stew and never said rice. I’m on a low carb diet and so all I could do was pick at the tiny pieces of meat, which meant I was done with my dinner in less than five minutes. Honestly, rice AND potatoes in the same dish? A dish that’s called “carne” anything?
It’s a shame, Mr. Manager, because I’m here in Cleveland for three weeks, I love Mexican food and I’m my hotel is right around the corner from your restaurant. You made absolutely no effort to have me leave your restaurant happy.
Well, at least I have the Mexican Food requirement taken care of for Cleveland. Bleh.
///
Maybe I was just in a grumpy mood yesterday. Not sure why. Physically I have been feeling less than 100% since I got to Cleveland. I hope it’s just standard jet lag. I’m always paranoid that my anemia would come back, and I never want to feel like that again, particularly when I am traveling.
I also had much trouble sleeping last night, finding that I was feeling quite anxious. Not sure why. Things are going swimmingly.
I think I’m probably just a little galled by the prospect of this huge 12 week trip, including the recent addition of the exciting but not a little scary destination of Moscow. There are some hoops we have to jump through to get me there (you actually have to have a visa to go to Russia), and maybe I’m just a little scared. That’s okay.
///
More good news today: I don’t have to hotel-hop like I was afraid I’d have to this weekend. When I was booking my hotel for the three week Cleveland stay, the hotel I wanted to be in couldn’t accommodate me for the entire three weeks. Something silly about March Madness or something. So, since I am a maniac and I really wanted to restore my Gold Elite status with my hotel brand, I set up a musical-chairs parade of hopping back and forth from one hotel to another one which is not my brand.
Then a curious thing happened. When I checked in on Sunday, the cheery front desk clerk welcomed me as a Gold Elite member. I almost corrected her but checked myself. Sure, if she thinks I’m Gold Elite, I’ll take it.
As soon as I got to my room I checked out my membership information on the hotel chain’s website and saw to my delight that I was indeed now a Gold Elite member. This was mysterious, because not two weeks before when I checked I still lacked about 30 days to get back to Gold level.
I noticed something curious on the record. There was a notation of “18 bonus nights.” Bonus nights? Further investigation revealed that these mystery bonus nights had been granted by the hotel I stayed in while in Atlanta last October when I was there for the Client.
We love Gold Elite Status!
This hotel happened to be the worst hotel in the chain I’d ever stayed in. The staff was clueless and incompetent, and a couple of nights before I left, a maid stole money from my room. I threw a fit, and was not at all happy about how the general manager handled the situation.
So . . . .it appears the manager bestowed these 18 bonus nights on me to make up for the incident. Well, that’s nice. I’ll take it. But 18 is not 30. I’m still a bit confused as to how I made it back to Gold Elite status. But it’s a Quality Problem. Now I’m working hard on keeping Gold for this year with my sights on achieving Platinum!
Gold Membership Benefits that you Don’t Get With Merely Silver Level
25% bonus on rewards points per night of stay
Free internet
Free breakfast
Free local phone, fax
Free room upgrade if possible
The free internet perk is a valuable one, because not all hotels in the chain offer it for free. Ditto breakfast. But by far the sweetest benefit is the free room upgrade. This can have tremendous results if you get lucky with it. When I went to BlizzCon in 2008 I had a huge two floor, two-bathroom suite in Anaheim for $87.
Average Rating: 4.5 out of 5 based on 261 user reviews.
I’ve never been a very acquisitive person. By that I mean I’ve never really trusted “stuff.” Like any Westerner, I certainly own too many physical objects, but I think I’m less attached to them than most Americans are to theirs.
Many years ago, when it was briefly hip, my mother owned a Krugerrand. Remember those? They were one-ounce gold coins from South Africa that people used like jewelry. Hers was worn pendant-style around her neck. She had owed it less than a year or two when it was stolen at a local festival. It was one of the worst days of her life (and with my mother, that’s really saying something). You would have thought she’d just had to make Sophie’s choice. I watched her sit on a lawn chair in her front yard and cry for an entire day over it. As I sat and watched her, dumbfounded, I made a silent vow to never be so attached to any physical object. And I’ve done a pretty good job of it.
If you don’t believe me, just come look at my apartment. Any stuff that’s there has accumulated carelessly through the march of time. I regularly cull my belongings, getting rid of books, knickknacks, and anything else I can eliminate from my life. I look forward to these regular purges. The give me a sense of relief and detoxification. You know, like a coffee enema.
Because of my position on stuff, I’ve never been a collector. As a kid I sort of collected model ships, but that was mostly because my Dad got into the habit of bringing me home a new ship occasionally from his travels. Also, this was before the instructive Krugerrand Incident. By the time I was an adult I had successfully eschewed the whole concept of collecting.
I’ve always considered collecting things expensive, time-consuming and without satisfying rewards. I understand that collecting comes out of obsession, and I have no problem with that aspect of it (I think obsession is wildly underrated in our culture). It just seems dumb to me. I remember seeing a wall of unopened Star Wars action figures that took up an entire wall in a friend’s room.
“Why don’t you open them?”
“Oh, you can’t open them!”
“Why not?”
“If you open one it dramatically devalues it.”
Shoot me now.
“Devalues it.”
“Yeah.”
“For when you sell it.”
“Yeah.”
“On eBay or something.”
“Yeah.”
“Do you think you’ll ever sell your collection?”
“Oh, god, no, I love it too much.”
Like that. I couldn’t figure it out. I mean, what’s the point of having a Princess Leia and a Luke Skywalker doll if you can’t have fun taping them into offensive incestuous juxtapositions?
At least coins and stamps are interesting, have history and educational value. Plus they don’t take up a whole wall of your house.
Even more unfortunate, in my view, are the Accidental Collectors. You know what I mean. Another friend of mine made the mistake of telling people she liked owls. Like when she was twelve or something. So a couple of people give her owls as gifts. Then people see her room, see the owls, and it becomes a thing. It snowballs. So now she’s 45 and has 734 owls in her house. By now she’s long forgotten why she ever even said she liked the damn things. But she’s stuck with them, like necklace of 734 lead beads dragging her neck down.
///
So I am not down with the collecting thing.
With one gigantic exception:
Lists. love lists with a passion. As a kid I actually bought with my own money several editions of The Book of Lists. I adored it.
At an early age I began making lists of my own. I’d just sit down and idly write down all of the houses I’d lived in. Or all the different schools I’d attended. It was like a form of doodling for someone who had no artistic talent.
Eventually some of these lists became logs. The logs began developing a life of their own. I have logs of every book I’ve ever read. Every role I’ve ever played. Every movie I’ve ever seen. Every video game I’ve ever completed. Every board game I’ve ever played.
After a decade or two of being a hardcore list maker I finally realized what should have been obvious from the beginning: List making is my form of collecting. So it turns out I’m a collector after all. But I think my style is superior to collecting tangible stuff. It’s cheap and takes up virtually no space. Plus it’s information, which can have value. At least to me.
Favorite Casual Doodle Lists
Books I’ve read by a favorite author
Cities I’ve been to
Cities I’ve taught in
Games I’ve played of a particular type
Movies I’ve seen by a favorite director
Naturally, a trip of this scope gets my list making impulse kicked into hyperdrive!
Average Rating: 4.8 out of 5 based on 166 user reviews.
One quick word about what you can inspect in this diary: I plan on this being a self-indulgent stream of consciousness sort of thing. So I will talk about what’s happening on my trip and anything and everything else that’s on my mind. So I’ll talk about the books I’m reading. The movies I’m seeing. The games I’m playing. The cities I’m visiting. Current events. Politics. You name it. I’ll try to keep it lively. I really hope you’ll go on this journey with me. And please make any and all comments! I want to hear from you.
///
Okay so here’s my question for the TSA: Why is something that’s considered unsafe to take with me on the airplane perfectly safe to stuff into my luggage?
As I made my way through the odious security checkpoint at LAX, they pulled a jar out of my backpack.
I admit it. This isn't as sexy as the bodybuilder from yesterday. But trust me, I couldn't have lost the 80 pounds I've lost without this wonderful product.
“You can’t take this on the plane with you.”
What was the scary, offending item? A jar of Carb Not Beanit Butter, which despite its atrocious name, is a product that has been a mainstay of my low carb regimen. It is a soybean switch-out for peanut butter that is so high in fiber that its net carbs is zero. And it also takes pretty darned good. I devour it at a rate of about a jar a week.
The jar being held in the imperious hand of the TSA drone was the only one I had with me. I have to special order this product and it would take days to get a replacement. “I really need that.”
“You cannot take this on the plane.”
I took a breath, feeling myself instinctively switching into Annoyed Customer Mode:
“Why not.”
“It’s a paste.”
“Yeah. It’s like peanut butter. Scary stuff.”
“You can’t take more than three ounces of any paste on the plane.”
Really?
“I need this.”
“Well, run back to the gate and see if it’s not too late to stuff it in your checked baggage.”
Which, believe it or not, is exactly what I did. It was too late to catch my luggage, but a somewhat exasperated yet still helpful manager type at the check-in counter wrapped the damn thing up in a bag and taped it inside a box. I was half expecting him to charge me for a third checked bag, but he didn’t. Score one for We Don’t Care, We Don’t Have to Airlines.
Of course I assumed I’d never see my beloved jar of soy nut butter again. But to my delighted surprise it was waiting for me at the luggage carrel, even ahead of my bags.
As my soybean-butter-inspired relief washed through me like a Double Gulp Diet Cherry Vanilla Dr. Pepper, I was struck by the question above. If three ounces of a foodstuff that happens to be filed under the category “paste” is verboten in the passenger section plane, why would they agree to take it anywhere on the plane? If it’s suspicious in the one place, why isn’t it suspicious in the other?
I realize there’s a legitimate distinction between, say, a sharp object like a box cutter or a machete that might be considered peachy keen packed away in a check bag but highly hazardous on the plane itself, but a paste? How would I commandeer the cockpit of the plane with peanut butter? “Stop! Or I’ll spread‼”
It follows that the reason they didn’t want it on the plane was that somewhere there exists some type of explosive that, presumably, looks a lot like peanut butter. As giggly as this sounds to a like me, who’s mind is blissfully unpolluted by any real knowledge of terrorism, if this is true then I don’t want something so suspect anywhere on the plane. Right?
The conclusion I reached was that this was just another indication of the meaninglessness of the “enhanced” security measures that we allow ourselves to be tortured with in this post-911 world. Yeah, it’s just bureaucratic security fussiness. They forbid peanut butter not because it could hide real threats but because they can and if I don’t like it I can just shut my hole. The TSA doesn’t make our travel safer, but it DOES manage to create some more job opportunities for government contractors who get paid to inconvenience us. Our tax dollars at work. Whoop.
///
Very good news today. The client confirmed my travel to Brussels, Munich and Moscow. Moscow, holy shit!
The only challenge will be the fact that I have to front the money for all of the flights, yikes. This will take some careful planning.
///
Lifted weights after work. Well, I lifted weights a little bit. It’s been a year since I’ve done that so I took it easy. It felt good to start.
Separate Bags Taken on Trip
Large suitcase (checked)
Large garment bag (checked)
C-PAP bag
Laptop case
Very full backpack
Average Rating: 5 out of 5 based on 186 user reviews.
Today I leave home for an eleven week work trip. This is the longest I have ever been away from home base in the twenty-plus years I have lived in Los Angeles. It surpasses the last such record which was made last year, when I was on the road for seven weeks for this same client.
Spent a very short night sort-of-sleeping before getting up at 3:00 a.m. to catch a 6:00 flight to Cleveland. The night was made even shorter by the fact that, as luck would have it, this was the weekend we lost an hour of sleep as we resume Daylight Savings Time. I didn’t care, though, for three interrelated reasons:
I have a rule that I only get up this early to Go on a Trip or to Star in a Major Motion Picture. (The fact that this rule has been heretofore employed excusively in service of the first circumstance minimizes its legitimacy not one bit.)
I’m particularly excited about this unusual trip. More on that later.
Finally, when you’re flying East for work, it’s always worth the extra trouble of taking as early a flight as possible. You get to your destination hotel earlier and have plenty of time to relax, unwind and prepare for Entry into the new office bright and early Monday morning.
Yay, frequent flyer miles.
After hauling my five bags into the cab at 3:30 a.m. I immediately noticed that the cabbie had a thick Russian accent. I told him the last stop of my trip was Moscow. He grunted and said nothing more. Not particularly encouraging, I thought, considering I was at least as nervous about visiting this notorious city as I was excited at the opportunity. Perhaps I should have asked his advice for Best Practices When Kidnapped.
I don’t love flying even though I love to travel. However, I used to really enjoy The Travel Day. Choosing what book and what video game to spend time with, splurging on overpriced tacky airport food, the friendly flight attendants, the excitement of going somewhere.
It’s much more difficult now. Since 2001 almost every aspect of The Travel Day has gotten worse. Actually, it began to happen several years before 2001. Everyone blames 9/11 for how awful flying is now, but many people have forgotten that much of the unpleasant routine we have grudgingly gotten used to was in place well before that awful day in September.
Today was even more challenging than usual, as I had made the perhaps foolish decision to bring all of my fancy photo equipment with me. What this meant was that this would be the first time I have traveled with three things that I must take on the plane with me: photo bag, laptop and C-PAP[1]. There was a tense moment when the We Don’t Care, We Don’t Have To gate attendant growled at me that if I didn’t check one of my three bags, and if I got inside the plane and couldn’t find a place for one of the bags, it would be my tough luck. I “wouldn’t be able to check the bag at that point.” Her unspoken threat hung in the air. Yeah. I imagined the tantrum I would throw if they tried to “dispose” of one of my three bags at the last minute, and realized that, while I can throw a pretty good tantrum, these days the airlines always win. I saw myself getting thrown off the plane. Great start to the trip. I imagined the awkward call to the Client.
Luck was with me, though, and I sprinted down the aisle and found space for everything.
///
It has occurred to me that I should not enter into such an impressively long trip without giving it some thought. Without having a goal or two. I should have something to show for the trip when I’m done beyond money and some snapshots.
Goals For My Eleven Week Globetrotting Work Trip
Endeavor to not merely look, but to See.
Write as much as possible.
Take as many good photographs as possible.
Try to find Mexican food in every city I’m in.
Try to go to the movies in every city I’m in.
Try to return from the trip thinner than when I left.
Do you look anything like this? Then the correct answer when I approach you and tell you I want to photograph you for a magazine is “Yes.”
On the short hop from Chicago to Cleveland, there was a pretty impressive hunk sitting right in front of me who I managed to catch up with after the flight and give him my “I’m a photographer for Exercise For Men mag” spiel. If I believed in omens I’d take it as a good omen. It’s a good start, anyway.
He probably will not call me, which is a shame, because he’s perfect for the magazine. Screw him; his loss.
[1] Continuous Positive Air Pressure machine. It treats my sleep apnea.
Average Rating: 4.5 out of 5 based on 208 user reviews.
My fourth experiment in low carb treat making was my most successful so far. To date, I’ve made two different recipes for peanut butter cookies and one brownie recipe. They were all okay, but not great.
Much better results with Nancy’s Forgotten Cookies. These are essentially meringues. They are ridiculously easy to make.
They are made with egg whites, artificial sweetner, sugar-free chocolate chips, vanilla and lots of chopped pecans. I added a bit of instant espresso for richness.
Out of the oven they are sweet, chewy and chocolaty. I really recommend them. I plan on doing some variations on them soon.
I plan on taking a bunch of them on my trip. We’ll see how they freeze.
