The Minneapolis Tragedy

A bunch of us at work were getting ready to head to dinner when we caught the chopper video from Minneapolis. It was difficult to fathom at first. One picture couldn’t tell the story. You needed wide shots and close-ups to understand the magnitude of the situation.

How could the Interstate just fall down like that?

I counted the individual structures down and said to myself, “terrorism.” How could it be anything but?

First impressions can be so misleading.

I listened carefully as I scanned the cable channels covering the story live. No one was talking terrorism. That’s good. It would have been foolhardy to poison the story with speculation. We’re already on edge enough.

The more I looked, the more I realized I’d seen this before. Mianus, San Fransisco, the highway overpasses near the Northridge quake in California – Highways fall down! They shouldn’t. They still do.

Then I thought about that school bus – just a few feet from the edge. What must have gone through that driver’s mind as the roadway beneath his bus began to violently heave?

Over the next few weeks the backstory to this tragedy will dribble out. I can almost guarantee there were signs missed or procedures not followed. There always are.

News Porn

This afternoon, as I got out of bed, MSNBC, CNN Headline News and Fox were all carrying live helicopter coverage of a car chase on I-5 north of Los Angeles. I like to call this kind of stuff ‘news porn.’

The driver of the 1997 Saturn was wanted for suspicion of DUI (or so said the on-screen graphics). The car was doing the speed limit and staying within the lines on the Interstate.

I have no idea how this story ended. Time took its toll and I had to leave.

The story itself is so unimportant that there’s no real need to update America on what transpired. Which, of course begs the question – why cover it at all?

It all comes down to the definition of news. News used to mainly be about concepts and ideas. It is now much more event and celebrity oriented.

Events make for more compelling than nearly anything else… at least while the event’s in progress. Concepts are much more difficult a story to put on TV.

Events and celebrities are ‘low hanging fruit’ when you’re running a newsroom… even one that’s covering the entire nation.

I am sure this unimportant story was a much bigger draw than anything else these three networks could have chosen to run. It will be interesting to see how CNN’s main channel (running CNN International at this time) did in the ratings versus the other three.

I’ll admit, I couldn’t turn away.

How can I chastise these networks for what they ran when it was my own viewing choice? It’s easy to be critical. It’s much more difficult to be angry while they’re being practical.

Continue reading “News Porn”

Windows Vista – Not Again

I went to do something on my laptop with Windows Vista last night and got shot down. This is starting to upset me.

It was a simple thing. I have a Bluetooth headset. I wanted to be able to use it with Skype or the ‘dictation’ feature of the operating system. I bought a cheap Bluetooth USB dongle&#185 and plugged it in. With shipping we’re talking $13, so this wasn’t a major investment.

In Windows XP, it would have worked flawlessly. In Vista, the driver installation failed. And, there is no other Vista driver for my device without paying more than the dongle itself cost!

This follows on the heels of my discovery either Dell or Microsoft turned off the ability to record directly from a WAV file or internal computer line input. Best example would be recording audio from a TV show I was watching on my laptop.

Again, in XP, this was built in and robust. Now, it’s gone.

When I read other comments about either of these two problems all I see is frustration from others. I guess that’s the WOW factor Microsoft was talking about.

&#185 – Hey, I don’t name this stuff.

Lighter Than Air

Dan Peterman, our copter pilot at work, always asks when I’ll be flying with him in his little Cessna? Today was the day.

His plane is nearly as old, and in better shape, than me!

Though his Cessna ‘lives’ at Chester Airport, Dan was out and about, so he picked me up at Robinson Aviation, on the East Haven side of Tweed – New Haven Airport.

Heading directly into 15 knots of wind, it only took a few hundred feet to lift off Runway 14. Dan’s plane, a tail dragger, first points skyward, then levels, then takes off. It’s a little odd.

It was a little bumpy today, but not too bad. We headed down the shoreline, up to Chester then to the two casinos. Turning south, we flew over the subs at Groton and then back to Tweed.

I had a little stick time. In many ways it’s like learning to drive a car. I held the wheel too tightly and attempted to correct for every bump – as a new driver would.

I’ve been talking about learning to fly. Maybe it’s time? The FAA has eased restrictions with the new sport pilot license… though I’m not sure if there are training facilities with the right equipment near me.

Here’s a shortened version of our little journey.

Note: You might have to click on the video player twice before it starts. I’m sure everyone at Microsoft has a good laugh over that.

Someone To Watch Over Her

I have already chronicled Steffie’s navigational problems while driving to new places… and a few old ones. It’s something every new driver experiences as they realize, maybe they should have been looking out the window while they were in the car the last 18 or so years!

That being said, we knew Stefanie would want, and we wanted her to have, a GPS unit. With the holidays approaching we scanned the ads and online ‘intelligence’ every day, looking for a deal.

Finally, late in November we found our prey. In a Staples circular was an ad for an Invion GPS. Ever hear of Invion? Me neither.

I looked online, but if there were any reviews, I couldn’t find them. It seemed as if Invion was primarily a European company. It seemed to be based in the Netherlands (though I’m sure the electronics were thrown together in China). They had similar units, but this particular one wasn’t mentioned.

If you’re in retail, here’s advice for you. At times like this, your reputation makes the sale. We bought the unit, knowing that if there was a problem, Staples would stand behind it. The Staples name was much more important than Invion.

Steffie opened it for the holidays and then Daddy took over, charging it and scanning the manual. This is another one of those manuals that looks a lot easier to understand than it really is. You read it, understand all the words but little of the concept.

I needed to experiment before it left for school. I fired it up a few nights ago from the kitchen. It easily locked onto a few satellites and found our house.

These little boxes take advantage of amazing technology. OK – it’s used for the precision guidance of missiles too. No one’s perfect.

Tonight, it was Steffie’s turn to try it out. First, we fired it up in the kitchen and Steffie programmed in her school’s address. The machine guided her through the process, eliminating letters as her choices became more obvious.

We brought it to the car, stuck its base to the dashboard and headed toward her school.

For the first two or three seconds, nothing happened. Steffie asked if the little icon in the center of the screen should have repositioned itself as we moved down the driveway? But before I could answer, it did move.

“Turn right in 100 yards,” said the Stepford-like voice inside. There was no accent, no regionalism, no inflection.

“Turn right now,” the voice said, without missing a beat.

And obediently, Steffie turned right. She was smiling. I was too.

We drove a couple of miles and turned around. Steffie touched the screen a few times, finally tapping the word “Home.” The voice was eager to please. She even knew the driveway was our final destination.

I’m just amazed by all of this. The unit just seems to work. In our very brief test, it passed with a 100%.

I’ll be more amazed when we get our rebate check!

In The Trash It Goes

Today was my first ‘real’ day of dumpster duty, participating with Helaine as we tried to empty the house of more accumulated stuff. There’s a lot to choose from!

I suppose some of what we tossed today has resale value… but it’s so much to deal with, nickels and dimes at a time. After the entire job is done, there will be material for eBay – just not this stuff.

We started in the attic. Ours is quite large. It’s a whole floor above three of our bedrooms and a full bath.

I found old computers and circuit boards. It was tough to move them out, but some are so outmoded, it made no sense to continue to house them.

I tried to quickly calculate what they were worth ‘in the day.’ Too depressing. Then I tried to figure out how quickly they’d become outmoded. One computer monitor had a 1999 manufacturers stamp on it. Could you even get a 17″ CRT monitor today?

I did notice one thing that’s changed in computing. I threw out lots of manuals. An old printer had a ‘programmer’s manual.” Some programs had two or three separate printed books. I read those manuals. I miss the reassurance they brought.

I threw out some books related to Photoshop 3. Photoshop version, CS2, is really Photoshop 9!

As we carried load after load to the front door, for a wheelbarrow ride the rest of the way to the dumpster, I realized how nice a ranch home would be right now.

We headed to the garage next. Are you like us? Do you push things against the wall, hoping you’ll never have to deal with them again?

As with the attic, there was lots of stuff in the garage ripe for throwing. Each successive layer removed revealed cobwebs and dirt. Is there a place where dirt accumulates better than a garage? Those big doors open to the elements a few times a day, and then there’s whatever the tires track in.

I moved in with the shop vac. Everything was quickly scarfed up – though my back won’t soon forget the stooping I did. Growing up in an apartment, a shop vac was foreign to me. I learned quickly as a homeowner, this was no option!

Helaine called me over. She said she’d found a dead frog. Nope – dead mouse… long dead.

You can’t live in the woods without having a mouse in the house every once in a while. Luckily, there’s no evidence they’ve ever lived in the parts where we live.

After the garage, it was on to the basement. There was too much there for one afternoon, so Helaine will continue while I’m at work this week.

One thing we did do was clean the basement’s walk out steps. It’s possible they’ve never been vacuumed in the 16 years we’ve lived here. They look great now.

I threw out some more videocassettes – some from my days in Buffalo. It’s not that I didn’t want to cling, but even today there are few places to play these outmoded U-Matic format tapes.

I did keep a box of reel-to-reel audio tapes. I have a few marked 1973. I might have been in Cleveland, or maybe Phoenix, then. I’m not sure. I do know radio airchecks aren’t for tossing.

The dumpster is still a long way from being full. Thirty cubic yards is a heck of a challenge!

We’ve got one more week with it as a house guest. I told Helaine, when it’s picked up and the driver looks inside, we won’t be embarrassed.

My Car Is Sad

A few weeks ago, I opened my car door and heard something fall. Unfortunately whatever it was was inside the door panel. The door start opening with a bad sound.

A little while after that the driver’s window stopped retracting about halfway down. I didn’t connect the two right away. I do now.

The car is going for service next week, and my friend Steve (who is in charge of all things mechanical) said he would fix it.

End of story… except I opened the door today and it wouldn’t close! Whatever is broken inside is now wedged in such a way that it stops any motion.

Think about it for a second. Of all the mechanical things that can go wrong, this one is among the most serious. After all, the car no longer fits through the garage door! Even if it did, you can’t exactly drive with your door open.

I turned off the map light. I’m hoping there’s nothing else pulling current while the car sits idle in its parking spot.

Helaine, Steffie and I did a car swap this afternoon. Since Steffie and I are both working tonight, Helaine is homebound with strong thunderstorms moving through the area.

Right Turns Only

My mom only had to say it once, and it became a family legend. “I don’t make left turns.”

I’m not sure she ever meant it literally. It was more of, “I’m not comfortable making left turns and avoid them.” Still, that one line has taken on a life of its own over the last few years.

That’s why I thought of my mom this morning when I saw an article about UPS.

the parcel carrier has technology in its systems that help map this out routes that minimize the number of left turns the driver has to make. According to spokesperson Steve Holmes, avoiding left turns at intersections reduces idling which in turn lowers fuel consumption. “It seems small, but when you multiply it across 88,0000 vehicles making nearly 15 million deliveries every day during the course of a year, it adds up.”

It’s to save fuel primarily. Avoiding conflict with oncoming traffic is the secondary benefit.

If UPS made this software available, there are a lot of retirees in South Florida who’d gladly use it.

Born On The First Of July

Maybe I’m spoiled, being born in New York City? With millions of people there were economies of scale. The Fourth of July was actually celebrated on the Fourth of July! Here in the ‘burbs, things don’t run quite as according to that plan.

My town, Hamden, had their big fireworks show last night – June 30th. I was working.

Tonight, with my friend Harold in tow, I drove a few towns over to Wallingford for their big First of July celebration.

My expectations were low. Wallingford is a small town. A nice town, no doubt, but the number of people paying for the fireworks show is small.

We drove toward the high school where the display would be mounted, only to find a roadblock. The high school was full. A policeman told us there was a plaza where we could park and then hike. That’s what we decided to do.

A few blocks later, we pulled into the parking lot at the Yalesville School. The lot was already half full and some people were hoofing it toward the fireworks. Surprisingly, more were sitting at Yalesville in folding chairs.

I walked over to a woman sitting a few feet from my car. “Could the show be seen from here?” The answer was, “Yes.”

The Eagle has landed. We stayed at Yalesville.

As far as I can tell, we saw 90% of the show. There were ground displays whose glow we sensed, but whose artistry was hidden behind trees and homes. Just about all the aerial fireworks were high enough to see nicely.

Even better, we parked next to a giant pickup truck with Sirius satellite radio. The driver had the broadcast of the Grand Old Opry&#185 on, and it was loud enough to be heard where we stood.

Seriously, this was the perfect soundtrack for the evening, including Jim Ed Brown (he must be 1,000 by now) singing Three Bells – a song I played a zillion times as a disk jockey!

The show was much more than I could have ever anticipated. I didn’t check carefully, but there must have been 30 minutes of fireworks. They weren’t holding back either. This was an excellent show with plenty of action.

I clicked away like crazy. There was really no way to know whether I was striking pay dirt or not. I don’t have much in the way of fireworks experience with this camera.

I did read an article yesterday and slavishly set my ‘film’ speed at ISO 100, my aperture at F16 and plugged in a shutter release cable.

These shots of are a sample of my better catches.

The good thing about seeing fireworks on the first is, I can probably run out and see more on the second!

&#185 – Holy cow! The Grand Old Opry sounds like it’s been plunked directly from the last century. There were live acts, live announcers, a live audience and live commercials (spoken and sung) for such mainstays as Martha White Flour. It was interesting to hear these 1940s type commercials make reference to Martha White’s website!


The New PC Comes Together

Quite honestly, motherboard installs are pretty simple. There are power cables and small jumpers for the reset and power switches and LEDs. The disk drives plug into two IDE ports. There is a specific place for everything.

I got the word from Helaine this afternoon. FedEx was here and they dropped off the package with my motherboard and memory.

Before I get into the build, let me say this about FedEx. Their tracking is both soothing and frustrating at the same time. After all, you know everything – which is often too much.

Why did my package from the Atlanta area detour through Indianapolis? If they picked it up on Friday and delivered it on Tuesday, how is that 2-day service? How did they get from East Granby, CT to North Haven, over 40 miles, in 23 minutes (or so claims their tracking data)?

Anyway, it’s here.

The box was nicely packed and well padded. That’s a positive for Monarch Computer.

The outside of the box had two interesting labels. The first instructed the driver to get a signature. Packages are normally left on our front step – even when we’re home! Not for this. Helaine’s signature was absolutely demanded.

More interesting was a label warning the recipient not to forward this package to a foreign country. I suspect Monarch and others have been burned by naive people who get scammed into transshipment schemes.

Since I bought a combo package, the memory and CPU were already mounted on the motherboard. So was a giant Zallman cooler.

I spent extra to get a gigantic cooler which is supposed to run very quietly. We’ll see. Meanwhile, sitting on the board, it looks like a small town’s water tower.

Installing memory and the CPU is simple. Installing the cooler often requires force, and in the past I’ve been scared of breaking something. I’m glad they handled it.

I was going to wait… oh hell, I can’t wait.

I unscrewed the old motherboard, disconnected its wires and re-installed the new board. The old one is larger. It really went in with little trouble.

If you’ve never done this, the following sentence will sound impressive. I did it all without looking at any instructions. It’s really not that big a deal.

Motherboard installs are pretty simple. There are power cables and small jumpers for the reset and power switches and the LEDs. The disk drives plug into two IDE ports. Power plugs are keyed, so they can’t go in backwards (as I’d surely do if left to my own devices). There is a specific place for everything.

It booted on the first try. My friend Peter wanted me to see if it would go all the way into the previously installed Windows. Not exactly. But I had been having trouble before.

I ran the Windows restore off the CD and it popped up pretty quickly. However, there are all sorts of drivers and utilities from hardware that’s no longer there. I decided to do a fresh install.

As we speak, the hard drive is formatting. Soon XP will be installing. I expect it to go smoothly.

After this initial install, I will add an extra few cards I bought – one for ingesting video and the other to allow more than the 4-IDE drives most PCs allow. I also went on EBay to buy a front panel hub for USB, Firewire and audio with a memory card reader.

At the moment, things are going really well. I’ll write some more after I start crying.

New Years Eve At Home With Dick

Originally we thought we’d be in Los Angeles tonight. That didn’t come about. So, Helaine and I are home. Steffie is with a friend as we change years.

All week I have been talking about snow for tonight. Not a lot, but enough to make things slippery. It started late this afternoon.

Helaine asked Stef if she’d let me drive her. I’m sure Steffie could have made the drive herself, but I think she was happier to not risk it.

We left the house with an inch or two on the ground. As we came to the big hill, heading down to a well traveled road, I stopped and shifted into 4-wheel drive low.

I was about 1/3 of the way down the hill when I spotted a 2-wheel drive sedan stopped in the uphill lane. I pressed the brake to slow, but there was little traction. Even with ABS brakes, the car was beginning to skid.

Quickly, I made the decision to take my foot off the brake pedal. I figured maintaining steering was more important than attempting to stop.

As I continued to approach, the driver of the other car shifted into reverse and started to back down.

On this narrow, curvy road, he wasn’t anywhere near the edge. I nudged our SUV slightly to the right where the snow was uneven – probably rocks or gravel at the side of the road.

We passed this idiot (yes – if you back up, with traffic approaching, in a vehicle that already has shown it can’t grip this road surface, you’re an idiot) with a few inches to spare.

I would be lying if I didn’t say my heart wasn’t beating faster.

The rest of the trip to East Haven was uneventful and slow. We did 40 mph down I-91. Most, but not all of the cars, were slow and cautious.

I dropped Steffie off and headed back north. From home Helaine made the call for Chinese food. Garrison Keillor was coming on the radio and I turned his homey, anachronistic music up loud.

I want to take a second to talk about the Chinese take out place we frequent because they do something that defies description. When Helaine orders she is not asked for name or number (they don’t have caller ID). When I pick up they never ask what I ordered. We always get the right order!

Usually it’s not busy and I had attributed our success to that. Tonight it was busy. It was still the right order, no questions asked – literally.

Now the two of us are home, as we are nearly every New Year’s Eve. I think the last time we went out was when we were dating. We got into a fight and nearly broke up. New Year’s Eve out lost its luster that night.

Later we’ll watch Dick Clark. There’s a certain dread along with the anticipation tonight. Dick Clark was a no show last year, after having a stroke. Now, rumor has it, he is still physically challenged.

Last week word came that a publicity shot of Dick, Ryan Seacrest and Hillary Duff had been Photoshopped so an older picture of Dick could be inserted. He hasn’t been seen at all in any of the live publicity for the show.

I know this is cruel to say. I don’t want to see Dick Clark if he’s not well. Even a valiant effort on his part will put me ill at ease.

The show starts in 11 minutes.

Blogger’s note: I came back on to edit this at 10:46 PM. No Dick Clark yet.

Thanksgiving Recap

I am just beginning to reenter the world of the living. Going to New York was a major shock to my system because of the one day schedule upheaval. I went to work a few hours before I normally wake up.

It was well worth it. Make no mistake about that. I had a great time, in spite of the weather.

Steffie accepted my offer and came along. While I caught a few hours sleep Wednesday evening, she decided to just stretch her day. By 1:15 AM Thanksgiving morning we were getting into a town car for the ride to Manhattan.

The ride started under cloudy skies, but by the time we got to Bridgeport, it was snowing. The snow was light at first, but before the New York line it was covering the road.

The town car blasted along between 65 and 75. I was beginning to get a little panicky. I didn’t want us to be the first Thanksgiving highway statistic!

As we moved through Westchester and into the Bronx, the snow turned to sleet and quickly to rain. Now the highway was just wet.

I asked the driver to stick to the West Side because I assumed some streets would be closed for parade preparations. We headed down the Henry Hudson Parkway, past the beautiful George Washington Bridge. At night the lattice of the bridge’s towers are lit, making it look like a gigantic model bridge. It’s too good looking to be real or functional.

Traffic was light as we transitioned from the Henry Hudson to the West Side Highway. We were doing 74 mph when the cop caught us on radar!

I’ve never been pulled over in New York. It’s an experience. There’s no shoulder on the highway to safely stop, so the cop called through a loudspeaker, telling us to pull off at the next exit.

I got antsy and wanted to intercede. Steffie, wisely, kept me in check. As it turned out, the limo driver had things well in control.

Unbeknown to us, he had a small metal NYPD shield in his wallet. His cousin is a cop in Midtown Manhattan (or so he said – does it really matter). Under the unwritten law of professional courtesy, the officer acted angry, asked the driver if he knew how fast he was going and then walked away. Just like that. Holy cow – those things do work!

My instructions from ABC said to meet at 79th Street and Central Park West. There was no way to drive there, so we got out at 77th and Columbus.

IMG_3112I talked my way past a young guy standing security at Columbus Avenue, only to get questioned again at Central Park West. This person was tall, unhappy, and actually speaking into his wrist! When I asked if he was with the police or Macy’s he said, “Both.”

He was a little more thorough, wanting to see some ID. I don’t have an NYPD press pass, but I did have my Channel 8 ID. He looked at it for a few milliseconds and said OK – but he’d accompany us.

We headed uptown, past workers getting ready to march. We walked by the stately, somewhat Goth, Museum of Natural History. When we got to the next corner it was 81st Street.

There is no 79th and Central Park West! Uh oh.

I called Chika, my producer. She too was on her way. She asked me to stay put until she got there. Steffie and I stood under my umbrella in the rain. We were next to the Manhattan North command post and there was a constant buzz of activity.

When Chika got there, we realized not only was there no 79th and CPW – there was no live truck! I was standing there wondering if we’d get on the air at all. That thought only lasted a few seconds, because this type of logistical miscue happens all the time. Somehow, it always works… well almost always.

IMG_3014The truck ended up on Park Drive South, with a long cable run to the parade. The photographer, Mark, set up and we were ready to go.

Before leaving Connecticut I had cut the audio for a package on the parade. That track was for timing. Now, in the truck, using the strangest looking microphone I’d even seen, I recut it with better audio.

Along the curb, camera after camera after camera set up. All the local New York stations were there, as was GMA (ABC, but separate from us) and Today.

As shot, each reporter stood with the street behind him. Truth is, we were all shoulder-to-shoulder-to shoulder.

IMG_3083Let me take a second to apologize for anyone near me Thanksgiving morning. I project… OK, I am loud. It must have been tough for the reporters next to me, because I’m sure they heard me. Disconcerting, no doubt.

I cut a tag for World News Now, ABC’s overnight show, and then the live shots began.

It didn’t begin smoothly. The IFB system (IFB for interrupt feedback, describes the communications system that allows me to hear both the TV station in another city and its producer) was flawed. I was hearing a few syllables at a time and then silence. Something was there, but it wasn’t usable.

The first few live shots ended up being me fronting my package without interaction with the local anchors. I couldn’t speak with them, because I couldn’t hear them.

It wasn’t long before the IFB was squared away and we started ‘servicing the affiliates.&#185’

IMG_3090Here’s how it works. Chika speaks to the producer via cellphone. My IFB gets switched so I can hear their ‘air.’ We go over the names of the anchors and who I’ll be speaking with. Sometimes, if while waiting to go on I hear a weather forecaster mention local weather, I’d ask Chika to get his/her name.

Once on, I ad libbed a little about what was going on and then tossed to the package. On the way out I’d talk about the forecast of wind or let the anchors see the new Scooby Doo balloon resting across the street.

We did live hit after live hit after live hit. Sixteen separate shots over the morning. It was great!

I suppose you might say I’m a live TV slut. It’s a rush – a seat of the pants experience each and every time. I have called it crack for middle aged white guys.

IMG_3030After it was all done, the folks at ABC NewsOne thanked me. I appreciate that. But, the truth is, maybe they were doing me the favor. It’s a job I enjoy doing and they gave me the opportunity to do it from a great location, on a fun story, on stations all across the country.

The icing on the cake was going there with Steffie. I introduced her early on as my daughter. As the morning wore on, and other people came and went, she was just accepted as part of our crew. It’s nice to see her as a grownup and to see other people see her that way.

Liveshot rundown:

-- 0430 World News This Morning

-- 0515 WFTV - Orlando

-- 0545 WJLA - Washington

-- 0550 WTNH - New Haven

-- 0615 WFTV - Orlando

-- 0620 WTNH - New Haven

-- 0640 WCPO - Cincinnati

-- 0645 WJLA - Washington

-- 0650 WTNH - New Haven

-- 0705 WTNH - New Haven

-- 0720 WLS - Chicago

-- 0740 WTNH - New Haven

-- 0800 KABC - Los Angeles

-- 0820 KXTV - Sacramento

-- 0840 KNXV - Phoenix

-- 0900 KABC - Los Angeles

&#185 – When I ran into Al Roker and told him I was there ‘servicing the affiliates’, we both smiled. It does have that stud horse implication.

More On Monday From Las Vegas

Lots to be done as we settled on on our third day here, but the day that had been scheduled to be the first. Max had to go to the airport, and that was the perfect opportunity for me to pick up our rental car, also at the airport.

Melissa was driving. Note to NASCAR: Any teams needing a new driver, Melissa is your girl. I have flown in an F/A-18, but it didn’t have the maneuverability of Melissa’s Toyota Sequoia.

With bumper-to-bumper traffic on Las Vegas Blvd I’ll swear she hit 80 mph… and that was just changing lanes!

With lots of people to shuttle around, we needed to rent a car with room. Helaine (Queen of Deals) had found a Chrysler Minivan from Dollar for about $130 per week. Taxes and fees added an extra $60!

I have a Dollar FASTLANE card. It cost nothing. The program is now named Dollar Express, but the effect is the same.

We walked into the rental office and saw a long line. Next to it was a space for Dollar Express members. I walked up and was taken next! Without the little, free, card, we’d still be in line.

We saved at least an hour – maybe more.

This car is not stylish. In fact, it sort of represents everything this trip is not supposed to be. It will do, because it is what we need.

On the way back from getting the car we stopped to get water and soda to keep in our room. It was interesting to see both the drug store and grocery had small video poker rooms.

I wasn’t done with poker, and when we got back, I sat back down. My luck from the morning hadn’t changed.

Actually, that’s wrong. My play hadn’t changed. I was playing sloppy, like a tourist who wanted hands to play and was willing to play lesser cards. That was a $180 lesson.

I was still up, but now my winnings were marginal… and I was upset, because I knew I could play better.

We all had dinner at a fancy Italian restaurant at the Venetian – Zeffirino. I had a pasta/seafood dish, which was very tasty.

As dinner ended, the waiter, captain and the restaurant’s strolling mandolin (Was it a mandolin… I’m really not sure. It wasn’t a guitar) player came by with a piece of cake and candle to celebrate my dad’s 80th.

The birthday isn’t until later in the week, but that’s what the trip is all about.

Michael and Melissa and my folks stayed at the Venetian. Helaine and I returned to the Mirage. I needed to redeem myself.

Let me stop for a second and explain something. Even when you know how to play poker correctly, it is always possible to be swayed by the siren song mediocre cards. That’s especially true of someone like me who will be here a relatively short amount of time and wants to play, not fold. I have to fight the temptation.

As it turns out, I did stick to my guns and played very nicely… until 2:30 AM PDT. Bottom line was a $40 win.

It would have been more (it would have been a few hundred more), but, with Aces full, I was beaten by an unlikely four of a kind by a player who went in, in the face of betting action, with nothing but a 2-4 and caught just the right cards.

I’m sure I also had a few unlikely wins, but it’s always the ‘beats’ you remember.

My sister and brother-in-law are on a plane now, heading into Vegas. I’m the designated driver, so I’d better get going. More later from Fabulous Las Vegas.

Wish you were here.

I Didn’t Know I Was This Nice

My friend Farrell’s mom, Ruth, has been interviewed again about her escape from New Orleans.

Every time she tells the story, I become a bigger hero. It’s now the “Legend of Geoff Fox.”

Seriously, this was a call anyone with info would make to the parent of a close friend. I am glad Ruth escaped New Orleans unscathed. I’m glad she listened to her family and friends, because I know in her heart she very much wanted to stay.

The story from the Valley Gazette continues at the jump.

Continue reading “I Didn’t Know I Was This Nice”

Sunday in Fall River and Fenway

Sunday’s are for sleeping late, but not this Sunday. It was road trip time with my friend Bob. So, I was up before the crack of 8:00!

OK – I know that’s sleeping in for most people. Remember, I live in the east, but operate on Hawaiian time.

We stopped for a quick container of coffee, dropped my car off at New Haven’s Union Station and headed eastward on the Connecticut Turnpike. Because the Turnpike is also I-95, this east-west route has signs referring to north and south.

It still drives me nuts!

Saturday night late, I had received this cryptic little email from another Bob friend, in Florida.

HVN: Temp: 80F Dewpt 78F

midnight

amazing

78&#176 for a dewpoint temperature represents Calcutta-like steam. It was very warm and very sticky Saturday night and nothing, except the Sun beaming down, had changed by Sunday morning.

With a Google generated map and directions in hand, we headed toward Somerset, MA and WSAR, scene of one of Bob’s earliest jobs and my first. There was never any thought that 36 years after my last time there, WSAR had moved. In fact, the only question was, how much was still the same?

In a poetic, romantic world, I’d now tell you about all the memories that rushed back to me as we drove up. The truth is, I could only vaguely make a connection. That surprised me.

The building is the same. It’s at the end of Home Street, on the edge of a neighborhood of modest homes. Beyond WSAR’s field of towers, a huge power plant poked out through the very thick haze.

Amazingly, someone was at the station. We think he was the manager of what now is a little mom and pop two station facility. WSAR is news, talk and sports. Its sister station, formerly WALE is all Portuguese.

The inside of the building had been changed, as you might expect after all this time. The man at the station told us to walk around and take a look.

We didn’t stay long.

I think Bob got more out of this than I did. I wish I would have made more of a connection with my past. Working at WSAR was such a seminal moment in my professional life.

Heading north, we stopped at a mall in Taunton for breakfast/lunch and then proceeded to Boston. It was very hazy. Nothing about the Boston skyline that was distinct. Everything was sort of placed within the murkiness.

We maneuvered up Storrow Drive, off at Arlington Street and then across Back Bay to a garage under the Prudential Center. I thought it would be a good idea to park at the Pru and then take the subway&#185 to Fenway.

We got to the platform only to see signs cautioning that no dollar bills would be accepted on the train. The three token machines were not working. There was no token clerk. What to do?

We popped back up at street level and walked into the Colonnade Hotel. Most business are bothered by subway change seekers and I understand why. But, we really needed the change, so I did everything I could to look like a touristy hotel guest. Having my camera slung over my shoulder didn’t hurt.

Oh, by the way… contrary to the many posted signs, you can use dollar bills on the subway. The driver puts them in a slot on the side of the change machine. I have no idea what happens to them at the end of the run.

It didn’t take long to get to Fenway. It is just beyond the Mass Pike, a few blocks from Kenmore Square. The neighborhood looks like it was industrial – the buildings have that kind of feel.

Crowds of happy people (the Red Sox are in first, after all) were heading toward the stadium.

Immediately, I began to sense a different vibe than I had felt at Yankee Stadium. Maybe it was the fact you could see the stadium as you approached it or the banners on its brick exterior? Maybe it was the cluster of stores across the street?

Whatever it was, it was not Yankee Stadium. Since Yankee Stadium was a disappointment, this was a good thing.

We found a man selling tickets and lucked into great seats. The luck wasn’t the site lines or distance from home plate – both of those were what we expected and quite good. The luck was being under cover in the grandstand, as you shall see.

We walked through a security screening and into a throng of people moving past the concession stands. It felt good. I don’t know why. It felt right. It was old and cramped but totally appropriate in a way Yankee Stadium was not.

We walked into the stands and gazed at the stadium. It’s a gem. The stadium has a small feel to it. And, I guess next to a 50-60,000 seat park, it is. Our seats were up the first base line, directly opposite from the green monster.

I was pleased to see restraint in the advertising signs on that big, green wall. They were all green and white. They fit in.

The first inning was rocky for the Red Sox. They finally retired the White Sox without a run, but it was obvious Matt Clement wasn’t throwing his best stuff.

There would be plenty of time to think about that, because as the first half inning ended, the heavens open, accompanied by deep throated thunder.

How glad was I, at this moment, that our seats were under cover? We watched as most of the lower deck and other exposed seats cleared out.

Within a few seconds the players and umps had left the field and the grounds crew was in charge, covering the base cutout and pitcher’s mound and unrolling the tarp.

This is something I had seen on TV, but never in person. The tarp is immense, covering the entire infield and skinned areas of the field. It went on quickly.

As a meteorologist (Wow, I can now refer to myself that way), I was concerned that they were placing themselves in harm’s way during the storm. You would expect a lightning strike to hit a light tower or other taller structure… but it could easily strike someone on the field, or in the stands, I guess.

It rained as hard as I’ve ever seen. Sheets of rain poured down. Most people moved to shelter. Others, resigned to getting soaked, stayed where the were.

At one point, security guards on the field were issued yellow slickers. By this time they were already soaked to the bone. I tried to figure out the value of this late move? By this point, the slickers were just holding in the moisture already there.

The rains stopped and the crew came back to remove the tarp. Now, what was heavy was heavier. The tarp was loaded with water.

By folding the tarp over itself and moving back and forth, the grounds crew was able to deposit most of the water just beyond the base paths in shallow right field. Then a groundskeeper reached down and began pulling plugs from the turf, opening drains to carry the water away.

This was nearly as good a show as the game!

Play resumed, but it wasn’t to be the Red Sox day. They were getting pummeled by Chicago. And then, it began to rain again.

We stayed a while and then, remembering there was a 6:40 train to Connecticut or a three hour wait until the one after that at 9:40, we left. Bob got off near his car and I continued, first on the Green Line and then the Red Line to South Station.

South Station is open and airy with kiosks for food, books and magazines. The ceiling and walls are largely populated by ads for Apple’s iPod. As much as I thought the green and white ads at Fenway were appropriate, I felt this was not… and I’m an iPod fan.

I went to a ticket machine to pay my way but all it wanted to sell me was a ticket at 9:40. I moved to a real person behind the counter. He gave me the bad news. The 6:40 train was sold out!

This wasn’t good. But, there was nothing I could do, yet. I got a salad, sat between a woman and her loud toddler son and a homeless person who seemed to be nodding off, and had dinner.

As train time approached, I moved toward the platform. Maybe there was someone based in New Haven on this train? Maybe I could talk my way on?

I ran into a conductor. He was from Boston, there was no doubt from his accent. I told him my plight and he said, “Don’t worry, you can sit in the Club Car.”

Easier said than done. He went to work on the train as I waited for the platform to be opened for passengers. When it finally was, my ticket was for the wrong train. They wouldn’t let me pass to get to the Club Car.

I began to panic. I was tired, extremely sweaty and I imagine quite pungent. I didn’t want to spend the next three hours at South Station.

I did something I have promised myself never to do. I took out my business card, handed it to one of the security people and asked her to ask one of the crew members (who all, except for the Club Car conductor were from New Haven) if they could help me.

Maybe I’m justifying what I’ve already done, but I thought I worded my request in such a way that it didn’t go over my imaginary line. It wasn’t a, “Don’t you know who I am” request. Well, it didn’t seem like one at the time.

As it turns out, a very nice conductor traveling with his family took mercy on me. He got me past security and onto the train. And, during the course of the trip I got to meet everyone who was “working on the railroad, all the livelong day.”

Here’s the more amazing corollary to this story. The sold out train couldn’t have been more than half full! Why did Amtrak think it was full and refuse to sell tickets? I have no idea. I would guess I wasn’t the only one prepared to spend another three hours in Boston… and some people probably did.

So, there’s the Boston trip… except for one little thing. As it turns out, after we left, the Red Sox waited and waited and waited and finally postponed the game. My two tickets are eligible to be replaced with tickets for another game.

I’m looking forward to returning to Fenway.

&#185 – I guess it officially fits the definition of subway, but Boston’s Green Line is just trolleys in a tube with some of the ugliest, dingiest stations ever seen by man. I have no doubt I was safe and never felt otherwise. It was just the subway time forgot.