Have a Safe Flight

People always say “Have a safe flight” to me. The problem is that I’m not flying the plane, so there’s little I can do to influence the safety of the flight. I suppose I could give the pilot a pep talk about having a solid flight, and I could look out the window for smoke coming from the engines so that I could serve as an early detection for in-flight issues. That stuff doesn’t seem all that likely to help, so instead I check all the airport bars for men and women who look like they could be pilots, and then I peek in the cockpit to see if I recognize anyone who’s flying the plane from the bar.

Man Bites Bee

I have been stung by a bee only once in my life, and it was when I was 27 years old. I’d been worried for ages that I was allergic and didn’t know it. It crossed my mind before going on long hikes or backpacking trips where I wouldn’t have access to medical help if I was stung and it turned out I had a bad allergy. I thought about trying to get stung to see how I reacted, but frankly, that seemed a bit insane. Finally, I was biking home through downtown Minneapolis when I ran into a bee flying the opposite direction. It stung me right on my kneecap. I wondered if I should find someone on the sidewalk and tell them just in case I went into shock. Then for awhile I was so nervous that I might be allergic, that my heart was racing and paranoia crept up my spine, making me think that an allergic reaction was setting in. Turns out I was just freaking out. Either way, if I can’t keep calm through a minor emergency like a bee sting, you might want to think twice before heading into the backcountry with me.

Emergency Concerns

My friend Beth bought a carbon monoxide detector after living in her place for about six months. The moment she plugged it in, it started going off. There are all kinds of warnings on the package not to ignore it when it goes off, so after worrying for a bit she dialed the local information phone line. She told them that her new carbon monoxide detector was going off, so they said they'd transfer her call. They transferred her to 911, and she told them that she didn't consider it an emergency, but her carbon monoxide detector was going off. They sent the fire department. So she waited a few minutes until she heard the sirens, and then a bunch of firemen burst through the door. The moment they got into her place, all the carbon monoxide detectors on their jackets started going off. Turns out it was an emergency.

Lost Keys

I was home visiting my family a couple years ago, and I decided to walk to my parents’ house from my sister Melissa’s house after we’d been out late. It’s about a mile and a half. Plus there’s a bar on the way, and I knew that one of the guys I used to work with at summer camp hangs out when he’s in town from Milwaukee. I walked into the bar on the off chance that he was in town, and he tackled me mid-stride. Rolling around on a bar floor is never wise, but it didn’t seem to bother either of us. I had a drink with him and then walked the remaining half-mile to my parents’ place. For some reason I had all of my camping gear in the trunk of my Buick Skylark, and it was such a beautiful night, that on my way home I decided I’d sleep out in my tent. When I arrived at the car, I couldn’t find my keys. My logic only extended as far as getting my camping gear, so I decided to just forget it and sleep inside. The next morning I wanted to drive someplace, and that was when the bigger problem of not having my keys dawned on me. Not only could I not get my camping gear, but I also could not drive my car. I walked back to the bar, and the bartender gave them to me. She said they’d fallen out of my pocket while wrestling the night before, and that they’d held onto them since I obviously wasn’t driving home anyway.

Hang Up and Drive

I try not to talk on my cell phone when driving. I understand why some people put bumper stickers on their cars that say "Hang Up and Drive," but sometimes you have to get on the phone while driving. Maybe you're stuck in traffic and want to let people know you're running late, or it might be an empty highway in the middle of the night and you're working to stay awake. While working at a small town newspaper in Minnesota, I would be dispatched to work at an even smaller town (pop. 1,300) one day every two weeks. There was not a lot of breaking news to cover, so most of my stories involved calling members of the chamber of commerce. I'd get them on their cell phone, and to a person, they'd always ask me to hold on and then they'd pullover into pasture land to chat. I admired their commitment to safety, but the closest thing to traffic on any of those roads was a cow getting lose and wandering around. I think it would have been safe to have a talk while driving 20mph on an empty country road.

The Thank You Note Chore

Writing thank you notes was tortuous as a child. After my birthday, I’d have to sit down with a stack of blank cards and address them to all my aunts and uncles, and then write them notes saying thanks for the cash or gift. If I’d had half a brain, I would have written one and then just copied it down a dozen times. But I imagined them comparing the notes, so I tried to make them all different. I’d lift a line here or there, but overall they were well thought out, though mostly illegible notes. Some of my friends got away with thank you phone calls instead of notes, which I always wanted to do instead of writing notes. Thank you phone calls were forbidden in my family, and if I have kids I’ll implement the same rules. Not that I think notes are better than calls, I just don’t want to let anyone off the hook.

The Slug

My college newspaper we had to assign a slug to each story. A slug is simply a one-word description that everyone can use internally to track the story through its development and find it in the system. It often has nothing to do with the story, and it's difficult for journalists to avoid showing biases in their one-word descriptions. Newspapers were new to the Internet back then, and the system we used to publish online was buggy at best and wildly unreliable most of the time. One afternoon, half the stories on the homepage published with their slugs instead of thier headlines. The story about an athlete was THUG, thepolice blotter was GUILTY, and the report on the board of regents was simply: REGENTS. That last one wasn't so bad. Thankfully, I'm sure not many people noticed the problem.

Forgetting Your Helmet

I left work today with a few things on my mind and realized that I’d left my helmet on my desk when the elevator hit the ground floor. I hit the button to head back up and wait through the stoppage on each floor. Halfway there, it occurred to me that if I get hit by a bus and the helmet saves my life on my ride home, I likely wouldn’t have been hit by that bus if I’d just ridden home and left my helmet on my desk instead of going back for it. I’m happy to report that I did not get crushed by a bus on the ride home, but if I’d left my helmet and just ridden home, maybe I would have. See? Helmets save lives. Or sometimes end them.

Movie Rental Nomenclature

People used to say they 'rented a movie,' but now they say they, 'rented a DVD.' Of course it's still a movie rental, but saying 'DVD' instead of movie means that you own a DVD player. This used to be an important thing to tell people when DVD players cost about $500. No one used to have to call out their social status when renting VHS because everyone had the same thing. Now I'll hear people say they ‘rented it on Blu Ray,’ which is another hierarchical step-up in home film renting. Pretty soon it'll be 3D home rentals, but no one will have to leave there home anymore to rent the movies since everything will be available On Demand. In the end, we'll be left with fewer chances to surreptitiously brag about our social statuses through film rentals.
Load Sunday:

Clarks Wallabees Died

My Clarks Wallabees died. I bought them at the Mall of America during my sophomore year of college, and they served as my nice, dress-up shoes through two newspaper internships, a crappy job in France, and about a dozen office jobs. They made the trek over those nearly 10 years on one pair of laces, though the insoles began to curl around my feet a few years ago. About a year ago, the soles reached a point in their wear that they would become very sticky on indoor tile if I walked through a puddle. Walking through the office on a rain day felt like I was wearing crampons, and the sickly sound it made peeling off the tile drew negative attention. I think people began to notice how much time I spent hanging out in the office kitchen, so I had to retire my well worn Clarks.

First Concerts and Bootleggers

I attended a Bob Dylan concert when I was in middle school. It wasn't part of the coolest field trip ever; I went with some friends and their dad on a school night. The show was okay, but it was during Dylan's mumbling-concert phase, and as he didn't play anything from The Greatest Hits album, I didn't recognize any songs. My friends and I crowded near the stage, and we were shouting some misguided ideas about jumping off of it if we could get a bit closer. Some guy next to us tapped my friend on the shoulder, made the universal sign for quiet, then pointed at something in his pocket. Years later that I realized the guy was recording the show for bootlegging purposes. Some other guy in the crowd recognized what was going on though, because he ran up to the guy and starting shouting 'What's up! WHAT's UP" into the mic. If anyone has a bootleg copy from an early 90s Dylan show at Brown County Arena, let me know. My voice might be prominently featured right before the guy in the crowd totally ruined that tape.

Sex and The City and Broken Faces

I used to hangout with a group of nice Midwestern women from time to time. One lived pretty fast and spent plenty of nights sitting in bars on school nights. Once I went to their house -- and this should give you an idea of how I was trying to ingratiate myself in their presence -- and watched an episode of Sex and the City. It's the only episode of that show I've sat through, but I can tell you that I'm 'totally a Samantha.' Anyway, I arrived at their house, and the heavy-drinking young lady was lying on the couch with two black eyes and a severely bruised face. I'd brought a six-pack to get through the TV show, and offered a beer to her. She declined and said that she had recently quit drinking. She then proceeded to try to convince me that her quitting drinking and having a sever facial injury were coincidental. I later found out from her roommate that she'd run into a window air conditioning unit sticking out of a house while drunk. Just another sad casualty of the rock-and-roll/Sex-in-the-City lifestyle.

Hot Doggin'

I love meat but try not to eat too many hot dogs. I don't consider these conflicting viewpoints. I broke down awhile ago and bought a hot dog from a downtown street vendor. I wanted to eat it as quickly as possible since I was starving and didn't want to think about what I was eating. About halfway through my dog, I heard the click of a camera shutter. I turned to look, and a tourist about four feet away had taken a picture of me eating the hot dog. I like photography, but I try not to take pictures of strangers too much as it seems invasive. The guy pretended he was taking a picture of the skyline, but I knew what he was doing. Since then, I've been waiting to see the shot in a magazine article about the dangers of overeating.

Meteorite

My parents' neighbors called the newspaper last summer because a meteorite went through her dock. There was a hole about the size of a basketball framed by corona of burnt wood. I'm not sure if the newspaper people ever arrived, but I didn't bother checking the water underneath the dock for a piece of space rock. It was the fifth of July, and they'd been lighting fireworks on their dock all night. Let them dig for space rocks to show to reporters when they arrive.

Lo-Fi Long Distance Communication

I was running across the edge of a city park in New York to get into a cab that my friends had stopped and climbed into. The light had turned green and the cab was in the first spot at the light. Vehicles behind the cab were already honking when I spotted the guy about 30 feet away in a crowd. He was wearing a Varsity Bike Shop T-shirt. It was one of the old ones that our store owner Rob Dehoff gave out to the ten or so employees at his store. I remember when the only box with the shirts arrived and we split them up. There couldn't have been more than a dozen leftover. My dad got one; I never knew what happened to the rest of them. I wanted to talk to this fellow cyclist who'd obviously been in Minneapolis and almost certainly knew my friend Rob. I couldn't run over and chat, so instead I yelled "Rob Dehoff" at him as loud as I could and then jumped in the cab. I figure that the next time he sees Rob he'll tell him that someone yelled his name when he was walking in the park. I'll just get in touch with him that way.

Nutters Not in Cars

I spent an afternoon on foot in Charlotte, North Carolina and must have been the only sane person in that part of the city that didn't own a car. Everyone I saw walking or biking either yelled at me or yelled at themselves while passing by. Two people walking yelled at me while I was climbing over a stopped train, and the guy biking on the sidewalk yelled at me to take my headphones out so I could hear him telling me to move. The sidewalk was big enough for both of us, but he said it wasn't his first day on a bike. In that neighborhood walking instead of driving automatically means you're insane, and drivers treat you as such. No one in a car would give me directions or stop so I could run across the highway. Actually, I guess running across highways and climbing over trains is kind of indicative of insanity. Maybe they were right to trust their instincts.

The Bands We Like

Everyone has a few bands they're embarrassed to like. Some people might think we should drop the pretense and admit that we like Hootie and the Blowfish or The Spin Doctors, but it's good to guard at least a couple secrets. I would even argue that it's important in our society. At a time when any co-worker or neighbor can click through your Facebook and find out your life's ambitions, work history, and allergies, it's nice to guard something, have a side that we keep to ourselves. It's kind of like how a bad habit makes someone more interesting.

Transactional Misgivings

I visited the local drugstore to buy a 12-pack of beer and an armload of various household sundries. Only one woman was working behind the counter since it was late, and this usually isn't an issue as long as no one in the line decides to rob the place. The man in front of me had clipped coupon for Sour Patch Kids Easter candy, but the drugstore was sold out, so he tried to redeem it for the non-bunny-shaped version of the candy. The computer wouldn't accept the deal, and it devolved into a test of wills between the man seeking the discount and the counter woman trying to get him to leave. He argued a good 10 minutes, but it got a bit harder with each person who joined the line. I was holding out for him even though my arms were getting heavy and my beer warm, but when the people in line behind me started yelling instead of just sighing loudly, he packed it up and left. I briefly considered trying to get the same discount on the Sour Patch Kids since the guy before me had already worn down the drugstore employee, but my desire to not get beat up by people in line superseded my need to save $.50 on candy.

First Day to Check In

I made a note on my calendar for this weekend. "First day you can check in." I have no idea what this is in reference to. For all I know, it might be something really private that I'm sharing with a bunch of people. Whatever it was, at the time I made the note, I thought it was important enough that I would not need to add any additional details. I thought it was so important that I would never forget. I think that quite a bit about stuff I can't find. I'll have some important paper that is so important that I'll think, "I shouldn't put it in this weird place, because I'll forget where I put it." But then I'll assume that it's so important that I'll remember where I hid it when I actually need it. The time comes and I'll need the paper, but I won't know where it is, but I'll remember my logic that I put it somewhere weird that I'll never forget. It never works out.

E-Mail Signature

I usually sign my personal e-mails by saying: Later, Rocky. But sometimes my fingers get crossed up, and I'll type Alter, Rocky, and hit 'send' before fixing it. I'll want to retract it for a split second, but then I'll think, "Nah, that works." Maybe people think that the e-mail is being sent from my alter ego.

Lots of Love

My friend's mom was making some inappropriate comments on Facebook. It was well out of her character, so I thought maybe her account had been hacked. Turns out that her account wasn't hacked; it's just that she's under the impression that 'LOL' stands for 'Lots of Love,' and not 'Laughing out Loud' as the rest of the world knows it. It leads to posts like, "Sorry you lost your job :( LOL," or "Missing you, LOL." Then again, maybe at her core she actually does know that it means 'Laughing out Loud,' and this is her way of passive-aggressively telling the world that she's really a mean person at heart.

THX Soundtrack

My good friend Graham was the first one to graduate college and get a real job. He continued living with us and practicing our subsistence lifestyle and weird hours of waking and sleeping, but he was also bringing in actual money. He didn't indulge in too many crazy things beyond a new car, but he did come home with a massive sound system and TV one day. The speakers were so monstrous and clear sounding that he and our other roommate Rob burned a CD that was a looped soundtrack of the THX sound that used to be played at the beginning of movies. It would play over and over at top volume, showing the range and power of the speakers but never introducing a movie. Really, it was more entertaining than most of the movies we sat down to watch in that house.