Hostile Traveler

Yesterday I took a day trip down to Herndon, VA for a two-hour meeting. You would think that with all of the technology available, I wouldn’t have to still do stuff like that, but you’d be wrong. Anyways, Herndon is where that lovely (?) 60’s airport is - Dulles.

I’m sure at the time it was built, Dulles was some sort of architectural beauty, with its roof being a sweeping curve, and big open areas underneath. However, these days it’s just a sort of grim gray concrete monstrosity. They keep adding onto it by building more terminals, but there’s just something about that main building that takes away your will to live. Maybe it’s just me.

The trip in was pretty unremarkable, the meeting as boring as expected, and then I headed back to the airport to get the hell out of there. My flight was at 4:45, and I arrived at the airport at just after 3. No bags, so no problem. Or so I thought.

Dulles is going through some “expansion difficulties”. That’s a nice way of saying that the TSA hasn’t hired enough slack-jawed knuckle-draggers to get the volume of people through security necessary. So, when I got to the airport, this is what I ran into:

Now, this is *after* standing in line for ~30min - a line that wrapped around the terminal to the front. By the time I got near the scanners and metal detectors, it was 4:35pm, and my flight was due to take off in 10 minutes. I wasn’t the only one in this predicament - all of the people around me had the same issue. So, people are yelling shit at the TSA people, but they’re pretty much oblivious because I’m sure this happens every day. They have that kind of weary, I-Don’t-Give-A-Fuck look that all low-paying jobs seem to foster. I feel safer already.

Around this time, I hear a commotion behind me and turn around just as some dude is trying to elbow his way past me using two of the most irritating words in the English language: “Excuse me!” followed by “I’m gonna miss my flight!”. Now, I’m beyond cranky and well into pissed off when this jackass tries to plow through me. Not gonna happen. So, I step in front of him and explain rather tersely that though he feels he may be the most important person in his world, the rest of us are in the same situation, and the likelihood of him jumping ahead in the line without getting hurt is very nearly zero. Apparently that was convincing enough for him to go back from where he came to sulk. Dumbass.

At this point, I’ve reached security. I realize that not everyone flies regularly, but allow me to give some tips on how to make the security screening a whole lot less painful for you and everyone stuck behind you:

1. GET THE FUCK OFF OF YOUR CELLPHONE. Not only is it electronic and won’t pass through the metal detector, it makes it a whole lot more difficult to perform physical activities like getting your 200lb drag-aboard onto the belt one-handed while trying to keep your phone jammed between your cheek and shoulder.
2. But what if I have a handsfree? Look - just because your hands are free doesn’t mean that your brain is capable of carrying on a conversation and performing other tasks simultaneously. Oh, and know that ugly-assed blue-LED wart sticking out of your ear? It’s not going through the fucking metal detector. Hang up and get out of my way.
3. Got kids? I understand that it’s sometimes necessary to fly with young children, and that they require additional baggage to take care of - car seats, diaper bags, whatever. But people - there’s gotta be a limit. If it’s a two hour flight and you have enough shit to run an orphanage, there’s something wrong. Also, if your stroller requires a degree in mechanical engineering to fold up, it may not be the best choice to bring along on the flight. The kid won’t develop scoliosis from the ghetto umbrella stroller just this once.
4. Liquids. Look, I know it’s retarded, but the TSA says you can’t bring liquids through security unless they fit in a 1 qt bag, etc etc. Maybe you don’t fly much and didn’t know this - I can accept that. But how is it you can spend 90 minutes in a line with *nothing* to do and not notice just one of the 300 signs or 15 video monitors telling you that your giant bottle of water ain’t gonna make it. I actually saw a woman who was going to hold up the whole line while she finished her tall skinny whateverthefuck Starbucks cause she couldn’t take it through and was pissed about it. Sometimes, it really should be legal to throw someone a beating. So - thirsty? Great - drink it before you get in front of me. And no I will not hold your place while you go to the bathroom.
5. Metal. See that big thing you’re walking through? It’s a metal detector. Know what it detects? I’ll give you a hint: METAL. Why people are surprised when their giant Mr. T necklaces or Shop-At-Home rings set off the detector I have no idea. But this is gold! No - it’s not, and guess what - it’s still metal. So is that wallet on a 6 foot dog chain, and likely so is the plate in your head.
6. TAKE OFF YOUR FUCKING SHOES. NOW! I know you’re upset that velcro shoes aren’t popular any more and that tying them is a big mental exercise, but there are few (if any) airports that don’t require your footwear to be scanned. Just deal with it, and take them off BEFORE you get to the scanner.
7. Finally, take a look at what you’re about to bring aboard. Do you truly need that much shit? I know checking luggage is a bitch and I’ve had stuff temporarily lost on at least a dozen occasions, but c’mon - there’s a limit. If it takes two of you to shove something through the scanner, it may be a good indicator that you need to check it. I know common sense isn’t very common, but wtf.

Anyways, after making it through security without causing an incident (though I wanted to), the next thing that makes Dulles unique is their use of Mobile Lounges:

I guess back in the 60s when air travel was still glamorous and stuff, there weren’t really jetways to get you to the plane. You’d walk across the tarmac and up a set of stairs mounted to a truck. The idea of the mobile lounges was to load up 100 or so people onto this big ugly moon-roveresque thing and bring them to the plane. They have scissor lifts that will raise the box thing on top up to the plane’s level and people can board from there.

These days, they’re a relic of bygone times, but they still use them at Dulles to get you from terminal to terminal. The problem is there just aren’t enough, so when you get a rush of people, you have to wait and then try to jam yourself onto one. This was the case yesterday, and I got onto one at 4:45pm, just as my flight was scheduled to leave.

Once I got to the other terminal and evacuated the piece of shit lounge thing, I had to haul major ass to get to my gate across the terminal. Incidentally, the word terminal is an interesting one in that it generally means ‘final’ and is often applied to illnesses. Coincidence that it’s used in a place where you want to die? But I digress…

Apparently the airlines understand just how fucked-up this place is, and I was able to make it onto the plane before they shut the door. But still, not exactly a glamorous travel experience. Then again, it may just be me.

I’ve been in San Jose, California this week for work, and while San Jose itself doesn’t do much for me, the coastline to the west is an amazing place.  Whenever I’m out there, I try to take a drive along Highway 1 between Half Moon Bay and San Francisco.  The highway itself runs mostly right along the coast, which is largely made up of cliffs that drop into the ocean, sprinkled with beaches in between.  My favorite time to go is around sunset - there’s something humbling about watching the sun disappear into the ocean.  I guess as a person from the East Coast, it’s just a lot different from what I’m accustomed to.

One beach in particular just north of Half Moon Bay is very picturesque, so I dropped by to take a few photos.

Another beach was closed due to hazardous materials.  It turns out, that’s a euphemism for a truckload of seagull crap.

I decided I wanted to get a couple of good sunset shots, so I found this totally deserted beach that had a nice panoramic view of the horizon.  Perfect.  So I’m standing there and suddenly movement goes by the viewfinder on the camera.  Turns out, it’s a completely naked dude (hence the dudity reference) running along the beach.  Now, admittedly, the guy is totally fit, but that’s just not something I was prepared for.  Plus, should you really be running naked as a man?  Seems like having your junk flapping around like that, while comical, isn’t too good for you.  Plus, the sand…

So after Captain Dudity ran by, I finally got my shot:

Updates here have been sporadic at best lately, mainly due to the fact that I’ve been on the road every week for the past couple of months. And yes, it’s getting quite old. The airports and hotels are becoming a blur, and I’ve had a few times where I’ve woken up not knowing exactly where I was. My favorite part is forgetting what the hell my rental car looks like and having to wander the parking lot like a zombie.

I have a few more weeks of this ahead of me, then hopefully things will settle down. To give you an idea, I’m writing this right now sitting in the Denver airport waiting for a connection to San Jose - my second time there in three weeks, and I’ll be there again next week. Still, it has given me a lot of topics to add in as posts…as soon as I get around to writing them.

I do have to admit, however, that it hasn’t been all bad. My company had a big conference in Las Vegas about a month ago, and in the 4 days I was there, I only managed to sleep about 9 hours total. But, then again, I guess Vegas is just that kind of city.

Most of the time there was filled with conference stuff…and all of our badges had RFID tags in them, so Big Brother was making sure that you were actually attending the sessions you were supposed to. Still, there’s a big difference between being there physically and being there mentally. Some of the people looked…well, rough would not quite cover it.

The conference itself, as much as I wanted to hate it, was pretty good. The company I’m with now is pretty large, and there were 14,000 people in attendance. So basically, we filled an arena. The opener was staged like a rock concert, and some pretty good performers came out, though I can’t recall any of their names. The first was three women all tarted up and playing stringed instruments to a backbeat, which was kinda cool:

After they got through, a pair playing flamenco guitar came out. it started out very traditional, but got nuts by the end. They started doing Metallica tunes, and the chick was pounding on the guitar to provide rhythmic accompaniment. The thing is, she was doing some pretty complex stuff while her parter was thrashing it out. Not too bad.

The last bit was a bunch of guys in cages (no, don’t get excited) descending from the ceiling and floating around while playing some tunes.

…and then they brought out the execs to start doing speeches and such. But, I guess that’s why we were there. I’ll spare you the details of all of the sessions I had to sit through, because really, it’s the night life that matters, right?

The first night was…well, not so interesting at first. My division had rented a club at one of the casinos, but we’re about 99.5% male, so the few women there were surrounded by jackals…aka horny sales guys. Lame didn’t quite begin to describe it, and luckily a guy in my group has some connections and got us into the Foundation Room at Mandalay Bay. Apparently, this is a relatively difficult place to get into, and it’s at the top of the building with a balcony overlooking the strip. Forgive the awful cameraphone pic:

Pretty cool place to hang out and enjoy the scenery, though it’s doubtful I’ll be able to get back in again. I’m just not that cool, I guess.  But I’m sure you’ve figured that out by now.

[To Be Continued...]

I’m a little bit behind in updates at this point, so I’ll be working on catching up over the next few posts. I left NYC last Friday and am currently in Chicago, but I wanted to post a bit about what has happened in between. Right about now is where you should imagine one of those wavy flashback routines they do on TV or something.

My last night in New York City, the weather was great and I had some time to wander around the area. Times Square in the summertime is a magnet for tourist, freaks, and sometimes both. Really, it’s one of those sensory overload places where everything is noise, neon, and LEDs. With that said, there’s a kind of beauty in the chaos that you can enjoy for 2-3 seconds before someone bumps into you and curses you out in a foreign language. Anyways, here’s a few shots during the day:

…and some at night:

Note the mob of people in the last one. Between the restaurants, Broadway shows, and everything else, the whole area was jammed with people. Still, after going to Hong Kong and Tokyo, this kind of action is child’s play. Okay, except that some of the people are taller than my shoulder.

Times Square is a very different place now than it used to be in the 70s and 80s, at least from what I’ve read. It used to be a very gritty area, full of peepshows, adult bookstores, strip clubs, and so on. It’s since been sanitized and Disney-fied, and there are only a few vestiges of what used to be on the fringes of the area. While I’m sure the generic tourist places like the Hard Rock Cafe and such are raking in the bucks, there’s something to be said about seedy places. At the very least, they’re a lot more interesting to blog about.

I had intended on taking some pictures of the last peep shows and such in the area, but decided against the idea. I’m not really big on bringing home souvenirs, and that includes my own teeth in a bag. Really, I just didn’t like the idea of getting my ass beat for taking a photo of the wrong place. I’m not a real journalist by any stretch, and I sorta like being able to chew with my own teeth. So, no photos for you. Sorry. Still, in a strange way I was happy to see that there’s still some grit to the city, even though it’s being slowly whittled away by the moral police.

On Friday, the class I was attending ended early, so I decided to head to Penn station to see if I could get an earlier train out of the city. I’m not terribly experienced with the whole train thing, so I agreed to take a ticket for a much earlier regional train. Now I know better. The Acela has spoiled me. It’s quiet, has beer, comfortable, has beer, fast, and oh yeah - it has beer. The regional line, in comparison, is like something you’d see in Mexico. Think 70s-era upholstery, loud, packed with people, and decidedly slow. I wound up having to walk through 5 cars before I found a seat, and almost came to blows with some hippie shithead over luggage space taken over by his 5 ratty duffel bags full of crap. Incidentally - for you wired hippies that may be reading this - patchouli oil does not cover the smell of stale weed and bong water - it just adds another layer to the funk. Cut the shit and take a shower.

In an attempt to tune out the surroundings, I worked on my notebook praying-mantis style in the cramped seat. Of course, YASA (Yet Another Suited Assclown) next to me spends the entire trip on his cellphone doing cold calls. He’s an insurance salesman, which in itself is enough to make me want to bludgeon him to death, and the cellphone isn’t helping. Okay, count to 10, put on headphones, tune out with music.

Fast forward a couple hours. YASA taps me on the shoulder and is saying some shit while pointing at his phone. I take off my headphones and he says, “My battery died.” Even though I want to say, “About fucking time!” I keep it to myself and gloat internally. Then he has the balls to say, “Do you mind if I plug into your computer?”

Now, murder is frowned upon in civilized cultures, but sometimes there are justifiable reasons for suddenly terminating someones life. I think the guy could tell by the look in my eyes that a little part of me inside snapped when he asked, and he started to recoil a bit before I could even open my mouth. While I don’t recall exactly what I said, I believe I started out by politely asking, “Are you fucking kidding me?” and it sorta went from there.

My new friend got off at the next stop. I don’t know if it was the stop he wanted to get off at, but he probably figured it was a good idea. It’s a pity, really, because I feel like we had a connection there. It may have wound up being a connection of my hand and his throat, but it was a connection nonetheless.

At any rate, the rest of the trip was uneventful, and I was home long enough to get my stuff together to head to Chicago this week for yet another class. But, that’s another story.

This week brings me to the Big Apple - New York City. Why they call it that, I have no idea, but I’m far too lazy to look it up right now. I’ll leave it as a homework exercise.

There are some options to get from Boston to NYC, but I went with the high-speed rail line, the Acela. While it’s not as blisteringly fast as the Japanese bullet trains, for the rails in the US it’s pretty damn fast. The unfortunate thing is it’s not able to sustain any high speeds due to local noise ordinances, decrepit rails, and the occasional fair maiden tied to the tracks. So, the trip takes a little over 3 hours. Still, when compared to dealing with the crackhead airport security or traffic/parking while driving, it’s not a bad way to go. (Again, sorry for the quality of some of the pics, but my camphone sucks.)

You basically get an airline-ish seat, and if you’re lucky like me, you get one with a table. If, however, you’re unlucky like me, you get some droning suited financial asshole on a cellphone sitting across from you the whole trip down. Still, there are power jacks available for your notebook/etc, and I spend most of the time watching movies doing work on my notebook.

One of the main advantages over flying is that you actually have a bit of space, and you can stretch your legs and take a short walk. Mind you, it’s a bit of a wobbly one due to the bumps and such, but it’s a walk nonetheless. The walk may take you to what is perhaps the greatest feature of train travel: the cafe car. Here, you can purchase any number of overpriced snacks and drinks, but the key is - they have beer. Mmm…

The ride itself is actually pretty pleasant, and the scenery isn’t too bad. The line gets close to the coast in Connecticut at a couple of points, so you get to see some boats and such. Read on for more blurry overexposed pictures.

Finally, you get into the city and arrive at Penn station. This is the fun part - the part where you know you’ve arrived. Within minutes of exiting the Amtrak area, you’re likely to experience a fascinating array of humanity. You’re going to get jostled, bumped, glared at, muttered to, and all of those other things that make New York the friendliest city in the world. Add to that the myriad of smells you get on a nice hot and humid summer day, and surely you’ll feel as if you’re in heaven too.

Upon arrival, I met up with a friend of mine and took the subway to meet his wife in Brooklyn. Now, as I may have mentioned, it was a hot, humid day. The subway has this magical way of amplifying that experience by a good 20 degrees, and then adding a slight tang of urine to the air to really bring the experience home. Needless to say, by the time I humped my shit up and down more stairs than I care to remember, I was dripping with sweat. Nice way to go to dinner. Ah well.

Dinner itself was at a very cool Thai restaurant called Sea. Okay, in retrospect, maybe not the most creative name. Still, if you’re going to go monosyllabic for a restaurant name, I guess it’s better to go with that than, say, Ass. The neighborhood around it is pretty unremarkable, but when you step inside, it’s a massive place that seems more suited to club than restaurant. Still, great food, and good company. And I finally dried out.

After dinner, my friends dropped me off at my hotel in Times Square. Okay, near Times Square. I was given a room with a “view” on the 19th floor, but the actual view part is a bit debatable. It’s mostly the back of a billboard. I guess the lights are pretty…

The next day (Wednesday) was spent in class, so I won’t bore anyone with the details. Lunch, however, was interesting. I went to a quasi-famous deli (aren’t they all?) called the Stage Door Deli. They put together what can only vaguely be called a sandwich, but it’s only that because it happens to be between two slices of bread and held together by a toothpick. In between is a pile of whatever meat you ordered. I got some sort of belly bomb that contained pastrami, corned beef, and turkey, so I expect to die at any moment. Still, pretty tasty…

The heat and humidity decided to go out with a bang last night, and torrential thunderstorms came through blowing rain sideways and turning the filth on the streets into a kind of hellish stew. I didn’t really feel like wandering around in that, so I hit a dingy mexican joint across the street where the marginal burrito was made up for by the firewater margaritas.

Today, on the other hand, is beautiful. Sunny skies, warm temps, no humidity - perfect. Well, it’s NYC, so I’ll shift that over into tolerable. So I’m going to head out this eve and snap some photos of Times Square and its surroundings. Maybe tomorrow morning I’ll try to get on Good Morning America with the rest of the sign-toting retards. Yeah…maybe not.