rincon, near san diego.
Sunday, October 25, 2009
dinner
rincon, near san diego.
Tuesday, October 13, 2009
trivium of the moment
52,000,000 gallons of fresh water are used for each transit of a large
vessel through the panama canal.
vessel through the panama canal.
Saturday, October 10, 2009
from here, forward
okay,
i'm officially off AYCJ now, so don't expect daily updates ... or even updates about things that happen everyday ...
here's the itinerary for the next 14 days:
i'm officially off AYCJ now, so don't expect daily updates ... or even updates about things that happen everyday ...
here's the itinerary for the next 14 days:
Cruise Itinerary:
11 OCT
FORT LAUDERDALE, FLORIDA
12 OCT
AT SEA
13 OCT
AT SEA
14 OCT
CARTAGENA, COLOMBIA
07:00 - 15:00
15 OCT
PANAMA CANAL (CRUISING)
06:00 - 18:00
16 OCT
AT SEA
17 OCT
PUNTARENAS, COSTA RICA
07:00 - 19:00
18 OCT
AT SEA
19 OCT
HUATULCO, MEXICO
12:00 - 18:00
20 OCT
ACAPULCO, MEXICO
09:00 - 18:00
21 OCT
AT SEA
22 OCT
PUERTO VALLARTA, MEXICO
08:00 - 16:00
23 OCT
CABO SAN LUCAS, MEXICO
08:00 - 16:00
24 OCT
AT SEA
25 OCT
SAN DIEGO, CALIFORNIA
07:00
the ship's 'net connection is butt expensive -- $100 for four hours, i think is the "best" rate -- so i'm not going to be connecting from there ... and there's so little land time that i'm not going to be sitting in a internet cafe typing away ...
AYCJ was an experiment in mass broadcast communication for me, but it's not the way i think of writing simply for myself ... or putting it another way, AYCJ was showing off and what follows isn't.
i picked up art supplies today so i can continue drawing ... i'll be doing some writing about poker (and some other writing about poker) as well. don't expect to see those updates while i'm at sea.
if there's anything in particular you're curious about in my travels, or you'd like to see me write about, let me know ...
i'll still post an AYCJ summary at some point ... i'm still digesting what it all means.
pax.
Friday, October 9, 2009
taking down the cafe press site tomorrow @ 17:00 ET
if you want an AYCJ t-shirt, click on the link in the right.
all profits go to carbonfund.org
all profits go to carbonfund.org
Thursday, October 8, 2009
the last photo from flight #48 ...
sending in tmail is fixed too.
all you can jet - day 30 - orlando, FL
well, AYCJ has 31 days ... don't ask me how the hell i wasn't able to count from 1 - 31 ... i guess i can always fall back on a line of my dad's "your degree is in mathematics, not arithmetic."
even though this is the last day, the flight leaves past noon ... that means we can sneak something in this morning ... so it's up at 06:00 to head to orlando wetlands park.
it's actually a water filtration system for the city of orlando; a series of very large cubed ponds, not unlike an ice tray, if each cube space was 200 acres.
even though this is the last day, the flight leaves past noon ... that means we can sneak something in this morning ... so it's up at 06:00 to head to orlando wetlands park.
it's actually a water filtration system for the city of orlando; a series of very large cubed ponds, not unlike an ice tray, if each cube space was 200 acres.
spot the alligator
spot the baby alligator
like nearly every wilderness adventure we've had, we only saw two non-park people, and that was on the way out.
this is a great way to spend time before the last flight.
we head up to MCO. the chaos at the rental agency before is replaced with order.
and everything just works.
the catch of the day was i had to go from FLL to MCO -- 200 miles by land -- but jetblue doesn't fly that way ... so i had to go up to JFK, just to turn around and come back ... 2000 miles by plane.
i watched my accomplice head off to SJC, then turned around and headed back to fort lauderdale. i'm here for three nights (free in the four-star and fairly swank hilton fort lauderdale marina because i booked the cruise through priceline). my mom comes in day after tomorrow.
Wednesday, October 7, 2009
all-you-can-jet -- day 29 -- orlando, FL
as far as looks go, the worst seems to be over for my accomplice. the subcutaneous sub-continent has moved on down the face ... the black eyes and bags have been replaced by a minor amount of jowlieness.
and this means things can move slightly higher speed.
dr. bob may be a chowder head in many, many ways, but he's also a timeshare savant. many times in my life i've had a call from the good doctor that goes something like this:
"b1! how're you doin'? anyways ..." ... he always starts his pitches with that exact word ... "... i've got a time share in lake tahoe this weekend, you want to use it? or how about santa fe? i've got one in pocatello too."
"all three on the same weekend?"
"yes. turns out i can't use any of them."
which means i've got a little timeshare credit that can be burned. so of course i do and we move from our great comfort suites $26/night room (free internet and jacuzzi) to a super-swank timeshare ... we'll end up burning a night we don't even use.
we both slept in, merely because we could, and then went to giordano's for pizza. there mere fact that you can get what many people consider to be chicago's best pizza (i like lou malnati's better -- although i used to pick up a G's any time i was in ORD [you can't buy that way any more]), 2000 miles away, shows how weird things have truly gotten.
[as a side note -- chicagans are extremely proud of their pizza ... i guess that's what you focus on when you're forced to live in a hell hole like chicago ... but it's not really pizza ... it's casserole.]
but the star attraction, by far, is the volcano. "it erupts every ten minutes" the proprietor said, almost sounding like it wasn't the worst question he was asked every day.
and it does. but what i wasn't expecting was the raw shock of it going off. it emits two fire balls, separated by about three seconds, that would make even the wizard of oz proud. big, long, rollers with just a whiff of hydrocarbon afterward. but they're pushed out with such velocity that the pipe howls as they're emitted. and the great balls of fire are big enough that you can feel the heat from anywhere on the course.
it turns out that the inbred human wariness mechanism for things that will scare the hell out of you is about seven minutes. so at ten minutes, every single damn time that thing went off i needed a new pair of shorts.
which is to say it was great.
now you may think i'm exaggerating, but let's look at it from the point of view of the people across the street. they're out on their balcony watching the nightly finishing fireworks at disney world. the kids cheer and applaud as they go off.
and then the volcano pyro-belches.
and the kids get real quiet.
and one them them says, almost in a whisper, "oh my god."
and the other says, "that was awesome!" (which, by the way, was the exactly correct use of the word.)
they didn't applaud fireworks after that. they did wait on the balcony for, yes, three more eruptions.
this photo is actually shot about 1/8 of a second too fast. i was actually waiting to shoot the volcano and the first eruption scared me enough that i fired on the second blast too fast.
we ate leftover giordano's and made plans for tomorrow. the last AYCJ day.
and this means things can move slightly higher speed.
dr. bob may be a chowder head in many, many ways, but he's also a timeshare savant. many times in my life i've had a call from the good doctor that goes something like this:
"b1! how're you doin'? anyways ..." ... he always starts his pitches with that exact word ... "... i've got a time share in lake tahoe this weekend, you want to use it? or how about santa fe? i've got one in pocatello too."
"all three on the same weekend?"
"yes. turns out i can't use any of them."
which means i've got a little timeshare credit that can be burned. so of course i do and we move from our great comfort suites $26/night room (free internet and jacuzzi) to a super-swank timeshare ... we'll end up burning a night we don't even use.
we both slept in, merely because we could, and then went to giordano's for pizza. there mere fact that you can get what many people consider to be chicago's best pizza (i like lou malnati's better -- although i used to pick up a G's any time i was in ORD [you can't buy that way any more]), 2000 miles away, shows how weird things have truly gotten.
[as a side note -- chicagans are extremely proud of their pizza ... i guess that's what you focus on when you're forced to live in a hell hole like chicago ... but it's not really pizza ... it's casserole.]
and yes, it was the full-on real mccoy. the only difference was the crust wasn't quite the right combination of flaky/chewy and i'll bet you anything that's due either to the water or the humidity here. the pie you see above is for "1-2" people. the my accomplice and i, as a team, were able to eat 2.5 slices of six.
on the way out i stopped by a place to see if i could get any park/hiking information ... they advertise themselves as tourist information, but they also have this sign, which should be a clue.
in fact, it was a clue, but i wanted to go in anyway.
i'll keep the synopsis brief, but here's the brunt ... if you go into a place that advertises tourist info, to a place that is, literally, one stone's throw from walt disney world, you will draw blank stares when you say, "no, not theme park, national park." you'll also be given the opportunity to attend a timeshare.
the clock still wasn't running full on, so we went back to the place to nap for 20 minutes before, that's right, going to the tie dye activity at the time share. for me, tie dye is just like pinhole photography ... somehow i managed to dodge it my entire childhood (no intentionally, unlike circuits and animal classification in biology), so i wanted to do that.
the "helpers" were teenage women, a korean and a chinese national. they wanted to do the entire tie dying process themselves but my accomplice nearly bitch-slapped them into next week and they backed off. i went at it with the kind of furor and venom an 8 year old boy can pack into a midlife over-weight body. when they wrapped the t-shirt in a towel and said, "jump on it hard ten times," my accomplice only had just a chance to say "oh no," before i blew die half- way across the floor of the "activity room."
i got a swell $8 shirt along with conversations like these.
korean woman, "why don't you speak korean?"
"two reasons. one, for the same reason i don't speak hebrew, there aren't any of you, really. you guys like to think there are lots of koreans, but there aren't. if you're a dumb ass american, you should learn a language that has a little weight and practicality to it. like chinese [score one point] or spanish, which i do speak. two, as long as you have our missiles for protection, you have to speak my language. as soon as we use your missiles, i'll learn your language, i promise. i have one korean friend. i force her to speak english for missile reasons. she understands."
i'm guessing the number of non child-molesting mid-life men who show up for tie dye class is small -- probably something like only me -- so you could see the wheels turn as they were trying to decide "is he serious?" or possibily, "how about a little A+ red to go in that shirt?"
the outdoors beckons so we head to the tibet-butler nature preserve. like bayou savage, this is a tiny little hunk of nature still left in the middle of development on all sides.
a couple pix.
really nice preserve ... there was only one other person in the entire area.
they closed at 16:00, but there was still daylight, so we went to lake louisa state park. with only an hour of daylight left, it'd essentially be a sprint-hike. my accomplice battles hip problems (not related to, but probably exacerbated by, the fall), but motion actually helps considerably.
these are the biggest damn ant lion dens i've ever seen.
big spiders (i think these are banana spiders, or a very close relative).
we closed the park -- getting mildly chewed by a park rep.
and then it was on to the one thing my accomplice and i kept coming back to ... miniature golf with an active volcano ... we go in, coupon in hand, and the proprietor is clearly ready to deal. there's only three groups on the 36 holes and they pretty much just need money. i don't even remember what we cut -- i think we paid $18 for the two of us for 36 holes. and you and i both know it's a big kahuna bargain.
i must have mixed up the hard and easy courses because the easy one seemed hard. we played super hardcore rules (penalty strokes and the works) in and around the volcano.
but the star attraction, by far, is the volcano. "it erupts every ten minutes" the proprietor said, almost sounding like it wasn't the worst question he was asked every day.
and it does. but what i wasn't expecting was the raw shock of it going off. it emits two fire balls, separated by about three seconds, that would make even the wizard of oz proud. big, long, rollers with just a whiff of hydrocarbon afterward. but they're pushed out with such velocity that the pipe howls as they're emitted. and the great balls of fire are big enough that you can feel the heat from anywhere on the course.
it turns out that the inbred human wariness mechanism for things that will scare the hell out of you is about seven minutes. so at ten minutes, every single damn time that thing went off i needed a new pair of shorts.
which is to say it was great.
now you may think i'm exaggerating, but let's look at it from the point of view of the people across the street. they're out on their balcony watching the nightly finishing fireworks at disney world. the kids cheer and applaud as they go off.
and then the volcano pyro-belches.
and the kids get real quiet.
and one them them says, almost in a whisper, "oh my god."
and the other says, "that was awesome!" (which, by the way, was the exactly correct use of the word.)
they didn't applaud fireworks after that. they did wait on the balcony for, yes, three more eruptions.
this photo is actually shot about 1/8 of a second too fast. i was actually waiting to shoot the volcano and the first eruption scared me enough that i fired on the second blast too fast.
we ate leftover giordano's and made plans for tomorrow. the last AYCJ day.
pic of the day (29) -- AYCJ
sunset; orlando, FL
(this shot actually prompted my accomplice to say, "what a great fuckin' camera.")
pic of the day (29) -- AYCJ
(this shot actually prompted my accomplice to say, "what a great fuckin' camera.")
Tuesday, October 6, 2009
pic of the day (28) -- AYCJ
sunset; new smyrna beach, FL
(this pic is actually a bit of a cheat ... i went to shoot the sunset on wide angle and had pulled the camera from air conditioning to the outdoors so quickly that the lens fogged a bit ... so this isn't "just" a point-and-shoot shot, but i like the way it looks.)
all-you-can-jet -- day 28 -- orlando, FL
as far as looks go, today is definitely the worst for my accomplice. full-on black eyes with extreme puffiness as the subcutaneous fluid continues its gravity ooze downward. the look is, very much, of being worked over in a prize fight.
it actually reminds me of being a kid. when i was 5, my dad drove the family car off the embankment of larimer street in denver into the cherry creek river ... conservatively speaking, it was two stories, straight down ... and of course he wasn't wearing a seatbelt. his only injury, really, was a severe compound fracture of the arm -- that's what happens when your arm decides to battle a steering wheel (and yes, it breaks the steering wheel too) -- assuming you don't count breaking the windshield with his head (something i know he did four times in his life, for certain, but it wouldn't surprise me if it was twice that much).
he was in the hospital when my mom, my brother and i went to see him. my mom went in, but my brother and i weren't allowed entry to the room.
i've never been a person who has taken "no" well, and since my mom was a nurse i'd spent lots of time in hospitals, so i just went the secret backway and walked into my dad's room. when i saw him his face was severely swollen (probably twice normal size ... which says a LOT, because the entire b1 series have gigantic heads). he was fully bruised in black, blue, red and yellow. he had many facial lacerations.
i took one look, turned around and threw up in the trash can of his room.
this, in turn, brought a litany of swearing and blasphemy from my dad "GODDAMMIT! I SAID NOT TO LET HIM IN HERE! WHO THE GODDAMN HELL LET HIM IN?" two slaps to the head, a spanking and a chewing out by three different members of the nurses' staff.
i'm proud to say that i've learned from that experience. i didn't throw up when i saw my accomplice's face this morning -- but did have to spend a fair amount of time saying everything was going to be okay.
a slow start eventually took us to JB's fish camp in new smyrna beach. this is a place i've been before (it woulda been hard for me to remember had i not put the name on the posting in the arch) and i was looking forward to eating there again.
i ordered the turtle mound combo with clam chowder.
the chowder was as lackluster as unpeeled potatoes in chowder can get, but the combo was, once again, astounding. from left to right: clams, rock shrimp, crab, shrimp and oysters. sauces are tabasco, horseradish, butter and crab boil.
the rarity in this set are the rock shrimp -- for the most part they're only served shell-on in about a 100 mile radius of the fish camp. they're known for tasting like small/sweet lobsters. there's no question they were good, but the stand-outs here actually was the crab -- very possibly the best crab i've ever had (and i forgot to ask what kind it was).
it actually reminds me of being a kid. when i was 5, my dad drove the family car off the embankment of larimer street in denver into the cherry creek river ... conservatively speaking, it was two stories, straight down ... and of course he wasn't wearing a seatbelt. his only injury, really, was a severe compound fracture of the arm -- that's what happens when your arm decides to battle a steering wheel (and yes, it breaks the steering wheel too) -- assuming you don't count breaking the windshield with his head (something i know he did four times in his life, for certain, but it wouldn't surprise me if it was twice that much).
he was in the hospital when my mom, my brother and i went to see him. my mom went in, but my brother and i weren't allowed entry to the room.
i've never been a person who has taken "no" well, and since my mom was a nurse i'd spent lots of time in hospitals, so i just went the secret backway and walked into my dad's room. when i saw him his face was severely swollen (probably twice normal size ... which says a LOT, because the entire b1 series have gigantic heads). he was fully bruised in black, blue, red and yellow. he had many facial lacerations.
i took one look, turned around and threw up in the trash can of his room.
this, in turn, brought a litany of swearing and blasphemy from my dad "GODDAMMIT! I SAID NOT TO LET HIM IN HERE! WHO THE GODDAMN HELL LET HIM IN?" two slaps to the head, a spanking and a chewing out by three different members of the nurses' staff.
i'm proud to say that i've learned from that experience. i didn't throw up when i saw my accomplice's face this morning -- but did have to spend a fair amount of time saying everything was going to be okay.
a slow start eventually took us to JB's fish camp in new smyrna beach. this is a place i've been before (it woulda been hard for me to remember had i not put the name on the posting in the arch) and i was looking forward to eating there again.
i ordered the turtle mound combo with clam chowder.
the chowder was as lackluster as unpeeled potatoes in chowder can get, but the combo was, once again, astounding. from left to right: clams, rock shrimp, crab, shrimp and oysters. sauces are tabasco, horseradish, butter and crab boil.
the rarity in this set are the rock shrimp -- for the most part they're only served shell-on in about a 100 mile radius of the fish camp. they're known for tasting like small/sweet lobsters. there's no question they were good, but the stand-outs here actually was the crab -- very possibly the best crab i've ever had (and i forgot to ask what kind it was).
weirdness at the side of the restaurant
view directly out from my table
the lunch was long and leisurely and toward the end i saw that something large was swimming underwater along the walkway i have shown above ... i pointed it out to my accomplice and we tracked it as it swam ... and when it surfaced, it was a manatee ... we walked the pier immediately after lunch and saw a dolphin.
come on ... you gotta love a lunch place where for $20, you get a plate overfull of seafood and views of an endangered species.
the afternoon was going to be low key. we drove to daytona, and then drove the beach. it's 10mph of pure bliss.
my accomplice loves that fact that the GPS shows the car in the ocean
it's not everyday that you drive in front of a lifeguard stand
dinner was pecan encrusted catfish
and so ends the penultimate day of actual AYCJ activity. we'll have one more tomorrow, and then it's all flying on the last day.
Monday, October 5, 2009
all-you-can-jet -- day 27 -- brooklyn, NY
about an hour's worth of planning over haagen daz dark chocolate in the early AM gave rise to the plan of the day ...
... i've been in NYC something like six times on this trip and still haven't had great pastrami ... we decide to wake up early, plan in two hours of delay and go to the 2nd avenue deli (now moved to 3rd) for what solid goldstein believes is the best pastrami in new york, possibly the world.
oddly we were able to clear all the necessary stairs this time (possibly because *i* was carrying my accomplice's fricken extra bag this time) and left castle crytpo unscathed (assuming you don't count me leaving my travel hat behind).
our subway plans worked with swiss precision and we arrived at the 10:00 dead time. the old host welcomed us warmly ("josiah, please make a table for these two wonderful people who have just arrived in person") and we had run of the house. very nice considering we had our luggage with us.
i sat below a signed photo of dustin hoffman with the owner and decided i would have a of motza ball soup with noodles now and a pastrami on rye toast to go for the plane.
... i've been in NYC something like six times on this trip and still haven't had great pastrami ... we decide to wake up early, plan in two hours of delay and go to the 2nd avenue deli (now moved to 3rd) for what solid goldstein believes is the best pastrami in new york, possibly the world.
oddly we were able to clear all the necessary stairs this time (possibly because *i* was carrying my accomplice's fricken extra bag this time) and left castle crytpo unscathed (assuming you don't count me leaving my travel hat behind).
our subway plans worked with swiss precision and we arrived at the 10:00 dead time. the old host welcomed us warmly ("josiah, please make a table for these two wonderful people who have just arrived in person") and we had run of the house. very nice considering we had our luggage with us.
i sat below a signed photo of dustin hoffman with the owner and decided i would have a of motza ball soup with noodles now and a pastrami on rye toast to go for the plane.
(note the gribenes [fried chicken skin and onions] at the 11:00 position to the bowl -- exceedingly rare)
they serve motza soup a great way here ... they actually bring all the goods dry in a bowl, then add the broth at the table. it was very good, extremely dill-y, but not the best i've had. the ice tea was spectacular, but served in small buy-every-glass portions.
after brunch we made our way to T5 and my accomplice, not fully confident with having luggage in bins overhead, checked our first collective bag of the trip. we also scored super-coveted #AYCJ luggage tags.
for the flight we were given the ultimate (non-reclining) row on the plane, which could have been disastrous if not for ... well, let me tell it this way ...
before the flight got underway, a flight attendant said, "... and we want to give a shout out to all our all you can jetters ... where are you?" (my accomplice and i raise our hand, but so does the guy to our right) "there they are in the back ... who are flying all the way to bogota today."
before i can say anything to him he fires a line out to me "you have a pass too?"
"yeah, yeah."
"where have you been?"
and so begins the conversation. it winds, it bends and it turns. we talk about this and that ... but mostly he's asking me questions about me. this, in itself, is unusual. almost everyone i ever meet (and i meet and talk to a lot of people) are far more interested in talking about themselves, or something else, than they are me. which is fine. in fact, it's what i'm used to, and the way i like it.
so i say a few things, he asks me a few more. i talk about the usual stuff: my upbringing, how water purification works in the bermuda and why i like puerto rico because it feels like what the US would be like if mexico won a war against us ... but i need to shut him down.
"you know, it's very unusual for me to sit next to a stranger and have them know more about me than i do about them ... in fact, i don't really like talking about myself that much."
and i open the question barrage. all my dear readers who know me (and there are a surprising number here, actually) have been subject to this ... so you know what it's like.
and this guy is very circumspect in his answers, which of course, only brings on a more intense barrage.
he hems and haws around giving me partial answers, near answers and changing the subject answers, but i'm getting places and i'm trying to put the puzzle pieces together ... he's a middle aged guy, he's traveling all you can jet, he's going to colombia and has been to puerto rico, bermuda, costa rica and the dominican republic already ... his name is george ... he's price sensitive, so didn't stay around in bermuda (and is impressed that we had stayed as cheaply as we had [in fact, we stayed cheaper than he did everywhere we crossed paths, but hey, it's me doing that, right?]) ...
but it's not making sense. because he has the intentions, airs and behaviors of a rich guy, but clearly isn't. he also is extremely nice, bordering on warm, which is damn near unheard of for someone who is truly new yorker male.
people are puzzles. you can figure them out, but you can't ignore anything they tell you. there are no red herrings, only quirks, tendencies, weaknesses and personality traits. for this guy, it adds but is incomplete.
(lightload towel in the lower left here)
... and he might as well have handed me a live rattlesnake.
"i know this! you're the towel guy? are you the towel guy?"
he starts laughing as i go into full wind-up. "yes."
"remember, i said i went to morocco with my pal entropy dave? WELL, I TOOK THESE WITH ME. THIS IS WHAT I USED."
"really?"
"what? you think i'm going to sit here and lie to a stranger? of course i took them ..." i spin it around in my hand. "... but it had different packaging."
and this throws him back. "what? what's that you say? how was it different?"
and i point to a sub-logo on the package. "it had this design."
"whoa! whoa! that is an early one."
"of course it's an early one. what? you think i'm some sort of idiot? you think i'm a guy who travels in the back seats of planes just to lie to the potential towel guys i meet?"
"how'd you get it?"
"entropy dave is a way harder core traveler than i am. he's been to georgia ... and georgia? it has no hotels. and he's a jew and he's been to iran. that really says it all. and he's also a fricken east coast supremacist - he thinks everything on the east coast of the US is better than the rest of the country ..." george nods his head in approval so i tap him repeatedly (and hard) on the left shoulder with my towel "... WHICH IT'S NOT ... but one of his east coast pals picked it up somewhere ... that's how we got 'em ..." i'm still putting pieces together.
"how old are you?" i ask. and again he hems and haws around. and i hate that. you're either the age you are, or you're dead. come on. this conversation is going to take forever. i'm not even a new yorker and i'm finding this borderline intolerable. "okay, you're 55 so that makes you ..." and before i can finish ...
"WAIT! how did you know i'm 55? how do you know that?"
"oh jeez, i don't know george, from all the conversations we've had over our lifetimes. WHAT THE HELL DO YOU THINK? i write books about poker
. if you do that, you need to be able to read people. poker is a game of playing people, not a game of playing cards on a table."
. if you do that, you need to be able to read people. poker is a game of playing people, not a game of playing cards on a table."and i've got him. he's dangling in the pscyhological wind. whatever i want to know, i can get now.
"so you would have graduated in 1972 ..." he shakes his head in wonder, "... so you're a little too early to have followed the beatles path through india, but you're essentially on the hippie trail."
and off we go. he's a hardcore meditator. we talk about buddhism and christianity. we talk about the difference between old style and new style dill pickles. we talk about walking the florida trail. we talk for two and a half hours. we talk from the time the wheels leave the ground until the wheels touch again.
"have you ever seen fight club?" i ask.
"no."
"in it, brad pitt, who is essentially a psychopath, meets ed norton who essentially travels too much. ed norton has the idea of 'single serving friends,' like a sugar packet that you use once, these are people you meet once and then they go away. ed tells brad pitt's character that he's his favorite single serving friend ever ..." george nods, he's with me. "you are my favorite single serving friend ever." he's truly touched by this.
(FL's equivalent of the barrier islands)
we reach the airport and go our separate ways, but not without a parting comment.
"george, you might think that i like you, but don't take that too far. there is a part of me, a small part, but a real part, that hates you because you are taking the trip that i planned on, but then couldn't."
the rental car place was apparently just inside the boundaries of the land inhabited by the damned because people there were surprised by things like having a $350 hold put on their credit cards and you weren't allowed to do things like jump your car off a two story building without possible repercussions. it took over an hour to get through the line.
but it was cheap.
my accomplice was feeling the burn so we got to our hotel ($26/night, free internet) and both napped.
on waking we decided to go to my penultimate favorite southern chain, waffle house where i had a double pecan waffle and my accomplice had an all american breakfast (bacon, hashbrowns, eggs, waffle raisin toast). apparently it was the perfect choice. my accomplice was fired up enough to tip the server, ms. donna, 50% ... and the total was still $20 (i'll leave it to the instigator to figure out what the original bill was -- i won't be home for a fortnight, that might be enough time).
but all is not well for the accomplice. last night as i was typing here i noticed a swelling of the brow ... today that subcutaneous fluid has move down my accomplice's face and has created puffiness around the bridge of the nose and what was earlier extreme flaming redness and puffiness around the eyes has turned to something more fully evil and dark.
my accomplice's left eye is now swollen about half shut with full-on black eyes on both sides. it's possible (although i don't think likely) that my accomplice's eyes could be swollen shut tomorrow.
having a mom as an emergency room nurse, a grandfather who was a doctor, a scout master that was a green beret and having worked in a pharmacy myself, i know about as much as you can about medicine without actually, oh, being accredited ... and i can say with fair certainty that there's nothing wrong here. it may not be the way you want to look as you wander through the world, but as long as the fluid doesn't try to fill the ocular areas, everything's fine.
it's definitely, definitely, tapping my accomplice's energy, but spirits are high. ice, jacuzzis and slow pace all help.
we'll probably have half of a true travel day tomorrow, but hey, we're movin' ... and it's easy to imagine worlds where that might not be the case right now.
Sunday, October 4, 2009
all-you-can-jet -- day 26 -- brooklyn, new york
essentially today was entirely a day of recovery for my accomplice from yesterday's slide park ...
the day started with the best bagel i've ever had (mr. crypto had rustled it in from the bagel hole). so pretty much whatever happens from here out, including direct meteoritic strike, this is going to be a good day.
family crypto went to atlantic antic and suggested that my accomplice and i might want to tag along ... but on their triumphant return, it seemed like a damn good place to get a butterfly painted on your face, but perhaps a bit lackluster in other ways.
instead we collectively napped, sat around and then took a medium length walk to the brooklyn fish camp. i had a lobster roll, my accomplice had a bowl of soup and crab beignets. (the latter being horribly mis-named -- they should have been called "crab fritters" -- insisting on calling an item something "cool" to make it sound better is a terrible disservice if it isn't actually that item.)
... and we split an ice cream sundae for dessert. tasty, but expensive. $85 including tip.
but it's not all boring news from the day ...
my accomplice is doing very very well -- almost suspiciously so. full mobility. remarkably little bruising. razor edge sharp. only a very small amount of ominous swelling on the brow (oh, and the genius surgeons actually missed a two inch contusion further back on my accomplice's scalp, which would be easy to do if i hadn't told them that they missed a wound -- which i did, goddammit).
so this means traveling tomorrow is a possibility.
we looked at the map. anywhere outside the US is out in case something odd suddenly happens to my accomplice. sure, at this point the mexican medical system is better than the US (and no, i'm not being satirical), but if you're stuck for an extended period of time there it becomes problematic.
portland and seattle seem like possibilities, but they're too far (meaning we don't feel like hauling all the way out and back and i'm not convinced a long jet ride for my accomplice is a good idea right now). denver's a possibility, but i'm seeing my mom in a week anyway and that lessens my wanting to go there. salt lake city isn't that attractive. we've both been to austin too recently.
(don't you just love problems of the rich? i have to hear my friends sniffle about crap like this all the time, although theirs tends to be more in the category of "i don't know what kind of tile to put in the second bathroom of my other house," or, "my maids never put things back where i want them.")
the two things that look good are going back up to burlington, because the color change is full-on right now. and orlando because there are some florida possibilities -- including driving on daytona beach, which i love. we talk 'em over, and even though emotionally i lean toward seeing the color change and i'm already burning a couple of days in FL before the cruise, i still vote for orlando. it's warm. it's nice. it's cheap. it's shoulder season. and the food's better.
but the jetblue pass essentially has two rules: you can't fly out of the same airport on the same day; and all reservations have to be made or changed at least three days ahead of time (elseyou risk a $100 penalty). and the pass ends 10/8, so playing inside the rules doesn't work quite right here.
i come from a school where i believe anything is possible. and if there's anything i can do, it's reason, connect with other people and emote in a way that gets a sympathetic response.
{as a service to everyone involved, i need to be very careful what i say here, because there are a ton of angle shooters in the world -- especially on the internet -- and i don't want to give them fodder.}
so let me just say i have a 35 minute call with jetblue that was remarkably impressive -- tomorrow we make our ultimate all-you-can-jet leg.
no, i don't think orlando is a replacement for bogota, but throughout life you play the hand your dealt. focus on the downside, you torture yourself ... and i've given myself enough of that kind of pain in this lifetime.
tomorrow i move again ...
... i welcome it.
Saturday, October 3, 2009
all-you-can-jet -- day 25 -- new york, NY
everything was running on perfect clockwork. up and out the door and in less than 12 hours we'd be in bogota ...
there's only one catch: to get out the door, you've got to go down the stairs of mr. crypto's house. and to go down the stairs, you have to walk. and it turns out, that's not always so easy.
my accomplice lost footing while turning a corner on the stairwell landing and went face first down a flight of stairs. once it was clear that physics was going to take total control of the situation, my accomplice decided to surf the bag-in-hand down the stairs. and that worked damn well. the kevlar/boyt combo is a good one for body riding ... assuming, of course, that you keep your head away from all objects as you do.
if you can't do that,although your ribs and legs will be fine, i'd say it's likely you'll get: a y-shaped slash the size of my index finger on your head, leak about a pint of blood out of your body, get 20 stitches (complete with a dozen injections into your wounds so there's, ahem, "no pain"), an insider's look at a CAT scan, your scalp lifted so far off your head as it's cleaned that your eyes get drawn closed as the swabbing happens from that oh-so-popular plastic-surgery "windswept look," a test to see if jetblue charge you for hospitalization cancellations (they don't) and six hours in a waiting room where you get to watch clint eastwood in "pale rider" with the sound off.
which, it turns out, is what happened here.
of course, once you've surfed enough stairwell feet, had several mainlines of novacaine and really have no idea of the concept of "fear," you're nothing but go-go-go, right? which means now that we've got a free night in NYC, we figured, hey, why not head back to di fara's for some pizza? our timing would be perfect to get there just as they opened at 18:00 ...
when we arrive, there's a sign on the door "out of dough, will open at 7:00." how you run out of dough before you even open is a little beyond my basic understandings of business and pizza, but what do i know?
remembering that we've had nothing to eat today (assuming you don't count a few aerosol A+ red cells) this was less-than-spectacular news. we headed over to the baskin robbins/dunkin donuts combo to get a scoop of ice cream and finally finally finally get a free hash browns coupon honored (they give us these coupons on about half our jetblue flights and all three times we've tried to cash 'em, they've been denied).
we're back in queue for di fara's at 18:30 and already there's a new york style line (which means everyone's jockeying for position well before the doors even open). 50 minutes later, at 20 minutes past 7:00, they open -- we catch one of the few seats, but i then have to wait another 40 minutes to get a slice a pizza. yes, yes, yes, it's a damn good slice ... but nothing's worth the kind of torture we've had to endure to eat this damn thing (and no, i don't mean stair surfing).
my accomplice wants to get right back on the flight path tomorrow, but there's no way we're doing that ... head injuries can get you in the strangest of ways. (just ask natasha richards or billy mays.) in fact, i'm surprised they didn't ask for a night of hospital observation ...
... but this leaves our AYCJ future in serious question ... there's an unwritten, but well-understood, rule that all-you-can-jetters watch out for each other ... that means i'm on duty here ... bogota is now officially out -- and, ironically, it was the only place we had made both firm plans and reservations for ...
i'm not sure what's in.
goddammit.
you know what i believe this is a result of? this is a luggage accident. my accomplice insisted on carrying two bags -- one as a small backpack and another as a duffle. because my accomplice actually travels lighter than i do (which is almost unimaginable), the combo in those two bags is almost certainly lighter than my travel pack, but the set definitely has more bulk ... if you can't see the stair you're stepping on, it's not inconceivable that you may have to suddenly practice new forms of transit ... and this is never a good idea without either a helmet or a seatbelt.
remember, i said years ago that great luggage can keep you from death ... now do see what i mean?
(and one thing's for damn sure ... this fall could have been much, much worse ... it's not that hard to die in this type of accident.)
[for those of you keeping score in the home version of the game, please chalk up two bonus points for mr. crypto who when told, "put direct pressure on the wound" didn't even think twice about it, or put on sissy rubber gloves, or even flinch at the idea. if you have a bad accident around mr. crypto, and your life can be saved, he will save it (and after the fireworks were over he hung tight at the emergency room while i spooled red travel tape). that's pretty damn nice for a guy whose house has just been permanently stained. in the words of my dad. go mr. go crypto. go, go, mr. crypto.]
there's only one catch: to get out the door, you've got to go down the stairs of mr. crypto's house. and to go down the stairs, you have to walk. and it turns out, that's not always so easy.
my accomplice lost footing while turning a corner on the stairwell landing and went face first down a flight of stairs. once it was clear that physics was going to take total control of the situation, my accomplice decided to surf the bag-in-hand down the stairs. and that worked damn well. the kevlar/boyt combo is a good one for body riding ... assuming, of course, that you keep your head away from all objects as you do.
if you can't do that,although your ribs and legs will be fine, i'd say it's likely you'll get: a y-shaped slash the size of my index finger on your head, leak about a pint of blood out of your body, get 20 stitches (complete with a dozen injections into your wounds so there's, ahem, "no pain"), an insider's look at a CAT scan, your scalp lifted so far off your head as it's cleaned that your eyes get drawn closed as the swabbing happens from that oh-so-popular plastic-surgery "windswept look," a test to see if jetblue charge you for hospitalization cancellations (they don't) and six hours in a waiting room where you get to watch clint eastwood in "pale rider" with the sound off.
which, it turns out, is what happened here.
of course, once you've surfed enough stairwell feet, had several mainlines of novacaine and really have no idea of the concept of "fear," you're nothing but go-go-go, right? which means now that we've got a free night in NYC, we figured, hey, why not head back to di fara's for some pizza? our timing would be perfect to get there just as they opened at 18:00 ...
when we arrive, there's a sign on the door "out of dough, will open at 7:00." how you run out of dough before you even open is a little beyond my basic understandings of business and pizza, but what do i know?
remembering that we've had nothing to eat today (assuming you don't count a few aerosol A+ red cells) this was less-than-spectacular news. we headed over to the baskin robbins/dunkin donuts combo to get a scoop of ice cream and finally finally finally get a free hash browns coupon honored (they give us these coupons on about half our jetblue flights and all three times we've tried to cash 'em, they've been denied).
we're back in queue for di fara's at 18:30 and already there's a new york style line (which means everyone's jockeying for position well before the doors even open). 50 minutes later, at 20 minutes past 7:00, they open -- we catch one of the few seats, but i then have to wait another 40 minutes to get a slice a pizza. yes, yes, yes, it's a damn good slice ... but nothing's worth the kind of torture we've had to endure to eat this damn thing (and no, i don't mean stair surfing).
... but this leaves our AYCJ future in serious question ... there's an unwritten, but well-understood, rule that all-you-can-jetters watch out for each other ... that means i'm on duty here ... bogota is now officially out -- and, ironically, it was the only place we had made both firm plans and reservations for ...
i'm not sure what's in.
goddammit.
you know what i believe this is a result of? this is a luggage accident. my accomplice insisted on carrying two bags -- one as a small backpack and another as a duffle. because my accomplice actually travels lighter than i do (which is almost unimaginable), the combo in those two bags is almost certainly lighter than my travel pack, but the set definitely has more bulk ... if you can't see the stair you're stepping on, it's not inconceivable that you may have to suddenly practice new forms of transit ... and this is never a good idea without either a helmet or a seatbelt.
remember, i said years ago that great luggage can keep you from death ... now do see what i mean?
(and one thing's for damn sure ... this fall could have been much, much worse ... it's not that hard to die in this type of accident.)
[for those of you keeping score in the home version of the game, please chalk up two bonus points for mr. crypto who when told, "put direct pressure on the wound" didn't even think twice about it, or put on sissy rubber gloves, or even flinch at the idea. if you have a bad accident around mr. crypto, and your life can be saved, he will save it (and after the fireworks were over he hung tight at the emergency room while i spooled red travel tape). that's pretty damn nice for a guy whose house has just been permanently stained. in the words of my dad. go mr. go crypto. go, go, mr. crypto.]
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