It was JOC's birthday this weekend, and he had his birthday party in LA. He lives near Madera, which actually is in the middle of nowhere- pointing to where he lives on a map of CA actually lands your finger on an empty space west of Yosemite and just east of Madera. Which means, it's not convenient for *anyone* to get to, and hence the party in his hometown, Los Angeles.
One of the nice things about living in SF is that you can get plane tickets to LA on virtually no notice for $100 roundtrip. And that's before they build the supercool 200mph train that's going to run between LA and SF. It's scheduled to be done by 2018, which means that it might possibly be done by 2030, but I wouldn't put money on it.
So I hopped on a flight to LA. It was the usual story- couldn't get out of work quite when I wanted, so rather than take the train I had to drive, and drive fast, in order to get to the airport in time. But I still arrived at the gate a solid 20 minutes before takeoff, so it wasn't particularly close, for me anyway.
Once in LA, I picked up my rental car, which was a little Kia that was the absolute worst shade of puke-burnt-orange EVER (they ought to call it the Kia "Birth Control", because no way are you getting any driving a car like that), and headed to Paul and Terry's house, where the party was going to be.
Paul and Terry are awesome, and last time I was at their house, we had a six-degrees-of-separation moment when we realized that Terry was in Cats with the wife of one of my tutor friends from the NYC office. They are extremely generous people, and they have a great house for hosting parties.
I arrived around 630, and so I hung out with JOC and V and Paul and Terry, and helped set up a bit. And, then I fell asleep. I'd worked late the night before, and I'd had to get up early that morning to be in the office, plus I figured that any party involving JOC would go until the wee hours, so I took what was supposed to be a short nap, but turned out to be long enough that by the time I woke up, pretty much all the guests had arrived, and the party was in full force.
Since it was also United Nations day, people were encouraged to come as something relating to their favorite country. Generally speaking, I do not dress up, not since the Smurf Incident in 4th grade...
Up until 4th grade, I was pretty into the idea of dressing up on Halloween. But in 4th grade, my mom came home one day pretty close to Halloween and said she had bought me a costume. A Smurf costume, in fact. Since I liked watching the Smurfs on Saturday mornings.
Thing is, although I *did* enjoy watching the Smurfs on TV, I was also reaching that point in the development of any young boy where life was becoming extremely Darwinistic at school, and the last thing I needed to try and improve my survival probability was to show up dressed as a smurf. I mean, that's fine if you're obviously bigger than all the other boys, preferably in your grade and at least the next couple up, but that's seriously unwise if, just to pick something at random here, there are only 6 boys in your class and you are clearly the smallest one.
I explained all this to my mom. Well, OK, it was probably a little bit more like:
Me: "MOM! No WAY am I going to school dressed like a smurf!"
Mom: "What? I bought this costume for you! I bought it, so you are going to WEAR it. You LIKE the smurfs!"
What followed was variations on this exchange, right up until the morning of Halloween, which was a schoolday that year. We continued to have that fight even as my mom forcibly held me in place and painted my face blue, and put that stupid costume on me. She literally had to drag me out the door and stuff me into the car, and then when we got to school, I refused to get out. So there, on the street, in front of the other parents and the nuns, my mom had to reach inside the car and pull me out. I fought as best I could, holding onto everything possible, but ultimately I lost, and as soon as I was safely dumped on the sidewalk, my mom jumped back in the car and drove off.
What followed was a very, very long day. I won't describe it, except to say that it wasn't all that different from what you've seen on those nature shows, where the one smaller, weaker goat gets separated from the herd by the pack of ravenous wolves, and then the little goat valiantly gives its best shot at escaping before the story finally ends in a way which is not good for the goat.
Since that day, I have not dressed up for Halloween. Except for once in college when me and L and JH wore our costumes from the modern dance piece we were in (they were brightly colored silk pajamas) to the big Halloween party on campus. We declared ourselves to be The Three Tops, and we sang "My Girl" at the door to get in for free. But otherwise, I've avoided costumes.
Including at JOC's party. I looked up the colors I was wearing in the database of flags, and discovered that my colors matched the flag for Estonia, so I declared myself to be the representative from Estonia, but I don't think many people bought it.
There were some good costumes though, including Big E in a fez, and a girl who came as Angelina Jolie, complete with giant stick-on lips and a bandolier of little ethnic babies. That one won a prize.
In typical JOC fashion, the evening featured drinking and talking until the wee hours. By midnight, I was in the giant outdoor hot tub, and in fact I stayed put there until 4am, at which point I looked like a prune. But it was a wonderful night.
Sunday I got up and went to brunch with JOC and V and their families, in the same place where JOC and V got married. I hadn't been there since the wedding, and it was nice to see the place again. Many happy memories associated with that place and that weekend. We had a wonderful brunch, and afterwards I went out to Calabasas to visit Cara and Marty and Danny.
Danny is my unofficial godson, and he's in high school now, which is terrifying because I remember holding him in my arms as a baby when Cara brought him into the office so she could attend a big contract negotiation. He cried nonstop until he passed out, and then I was afraid to move him so I just sat there until long after I couldn't feel my legs anymore. And now he's in high school. I spent a few hours hanging out at their house and catching up, before heading back to Paul and Terry's to meet them and JOC and V for dinner.
After a wonderful Italian meal, we headed back to the hot tub, where once again we stayed up until the wee hours of the morning, which was awesome, but which I paid a certain price for since I had to get up and be out the door at 6am in order to get over the hill to catch my flight out of LAX. I suffered through the rest of the day.
But enh, sleep when you're dead, and all that...
Wednesday, October 28, 2009
Saturday, October 17, 2009
Beautiful days in HMB...
The sunset tonight
The movie of yesterday, which was utterly perfect weather:
Wednesday, October 14, 2009
What to do about all these wars...
Mom and I had a conversation the other day about Iraq/Afghanistan/Pakistan...
It's obviously a particularly charged subject for both of us, since both my brothers are in the military, they've served a combined 5 tours already and could conceivably serve more, and one has already been wounded over there once.
The particular trigger was a piece in the news about the possible decision to do a "surge" of troops into Afghanistan. There are a lot of places you can go to get a reasonable (or unreasonable) perspective on that, but here's mine:
The only actual threat to our physical security comes from terrorist cells, which are highly decentralized and aren't tied to any particular country. The only way to combat a threat like that is with absolutely superb intelligence. I argue that what we need is not 20,000 more soldiers in Afghanistan; what we need is 20,000 people who speak Arabic/Urdu/Pashto etc., who would be willing to do deep cover assignments in every major city in the Middle East, plus the major mosques in Western Europe and the U.S. That, plus better integration of efforts between existing U.S. intelligence/law enforcement agencies- don't forget that a couple different people in intelligence services flagged a couple of the 9/11 hijackers before 9/11, but the dots did not get connected, with the obvious tragic results. Note also that this intelligence was gathered just fine without a Patriot Act in existence to blithely gut our constitutional rights.
So, what's needed is not more military; it's more intelligence and better use of the information we have. Which brings me to:
Get the military the hell out of the Middle East.
If I were President, right now I would pressure the current Afghan and Iraqi governments to lease us land in a relatively removed part of each country for the next 99 years, a la Guantanamo. I would build serious bases in both places, and I would staff those bases with a couples of strike teams each. Then I would make the following international address:
"People of the world- listen up. First, to Iraqis: if you want to chop each other up based on something as trivial as whether you are Sunnis, Shias, or Kurds, fine. That's your business. Personally, I don't think it's a great idea, but whatever. Also, if you really would rather have a autocratic loon run your country, because life was just so awesome under Saddam and you just miss that life, fine. Also your choice. Personally, I recommend capitalism and democracy, because that seems to be working out a lot better than the alternatives pretty much everywhere, but we're not spending another goddamned dime trying to force either one on you. Do what you want.
What we're going to do instead is hang out here on our base, and we'll shoot anyone who comes near it. What we'll be doing on this base is closely monitoring your entire frickin' country for anything that looks like it might have even the tiniest little possibility of being a terrorist training camp or terrorist cell. Anytime we find such a thing, we'll go and totally destroy it. We will do this whenever we bloody well feel like it, and without any prior notice delivered to you.
Second, to you folks in Afghanistan- the same goes for you. We're going to hang out on the base here, and shoot anyone who comes near it. The moment we withdraw from the rest of your country, the Taliban are going to come flooding back. And if life under the Taliban is so goddamned awesome, then welcome them with open arms. Otherwise, I again recommend considering capitalism and democracy. In the meantime, we'll also be monitoring your country from our base, and anything that even hints of being terrorist-related will be destroyed. Again, we will do this whenever we want, with no notice given to whatever circus act you're calling a government at the time.
Finally, to the rest of the world- we're expanding our intelligence activities everywhere. Anytime we find a terrorist cell, we're taking it out, and then we'll let you know we did it. And frankly my dears, I don't give a damn about "national sovereignty". Believe me, if we take a terrorist cell out on your soil, we just did you a favor. Pakistan, that especially applies to you. Everybody clear? Great. God bless."
In the end, if people in places like Afghanistan and Iraq want to have shitty, oppressive, corrupt governments, they will. And life will suck for them as a result. People will die, immense quantities of human potential will be squandered, etc. But eventually they'll realize that life sucks, and that life doesn't suck in a lot of other places, and at that point they'll make progress toward better governance. But you can't do it for them, and the billions of dollars we're spending trying is just a tragic waste of money that would be better spent on jobs and infrastructure here, plus sensible assistance to countries that are actually making an effort not to be basket cases.
And don't even get me started on the wasted lives. I've more than once considered running for office solely because the prospect of losing a brother in one of these retarded wars makes me sick to my stomach. But so far, I've resisted the temptation.
Besides, this blog ensures my unelectability anyway...
It's obviously a particularly charged subject for both of us, since both my brothers are in the military, they've served a combined 5 tours already and could conceivably serve more, and one has already been wounded over there once.
The particular trigger was a piece in the news about the possible decision to do a "surge" of troops into Afghanistan. There are a lot of places you can go to get a reasonable (or unreasonable) perspective on that, but here's mine:
The only actual threat to our physical security comes from terrorist cells, which are highly decentralized and aren't tied to any particular country. The only way to combat a threat like that is with absolutely superb intelligence. I argue that what we need is not 20,000 more soldiers in Afghanistan; what we need is 20,000 people who speak Arabic/Urdu/Pashto etc., who would be willing to do deep cover assignments in every major city in the Middle East, plus the major mosques in Western Europe and the U.S. That, plus better integration of efforts between existing U.S. intelligence/law enforcement agencies- don't forget that a couple different people in intelligence services flagged a couple of the 9/11 hijackers before 9/11, but the dots did not get connected, with the obvious tragic results. Note also that this intelligence was gathered just fine without a Patriot Act in existence to blithely gut our constitutional rights.
So, what's needed is not more military; it's more intelligence and better use of the information we have. Which brings me to:
Get the military the hell out of the Middle East.
If I were President, right now I would pressure the current Afghan and Iraqi governments to lease us land in a relatively removed part of each country for the next 99 years, a la Guantanamo. I would build serious bases in both places, and I would staff those bases with a couples of strike teams each. Then I would make the following international address:
"People of the world- listen up. First, to Iraqis: if you want to chop each other up based on something as trivial as whether you are Sunnis, Shias, or Kurds, fine. That's your business. Personally, I don't think it's a great idea, but whatever. Also, if you really would rather have a autocratic loon run your country, because life was just so awesome under Saddam and you just miss that life, fine. Also your choice. Personally, I recommend capitalism and democracy, because that seems to be working out a lot better than the alternatives pretty much everywhere, but we're not spending another goddamned dime trying to force either one on you. Do what you want.
What we're going to do instead is hang out here on our base, and we'll shoot anyone who comes near it. What we'll be doing on this base is closely monitoring your entire frickin' country for anything that looks like it might have even the tiniest little possibility of being a terrorist training camp or terrorist cell. Anytime we find such a thing, we'll go and totally destroy it. We will do this whenever we bloody well feel like it, and without any prior notice delivered to you.
Second, to you folks in Afghanistan- the same goes for you. We're going to hang out on the base here, and shoot anyone who comes near it. The moment we withdraw from the rest of your country, the Taliban are going to come flooding back. And if life under the Taliban is so goddamned awesome, then welcome them with open arms. Otherwise, I again recommend considering capitalism and democracy. In the meantime, we'll also be monitoring your country from our base, and anything that even hints of being terrorist-related will be destroyed. Again, we will do this whenever we want, with no notice given to whatever circus act you're calling a government at the time.
Finally, to the rest of the world- we're expanding our intelligence activities everywhere. Anytime we find a terrorist cell, we're taking it out, and then we'll let you know we did it. And frankly my dears, I don't give a damn about "national sovereignty". Believe me, if we take a terrorist cell out on your soil, we just did you a favor. Pakistan, that especially applies to you. Everybody clear? Great. God bless."
In the end, if people in places like Afghanistan and Iraq want to have shitty, oppressive, corrupt governments, they will. And life will suck for them as a result. People will die, immense quantities of human potential will be squandered, etc. But eventually they'll realize that life sucks, and that life doesn't suck in a lot of other places, and at that point they'll make progress toward better governance. But you can't do it for them, and the billions of dollars we're spending trying is just a tragic waste of money that would be better spent on jobs and infrastructure here, plus sensible assistance to countries that are actually making an effort not to be basket cases.
And don't even get me started on the wasted lives. I've more than once considered running for office solely because the prospect of losing a brother in one of these retarded wars makes me sick to my stomach. But so far, I've resisted the temptation.
Besides, this blog ensures my unelectability anyway...
Saturday, October 10, 2009
Don't judge me...
I hate it when a stranger looks at you, and you know that right now they're judging you in some way.
I bring this up because mom is out here visiting right now, and the thing is, she fell in the grocery store last week. One of those big metal wheeled ladders that they use to stock the upper shelves was blocking the shelf that she wanted something from, so she tried to climb through it, tripped on the metal ankle-level bar, and smashed the side of her face in against one of the vertical supports. Gushed blood everywhere, had to get 4 stitches in the side of her face, and now is sporting a HUGE shiner.
Which means a number of things. First, it meant that our first activity together upon her arrival was for me to take her down to the Palo Alto Medical Foundation's urgent care facility to get the stitches taken out, since her doctor told her they should come out on what turned out to be her first day here. It had been almost 3 whole weeks since the last time I had to deal with a medical issue, so I'd been feeling a void in my life anyhow.
But it also means that whenever we walk up to a counter together, for lunch or something, people look at her, see her enormous black eye, and then look at me. And I can see them thinking. It's painfully obvious what they're thinking- "Oh my god, is he BEATING this poor old woman? Does he HIT her??"
After the first few times, I got so annoyed, I almost wanted to pre-emptively shout "SHE FELL IN THE STORE, GODDAMMIT!!", but let's face it- that isn't going to help. In fact, it's just going to make it worse. "Riiiiiiight," they'll think, "She fell in the store. Uh huh. Didn't Suzanne Vega write a song about that?"
Yes, she did. You probably remember it:
"My name is Mary
I fell in the grocery store
I live in Saint Loo-ee
You've probably never been there before.
If you see me
With a black eye
And I'm there with a
Shifty looking kinda guy
Just don't ask me what it is
Just don't ask me what it is
Just don't ask me, what it is."
And of course, it doesn't help that I look nothing like her, so it's not like people can assume I'm her son or something. People probably just think I'm some thug that's beating up an old woman for her social security checks.
The irony of that, especially with the grocery store connection, is that when I was about 3, my mom would often take me grocery shopping. My grandma always used to sing an old song called "Let Me Call You Sweetheart" to me to make me go to sleep, and I really liked it, so while I was sitting there in the grocery cart I would amuse myself by singing that song at the top of my lungs. Despite how obviously adorable that is, my mom was a little embarrassed by the spectacle I made of myself, bellowing that song continuously, barely even stopping to breathe, so she would park the cart at one end of the aisle, and then walk up that aisle and down the next, grabbing everything she needed in her hands, all the while pretending like I wasn't her kid- like she really had no idea whose little brown kid that was belting out old showtunes. And it probably worked, since I look nothing like her.
But in the great cycle of life, we often switch roles with our parents, and now I find myself shaking my head embarrassedly at my mother's grocery store antics:
Mom: "So, I think this next year I'm going to focus on my health. I need to keep exercising and stuff. Then I'll figure out what I'm going to do next."
Me: "That sounds like a great plan, mom. A couple of steps toward that goal, that you might want to seriously consider, are: (1) not forgetting to take your damn medicine all the time, and (2) not doing stupid shit like climbing around a metal ladder like you're a frickin' chimpanzee, rather than ask the 23-year-old stock boy to move it for you. I think you should make those things part of your health strategy."
So for all you dear readers who have read the stories in this blog and wondered to yourselves: "Why the hell does he do such stupid shit all the time?", I have a simple, one-word answer for you:
Genetics.
I bring this up because mom is out here visiting right now, and the thing is, she fell in the grocery store last week. One of those big metal wheeled ladders that they use to stock the upper shelves was blocking the shelf that she wanted something from, so she tried to climb through it, tripped on the metal ankle-level bar, and smashed the side of her face in against one of the vertical supports. Gushed blood everywhere, had to get 4 stitches in the side of her face, and now is sporting a HUGE shiner.
Which means a number of things. First, it meant that our first activity together upon her arrival was for me to take her down to the Palo Alto Medical Foundation's urgent care facility to get the stitches taken out, since her doctor told her they should come out on what turned out to be her first day here. It had been almost 3 whole weeks since the last time I had to deal with a medical issue, so I'd been feeling a void in my life anyhow.
But it also means that whenever we walk up to a counter together, for lunch or something, people look at her, see her enormous black eye, and then look at me. And I can see them thinking. It's painfully obvious what they're thinking- "Oh my god, is he BEATING this poor old woman? Does he HIT her??"
After the first few times, I got so annoyed, I almost wanted to pre-emptively shout "SHE FELL IN THE STORE, GODDAMMIT!!", but let's face it- that isn't going to help. In fact, it's just going to make it worse. "Riiiiiiight," they'll think, "She fell in the store. Uh huh. Didn't Suzanne Vega write a song about that?"
Yes, she did. You probably remember it:
"My name is Mary
I fell in the grocery store
I live in Saint Loo-ee
You've probably never been there before.
If you see me
With a black eye
And I'm there with a
Shifty looking kinda guy
Just don't ask me what it is
Just don't ask me what it is
Just don't ask me, what it is."
And of course, it doesn't help that I look nothing like her, so it's not like people can assume I'm her son or something. People probably just think I'm some thug that's beating up an old woman for her social security checks.
The irony of that, especially with the grocery store connection, is that when I was about 3, my mom would often take me grocery shopping. My grandma always used to sing an old song called "Let Me Call You Sweetheart" to me to make me go to sleep, and I really liked it, so while I was sitting there in the grocery cart I would amuse myself by singing that song at the top of my lungs. Despite how obviously adorable that is, my mom was a little embarrassed by the spectacle I made of myself, bellowing that song continuously, barely even stopping to breathe, so she would park the cart at one end of the aisle, and then walk up that aisle and down the next, grabbing everything she needed in her hands, all the while pretending like I wasn't her kid- like she really had no idea whose little brown kid that was belting out old showtunes. And it probably worked, since I look nothing like her.
But in the great cycle of life, we often switch roles with our parents, and now I find myself shaking my head embarrassedly at my mother's grocery store antics:
Mom: "So, I think this next year I'm going to focus on my health. I need to keep exercising and stuff. Then I'll figure out what I'm going to do next."
Me: "That sounds like a great plan, mom. A couple of steps toward that goal, that you might want to seriously consider, are: (1) not forgetting to take your damn medicine all the time, and (2) not doing stupid shit like climbing around a metal ladder like you're a frickin' chimpanzee, rather than ask the 23-year-old stock boy to move it for you. I think you should make those things part of your health strategy."
So for all you dear readers who have read the stories in this blog and wondered to yourselves: "Why the hell does he do such stupid shit all the time?", I have a simple, one-word answer for you:
Tuesday, October 6, 2009
Stirring the Pot: Chapter 5: Gay Marriage
I saw today that DC is about to pass an ordinance making gay marriage legal in the District. The usual suspects in Congress will kick and fuss and try to block it, and will likely fail. Which is fine with me.
But on the larger issue of gay marriage, here's where I stand:
Governments should not be in the business of recognizing marriages. Hetero, gay, whatever, the government shouldn't have anything to do with that. The government should only recognize civil unions between any two consenting adults. Civil unions have all the legal benefits of marriage (or should anyway- I'd fix that too if it were not so), for instance, joint property, health and retirement benefits, etc, but avoid all the religious overtones that the word "marriage" carries with it. I'd have all governments stop issuing "marriage licenses" immediately.
This way, any 2 adults who want to make a commitment to each other can, and they can get all the benefits associated with that. And, people who want to include or exclude other people from a religious concept like marriage can be free to do so. In this way, society can be supportive of equal rights, and people who want to discriminate due to whatever their religious beliefs are can do so. Everyone gets to live the way they want.
But I doubt this is going to happen anytime soon.
But on the larger issue of gay marriage, here's where I stand:
Governments should not be in the business of recognizing marriages. Hetero, gay, whatever, the government shouldn't have anything to do with that. The government should only recognize civil unions between any two consenting adults. Civil unions have all the legal benefits of marriage (or should anyway- I'd fix that too if it were not so), for instance, joint property, health and retirement benefits, etc, but avoid all the religious overtones that the word "marriage" carries with it. I'd have all governments stop issuing "marriage licenses" immediately.
This way, any 2 adults who want to make a commitment to each other can, and they can get all the benefits associated with that. And, people who want to include or exclude other people from a religious concept like marriage can be free to do so. In this way, society can be supportive of equal rights, and people who want to discriminate due to whatever their religious beliefs are can do so. Everyone gets to live the way they want.
But I doubt this is going to happen anytime soon.
Thursday, October 1, 2009
I lost on Jeopardy, ba-by...
I got back from a quick trip to LA this week...
Ed called me the other day to tell me he was going to be on Jeopardy, and that none of his other friends would be able to come. So, taking a quick look at the schedule, I decided to skip out of town for 2 days and see him on the show.
Southwest is magical: on 24 hours notice, I got a round-trip ticket to LA for $29 each way. That is a thing of beauty. Ed and I agreed to share a hotel room, and I got a rental car from Advantage for $14/day.
All these arrangements went down Sunday night, which means all day Monday I was slammed, seeing people back-to-back-to-back until it was time to race out of the office in a desperate attempt to get to the airport on time. As veterans of this blog know, desperate attempts by me to get to the airport on time pretty much always end well; it's the times where I try to be responsible that inevitably lead to disaster. And sure enough, with some hyper-aggressive driving on the 101, a little bit of shuttle karma, and a short line at security, I managed to make the flight a full 20 minutes before takeoff. Another job well done.
I spent the 55 minute flight to LA trying to solve a Rubik's Cube. Earlier that day I gave an interview to a prospective tutor named Leyan Lo, who until 2006 was the world record holder in Rubik's Cube solving, at 11.13 seconds. He had me mix up a cube for him, and then had me time him. It took him just over 16 seconds, and I have to tell you, it was amazing to watch. He then proceeded to teach me how to solve it, and presented me at the end of the interview with some instructions for how to do it. It was huge fun to solve it there with him, but I wanted to see if I could retain the knowledge long enough to do it again on my own later.
The verdict: nope.
My dance teacher (perhaps somewhat ironically named Gaye) always used to say that you had to learn something 5 times before you really learned it. How to solve a Rubik's Cube appears to follow that rule. Even with the written instructions I got bogged down.
That said, he gave a great math and physics interview, so he's almost certainly coming on board.
Anyway, in short order we landed in LA, and the girl next to me, who had been with some amusement watching me flail even with step-by-step instructions in front of my face, wished me luck. I headed out to find the shuttle to Advantage.
Now, Advantage rent-a-car is like the opposite of Advantage Testing; Advantage rent-a-car appears to be the cheapest option out there, with a service level to match. I realized after waiting a while that because it's a very small operation, the shuttle might only come when they were actually expecting someone, which meant waiting another 20 minutes, and I hadn't remembered to write down the number of the place, only the reservation number. So I hit upon a Brilliant Idea.
My Brilliant Idea was this: rental car places are all located in pretty much the same area, so why bother waiting for the Advantage shuttle? I could just jump the next major car rental shuttle, and then just spot for the Advantage lot.
So, 10 seconds later I jumped the Hertz shuttle, and off we went. As we passed through a light, I saw a sign that indicated that Alamo and Advantage were up the road. So, when we pulled into Hertz, I got out and started walking.
And walking.
And walking.
And walking.
It turns out that LAX is bordered by a pretty large, slowly decaying, totally-deserted-at-night industrial area, which is sprinkled here and there with car rental companies. Not, it turns out, especially adjacent to each other.
Ed called me on the phone as I was walking through a little urban meadow of broken concrete and shattered crack vials, and asked what the hell was taking so long, because he was starving. I informed him that (a) I was starving too because I hadn't actually had time to eat that day, and in fact had last had a meal over 24 hours previously, and (b) was trying to focus on finding the goddamned car rental place.
At that point, I was saved by... wait for it... the Advantage shuttle. Not that it picked me up or anything, but I saw it go whizzing by, probably on its way back from the airport, where it failed to find me in this universe but presumably *did* find me in some of the other multitudes of universes in which I did smart, normal-people things like sit down and fucking wait 20 minutes, or, you know, write down the car rental phone number or something. I saw the shuttle disappear down a little side street.
I ran after it, and got to the corner just in time to see it distantly turning right. So I headed down that street for quite some time, and then eventually stumbled upon Advantage car rental.
Like I said, it's a small rental company, and probably doesn't get a lot of business at 9pm on a Monday night, so there were only 2 people working, and each one was helping someone. I was excited since there was no one ahead of me in line, figuring that that would imply a very short time until I was once again on the road in LA.
But, I guess when you're stuck at work on a Monday night, and there aren't many customers, your incentive is to go ve-e-e-e-e-e-ry slowly, as a means of alleviating the boredom. It took a solid 15 minutes before one of the 2 guys finished, and who knows how long they'd been helping these people before I showed up.
But I did finally get my little Hyundai Elantra, which made me nostalgic for Julio, my Hyundai Elantra with the stupid little spoiler that I had from 1995-2003, before trading it to Plaid for a pile of used science fiction books so his kid would have a car to drive. After all, I had just moved to NYC, and knew I wouldn't be needing a car for the foreseeable. I got in this newer, less charactered Elantra and headed for the Radisson in Culver City.
Once there, Ed and I greeted each as we are wont to do:
Me: "Yo dude, good to see you!"
Ed: "Yo dawg, what's up?"
Me: "Dude, I'm really fucking hungry. Let's get out of here and get some food."
Ed: "Me too. But first I have to finish dealing with my clothes here."
Me: "WHAT? You couldn't have fucking done that during the SIX HOURS you've already been here? Can't this wait?"
Ed: "Fuck you. Listen, I don't iron. What I do is hang my clothes in the bathroom and turn on the shower, and let the steam take care of most of the wrinkles. So I did that tonight. But then my brother called and I was on the phone with him for an hour and forgot that my clothes were in the bathroom getting steamed. I just got off the phone with him 2 minutes before you got here. Here, feel this shirt."
I feel the shirt. It is very, very, VERY damp.
Me: "Dude, you are fucking retarded."
Ed: "Hey- why don't you shut the fuck up and let me finish dealing with this, huh? How 'bout that?"
There are some days where I feel that, if Ed and I hadn't each become high-end tutors, we'd instead have become Vincent and Jules (John Travolta and Samuel Jackson) from Pulp Fiction.
So I waited for Ed, and then we headed off to Tito's Tacos. Mmmmmmm, Tito's. I don't know what Tito is doing there, but he makes the best damned taco-stand tacos on earth, bar none. We had a long leisurely dinner and played catch up, and then headed back to the hotel.
The next morning, Ed had to be on a 730am shuttle, so he had his wake-up call set for 530am. Now, for me there is no significant difference between the time it takes for me to get ready for a special event, and the time it takes for me to get ready normally. Basically the entire difference can be attributed to (1) putting on shoes that actually have laces and therefore need to be tied, and (2) tying a tie. So all that tying of stuff adds up to about 2 extra minutes tops.
For Ed, there is no significant difference between the time it takes him to get ready for a special event, and the time it would take a really really neurotic woman to get ready for the same event. I'm not sure why that is- I mean, he's not putting on makeup or anything. At least, I don't think he is; if he is, it isn't making him any prettier. The 2 hours of time he allotted was supposed to allow for him to have a leisurely breakfast, but he ended up only having time to grab coffee to go. Again, I'm not sure why that is- I had my head under my pillow, trying vainly to sleep through all his pimping and preening.
As a contestant guest, I was supposed to be at the studio at 1030am. So, I got out of bed around 1010, was out the door at 1020, and arrived at the Sony lot at 1030. Fortunately, the intake process for all the guests and just random people who wanted to be in the studio audience took long enough for me to park the car and join in. They made us buddy up with someone for the long walk through the forest of sound stages, and I wound up talking to the new husband of one of the contestants. They were also from NYC, and he was a biochemistry Ph.D., so I spent the walk trying to recruit him into Advantage.
Once in the studio, the guy who announces for Jeopardy explained how the day would go for us. They film 3 shows in the morning, take a mandatory 1-hr lunch break, and then film 2 more shows. So, an entire week of Jeopardy happens in 1 day. Alex Trabek simply goes backstage and changes suits in the break between shows, and then also comes out and takes questions from the audience. That's the stuff I remember being told. Now, Ed swears that he was told by the Jeopardy folks that we, the contestant guests, were ALSO told not to look at, try to communicate with, or otherwise acknowledge the future contestants, who sit in the section next to us while they await their turn up on the stage, on the grounds that the Jeopardy folks need to ensure that there's not even a snowball's chance of any cheating occurring.
I guess, in retrospect, that would explain why, when the contestants filed in and starting sitting down in the section next to us, and I started waving, flashing 2 thumbs up, and smiling encouragingly at Ed, all the other contestant guests seemed oddly restrained, and Ed seemed, well, sheepish.
Ah well. I, uh, may have drifted in and out a little bit during that spiel at the beginning. And following directions has never been one of my core competencies anyway.
I brought some ACTs with me to work on, anticipating that there would be a lot of down time. But actually, there surprisingly wasn't. But I also used the paper I brought with me to keep score of how many answers I knew all throughout the day, just to see if I had any chance as a contestant myself. Basically, it broke down like this:
science/geography/vocabulary: 5/5
history/literature/current events: 2/5 - 4/5
fine art/music/sports: 1/5 - 2/5
anything with movies, TV, or celebrities: 0/5
And with that last one, that's 0/5 *every* *time*. And it's not like I was guessing wrong, and then saying "oh right, I should have known that!" I mean, the questions get read, and I have blank, Homer Simpson stare. Then the answer is announced, and I *still* have blank, Homer Simpson stare. The answers didn't mean anything more to me than the questions.
Game 1 started with a male returning champion, and a woman originally from upstate NY who now lived in LA and was a patent attorney, and someone else challenging. LA woman managed to knock off the champion in a relatively well-contested match.
Then, 2 members from the contestant pool were chosen at random to come up and take the stage to challenge LA woman in Game 2. No Ed though, and no Roopa, who was the wife of biochem dude. Interestingly, as I had bonded with her husband, I could see that Roopa and Ed were sitting next to each other and had apparently bonded as well.
LA woman, whose house had burned down a couple months before in one of the SoCal fires, dispatched both those challengers pretty handily. 2 more contestants were chosen at random for Game 3. Still no Ed and no Roopa.
Game 3 was marginally better contested, but still ended in a pretty convincing victory for LA woman. Now it was time for lunch. Contestants were kept sequestered in the dining area for Jeopardy staff, while we were told to walk off the lot and forage. So I found some Japanese food in a minimall across the street, and came back to discover that I was apparently late (they made me leave my cell ph in the car so I had no way of keeping time, but was *sure* I hadn't been gone that long), and so I had to run across the Sony lot by myself. Fortunately, I remembered the way back and got to the studio just as they were closing the doors.
Which was good, because Ed was up for Game 4, along with a woman from South Dakota somewhere. Ed and LA woman went at each other like heavyweight fighters, leaving Dakota girl in the dust. They went into Final Jeopardy tied at $9600 apiece, with Dakota girl in a distant 3rd at $2400. The category was "Pulitzer Prize for Drama".
Uh oh.
Right away, I knew this was going to be trouble. Ed's not a big drama buff, and had it been me up there, I would have bet $0 and hoped that LA woman got it wrong, simply because I would estimate my probability of getting a Final Jeopardy question in a category like that correct to be less than 1%.
Ed, however, true to his nature, went balls-out and bet it all. And... got it wrong. Meanwhile, both the women got it right, and so he finished 3rd. LA woman won again. It was an exciting game though, and it will air on 10/29. Ed was the most entertaining contestant that day by far though, so I recommend watching it even though you know the final outcome overall.
After the game, Ed came back out to sit next to me. Roopa was one of the 2 called up to battle with LA woman next in Game 5. We watched her finish 3rd also, while a dude from New Bedford knocked off LA woman. Then the day was done, so we headed out, back to the hotel...
Ed: "I need to be drinking. Now. Make it happen."
Me: "OK, I'm on it."
So we dropped off stuff at the hotel and headed down to Santa Monica. I took us to Yankee Doodles on the promenade, because I always enjoyed drinking there back in the days when I was in advertising and was expected to go to events in bars to schmooze with buyers.
So we drank and played pool for a couple hours before going to dinner at Father's Office on Montana with our friends Scholzeey and Allegra, who work in the LA Advantage office, and whom we have known since they joined the NYC Advantage office in 2004. They are a lot of fun, and we talked well into the night. It was good that they were there, because the entire night up until that point had been Ed lamenting the fact that knowing just one more question was the difference between having $1000, and having $19,200 and the pride of being a Jeopardy champion. He can be a little obsessive, and so I was glad we were able to at least mostly get his mind off of it.
I woke up the next morning with a headache that I recognized as being the thing I always end up with after a night of drinking with Ed. He and I had booked our flights out that evening, in case he had won a few games in a row, so we had a whole day in LA to kill. We didn't end up getting out of the hotel until noon, and so after a hearty anti-hangover breakfast, we went down to State beach and spent a couple hours laying out. It was so nice to just lay out on the sand. Then we hit the Beverly Center, and then Versailles for some Cuban food.
Of course, this story can't end without my noting that true to form, we spent too long at dinner, and wound up having to race through west LA to drop off the rental and get to LAX in time for our flights. But, with some aggressive driving and a short line at security, we both made it. So I wished Ed goodbye, and thanked him for a most entertaining couple days...
Me: "Dude, it was great seeing you! And thanks for another interesting story..."
Ed: "You know what would have made it an even more interesting story? Winning 19 thousand dollars. FUCK! fuckfuckfuck."
Me: "Dude, seriously, you've got to stop that."
Ed: "Dude, I'm over it. I'm fucking over it. Don't worry about it."
Riiiiiight.
Ed called me the other day to tell me he was going to be on Jeopardy, and that none of his other friends would be able to come. So, taking a quick look at the schedule, I decided to skip out of town for 2 days and see him on the show.
Southwest is magical: on 24 hours notice, I got a round-trip ticket to LA for $29 each way. That is a thing of beauty. Ed and I agreed to share a hotel room, and I got a rental car from Advantage for $14/day.
All these arrangements went down Sunday night, which means all day Monday I was slammed, seeing people back-to-back-to-back until it was time to race out of the office in a desperate attempt to get to the airport on time. As veterans of this blog know, desperate attempts by me to get to the airport on time pretty much always end well; it's the times where I try to be responsible that inevitably lead to disaster. And sure enough, with some hyper-aggressive driving on the 101, a little bit of shuttle karma, and a short line at security, I managed to make the flight a full 20 minutes before takeoff. Another job well done.
I spent the 55 minute flight to LA trying to solve a Rubik's Cube. Earlier that day I gave an interview to a prospective tutor named Leyan Lo, who until 2006 was the world record holder in Rubik's Cube solving, at 11.13 seconds. He had me mix up a cube for him, and then had me time him. It took him just over 16 seconds, and I have to tell you, it was amazing to watch. He then proceeded to teach me how to solve it, and presented me at the end of the interview with some instructions for how to do it. It was huge fun to solve it there with him, but I wanted to see if I could retain the knowledge long enough to do it again on my own later.
The verdict: nope.
My dance teacher (perhaps somewhat ironically named Gaye) always used to say that you had to learn something 5 times before you really learned it. How to solve a Rubik's Cube appears to follow that rule. Even with the written instructions I got bogged down.
That said, he gave a great math and physics interview, so he's almost certainly coming on board.
Anyway, in short order we landed in LA, and the girl next to me, who had been with some amusement watching me flail even with step-by-step instructions in front of my face, wished me luck. I headed out to find the shuttle to Advantage.
Now, Advantage rent-a-car is like the opposite of Advantage Testing; Advantage rent-a-car appears to be the cheapest option out there, with a service level to match. I realized after waiting a while that because it's a very small operation, the shuttle might only come when they were actually expecting someone, which meant waiting another 20 minutes, and I hadn't remembered to write down the number of the place, only the reservation number. So I hit upon a Brilliant Idea.
My Brilliant Idea was this: rental car places are all located in pretty much the same area, so why bother waiting for the Advantage shuttle? I could just jump the next major car rental shuttle, and then just spot for the Advantage lot.
So, 10 seconds later I jumped the Hertz shuttle, and off we went. As we passed through a light, I saw a sign that indicated that Alamo and Advantage were up the road. So, when we pulled into Hertz, I got out and started walking.
And walking.
And walking.
And walking.
It turns out that LAX is bordered by a pretty large, slowly decaying, totally-deserted-at-night industrial area, which is sprinkled here and there with car rental companies. Not, it turns out, especially adjacent to each other.
Ed called me on the phone as I was walking through a little urban meadow of broken concrete and shattered crack vials, and asked what the hell was taking so long, because he was starving. I informed him that (a) I was starving too because I hadn't actually had time to eat that day, and in fact had last had a meal over 24 hours previously, and (b) was trying to focus on finding the goddamned car rental place.
At that point, I was saved by... wait for it... the Advantage shuttle. Not that it picked me up or anything, but I saw it go whizzing by, probably on its way back from the airport, where it failed to find me in this universe but presumably *did* find me in some of the other multitudes of universes in which I did smart, normal-people things like sit down and fucking wait 20 minutes, or, you know, write down the car rental phone number or something. I saw the shuttle disappear down a little side street.
I ran after it, and got to the corner just in time to see it distantly turning right. So I headed down that street for quite some time, and then eventually stumbled upon Advantage car rental.
Like I said, it's a small rental company, and probably doesn't get a lot of business at 9pm on a Monday night, so there were only 2 people working, and each one was helping someone. I was excited since there was no one ahead of me in line, figuring that that would imply a very short time until I was once again on the road in LA.
But, I guess when you're stuck at work on a Monday night, and there aren't many customers, your incentive is to go ve-e-e-e-e-e-ry slowly, as a means of alleviating the boredom. It took a solid 15 minutes before one of the 2 guys finished, and who knows how long they'd been helping these people before I showed up.
But I did finally get my little Hyundai Elantra, which made me nostalgic for Julio, my Hyundai Elantra with the stupid little spoiler that I had from 1995-2003, before trading it to Plaid for a pile of used science fiction books so his kid would have a car to drive. After all, I had just moved to NYC, and knew I wouldn't be needing a car for the foreseeable. I got in this newer, less charactered Elantra and headed for the Radisson in Culver City.
Once there, Ed and I greeted each as we are wont to do:
Me: "Yo dude, good to see you!"
Ed: "Yo dawg, what's up?"
Me: "Dude, I'm really fucking hungry. Let's get out of here and get some food."
Ed: "Me too. But first I have to finish dealing with my clothes here."
Me: "WHAT? You couldn't have fucking done that during the SIX HOURS you've already been here? Can't this wait?"
Ed: "Fuck you. Listen, I don't iron. What I do is hang my clothes in the bathroom and turn on the shower, and let the steam take care of most of the wrinkles. So I did that tonight. But then my brother called and I was on the phone with him for an hour and forgot that my clothes were in the bathroom getting steamed. I just got off the phone with him 2 minutes before you got here. Here, feel this shirt."
I feel the shirt. It is very, very, VERY damp.
Me: "Dude, you are fucking retarded."
Ed: "Hey- why don't you shut the fuck up and let me finish dealing with this, huh? How 'bout that?"
There are some days where I feel that, if Ed and I hadn't each become high-end tutors, we'd instead have become Vincent and Jules (John Travolta and Samuel Jackson) from Pulp Fiction.
So I waited for Ed, and then we headed off to Tito's Tacos. Mmmmmmm, Tito's. I don't know what Tito is doing there, but he makes the best damned taco-stand tacos on earth, bar none. We had a long leisurely dinner and played catch up, and then headed back to the hotel.
The next morning, Ed had to be on a 730am shuttle, so he had his wake-up call set for 530am. Now, for me there is no significant difference between the time it takes for me to get ready for a special event, and the time it takes for me to get ready normally. Basically the entire difference can be attributed to (1) putting on shoes that actually have laces and therefore need to be tied, and (2) tying a tie. So all that tying of stuff adds up to about 2 extra minutes tops.
For Ed, there is no significant difference between the time it takes him to get ready for a special event, and the time it would take a really really neurotic woman to get ready for the same event. I'm not sure why that is- I mean, he's not putting on makeup or anything. At least, I don't think he is; if he is, it isn't making him any prettier. The 2 hours of time he allotted was supposed to allow for him to have a leisurely breakfast, but he ended up only having time to grab coffee to go. Again, I'm not sure why that is- I had my head under my pillow, trying vainly to sleep through all his pimping and preening.
As a contestant guest, I was supposed to be at the studio at 1030am. So, I got out of bed around 1010, was out the door at 1020, and arrived at the Sony lot at 1030. Fortunately, the intake process for all the guests and just random people who wanted to be in the studio audience took long enough for me to park the car and join in. They made us buddy up with someone for the long walk through the forest of sound stages, and I wound up talking to the new husband of one of the contestants. They were also from NYC, and he was a biochemistry Ph.D., so I spent the walk trying to recruit him into Advantage.
Once in the studio, the guy who announces for Jeopardy explained how the day would go for us. They film 3 shows in the morning, take a mandatory 1-hr lunch break, and then film 2 more shows. So, an entire week of Jeopardy happens in 1 day. Alex Trabek simply goes backstage and changes suits in the break between shows, and then also comes out and takes questions from the audience. That's the stuff I remember being told. Now, Ed swears that he was told by the Jeopardy folks that we, the contestant guests, were ALSO told not to look at, try to communicate with, or otherwise acknowledge the future contestants, who sit in the section next to us while they await their turn up on the stage, on the grounds that the Jeopardy folks need to ensure that there's not even a snowball's chance of any cheating occurring.
I guess, in retrospect, that would explain why, when the contestants filed in and starting sitting down in the section next to us, and I started waving, flashing 2 thumbs up, and smiling encouragingly at Ed, all the other contestant guests seemed oddly restrained, and Ed seemed, well, sheepish.
Ah well. I, uh, may have drifted in and out a little bit during that spiel at the beginning. And following directions has never been one of my core competencies anyway.
I brought some ACTs with me to work on, anticipating that there would be a lot of down time. But actually, there surprisingly wasn't. But I also used the paper I brought with me to keep score of how many answers I knew all throughout the day, just to see if I had any chance as a contestant myself. Basically, it broke down like this:
science/geography/vocabulary: 5/5
history/literature/current events: 2/5 - 4/5
fine art/music/sports: 1/5 - 2/5
anything with movies, TV, or celebrities: 0/5
And with that last one, that's 0/5 *every* *time*. And it's not like I was guessing wrong, and then saying "oh right, I should have known that!" I mean, the questions get read, and I have blank, Homer Simpson stare. Then the answer is announced, and I *still* have blank, Homer Simpson stare. The answers didn't mean anything more to me than the questions.
Game 1 started with a male returning champion, and a woman originally from upstate NY who now lived in LA and was a patent attorney, and someone else challenging. LA woman managed to knock off the champion in a relatively well-contested match.
Then, 2 members from the contestant pool were chosen at random to come up and take the stage to challenge LA woman in Game 2. No Ed though, and no Roopa, who was the wife of biochem dude. Interestingly, as I had bonded with her husband, I could see that Roopa and Ed were sitting next to each other and had apparently bonded as well.
LA woman, whose house had burned down a couple months before in one of the SoCal fires, dispatched both those challengers pretty handily. 2 more contestants were chosen at random for Game 3. Still no Ed and no Roopa.
Game 3 was marginally better contested, but still ended in a pretty convincing victory for LA woman. Now it was time for lunch. Contestants were kept sequestered in the dining area for Jeopardy staff, while we were told to walk off the lot and forage. So I found some Japanese food in a minimall across the street, and came back to discover that I was apparently late (they made me leave my cell ph in the car so I had no way of keeping time, but was *sure* I hadn't been gone that long), and so I had to run across the Sony lot by myself. Fortunately, I remembered the way back and got to the studio just as they were closing the doors.
Which was good, because Ed was up for Game 4, along with a woman from South Dakota somewhere. Ed and LA woman went at each other like heavyweight fighters, leaving Dakota girl in the dust. They went into Final Jeopardy tied at $9600 apiece, with Dakota girl in a distant 3rd at $2400. The category was "Pulitzer Prize for Drama".
Uh oh.
Right away, I knew this was going to be trouble. Ed's not a big drama buff, and had it been me up there, I would have bet $0 and hoped that LA woman got it wrong, simply because I would estimate my probability of getting a Final Jeopardy question in a category like that correct to be less than 1%.
Ed, however, true to his nature, went balls-out and bet it all. And... got it wrong. Meanwhile, both the women got it right, and so he finished 3rd. LA woman won again. It was an exciting game though, and it will air on 10/29. Ed was the most entertaining contestant that day by far though, so I recommend watching it even though you know the final outcome overall.
After the game, Ed came back out to sit next to me. Roopa was one of the 2 called up to battle with LA woman next in Game 5. We watched her finish 3rd also, while a dude from New Bedford knocked off LA woman. Then the day was done, so we headed out, back to the hotel...
Ed: "I need to be drinking. Now. Make it happen."
Me: "OK, I'm on it."
So we dropped off stuff at the hotel and headed down to Santa Monica. I took us to Yankee Doodles on the promenade, because I always enjoyed drinking there back in the days when I was in advertising and was expected to go to events in bars to schmooze with buyers.
So we drank and played pool for a couple hours before going to dinner at Father's Office on Montana with our friends Scholzeey and Allegra, who work in the LA Advantage office, and whom we have known since they joined the NYC Advantage office in 2004. They are a lot of fun, and we talked well into the night. It was good that they were there, because the entire night up until that point had been Ed lamenting the fact that knowing just one more question was the difference between having $1000, and having $19,200 and the pride of being a Jeopardy champion. He can be a little obsessive, and so I was glad we were able to at least mostly get his mind off of it.
I woke up the next morning with a headache that I recognized as being the thing I always end up with after a night of drinking with Ed. He and I had booked our flights out that evening, in case he had won a few games in a row, so we had a whole day in LA to kill. We didn't end up getting out of the hotel until noon, and so after a hearty anti-hangover breakfast, we went down to State beach and spent a couple hours laying out. It was so nice to just lay out on the sand. Then we hit the Beverly Center, and then Versailles for some Cuban food.
Of course, this story can't end without my noting that true to form, we spent too long at dinner, and wound up having to race through west LA to drop off the rental and get to LAX in time for our flights. But, with some aggressive driving and a short line at security, we both made it. So I wished Ed goodbye, and thanked him for a most entertaining couple days...
Me: "Dude, it was great seeing you! And thanks for another interesting story..."
Ed: "You know what would have made it an even more interesting story? Winning 19 thousand dollars. FUCK! fuckfuckfuck."
Me: "Dude, seriously, you've got to stop that."
Ed: "Dude, I'm over it. I'm fucking over it. Don't worry about it."
Riiiiiight.
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