Tag: Michael

Greetings From Ventnor City

I’m writing this from the kitchen of my friend Peter’s condo in Ventnor City, NJ. Honest, there is a Ventnor City, NJ… just down the road from Atlantic City. The people here call it Ventnor.

My journey started after work Friday night. Knowing I have no organizational skills, or willpower, going home after work would have just meant an extended period of putting off going to bed… so I set out for Peter’s house, in Cherry Hill, NJ at 11:35 PM.

That was a good idea because traffic was light and I made it in just under three hours. Not bad. EZ-Pass is good on the NJ Turnpike, making the trip even easier.

I didn’t relish the idea of a long drive but I had my cell phone along with the earpiece I seldom use. I knew if I got my Cousin Michael on the phone from California… well, let’s just say Michael is never at a loss for words.

That’s a good thing because I enjoy talking with him. Between Michael, Melissa and Max (their son) I kept busy through the Bronx, over the George Washington Bride and well into New Jersey. Finally I gave up because my ear was getting sore.

I also decided to run a ‘science experiment’ during the drive. I put my laptop in the front seat, powered by an inverter, working off the car’s battery so it would last the whole trip. The laptop had a wireless network card and GPS receiver hooked up and ran a free piece of software call NetStumbler.

As I drove along, sometimes every few seconds and sometimes only a few times an hour, a little sound went off and the computer would log the presence of a wireless access point. Some were password protected while others would have gladly (OK – gladly is overdoing it) allowed me to connect to the Internet or anything else behind their firewall!

After I return to Connecticut I’ll try and publish some lists and maps to show you what got logged. It was very interesting to me and I tried disparately not to look at the computer screen as I sped along at 70 mph.

I made it to Peter’s house around 2:30 AM. For me that’s the shank of the day. For Peter, it’s the middle of the night. He woke up and let me in. He even nuked a few burgers for me!

Saturday morning started with a visit to his nephew’s baseball game, breakfast at a deli and then a trip to the Jersey Shore. Peter recently bought a 2005 Acura RL and we felt it was necessary to test all the buttons&#185.

Some parts of the car, like the XM Satellite Radio, were interesting. Peter and I agree the XM ‘decade channels’ play too many marginal songs (not hits) – probably an effort to avoid repetition and there’s no real ‘oldies’ channel as such. I did find the comedy channels interesting and am envious of his ability to hear every baseball game… though as a non-sports fan he will listen to none.

When a car is packed with gadgets, as this one is, there are things which seem superfluous or a little over the top. If, instead of touching a button, you’d like to wait five or ten seconds and hope your command is understood, you can tell the car’s climate control system to turn down the fan or adjust the temperature. Using the button is easier!

Mostly this is a sweet car and I enjoyed the ride to the shore.

Though sunny, today was blustery and cool. Still, we decided to take a walk down the boardwalk. The water was rough with spray coming off each breaking wave. The beach, as you might expect for April, was empty.

As we walked the beach, we ran into a flock of tiny birds. Though they do fly, most of the time they scamper on the sand, chasing the waterline in and out with the waves. They’re looking for food, I’m sure, but they were fun to watch because they’re totally in sync and choreographed perfectly.

There is no outward sign of communications between these birds, but they must know what the others are going to do. They change direction on a dime and never bump into each other!

Tonight we had dinner at the Tun, near the Atlantic City Convention Center. I’m on Atkins (again), so I told my waitress I’d rather not have the potatoes with my meal. Could she substitute something else? “How about French Fries,” was her reply.

The steak was very good and there was plenty of it. There was no Splenda for my coffee (a recurring theme of late), so I pulled a pack from the stash in my wallet. This is what 54 year old guys carry in their wallets instead of condoms.

After dinner we went to the Tropicana to see a comedy show. The Comedy Stop at the Trop has been there for at least 25 years. Recently it moved to nicer quarters in the hotel’s new wing called The Quarter. In fact the whole addition is very nice, somewhat reiniscent of the shops at some Vegas casinos.

We stopped in the Spy Store where I found some items going for many multiples of what the same thing sells for on EBay. I wasn’t expecting bargains, but this was a little ridiculous.

The comdey show itself was good and the comedians fine… at least that’s my impression from the audience reaction. Maybe I just wasn’t in a comedy mood tonight?

&#185 – There is a button that Peter just can’t figure out. If you have any idea what the “DISP MODE” button does, drop me a line.

How Sad – We’re Going Home

The headline of this entry is actually way out in front of the content. I still have a full day to catch up. As far as the blog is concerned, let’s talk Thursday and Palm Springs.

It was breakfast in the room again. And, again, I’m questioning the reviews I read about the Hyatt Suites in Palm Springs. We were so worried about the condition of the hotel, but it was quite nice and the staff was very friendly and helpful. The fact that our included breakfast could be delivered to the room (with a reasonable delivery charge) was a bonus.

The only small… very small… exception is the valet parking. I understand it is run by a contractor and it is not as fully staffed as the hotel, so sometimes we had to wait.

Thursday morning was my time to do something a little unusual – the kind of thing vacations are for. I went 4-wheeling on a quad in the desert.

The back story is, as we first drove toward Palm Springs we passed an area, off the highway, in a desolate desert area on the side of a hill near the wind turbines. There was what looked like a trailer (actually, on closer inspection, it was an old railroad caboose), some off road vehicles and a lot of dust! On the side of the caboose, in big letters, were the words “OFF ROAD QUADS.”

I knew from the first time I spied the place I’d have to go. The big question was when.

Steffie agreed to ride too, though it was obvious she was apprehensive because of a ‘fear of flipping.’ Quite honestly, the place did look a little scary. Little four wheelers, their 90 cc engines whining, were climbing the hills like yellow and red billy goats.

It just seemed like a vacation thing to do.

As we walked onto the lot&#185 hand printed signs said to follow numbered signs 1-5 for a pre-briefing. Sign one pointed into what looked like a cave. Inside there was a TV playing a safety DVD.

Though the people on the DVD looked a little scruffy, you could tell they were concerned with safety. Because of the dust, the DVD was pausing and breaking up every few seconds, but the message got through. Each point on the DVD was demonstrated twice – first by a man, then a woman.

I had driven motorcycles before, so I had an idea what to do. This was foreign ground for Steffie, especially the semi-automatic transmission. She watched and as I would later see, the instructions paid off.

We moved on and got a hair net, helmet and goggles. By the time I was outfitted, I looked like one of the villains in the classic MTV video “Take on Me” by A-ha.

We moved on to a final safety lecture as we sat on our quads. More than once the instructor said if you were rode nicely you’d get extra time. We bought 30 minutes, but got 45 minutes.

When it was time to leave, we headed out into the open expanse of the hillside. Steffie went slowly at first, methodically weighing the surroundings before picking up any speed.

It was easy to see Steffie was still a bit uncomfortable, but she pressed on. Slowly we worked our way higher and higher up the hillside – each time screeching down with gravity as our main propulsion.

I’m not sure I would ever do this again, but I’m glad we did it here. My guess is Steffie feels the same way. She’s glad to have what will probably be a once in a lifetime experience for her!

We headed back toward the hotel and after a quick stop turned toward Rancho Mirach and Palm Desert. Steffie and Helaine had heard of more shopping places and didn’t want to leave any stone unturned.

Our first stop was El Paseo. It was a little tough to find, but we made it!

By outward look, this is an upscale shopping street of boutique type stores. El Paseo’s median strip features lots of large sculptures, some serious others more fun. The store fronts are well kept with flowers blooming nearly everywhere.

The problem, I am told, is what’s in the stores. I’m not the expert here, so I’ll tell you what Helaine and Steffie said. The stores had overpriced merchandise but with little style… or bad style. They were very disappointed.

The good thing about shopping is, even when disappointed, there are other places to go. So we headed back up Route 111 and turned into The River.

Like so much else out here, The River is mainly open air between stores. And, again, as you would expect in an area like this, the stores were upscale and attractive. While the girls scouted around, I headed to their Borders bookstore.

Good choice on my part. You can’t have too many books and magazines to read on the long flight back.

Recently, I had noticed the computer section of the bookstores I visit shrinking. There was less and less of what I like to browse… and sometimes buy. This Borders was very large and had plenty of everything.

By this time it was late afternoon, so we headed back to the hotel.

We had heard Palm Springs hosted a street festival every Thursday evening. The main drag… the one in front of the hotel… gets shut to traffic while vendors set up in the street. This was one of those unplanned for fun things that can happen on vacation.

The other unplanned bonus was the arrival of Cousin Michael, Melissa and Max. After our visit to Laguna with them, we all decided it would be fun if they could make it to Palm Springs for dinner. It’s a schlep – over two hours driving, but they decided to come and spend the night at our hotel.

We really didn’t get to spend that much time at the fair, but I did see lots of fresh produce and vegetables, artwork (some reasonably priced… though not all), crafts and some California-centric items, like pictures of your aura!

It was once said that everyone in Palm Springs was gray or gay. That’s not as true today, though both communities were well represented, including a booth for the Caballeros, Palm Springs Gay Men’s Choir, selling tickets to their Barry Manilow tribute show (and singing along with his songs from their booth).

We ended up having dinner at “St. James.” It has a mixed European menu and a very interesting floor plan. The restaurant has all sorts of little nooks and alcoves with tables, giving you a bit of privacy in an otherwise busy place.

I had linguine with shrimp and a white sauce. It was okay – nothing to write home about. It also probably marks my last close contact with pasta for a while.

I can only imagine how much weight I’ve put on during this vacation. I’ve eaten like a little pig. It will all come off over time, but it’s sad.

Was it worth it? Ask me after I’ve been off carbs for a month or so.

I am writing this blog entry from Gate 4A at Bob Hope Airport in Burbank (and later added this photo of our plane as we boarded using the free wireless access at McCarren Airport in Las Vegas). We’re awaiting our first flight, to Las Vegas. Later this afternoon we’ll pick up another plane and head home to Connecticut.

This morning we were all a little tired and a little sad. This was a great vacation. We all did a lot of the things we wanted to do and had a lot of pleasant surprises. The better the vacation, the tougher it is going home.

Later this weekend (hopefully) I will post more photos to my gallery (to see the vacation photos already there, click here) and begin a post mortem. There are all sorts of little stories, too short or out of context for these trip report entries, that I want to write about.

&#185 – Though this is the same word, lot, used to describe a movie studio, in this case think of it in the context of vacant lot.

Orange County and Laguna Beach – Excellent

We woke up today to clouds and showers. It was in the sky. It was in the forecast. In fact, the forecast was for rain through the day and into Sunday.

It’s depressing.

This was our day to head south to Irvine and visit my cousins. We got the car, turned right on Avenue of the Stars&#185 and headed toward I-10.

Before we left Connecticut, I went to Google and got maps and directions. Directions are not like horseshoes. Close doesn’t make it. Google’s directions were close, but not totally correct. Somehow, we muddled along and found our way to Orange County and the Foxes of Southern California. Google’s got to do a better job if they’re going to be serious mapmakers.

We visited Michael, Melissa and Max, noshed a little, and tried to decide where to go. There was a temporary break in the weather action, so we decided on Laguna Beach.

On our way, we passed by six year old Cousin Max’s school and decided to turn in and take a look.

None of us have ever seen a school like this. I’m not sure how to describe it except to say the school is a collection of small German fairytale style buildings. There are dozens of animals from pigs to goats to chickens to rabbits… even a llama.

He’s in the first grade, learning French and German. He loves the school, and I can see why. It is one of a kind. In many ways it fits Laguna Beach.

Laguna Beach is known as an artist’s colony. All along Pacific Coast Highway and the surrounding streets are boutiques, galleries and restaurants. It’s a browser’s paradise and, for the shoe-addicted like Steffie, a place to buy another pair of shoes.

Laguna Beach is also a beautiful and expensive place to live. Not far from the ocean are steeply rising hills. Somehow, huge houses have been placed on these hills. From the ground it looks like the ground is steep enough to cause a goat to reconsider where he’s walking. The houses are there none the less.

When you hear about California houses sliding down mountains, they’re talking about houses like these.

As we walked down one street, Helaine pointed out what looked like a TV crew. Though I didn’t see the camera, I did see a guy with a pack filled with wireless microphone receivers. Near him a woman held a clipboard. My zoom lens let me read what was on her papers. They were from MTV, probably taping another season of Laguna Beach.

That show was one of the main reasons Steffie was so anxious to go to Laguna Beach in the first place!

As we kept walking, the sky kept brightening. Before long, the Sun began to poke out and, though by no means warm, it got warm enough to be comfortable.

We headed down to the beach.

Like so much of the California coastline, the area around Laguna Beach is a coast with character. Here the beach is broad. Offshore, there are some rocks visible above the sea’s surface, allowing birds to rest… and poop. From time-to-time the waves break on the rocks, throwing white spray up in the air.

This is a friendly beach. Yes, there are people in the water (though, this being the Pacific, it’s awfully cold), but the real action is at the water’s edge. There’s a beach volleyball net, a playground and a small boardwalk with benches.

I was amazed, and pleased, to see dogs welcome on this beach.

Actually, Laguna Beach seems to be a very dog-friendly town. Many of the shops and stores had water bowls right outside their front doors. Others had signs saying dogs were welcome. I even saw one woman with a novel way of bringing her dog into a restaurant… without bringing the dog into the restaurant!

This is probably as good a time as any to mention something that really worked today. Obviously, what was fun for the adults and Steffie at Laguna Beach was not Max’s first choice. Luckily, he had his Game Boy Advance with him. Every time we stopped, he found a place to sit, pulled out the Game Boy and played Shrek II. He was content pretty much all day.

We continued to walk and browse, but dinner time was approaching so we headed south on the Pacific Coast Highway to South Laguna Beach and “Montage.”

None of us in the East Coast Fox family had ever heard of Montage. Michael and Melissa, the West Coast contingent, had only heard of it through friends, but had never been. What a find.

Situated on a coastal bluff in the picturesque arts community of Laguna Beach, Montage Resort & Spa offers a unique mix: the amenities and conveniences of an ultra luxury beachfront hotel, coupled with the warmth and appeal of a cozy craftsman-style inn.

Excellent description for a property that originally housed a trailer park! It really is beautiful.

We were early for our dinner reservation, so we sat down for drinks in the main area in front of a picture window, looking down on the pool and the ocean. On the other side of the window is a balcony with the same spectacular view. I took my camera and started shooting away, only to be told my camera was “too professional looking” and I wouldn’t be allowed to take any more pictures.

I’m not quite sure why.

Dinner was at The Loft Restaurant, one floor down, but with an equally stunning view. This restaurant was equivalent to anything we had been to in Los Angeles… maybe nicer.

The service was excellent… though any place that refolds your napkin when you get up from the table tends to give me the heebee jeebees. The food was even better. Helaine compared it favorably to Spago, and I agree.

With dinner over, we said goodbye to Michael, Melissa and Max and headed north. We have been very lucky on the Southern California freeways, meeting hardly any traffic. By 8:30 we were back at the Century Plaza – exhausted.

What a great day. Everything we thought we’d do exceeded our expectations. The surprise spur of the moment things, or things Melissa and Michael had planned, were even better.

&#185 – Shoot me – I just like typing that. It’s the world’s most pretentious street name!

The Guys Go To Fry’s

Sunday morning – only one day to go. Very sad.

As always, Las Vegas woke up to sunshine. People here sometimes complain about the consistent, predictable sunshine. Give me a break.

After a quick breakfast at the coffee stand I took Michael and Max to Fry’s. I have heard about Fry’s over the years. The are stories about Fry’s in Silicon Valley during the early days of the dot-com boom… geeks picking up motherboards and nachos in the middle of the night.

It is a more technically oriented version of CompUSA, but the size of BJ’s or Costco. I saw displays of CPU’s, motherboards, cases, everything tech! Good God, I was in heaven.

I ended up buying a 120 GB Western Digital hard drive for $60 after rebate and two $22 books, both free after rebate. Not bad. Michael bought a DVD for Max and a few more very esoteric art film type DVDs for himself.

Before I leave the subject of Fry’s, there is one very tacky thing. The entrance of the store, which faces away from Las Vegas Boulevard, is styled like a slot machine. It’s very cheesy. The vertical stands, used to prevent cars from driving in, are fashioned to look like stacks of quarters.

We came back and I took a nap. Then it was back to the poker room. Though there was only one table playing $6/$12 and four on the waiting list, the woman with the clipboard told me it would move quickly. Right – I don’t think so.

I sat down at $3/$6 and bought a $100 rack of blue chips. It didn’t take long to notice a heavyset man with a large, though old, tattoo on his right arm. His long brown blond hair was askew as if he had slept on it, but hadn’t showered, or had just been up for a long, difficult time. He was loud. He had two drinks in front of him. He was drunk.

I really don’t care if there’s a drunk player, because they usually play stupidly, giving me a shortcut to their money. He was loud enough and off center enough to take my concentration off the cards and onto him. And, his irrational large bets totally changed the strategy necessary to stay afloat.

I lost a close hand – what should have been a cheap hand, but wasn’t because of his constant raising. I didn’t lose to him, but I lost. Before long I had shed $70. I tried hard not to go on tilt, to keep my play steady.

Little by little I played back and after a few hours left up $15.

During my play he was visited by at least two floor people. One came on my insistence. The other was called in by the dealer. He should have been cut off from liquor. He should have been removed from the table. I suppose if I would have pressed a little more he would have. On the other hand, I don’t want some huge drunk upset with me.

Dinner tonight was just Steffie, Helaine and me at the California Pizza Kitchen. Helaine and I are positive we’ve been served by this waiter at least 5-6 times before.

And now, my last chance at poker.

Blogger’s note: I continue to add photos to the gallery for this trip. You can see them by clicking here. The whole Vegas trip has its own category, which means you can link to these stories specifically by clicking here or read about the 2003 Vegas trip here.

It Takes Good Cards to Lose Big

Saturday was another beautiful day. Hot and dry. I think the dry is starting to take a toll. More than once I started to feel a little weak or light headed. I’m attributing it to dehydration and am going to ramp up the water intake.

I have to remember that even inside the dew point is low. Outside, the difference between the temperature and dew point encourages the rapid loss of body fluid. You DO perspire in Las Vegas. It just evaporates so quickly that you never notice.

I played some poker Saturday. So far I had won at every non-tournament session and lost in every tournament. I’ll explain why I’m separating those two when I summarize the trip from Connecticut.

I lost $307 – and lost it in a hurry. I didn’t play bad. I was attacked by a long string of unlikely occurrences. Someone who wouldn’t lay down a 10-J off suit to my Kings – even when the bet had been raised 4 times. Of course, in the end, she caught a straight.

If you calculated the odds for that happening, it was quite unlikely. But even an 80% probability is wrong 1 in 5 times.

This happened time-after-time-after-time. My Jacks with a King kicker lost to an Ace kicker.

Anyway, I watched $307 disappear as if the chips were evaporating like sweat in the Vegas sunshine. I’m not happy about what happened, but my play was fine. This kind of setback is absolutely expected, just as incredible hot nights are expected every once in a while.

I didn’t go on tilt. I didn’t try and chase my money. I stayed calm.

For at least five years, maybe longer, Helaine and I had talked about seeing Mac King at Harrah’s. Mac King performs twice daily at 1 and 3 PM. It is a family oriented comedy magic show.

As many times as we’d said, “This year for sure,” we’d never crossed the street to see him. On Saturday, with Steffie, Melissa, Michael and Max in tow, we did.

The show is dirt cheap to see. Helaine had 3 – 2 free ticket coupons. Our only obligation was to buy a $7 drink. With tax, 6 of us went to see Mac King for $49.20.

Playing off his Kentucky hayseed upbringing, he is very funny. The magic is simple, yet effective. The tricks are well done and folksy. There are no live animals, no expensive props. The charm of the show is, he’s charming.

I watched Max and Steffie, both laughing – Max on the level of a 6 year old and Steffie as a late teen. Seeing them smiling was part of my fun.

We had dinner at the Mirage buffet again. My capacity for ‘buffeting’ is rapidly diminishing. I worry about how much diet reversal has taken place in this week.

With time running out, I decided to play poker again. The losses from the afternoon continued. Before long I had lost another $175. With $25 left in my chip rack I started to recover and left the table, after four hours, with a $32 loss.

This late night $6/$12 table was one of the most lively and fun tables I had played at. A dealer from Imperial Palace sat at my right. A few seats farther was Lance from Texas. He reminded me of Rock Hudson in a Doris Day movie.

Lance was countrified and over-the-top Texas at the same time he was sophisticated. He was the grease that kept the table laughing and moving along.

In one hand, where the two of us were heads up, I felt guilty beating him and extracting extra chips. He had that kind of charm.

Blogger’s note: I continue to add photos to the gallery for this trip. You can see them by clicking here. The whole Vegas trip has its own category, which means you can link to these stories specifically by clicking here or read about the 2003 Vegas trip here.

It Is Paradise

After a few days of eating buffets, you do fill up. You do need to slow down. That awakening came today.

Breakfast this morning was at a small coffee stand in the hotel. I had a bagel and cup of coffee.

This coffee stand, like every other food place in Las Vegas, features oversized portions. Imagine muffins, baked at a nuclear power plant. That’s what you get. You won’t find this anywhere else… or we’d all be waddling around.

Michael, Melissa and Max were at the pool, and I headed there. I haven’t had my shirt off in public in a really long time, but the whole pool area was so inviting. The air was warm. So was the water.

Max, Michael and I took the slide down into the pool a few times. It was really a lot of fun.

I’m starting to think this is the perfect climate. Though the temperature was north of 100 today, it was comfortable. The humidity was bone dry low. In fact, sitting at the pool I wondered what the advantage of Florida or the Caribbean was?

Of course Las Vegas does have winter and it does get chilly. But, for someone like me in Connecticut, this would be considered a mild winter. Florida, on the other hand, has virtually no winter. Maybe this climate would be better when retirement comes along.

My sister and brother-in-law, busy with work related things most of the time we’d been here, showed up at the pool to say goodbye. They were catching a flight back to Milwaukee. Talk about culture shock!

Michael and Melissa had a friend coming over around lunch time, so Michael and I got a table at an open air restaurant at the pool. The birds at this restaurant must feel like they’ve died and gone to heaven as they have run of all the leftovers until the tables are bussed. I’m sure there’s some health concern, but it was sweet and no one seemed to mind. It’s like the birds are part of the whole aura of the place.

Jacques, the friend, showed up and had lunch with Michael, Melissa and a fading Max. Jacques is a choreographer involved with the new Cirque du Soleil production that will open soon at the MGM Grand. My cousin Michael works with Jacques’ dance company, Diavolo Dance Theatre, in Los Angeles (their website is www.diavolo.org). Jacques is French and seemed very theatrical (in a good way) with long flowing hair. Jacques’ family had a lot to do with the view at the pool: his grandfather, a Parisian fashion designer, is credited with inventing the bikini.

When my folks joined us at the table, Jacques kissed my mom on both cheeks. Very continental. She swooned. He kissed her on the way out too.

Tonight, my plan is to play in a very pricey poker tournament. This will be the highest stakes I’ve ever played. I don’t think I would be doing it, except I’m up for the trip. A loss here will turn my net into a negative number – but an acceptable one.

So, while I play this, and Helaine plays elsewhere, Steffie, Ali and my parents will be at New York, New York seeing Rita Rudner.

Oh – one last thing which I do not want to forget. While I was walking through the casino earlier today I passed an area of new slot machines being installed. I stopped to look and see what was going on. These slots are really just sophisticated video games – often built on PC platforms.

As I looked, one machine was actually booting. I looked at the screen and saw some things I recognized. The slot machine was booting into Linux! I thought that was geeky cool.

Blogger’s note: I continue to add photos to the gallery for this trip. You can see them by clicking here. The whole Vegas trip has its own category, which means you can link to these stories specifically by clicking here or read about the 2003 Vegas trip here.

Wednesday Evening Fun in Vegas

We took two cars and 11 people to dinner at the Bellagio buffet. Las Vegas is a buffet town and Bellagio is the buffet against which all others must be judged.

We always look forward to the Alaskan King Crab legs, but they were only adequate this time.

I tried venison and buffalo along with some prime rib. Both were good, but I’m not sure I’d change from beef. It’s all in the preparation anyway. Properly prepared, nearly anything can taste great. A bad chef can spoil anything.

I’m not quite sure how Helaine does it, but she got line passes to the buffet. These are worth their weight in gold since they move you to the head of what can be an hours long line!

After dinner we said goodnight to Michael, Melissa and Max and headed to the MGM Grand to see Carrot Top.

Mention Carrot Top to anyone and there are two possible reactions. If they’ve seen him, they’re a fan. If they haven’t, they can’t figure out why anyone would want to see him. My mother was in the latter class – until tonight. Now she’s a fan, as is my dad.

It took a little longer than usual to get to MGM Grand. We drove in the back way but couldn’t seem to get to the main valet. We did find a secondary valet stand, somewhat out of the way, and parked there.

Carrot Top was excellent, but most of his act was what I had seen before. Still, it was great to see Steffie, Ali and my folks really laugh hard. He really does work hard and is very clever with a boatload of props.

I’ve said this before, but if you enter the words “Carrot Top shirtless” on Google, my web pages show up first. Very weird.

That citation is there because I noticed last year how Carrot Top ends his show shirtless. He obviously works of his body and is quite buff. I know that’s not the persona he shows on his 1-800-CALL-ATT commercials, but it is the real deal.

About 2/3 of the way through the show I started to take out my camera to snap a photo. It didn’t take more than 10 seconds before a security guard was over my shoulder telling me not to and threatening to kick me out if I tried again. That was pretty creepy. I admit I went to do it, but I didn’t get to take a photo before he arrived.

After the show we returned to Mirage, and I played a little more poker. This time I won $169. Actually, I won more, but I took tips to the dealer and cocktail waitress from my take.

Poker has been going very well. I am pleased with my play. Tonight I managed to win even though my cards mostly sucked. I only saw the river three times and won each time.

I am seriously considering playing tomorrow’s tournament here at Mirage. It is a lot more pricey than anything I have ever played before, so it will be a decision I’ll mull. It’s certainly within the range of what I’m prepared to lose.

My goal this trip is to come home with a form 1099-G. That’s what you get if you win over $600 at one time (like a slot machine jackpot or winning a poker tournament). I haven’t gotten there yet. Tomorrow’s tournament could be my best chance.

Continue reading “Wednesday Evening Fun in Vegas”

That’s More Like It

I got to sleep in as the balloon ride was canceled due to high winds. Maybe Friday. I hope Friday – weather permitting.

Today’s breakfast was scattered. My folks went with my brother-in-law (does he look like Steven Spielberg, or what?) and sister. Who knows where Steffie and Ali went. We had a casual coffee and muffin with Michael, Melissa and Max.

I haven’t really spent much time at the pool, but I visited Steffie, Ali and her parents there. It really is beautiful. I’m going to have to spend a little time in the water before I go.

After breakfast, I decided to try my luck at poker again. I waited a few minutes and sat down at a $6/$12 Texas Hold ‘Em table.

A few years ago I would have been pooping in my pants. Now, I’m a little more comfortable. Maybe confident is a better word. I just don’t think I can be taken advantage of. That’s not to say I won’t lose. But if I do, it will be because of cards and luck, not poor play.

By the time I got up, I had won $232. I headed to a $55 satellite for a bigger tournament entry, but came in 4th – not good enough. Still, I’m way up for the day and I think I’m up for the trip.

I’m my way back to the room I passed the Siegfried and Roy showroom. It’s very sad to see the sign in front. It’s even sadder to be here at the Mirage and not see their faces on the huge sign in front of the hotel on Las Vegas Boulevard.

Greetings From Las Vegas

Good morning from seat 7F, cruising at 35,000 feet. I’m typing this aboard our non-stop Southwest flight to Las Vegas. Outside the plane, the Sun is shining. Puffy white clouds sit thousands of feet below. The ride is smooth.

As is customary on getaway day, we were up early. Very early. Outside, it was pouring. The Accuweather meteorologist on WCBS (they hide the fact that it’s Accuweather providing their forecasts since co-owned WINS has promoted Accuweather exclusivity for years) said there were thunderstorms and flooding in the area.

With a plethora of unused cell phone minutes, I transferred our home phone to my cell number. We’ll see how that works.

Instead of pulling the car out front, I loaded the bags in the garage. Farther to carry, but worth it to stay dry. If I needed to, I could have rearranging for more room, but with casual throws, the bags filled the rear of the Explorer.

It’s a holiday, so the traffic was light. Parking the car and the ride to the terminal were uneventful. Checking the bags was not.

We have locks on our bags. The locks are approved by the TSA and their employees are supposed to have master keys. The screener said he could get a key, but it would be easier if we’d unlock them and he’d see they were locked before hitting the log flume ride they take on their way to the plane.

As Helaine watched, they went through the X-Ray machine and then onto the belt without being relocked. By the time she told me, they were on their way downstairs – unlocked.

It’s not as if someone wants to steal my underwear, but there are some valuable items in there. It was out of the TSA’s control. If Southwest wanted to help, they could… and they did.

My hero is Jeanette, a counter agent at Southwest. She went downstairs and found my bags. And, when the lock wouldn’t work, she called the desk and asked me to help her on the phone.

There’s another reason to like Jeanette. This morning at 12:01 AM, I went on Southwest’s website to print boarding passes. Helaine and Steffie got into Group “A”. Because my ticket used a paper frequent flyer voucher, I couldn’t get a pass. When Jeanette saw our plight, she hand wrote a note on my boarding pass to let us go together.

Neither task was a big deal, but she did both with a smile, even though she was working at an ungodly hour on, what to most folks was, a holiday morning. She is part of the reason we have switched our allegiance to Southwest. There will be a note sent to Southwest commending her when we return.

The flight got off on time.

I like to sleep while flying, and did sleep a little, but this was a “Gus Souflas” flight. Gus is… or probably was a pilot for a major airline. One day, as my friend Howard flew coast-to-coast, Gus decided to note the crossing of every state boundary.

Today’s pilot was on the PA four or five times, always ending with the exact distance to Las Vegas.

From the air it’s astounding to see how much of the country looks empty. No disrespect to folks who live in the ‘great flyover’ but there does seem to be loads of unused space.

We flew south of Denver, over Colorado Springs. As we crossed the Rockies, there were still lots of snow covered peaks. No mountain was ‘capped’ with snow, like an idyllic picture of Mt. Fuji, but there were many veins of white.

We got to Las Vegas right on time. There’s construction in the baggage claim area and things were really jammed up. Thankfully, all our bags came – though the locks never were locked on one of the bags.

We went to Dollar to get our car. We had reserved a Dodge Intrepid, or similar. They were out of that class of car, so they said take a Pacifica – a car I’d never heard of, but turns out to be a six passenger, roomy cross between a van and SUV.

When we went to check out, the amount on our contract was different than what we were quoted. Unreal! It always happens. Is this a scam or what?

I had to go back to the office and work it out, which removes the advantage of being a Dollar Fast Lane member. But, things are now correct – and the car is nice.

My parents are seeing Mama Mia tonight at Mandalay Bay. The tickets were on Helaine’s name. So, we stopped there (and I double parked in what looked like a bus area) and she went to the box office. Then we stopped at Walgreen’s for a few cases of water.

I have never seen Las Vegas more crowded. It’s unreal. The sidewalks are jammed with people and Las Vegas Boulevard moved at a crawl. We turned in to the Mirage valet area and ended up in a long line of cars. Helaine got out while I made my way to the front of the line.

Helaine says nothing she asked for was here! Not a room near the elevator. Not two rooms nearby – one for us, one for Steffie and her friend Ali. Not a Strip view.

Still, the room is very nice. After all, it’s the Mirage – one of the most beautiful hotels in Las Vegas.

On the way to the room we ran into my folks and then my sister and brother-in-law. Only Cousin Michael, Melissa and Max are AWOL. I’m sure we’ll see them soon.

Meanwhile, a call to the Bell Desk says it will be at least 30 minutes until we get our bags! Helaine can’t wait. She’s showering. I’m writing.

More later from Fabulous Las Vegas.

Cousin Michael

Over the past few months, and more so recently, I have renewed my friendship with my cousin. That’s not a big deal in most families. My family is very small.

My dad is one of three children, my mother two. Much of my mother’s extended family never made it through World War II. I shudder to think of their fate.

I have one sister and she has three children. None of us live near each other.

My sister’s in Wisconsin – her children away at school most of the year. My folks are in Florida, living the ‘Club Med for Seniors’ lifestyle. Uncle Murray is still in Queens, New York – but his children are in Maryland, Florida and California. You get the point.

And then, there are the relatives I don’t speak with. I won’t go into it here, but it’s my guess every family has its dysfunctionality. Us too.

Cousin Michael was among my closest friends growing up. Through our late teens, in the late 60’s, we were together all the time traveling with friends to Manhattan on Friday’s and Saturday’s to see rock acts at the Village Theater (aka Fillmore East).

Michael was there when I saw Grateful Dead and Moby Grape on the bill with the Joshua Light Show. For a few bucks we saw dozens of shows in that ratty old theater with torn seats on the Lower East Side.

I remember summer evenings with Michael and our friend Larry, taking the subway to Greenwich Village and then walking down McDougall Street past the record stores and head shops. Sometimes stopping at Blimpies for a meal.

In those politically charged years we talked lots of politics. The Vietnam War was raging, and we were of the age to worry about being asked to go there, Michael, who was bolder than I, was much more active. We were all opinionated.

When I left for college, and then a few years later moved to Florida, we drifted apart. It’s only now that I am hearing about what he did during those years. His life would make a pretty compelling book. It would be interesting as fiction – but as a true life tale, it’s fascinating, spiced with familiar names in unfamiliar surroundings.

Michael’s life is very different now. He and his wife Melissa, and their son Max, live on the West Coast. Over the years, Michael mastered the art of education, and has all manner and form of degrees. A few weeks ago he added a PhD to his collection.

I think being married and having a child has been really good for Michael. I’m confident Michael is good for them too.

Recently, Michael and I have been spending more time together on the phone. It’s a shame he lives so far away. I get the better of the deal, calling when my minutes are free – and his probably not.

He is intellectual and analytical a good conversationalist and good sounding board. It’s a shame we lost so many years of friendship.

He, Melissa and Max will be joining us for vacation this summer. I’m looking forward to seeing them again. Las Vegas is not Greenwich Village. Though maybe, in 2004, we go to Las Vegas for the same reasons we went to Greenwich Village. I’m sure we’ll have this discussion later.

Who Came Here in 2003

I don’t have an incredibly long history as a webmaster. So, for me, it’s often confusing and at the same time interesting to peek at the inner workings of this site. I have owned the domain name geofffox.com for a few years, but it’s only been since late July that I’ve mounted this blog and photo gallery.

My webserver is actually located in Chicago, and run by hostforweb.com. It is shared with other small websites. I have access to most of the server’s guts through shell programs.

In order for you to see what you’re reading now, I have to upload all the files and images and programs from home. There are a number of programs, like the one that produces the weather forecast meteograms that run on clocks and execute a few times a day. I had to write the scripts to do that too.

Running this website has forced me to learn a little about a bunch of computer disciplines, like php, Perl, bash shell scripts, html and a veritable alphabet soup of minutiae. It’s been challenging and like Blanche Du Bois, I am often dependent on the kindness of strangers. The more I learn about computers, the less I realize I know.

With the year over in less than four hours, I though I’d summarize a little of what’s gone through this site in 2003. Since it was only born in July, the stats are (hopefully) less than what I’ll get to publish in 2004.

7.76 GB That’s the total amount of data I’ve spit out. It melts down to 10 CDROM’s worth… or a few DVD’s. The majority of my hits go to the United States, but most of Europe and the Pacific Rim are represented as well.

271.69 MB That’s what Google slurped up. Loads of spiders and crawlers moved through the site, picking up the data that goes into search engines. Google took down nearly 5 times as much data as the next biggest search engine and was responsible for 6711 page views by users. I have chronicled elsewhere my rise in the Google rankings – a feat which both intrigues and fascinates me.

Giblet gravy That’s the most used search engine phrase that sent people to the site. They must have been disappointed because I used the phrase to illustrate a point that had nothing to do with cooking. The next most requested phrase was Scotty Crowe, John Mayer’s road manager.

Thanks to everyone who’s written to ask me for John’s email address. Even if I had it, I couldn’t give it out. You will be glad to know your admiration is not misplaced. There’s a whole lot to admire about John. I don’t think he’ll be spoiled by success.

I’m not sure how or why, but people searching for dangerous Internet cafes in las vegas nv and she had to remove her shoes airport ended up being sent to geofffox.com.

My cousin Michael and his wife Melissa in Sunny Southern California became blog readers. More than anyone, Michael made me realize I could use an editor from time-to-time. I try to spell and grammar check, but you need a dispassionate eye too.

My dad reads the blog every day. That pleases me more than he’ll ever know.

From time to time I’ve looked at my logs, seeing where readers are coming from. There’s someone at NBC in NY who reads pretty regularly, same at the vendor of our station’s weather equipment and Mississippi State University, where I’m taking courses. Most readers are connecting through residential addresses, but I’m amazed by all the different companies and universities that are listed.

Once, I made reference to probes of my home computer by a virus ensconced in a PC at a San Fransisco Honda dealer. I made an analogy that used the word ‘doorknob’. A few days later a computer at a doorknob manufacturer downloaded a significant portion of this site. They’ll be as surprised as the giblet gravy crowd.

In 2003 approximately 17,000 separate viewers came calling to this site. Collectively you visited 30,000 times, downloading 872,000 files. My page counter now sits just north of 60,000.

Every word I write is read, re-read, edited, punched up and perused again before it goes online. One of the more pleasant surprises of blogging is how challenging and how much fun it is to write. I never felt that way about writing before.

Often it is a cathartic experience, allowing me to get something off my chest. Other times it’s fun to let you in on something I observed and want to share.

My family puts up with this to a point. I reveal a lot in this blog, but not everything. A friend wrote to tell me he was surprised to see this ‘warts and all’ self assessment. If there are warts here, they are a small portion of my own personal wart colony. Like most people, I keep a few skeletons in my closet.

Thanks for reading. It really means a lot to me. Really.

Am I John Mayer’s stalker?

Click here for more photos from the concert

As of Wednesday morning, I still hadn’t heard from John Mayer’s road manager, Scotty Crowe, as promised. Just a little worried (it is my nature), I sent another email to the management folks and got a reassuring email in return.

By early afternoon there was an upbeat voicemail at work. We were good to go (literally and figuratively). The only surprise was the time. “Meet and greet” is normally a post show event. Not with this show. John would be entertaining at 7:00 PM.

Anticipating Hartford traffic (which we never saw), Steffie and I arrived at The Meadows a bit before 6:00 PM. A line had already begun to form the entrance. People with tickets for the vast expanse of lawn wanted to stake their claim and find a good seat.

Good lawn seating is miles away from the stage. Bad seating is in another time zone.

We hit the “will call” window, looking for our “Meet and Greet” passes. Nada. But, that’s not at all unusual. As it turned out, the clerk was looking in the wrong place, and a turn to the left produced two round adhesive passes and a small Xeroxed set of instructions to the marshaling point.

The gates to The Meadows actually open at 6:30 PM. But the real excitement starts a few minutes earlier as a PA announcement lists what you can and cannot do… can and cannot bring.

Digital cameras were on the forbidden list. I decided to take it anyway and hope for the best. After all, meeting John and having the passes might be enough of a mitigating factor. As it turned out, the ‘frisker’ took a look at he camera, pondered for two seconds, and pronounced it within reason. My guess is, with the lens retracted, he thought it was a non-professional film camera.

My first rock concert was probably 1966 or 1967. I went with my Cousin Michael and Larry Lubetsky to the Village Theater, aka The Fillmore East. We did that often on Friday and Saturday nights. It was pure fun and music (with the Joshua Light Show and the smell of marijuana pungent enough to knock you on your butt).

Things have changed

If there is something that isn’t for sale, or marked with signage, I didn’t see it. I’m surprised a wheelchair company doesn’t sponsor the handicapped ramp.

In the parking lot were four perky post-teens (male and female) wearing red t-shirts. They would be passing out Trojan condoms throughout the evening.

Dodge sponsored this, Comcast that, and Channel 30 something else. Dunkin’ Donuts was passing out Fruit Coolatas, but most everything else was for sale and over priced beyond belief (again, please excuse my naivet�. I’m 53 and I’m not in the concert demo anymore).

Considering there is a law in Connecticut preventing a reseller from marking up a concert ticket by too much, you’d think the venue itself would follow that same policy when it came to bottled water or beer or pretzels. They could let you in for free and still make a profit.

A few minutes before 7:00 we met Scotty Crowe. It’s interesting how the Internet can catapult unlikely people into the limelight, and Scotty is one of them. Once I knew I’d be meeting him, I “Googled” him. Not only does he write John Mayer’s Road Journal, he also has some dedicated fans, including a Scotty Crowe bulletin board. Damn!

We went into the hallway that would serve as “Meet and Greet” central, and waited. I tried to make small talk with Scotty, but as is always the case when I do something like that, I came off as a total dork. At least I gave him a good PhotoShop tip (Ctl-L is perfect for enhancing video levels on digital photos).

John came out a few minutes later. I don’t notice these things, but Steffie said he was wearing the same outfit we saw him wear at Oakdale. He’s tall and thin and young and I’m jealous..

After saying hello and posing with the people in front of us, John came over. He was very nice (though after meeting him at KC-101, Oakdale and now here, I can’t help but wonder if he thinks I’m a stalker… or if I actually am a stalker).

As soon as he started to speak to Stefanie, he said, “You’re Stef, right?” I believe that was the magic moment as far as she was concerned. To be remembered by someone in his position, who meets so many people, was very gratifying.

I told John I thought he was smart, and a nice guy. But, I had seen others who had that… and lost it. I told him it was very important he remember to continue to be the kind of person he is now. I seriously think he will. But, as with Scotty a few minutes earlier, I felt like a dork after I said it. I hope he’ll think I was somewhat appropriate.

We had come very early and we found out we would be staying very late. Not only was John Mayer performing, so were the Counting Crows and an opening act before them. There was only so much we could take, so Steffie and I sat outside, people watching, while Stew (or possibly Stu… I wasn’t inside) performed.

We headed inside and found our seats before the Crows hit the stage.

If you have never been to The Meadows (and now that I’ve talked about all the commercialism, you should know, it’s the “ctnow.com Meadows Music Centre). It is a huge, high roofed pavilion with theater seating and a removable rear wall. There is no air conditioning. There are no ceiling fans. It was hot and sticky and uncomfortable.

I had never seen the Counting Crows and I was favorably impressed. Lead singer Adam Duritz, his hair fashioned with somewhat wild dreadlocks, is very talented and (and I always like this in a performance) a commanding presence on stage.

Toward the end of the set, he told a story of going to school in Watertown, CT and flunking a music course. Judging by the description, it is probably The Taft School. A website FAQ confirms it.

The Crows got off after 10:00 PM. The venue had not cooled down. Every once in a while, a brief whisper of air would move by, and you’d think, maybe it’s going to cool down. But the ‘waft’ was short lived; a tease at best.

Not quite 11:00, John Mayer took the stage. As appreciative as the audience was for the Counting Crows, they stepped it up a notch and a half for John. There’s no doubt that a packed house is good for the home team, and he is the home town here.

He is an artist who sounds just like his Cd’s (I wanted to write records, but that would make me very old, wouldn’t it?). That means his artistry is real and not produced into being. Most of the house stood for most of the performance.

He did the hits, and some cuts from the new CD (out in a few weeks) and then a phenomenal guitar solo. As good as he is as a troubadour, John Mayer is a masterful guitarist; as good as I’ve heard

There’s obviously some BB King in his riffs, and probably others I don’t recognize, but mostly it is his ability to make the guitar become its own voice that makes his playing so good. It is my contention that if he weren’t singing, he’d have an amazing career as a guitarist.

At 11:45 PM he said goodnight, only to come back on stage alone to do the first of two encore numbers.

We were out by midnight. As soon as I turned on the car radio, I realized I wasn’t hearing quite as well as I did when I went in! Within ten minutes we had navigated Hartford and gotten onto I-91 southbound.

Though Steffie tried (and she has pre-season field hockey practice tomorrow morning) she had only a few minutes of sleep before we were home.

Great night. I’d do it again.

Click here for more photos from the concert