Really, Ad? Really?

I've been saying for a long time that Facebook has some of the shoddiest, most poorly made ads on the internet. I don't know if they're tailor made for stupid people, farmed out to a non-english speaking country, or the creator just doesn't know how to use spell check, but they're the worst.

Usually it's some poorly worded statement like "Singles Gorgeous Girls Over 30" or "1 Flat Stomach Rule: Obey!" Many times it's targeted based on your Facebook networks, so I get things like "Investment Opportunity for Purdue Grads" or "Heal Your PTSD- Watch 'A Soldier's Heart'" (I'm in the Navy network, after all). But check out the dandy it just fed me:

Really? Does anyone check these before they stream it out to millions of people? I can't imagine Google or Facebook being okay with this. What were they thinking?

"Let's see, cash background: Check. Bikini girl with giant knockers: Check. Wait...wait...her boobs can be the O's in 'Google!' Slap on a line about my pijama and hello promotion!"

Really, it's just sad.

A Bad Driving First

Yes- it has been over a month since I wrote a new post, and over two months since I wrote a real post. In my defense, I've had a lot of stuff to do. Plus I got Guitar Hero: World Tour for Christmas and you have no idea how much willpower it's taking to do something other than play that game in my free time.

So I'm going to ease my way back into this, and simply describe something that happened on the way to work today. I think I've mentioned this before, but this is a common driving practice in Southern Maryland: Picture two cars that are stopped opposite each other at a red light- one of them is turning left and the other is going straight. It is not at all out of the ordinary for the left turning car to gun it and turn in front of the oncoming traffic as soon as the light turns green, knowing full well that from the other side of the intersection are coming cars that are driving straight, clearly in possession of the right of way. I cannot understate this: this happens all the time. Almost every morning on my way to work, I honk at a left turning car as I brake, because I would've t-boned them had I just proceeded on my straight, non-turning, right of way path. I used to get mad, but it happens so often. The only reason I even honk anymore is to let them know that I know they're doing something totally illegal.

I get a variety of responses to the honk. Some people stop for a second, then continue with a puzzled look on their face as if they have no idea why I'm honking. I get a lot of the stink eye and other dirty looks. Quite often I get the finger. But this morning, well, this morning was different.

There I was, the first car at the red light, heading straight through the intersection. Opposite me was a white car with the left turn signal on. Over the years I've developed a sort of "Spidey Sense" about this- I just knew he was going to dart in front of me. I had my hand on the horn, at the ready.

The light turned green, and as a surprise to no one, the white car proceeded into the intersection, turning left directly in front of me as if I (and the cars behind me) weren't even there. So of course, I laid on the horn. This caused the white car to slow to a halt. So for those keeping score at home, allow me to set the scene. There I am, about a quarter of the way into the intersection. There's the white car, mid left turn in the center of the intersection, completely blocking traffic in either direction. The passenger window rolls down, the driver holds up his hand, extending his middle finger, hand goes down, window goes up, and the white car carries on it's way.

It's important to keep in mind that we were not the only two cars on the road. There were several people behind me, and several behind him. Through my years of honking at these people I've always been amazed by the indignant middle fingers I get for calling them out on something they know they're doing that's wrong. It's like, you know that what you're doing is illegal- why are you mad at me for pointing it out? But the gall to attempt something illegal, and when you get honked at, stop in the middle of an intersection and make 15 other cars wait in the thick of the morning rush to flip off someone that was completely right? That's a new level. Seriously, where are the cops when you need them?

Annoying Commercials

I think by now we've established that I love it when I write about something, and then later a "real" news outlet does a story about the same thing. Well, here's the latest:

Today The Slate (hence I say "real"...and for that matter, "news") is running a column about the worst commercials on TV. They detail that awful The Ladders commercial that I complained about back in April, and they have pretty much the same take- basically that the original version was patently offensive.

Not only that, but they also talk about another commercial that I hated enough to complain to my friends, but not enough to post about. It's the Century 21 ad where a mean, bully of a wife badgers her husband into buying a new house- complete with cutting him off with "What!?!" and throwing him a head fake when he tries to express himself- until she basically breaks his spirit. The first time I saw that I thought "Wow, what an awful commercial," and it turns out I wasn't alone. It didn't make me want to hire an agent, it just made me feel bad for the guy. I guess the best part is he turned out to be right in the long run.

Okay, that's all. Have a great weekend!

Why Pay More? Or at All?

Take a minute to read this story about a boy who got stuck in one of those arcade prize machines in England. I'll wait.In summary: A boy who couldn't win the Pooh bear he wanted from a claw machine squeezed up inside to get it, only to then realize he couldn't get out.

Now you may see a charming tale about a precocious youth, but I see everything that's wrong with civilization here. Why? Let's look at the facts:

He was playing a game in which he knew the rules. You pay your money, and then you get one chance to snag the prize. But he failed at it for long enough that his mom went to get him more money so he could keep trying (this is an issue all on it's own).

After having too much trouble with the legal method, he then decided to just steal the toy. He stormed the machine to take the bear by force, only to get caught in one of the many cells he'll occupy throughout life.

What is his parent's reaction? "He's good at solving problems. He obviously saw getting the teddy bear as a problem and getting inside the machine as the answer." They praise his attempted theft. His mom spins it to show his act as proof that her little snowflake is a great kid! But this doesn't even compare to the worst part:

They give him the bear. As they say, they give him the bear to cheer him up. Why does he need cheering up? Because he got himself into an awful situation while attempting to steal the bear! And his reward is the very thing he was trying to steal! Let's look at the life lesson here- If you can't get what you want legally, just try to steal it and they give it to you.

I may be overreacting, but here's an analogy: A guy wants to buy a car, but after several attempts his credit just doesn't check out. So after hours he breaks into the dealership, only to find himself stuck inside. When the authorities finally free him he's so distraught that the dealership gives him a car for free, praising his problem solving ability. Aren't we just creating a new career criminal by instituting this pattern?

I say this now, but I'm pretty certain my kids are going to end up taking all manner of things apart and climbing on things they aren't supposed to. But there's no way in hell I would reward misbehavior by giving them the thing they tried to steal! Now get off my lawn, you darn kids.

Mother of the Year

Take a look at this picture I snapped on the Metro last weekend. And don't worry, I was super sneaky when I took it.Seems cute, right? A mother on the train sharing her iPod with her toddler son? Well, let me augment the picture for you with some details from the real-life experience: The music was

a) Absolutely blasting. I couldn't make out all the lyrics, but it was definitely

b) Rap. The repetitive bass and cymbal let me know that she was not listening to The Wiggles with her son. At one point we positively identified Party Like a Rock Star, and something tells me that it wasn't the edited version.

Am I the only one who finds this incredibly wrong? Shouldn't everybody know that blasting music into your toddler's ears could cause permanent damage? Plus, at one point she took his earphone out, upon which he immediately launched into a tantrum, yelling and kicking and grabbing for it until she put it back in his ear. It was bizarre, but at least he enjoys it.

Also, notice that she has her cell phone stuffed in her bra. I guess when your ears are bleeding from the sound overload you want to make sure you can feel the vibrating ringer!

Totally unrelated: I walked into my kitchen last night, and I got that feeling on my face like I had just run into a spider web. I looked up and there was, in fact, a big spider web running right down the middle of my kitchen. We're talking about an 8x12-ish room, and it was running the long way. It was pretty impressive, but is there really enough bug traffic in my kitchen to warrant a web right there?

Notes from the Left Coast

I just returned home from Los Angeles, where I went for a one-day meeting. That's right- I flew from DC to LA Tuesday, had a meeting Wednesday, then flew back Thursday. This may sound incredibly wasteful, and it is, but this was a Test Readiness Review and it was necessary to see the actual equipment. Believe you me, I make use of netmeetings and telecons whenever possible. And in this case, there were things we noticed that we wouldn't have seen over the phone. But I digress.

There were a few fun things I noticed on this trip to California. First, did everyone see this Ford commercial during the Superbowl? Well, the meeting was at a testing facility called NTS, and apparently that's where it was filmed. They showed us the centrifuge, and it looked the same (but I guess if you've seen one you've seen 'em all). I also found this behind the scenes video on YouTube that calls out the facility, so it looks legit.

The next fun thing was that I found a good modern rock radio station out there, and every day they did a little contest to win tickets to some concert or whatever (with the advent of XM I don't hear a whole lot of these things anymore). Around 5 o'clock every day they would do the eloquently named "Rush Hour Orgy." This entailed playing a ten-second sound clip that was three songs and one bit of movie dialogue all layered over each other- the first person that called in and could name all three bands and the movie won the tickets for that day. Easy enough, right? Both times I heard it there was only one band I didn't know. Anyway, they'd play the clip, and people would call in- but here's the thing: no one ever knew all the answers. It would be one thing if they guessed one of the bands wrong, but over half the callers would say "Okay, the movie was 'To Kill a Mockingbird,' and the bands were Def Leppard, Linkin Park, and I don't know the last one." Seriously. Or they'd say "One of the bands was Eurythmics, but I don't know anything else." THEN WHY ARE YOU CALLING IN? I can see that maybe they thought the last one would come to them when they were on hold, but once you get through at least guess! It's like on Cash Cab when people just say "I don't know." They don't use a shout out, they don't guess, they just take the strike. What is it with people? Anyway, it annoyed me everyday.

Finally, I stayed the final night at the Renaissance near LAX. I happened to notice the room service menu (I only get room service in emergencies- or in the UK when it costs about the same as going down to the built-in restaurant) and the breakfast section had an option for cold cereal: $6.00. I could go on about how ridiculous it is to pay six bucks for a bowl of Raisin Bran, but the next line read: "Add fresh berries or a sliced banana: +$7.00." Seven dollars for a banana? For real? Not only is that more than they charge for the cereal, but I just bought bananas for $0.50 a pound. Are they bringing you 14 pounds of banana? I guess hotels are like the airport, where they don't know how much things cost in the real world.

So now I'm back home after spending the weekend in DC helping Ramya move to her new apartment. It's a nice place, but it seems that the days when I could do manual labor for hours and not be incredibly tired and sore later are behind me. I feel like such an old man! I don't know how I ever did PAC. I hope everyone had a great weekend!

Yeah Edy's, Like We Wouldn't Notice

What you see here are two tubs of delicious Edy's frozen treat. I guess they don't call it ice cream or even frozen yogurt anymore- probably due to some high amount of chemicals. But it if it lowers the fat, then I'm cool with it. In any case: The tub on the right was purchased a few months ago and has been sitting out in my garage freezer- contents, 1.75 Qts. I bought the one on the left last week- amount, 1.5 Qts. I think they hope we won't notice because the price is still the same.

Really Edy's? That's 1/7 less than we used to get for the same amount of money. I see this as a significant cut. This probably won't stop me from buying them when they go on sale for 2 for $5, but it will provoke me enough to do a blog post.

Unrelated- In other news, you may remember this gem about a dude with a gas can in DC asking us for money. Wouldn't you know it, the other night the exact same guy carrying the same gas can asked Ramya for gas money in the same spot. He's really doing it wrong. At least I don't have that nagging doubt that he was honest anymore!

A Case of the Mondays

Monday I had a second MRI done on my knee, and I maintained my perfect streak of falling asleep in the process. I can see how someone with claustrophobia issues would find the experience terrifying, but I find the electronic buzzes and clicks oddly hypnotic. But reason I write is that I totally forgot about the appointment until I got to work, at which point I had to turn right around and leave for the "medical plaza," or whatever it's called here. I walked into the radiology department right on time and went to the window the lady says "Can I help you?"
"I'm here for an MRI on my knee" I say.
"Do you have your paperwork?"

Paperwork? At the Orthopedist last week they gave me a single piece of paper that was essentially a handout which said "Go downstairs and get an MRI." It had generic hints like "Inform technician of any medical implants," but other than that I thought it was for my information only. Yeah, I should've brought it, and this was all my fault. I explained this to the lady.

"Do you really need that paper?" I asked.

She replied with incredible sarcasm (and alot of attitude, which wasn't surprising coming from a 40-something woman with a nose ring) "The paper from your doctor that tells us what you need and how to do it? Uh, yeah. We're going to need that."

Long story short, I had to drive home and get it. I set the trip odometer so I could know exactly what my negligence cost me. The damage? 21 miles and 45 minutes of totally worthless driving. But this all went from highly annoying to funny once I retrieved this extremely vital sheet of paper with the doctor's invaluable instructions: It was just a generic handout with a square in which my doctor had written the words without which no images could be magnetically resonanced. They were, and I quote: "MRI Right Knee."

So now it's been so long since I started this post, I can update it with my follow-up with the orthopedist. I had to drive up to his Waldorf office (another long and annoying story that's not my fault), but when I got there we sat down in front of one of those X-ray viewer things (he prefers the physical films as opposed to the CD- I guess it's all the same, right?) and took a look. He said a lot of things like "Oh that's a good looking meniscus, no tears or rough edges" and "Oh my yes those tendons look good." I think he concluded with "That, sir, is a beautiful looking knee." This is all well and good, except for one thing: it still hurts if I try to run. I asked "Well, then what's wrong?" to which he replied "Something that doesn't show up on an MRI" which backs up Dr. McCardel. He referred me to an orthopedist in Georgetown that deals exclusively with runners. When he said that I realized that most of his clientele aren't there for sports injuries- which should have been apparent when I noticed I was the only patient navigating the hallways under my own power. Really- the waiting room is like a 2-to-1 chair-to-hoveround ratio. So, we'll see if Dr. Georgetown has any new insight.

For what it's worth, I did run 5 miles yesterday (on my favorite running trail in Ft. Worth). My legs are really sore and I have some killer blisters, but my knee feels okay! But lemme tell you, I'm going to have to shape up if I want to be competetive for my last year in the 20-29 category- that year off has cost me some speed.

Adventures in Yard Work

These last two days I have been doing something that I think I've only once in the last 5 years: I have been working over the weekend. I know, I know- you're all like "But wait, you work for the government!" Believe it or not, we have been super busy lately. I'm making overtime for it, but still- it's weird. Friday hit and I was all "Woo-hoo! The weekend...oh, right." It sort of takes the thrill out of it. At least I can work from home on my work laptop.

I was able to make time for chores as well, though. It's lawn growing season, and while it wasn't the knee-high masterpiece that greeted me when I came home after three weeks away last weekend, there was plenty to be done. This morning I was out trimming the hedges and I had a fun encounter:

There I am, clipping away, and two women were loitering around the mailbox that's across the street from my house. I've seen them before- they're older and look semi-homeless, but they must live here. At some point I hear a shout: "You smoke?" I look around, and the block is empty except for the three of us, and one of the women is looking at me. "I'm sorry?" I say (I didn't really hear what she said). She yells again "You smoke?" I say "Oh, no. Sorry!" and go back to my clipping.

My first reaction was one of sadness- what is this poor woman's situation in life where she's yelling across the street to strangers for a cigarette? Plus, not even a porch sitter- someone who's obviously busy doing something. At this point in my cognitive process the pity turned to annoyance. It's like wait, I'm clearly out here wielding power tools and you're going to interrupt me to bum a smoke? And you're going to do it by screaming from across the street? Plus, I was wearing a t-shirt and gym shorts. Clearly I don't have any cigarettes on me. How did this go in the lady's mind? She could hang out be the mailbox, yell to a stranger who's busy in his own lawn, and I would drop what I'm doing, run in the house, get her a cigarette and probably a light, run across the street to deliver it to her, then return to my business of tidying up my yard? I mean really. But wait for it...

A few minutes have passed- now I'm raking up the bush clippings while the ladies are still hanging out right across the street. As I'm raking, I hear another shout: "You got any change?" I figure I must have heard her wrong. I say "Excuse me?" She repeats "Got any change?" I reply semi-politely "Sorry...no."

Oh. My. God. We have just jumped up a notch, people. We have hit the point where people will come up to you at your own home while you are clearly busy with your own business and bellow out a request for loose change. I was astounded! Plus, this raises so many questions! Are these ladies homeless? I mean, they were getting mail out of a mail slot, so it would seem they have a house in the neighborhood. And this is a nice middle class neighborhood, too. How do you live here, yet still feel destitute enough to yell to a stranger to ask for money? I can't type fast enough to list all the rants that are building in my mind.

Not only that, but there was no pretense. There are few things in life that I hate more than panhandlers, but at least they usually give you a sob story first. And it's usually in a public place, like the mall or gas station (why always the gas station? Probably because it helps the believability of the "I filled up my car but oops don't have cash on me" story line). It takes a really ballsy panhandler to approach a busy person at their own home and interrupt them to yell for cigarettes, and then after being denied make a second request for money. I still don't think I have fully comprehended it yet.

So while we're on the topic, a few weekends ago we were in DC a few blocks from Ramya's apartment and we were approached by a dirty man carrying a gas can. He was of course asking for money so he could buy some gas to get home. I said my standard "Sorry, no" and we kept on walking. Ramya felt a little bad, because what if he really did need help? I thought that while the gas can was a nice prop, we needed to look at the context clues. First, where was he supposedly going from/to? We were on an upscale residential cul de sac (surrounded by multi-million dollar condos, no less) with no gas stations for a couple blocks. If he was walking to the gas station, he was going the wrong way. If he did walk toward a commercial area he would find plenty of gas, ATMs, phones, etc. Plus, where did he get the gas can? Are we supposed to think he just happened to have it with him? If he runs out of gas often enough to carry a gas can at all times he needs to make some changes anyway. Alas, you don't usually know for sure if they're scamming you.

Except a few weeks ago in LA. Shelley and I were filling up our rental car before taking it back, and a man came up to Shelley to ask for money. He had quite the elaborate story about the car breaking down, and he called the tow truck, but they only take cash and he's ten dollars short. It was odd because he looked like a regular guy in a suit, and he even went so far as to point out that his wife and kids were in the Denny's across the street waiting for the tow truck (obviously we couldn't see them, but he was like "They're right there! In that window!"). Anyway, Shelley stayed strong and gave him an excellent "Sorry no" and went about her business. He wandered back to the curb, which was the first sign- the gas station was crawling with people, and if you're really that desperate for money, why only ask one person? Why not use the ATM in the gas station, since you've said the problem is that you need cash? But here's the best part: in about 10 seconds the city bus pulls up to the curb. He gets on it and speeds away. He didn't even stick around for the second wind guilt to set in. He made his attempt at free cash, then gives up and leaves. Was he just waiting for the bus, and then decided to attempt a little swindling to pass the time? Plus, pick a different cover story! So now you're taking off and leaving the wife and kids at Denny's to wait for the tow truck they can't pay for? How do these people sleep at night?

Anyway, hopefully it'll stop raining soon and I can finish up the hedges without the panhandlers.

Bluetools

Tonight at the drill hall there was a guy playing basketball with a bluetooth headset on. This astounds me for two reasons: First, what- like he's going to be dribbling down the court, get a call, hit the answer button, and then continue to play while talking? If I was on his team I would be pretty ticked off. But second, if I turn my head too quickly my earpiece goes flying off. Here he was running, dribbling and shooting, with the little blue light blinking the whole time. If anyone else thought this was odd they weren't showing it.

This rivals the other most ridiculous bluetooth headset story I've ever heard: Kate was in an all-day training class, and one of her classmates wore her earpiece the whole day. As though if her phone rang in the middle of class, she would answer it and need to keep her hands free.

I mean, I get annoyed whenever someone is wearing the headset and not on a call. The airport is a major hot zone for this. I wish people would just wear a shirt that says "Look at me! I'm important! I swear!" I also wish I could apply for a public smacking license.

Notes from Philly

Last week my travel-oriented job once again expanded my horizons by sending me to an exotic city I had never visited before. This time I was flung far from home as I took in Philadelphia- the city of brotherly love. Now, I had been to Philly before, but only because that's where the layover is when you fly US Air to Manchester. As I've mentioned previously, I consider this a technicality- You can't count a city when all you do is fly in to the airport, then fly out. This trip counts because not only did I stay in a hotel (that borders the North side of the airport), but I visited Boeing (which borders the West side of the Airport). And actually those are the only things I saw- every day I drove to Boeing, sat in meetings all freakin' day, then drove back to the hotel and went to bed. I saw literally nothing of the city. My physical therapist insisted that I go to Pat's Steaks to get the real Philly experience, but the only (and I mean only) restaurants I ate at were the Boeing cafeteria (which was awesome, by the way) and the Subway by my hotel. I know- it's surprising that I didn't pick up an accent.

The purpose of the trip was for me to take part in a Non-Advocate Review. This means that there's an issue with an aircraft, and they want to bring in a team of people who are technically competent but know nothing about the troubled platform to do a quick review and make suggestions, hoping for something that the regulars have missed. Well, I met at least one of those criteria, so off I went. The first three days were an absolute overload of information that I'll never remember, then one working day, then on the final day we presented our findings. That's right- a full five days of meetings. I've never had to pack 5 dress outfits before. Come to think of it, we have casual Fridays, so I've never even worn 5 work outfits in a row.

The meeting was informative, I like to think I helped, and I'm never volunteering for a non-advocate review again. But I did pick up some observations:

• What the heck is up with people using the word "Incidences?" As in "We have had five incidences of this failure mode." I've noticed it before, but I heard it a lot this week. "Incidences" is not a word! Try incidents! I hate when people take a noun, conjugate it into a verb, and then back into a noun rather than just using the original word. I went on a roughly four-minute tirade about this to Ramya when we were watching MTV True Life, and a girl said that a cross necklace is a "Symbolization" of Christianity.



• Speaking of confusing grammar, one guy commented that he had been working on a long running problem "Since Hell froze over." I wanted to quote Jim from The Office and say "That is not the expression."



• Actually, that guy was pretty annoying. He loved the sound of his own voice. He worked on commercial aviation, and we were there for a military program, which are totally different. At any opportunity he would speak up and say "Hey, in the military world, do you do X, Y, and Z?" To which someone would reply "No, we do A, B, and C." He would then say "Oh, because over in commercial world we do blah blah blah" and talk for several minutes. It was amazing to watch someone establish that what they want to say is irrelevant, then proceed to waste five to ten minutes of everyone's time with a soliloquy that is of absolutely no use to anyone anyway. I think he was personally responsible for the sessions running late.



• Black jeans are alive and well in Philadelphia.



• The Hampton Inn Philadelphia Airport is one of those annoyingly wasteful hotels- by which I mean that every day I would use a nickle-sized dollop of shampoo from the free little bottle, ditto for the conditioner, use the soap, and leave them all in the shower. When I get back in the evening, all the toiletries I used have been discarded and new ones are on the sink. Come on, I used like 5% of the bottle! They're basically throwing away most of the shampoo they buy! There must be a landfill somewhere filled with mostly full bottles of Prell or whatever those generic hotel brand shampoos are.



• The commercial aviation guys did have some fun anecdotes. One of them was about the first time they used composite flooring in the passenger jets. They were plenty strong in all of their tests, but in the field they had a problem because if someone walked over them with severe enough high heels, the concentrated weight on the end could punch a hole in the panel. Apparently this was only observed on the Latin-American airlines. Do with that what you will.

Now this week I'm off to Fort Worth again, and it's possible that I will be on travel the week after as well. This prompted Ramya to say "So you travel, like, all the time." Yes. Yes I do.

Update: It is now 1:43 on Tuesday afternoon, and I'm on a telecon that's a follow-up to last week's NAR. One participant just said "Well, we've seen two incidences of failure mode X." Another (guess who) replied "Well, I don't know what you military guys do, but in the commercial world..." I listened for a little while, then decided to start my stopwatch to see how long he went. Unfortunately (for the purposes of my story) he only talked for another 54 seconds, but still. It's somewhat comforting to know that the old gang hasn't changed much.

Update #2: He started telling another commercial world story before I started typing Update #1, and he's still going.

Breakin' the Law

We got home from Vegas late last night (Carly & Daniel to Connecticut, Ramya to DC, me to SoMD), where we had an excellent vacation. That's a story for another night, because I have a much shorter, and much more annoying tale to share with you now.

Our flight landed at BWI at 10:15 last night, so by the time we got our bags, got to the car, dropped Ramya off in DC, and drove another 90 minutes it was right about 1:15 am as I entered greater Lexington Park. On the highway I had the cruise set to 65 (as I always do) and I passed a few drivers, and was passed a few times, but by and large I was the only car on the road for most of the trip. As the RT 235 changed from highway to main street, I cancelled the cruise control and and slowed up, even though there was not another car in sight and all the lights were green.

Then, I passed a car sitting in a turn lane with it's lights off. Figuring it was a cop, I looked at my speedometer, saw I was going right about 60, and figured "Oh good, if it was a cop I'm fine." The speed limit at the time was 45, but that's a total joke. I think we all know where this is going.

When the cop pulled me over he informed me that I was going 64 in a 45, collected my license and registration, and promptly wrote me a my very first ticket without exchanging more than about 20 words. He wrote me up for doing 54 in a 45, earning me an $80 traffic citation. Here are my thoughts:

I was not going 64. As soon as I saw the cop, I looked at my speedometer, and I was going 60. Possibly my gauges are off, possibly the radar gun is off (you hear about how inaccurate they are all the time) but to my knowledge, I was speeding, but not that much.

I can't contest the ticket. He wrote me up for going 54, which I was doing. I'm still going to go to court and see about doing one of those donations or community service things to avoid getting the points. Since I've been driving 13 years with a moving violation, it probably wouldn't be a problem, but this is more of a pride thing.

That's how fast people drive. I drove through that intersection twice today in the middle of rush hour. I was in a massive pack of bumper to bumper cars, and we were going a little over 60, both times. Yes it's speeding- but why will you get a ticket at night all alone for doing something that everyone does in broad daylight surrounded by other cars? It doesn't seem consistent.

I never understood why people hated cops for getting pulled over. I always thought "Just don't speed, moron." Now I'm like "Oh come on! That cop was a jerk!" Argh. More details as they develop!

Update: I have a few unfinished thoughts here- last night I just finished this a quick as possible so I could go back to laying on the couch because I felt terrible. Someone in our Vegas troop picked up some sort of head/chest cold and sharing a hotel room ensured that we all got it. Luckily, it didn't get bad until we were on our way home. Anyway, I forgot to mention a few things:

I know the cop did me a favor by writing the ticket for 54 instead of 64 (even though I was going 60). It's less fine and less points, and for his benefit it increases the odds that I'll just pay it. So, I guess I should thank my lucky stars for that.

But also, the speed of the whole thing surprised me. On TV the cop is always like "Do you know how fast you were going?" or "Where are you off to tonight in such a hurry?" In real life there was no small talk. It was like boom! Ticket. Not that I had a story prepared, but still. I thought maybe a few seconds of chit-chat would convince him that I was an upstanding citizen who just needed a warning.

Although, I have been pulled over before. In high school I went to see Jurassic Park 2 with friends, then afterward we went to Steak and Shake (as we so frequently did). On the road they had set up one of those random pull over things, in which they waved most cars right through but signaled for a handful to pull over for some screening. The lady with the airport light-up batons started to wave me through, but caught herself. She narrowed her eyes, and waved me over to the checkpoint with a fairly accusatory gesture. When I got there, another cop asked me a series of questions that it's going to sound like I'm making up, but this is how it went:

Cop: "How are you doing tonight?"
Me: "Good thank you, how are you?"
Cop: "Good. Been doing any drinking tonight?"
Me: "No sir."
Cop: "Where are you headed?"
Me: "To Steak and Shake."
Cop: "And where are you coming from?"
Me: "We just saw a movie at Linway."
Cop: "What movie?"
Me: "Jurassic Park 2."
Cop: "Okay. Been doing any drinking tonight?"
Me: "[slight pause] No sir."
Cop: "So where are you off to now?"
Me: "Um, Steak and Shake."
Cop: "And where are you coming from?
Me: "The movie theatre. We saw Jurassic Park 2."
Cop: "Oh, how was that?"
Me: "Not as good as the first one, but it had some decent action scenes."
Cop: "And where are you going now?"
Me: "...Steak and Shake."
Cop: "And have you been doing any drinking tonight?"
Me: "No."
Cop: "Okay. You're free to go."

There must be something in the random pull-over handbook that says you have to ask every question three times, otherwise he really wasn't paying attention. Ironically, he's the one who sounded drunk during the exchange. It was annoying, but overall much better than actually getting pulled over and getting a ticket.

Guess Where I am! Hint: Not Elkhart.

Long story short, yesterday reminded me why I hate air travel. I was booked on a 5:15 flight out of Baltimore that would get me to Cincinnati at 6:55, and then an 8:55 to South Bend. To me, this was perfect, because that's plenty of time to cover the approximately 5 linear miles from the regular terminal to the regional terminal and still stop for some Gold Star chili (it's not as good as Skyline, but what is? Too bad there's no Skyline in the airport). Also, I always call "Gold Star" chili "Red Star." Like I think they're some sort of communists. Seriously- I typed "Red Star" then had to go back and fix it.

Well, the first thing I noticed was that the Delta ticket counter was mobbed. Their departure board was pretty much solid delays, and my own flight had been pushed back to 6:00. Whatever, I can get my chili 3-way and go, still making my second flight. It takes a good half hour to check myself in then get my bag tags, then I head through security. By the time I emerge, the boards list my flight as 6:30. Okay, might have to skip the chili. I find my gate, and it is just flooded with people. It's beautiful in Baltimore, but apparently the weather is prohibitive at every other Delta hub. So, the tarmac is littered with planes, but they aren't allowed to take off. Every once in a while, one of the planes would load up, sit there for an hour, then let everyone to come back in the airport because they knew they weren't going anywhere for a while. Oddly enough, we could see plenty of Southwest and American planes taking off and landing- apparently the weather was only affecting good old Delta.

By the time they announced that my flight had been pushed back to 7:00 I had made some single serving friends in the airport (because nothing brings people together like shared suffering). They were even making announcements I had never heard before: they were announcing that there were delays in the updates to the delays. Things like "We were supposed to have an update on the departure time for flight xxxx at 6:30, but that update has been pushed back to 7:15. At 7:15 we should be able to tell you when flight xxxx will be departing." Take a minute to process that: the airport was in such a sad state that they couldn't reliably predict when they could reliably predict how delayed a flight would be.

So around 6:45 I'm starting to be legitimately concerned that I wouldn't make my connection. On the PA they announced that the flight to Cinci that was scheduled for 4:00 is now boarding, and that there was no information whatsoever about my flight. Yes- they announced that they now knew less than ever about my flight. One of my new friends was waiting to fly standby to Cinci (which was home for her). She was supposed to fly tomorrow, but her meeting finished early so checked out of her hotel and headed for the airport, and was now thoroughly regretting her decision. Anyway, at the last minute they called her name for the flight. She jumped up and cheered, we all clapped for her (I'm serious), and off she went. But then I thought, "Wait, she's just going to Cincinnati. Let me take this flight so I can make my connection, and she can fly later tonight!" But whatever. All's fair in air travel.

A quick call home confirmed that that 8:55 is the last flight from Cinci to South Bend, so if I ever do get out of Baltimore, I'll probably get stuck in Ohio for the night. I took the plunge and got in line for the ticket counter, making me customer number 26 waiting for the one agent. After about 15 minutes in the line (around 7:15), they announced that my plane would be leaving Cincinnati "soon." No times, just "soon." About 20 minutes later they posted my flight for an 8:20 departure, confirming once and for all that I was not leaving tonight.

I stepped up to the agent right at 8:00. After 2 or 3 minutes of furious key strokes, he confirmed that there was no way I was getting home tonight. Keep in mind that because the delays were due to "weather," the airline doesn't owe you anything. No meals, no hotels, just a fake smile and a "sucks to be you." As a bonus, he also pointed out that there was no way I was getting there tomorrow (Friday). The best they could do is Saturday morning, departing at 6:45 a.m., arriving in South Bend at 1:30 p.m. For those keeping score at home, that means I get to leave my house at 4 a.m. at the latest, and I'll have like 3 hours to go home, shower and change, then get back to the reunion (which is also in South Bend). That's a recipe to look my best, especially on a likely 5 hours of sleep.

And here's the kicker: God knows where my bags are. I had the option of letting the airline hold on to them, then check them on my flight Saturday (uggghhhh) or go to the baggage desk and try to get them back tonight. Remember, it's 8:15 at this point. I had this conversation with the guy:

Me: How long will it take to get my bags back tonight?
Guy: They're pretty swamped down there. We have a lot of delays.
Me: So what, like an hour?
Guy: Um, it could be a while.
Me: Are you talking more like two hours?
Guy: Uh...yeah...it could be a while.
Me: [nearly choking on the words] Just check 'em through for Saturday.

We are now taking bets on whether or not I will ever see those bags again. But, I just wanted to get home, and I made a snap decision. I'm sure I'll pay for it later. I called home to let them know the deal, and Jim says "Why didn't you have them send you to Chicago, then take the train to South Bend?" Yeah, wrap that idea up and mail it to 8 hours ago. I'm adding that to my mental tally of future plans: Just fly to Chicago and take the South Shore Line. It's probably cheaper, as well. Oh, and never fly Delta again.

So here's hoping I make the reunion! This puts a minor dent in my vacation, but I've had worse. I'll let you know how it turns out.

Drill Hall Employees

Yeah yeah, it's been a while. I don't even have anything that great to add, so today you get a token annoyance post about the drill hall. Pretty soon I'll start posting about the stuff Erica and I have been up to, but I still haven't shown her my blog. Although, we did have the "I almost got married in June" talk, so that was really the last hurdle. Anyway!

There is one badge checker lady at the Drill Hall that I complain about all the time, because she checks my ID every day. During my marathon training, I was in there twice a week, and the 4 to 5 employees learned to recognize me (and I them) and the whole badge check became unnecessary. Then, after the marathon they hired a new lady. Since I had hurt my knee and this was before I took Carly's Nordic Trak, I was there every day. Every day this lady needs to check my ID. After 4 weeks or so, I started to just make eye contact, nod, and walk in without breaking my stride. But no! She always says "ID?" and looks at me expectantly. To this day, she still demands to see my badge everytime I go. I recognize her; does she not recognize me? It's like "Yes, I work here. I worked here yesterday, and the day before, and the day before that. Almost every day that you have worked here, you have checked my ID. When are you going to remember?" It's been several months at this point.

I mention this because of an encounter yesterday: I walked in the door with another woman, and the badge checker says "ID?" I produce mine in a well-rehearsed yet annoyedly-dismissive manner, but the other lady was also prepared. Before Badge checker made it to the "D" in her catch phrase, other lady tersely said "I'm the AEROBICS INSTRUCTOR" in a manner that let me know that they've had this exchange before. I mention this because it makes me feel better that I'm not alone. Anyway, as annoyed as I get with this all, I have to cut her some slack. She might just be legally blind, or possibly mentally challenged, and I need to build up more Karma so I can get good parking spots again.

Bonus note! Every day I get a small towel for my workout. The other day I walked up to the window, cheerfully said "One small towel please," took it, and walked away. I made it about 10 feet before I noticed that they had given me one of the giant shower type towels. So I turned around and went back to the window. Only about 10 seconds had passed since I picked up the towel, but there was a new employee manning the window now. I said "Hi, I need a small towel so I'll trade you" and handed her the unused big towel. She immediately leapt back about a foot with a horrified look on her face and yelled "I'm not touching that! Put it in the hamper!" I stood there stunned for a second, petrified by the look of intense disgust in her eyes, until I realized that she wasn't there for the original pickup. She figured that I had arrived earlier, worked out, sweat up this towel, showered, dried with this towel, gotten dressed to kill and then attempted to hand her my body hair and microbe-laden diseased sweat rag. I guess I can't really blame her. I stammered out something like "Oh...God...this is...no, it's clean...uh" and threw it in the hamper. She gave me a dirty look as she handed me a fresh small towel, and muttered "Ugh! Jeeze." as I walked away. I'm pretty sure she remembers me now.

Solution? Tomorrow maybe I'll give the badge check lady a dirty towel, and see where that goes.

One Day, Three Annoyances

These three things happened in succession on Sunday, and only one was actually annoying. From least to most irritating:

1. I used up the soap in my shower, so I needed a new bar. I could've sworn I had just bought a huge pack, but I looked everywhere and couldn't find it. So when I was out I went to BJ's and bought a gigantor pack of like 20 bars. After restocking the bathroom I thought "I'll store the rest of this under the sink in the guest bathroom." Anybody want to guess what was already there? That's right, the last huge pack of soap. I hate being dumb.

2. It was doing a little snow/sleet/winter-mix thing, so it was a little wet on and off. At the grocery store there was lady in her power suit loading a ton of bags into her car. It was taking her a while, because she was only using one hand, the other being tied up with her huge umbrella. If she wasn't so focused on the task at hand, she might have noticed that it had stopped raining like 10 minutes ago. I used to always notice this effect on rainy days in college- several people would walk around with their umbrella open when it hadn't been raining for an hour. In any case, no, this didn't affect me at all- I just don't understand people.

3. Now, this did suck: After working out I hit Subway for my new standard Sunday lunch, and I walked in right after another lady. At this point there were 4 people in the Subway: Me, the lady, and 2 employees behind the sneeze guard. She orders a sub. Then another, and by this time I've noticed that she was reading off a list. The employees continue to work in series, like they always do- one starting the bread and meat, and the other doing the toppings. The lady has to keep consulting her list, because they're all special orders. I finally peek over her shoulder, and she has a full-on matrix of what all her (I'm assuming) co-workers want- 12 in all! The orders keep coming, tying up both employees, and at several points they would get confused and have to stop and count sandwiches, sometimes unwrap a few to see what they have. Don't even get me started with the toasting- apparently there wasn't a box for that on the form so it was a big question every time. "Is it usually toasted? Would you toast it? What do most people like?" Kill me!

It's not like I was in a hurry, but remember: I walked up seconds after this lady, and there was no one else in there. I wanted one 12" turkey and ham sub. It takes them approximately 45 seconds to crank one of those out. If the lady was a little more polite, maybe she would have offered to let me go first. It's not like she didn't see me. Not to mention that she tied up the entire staff for 15 minutes! Of course, I can't totally absolve the employees. Why couldn't one of them have helped me while the other kept helping Mrs. Big Spender? I was near the point of banging my head on the old New York-themed walls when she turns around and says with a smile "I'm so sorry, this is the last one!" to which I smile and reply "Oh, that's okay! Don't worry about it!" I was actually thinking "If you were truly sorry, maybe you would've spared an employee for 45 seconds and not sucked a quarter hour out of my life A$$HOLE!"

And you know what else? She finally paid and walked away, forgetting her 14-odd cookies. I grabbed them and ran after her to hand them over. If I didn't get like a million karma points, then there is just no justice in the world.