California Diary Day 6 (2/18)

I wake up, check out, and catch a cab to to the airport.

I'm supposed to fly from San Diego from St. Louis, then St. Louis to Boston. I was worried because I only had a 40 minute layover in St. Louis, so I bribe the baggage guy to make sure my bag arrives safely.

I get on my flight, and I'm supposed to have a window seat, but this old guy is in my seat. The guy is with his wife, and I feel bad about making them move, so I take my seat on the end.

The guy's wife (at least 70 years old) spends the flight reading a Teen People.

I'm jealous of the two guys in front of me. One has a laptop and playing this war simulation game, and the other has a portable DVD player and is watching Troy. I just have my manly Stephanie Plum detective novel.

I really love flying. I don't know why people are afraid of it. That feeling when you're barreling down the runway, then you take off and you know the ground isn't underfoot anymore--that's awesome.

Isn't it amazing that you can cross the country in a day? A hundred years ago, it would take days by train, and 150 years ago it would take months.

I land in St. Louis, where's it's a sprightly 40 degrees. Fuck.

I board my connecting flight, and am pleasantly surprised to find there's only about a dozen people on the flight, so I have a whole row to myself. I solve the Jumble, but the St. Louis Dispatch crossword puzzle is too damn hard.

At what point do Stewardess' get fed up with the seatbelt lecture? After five times? Ten?

I land in Boston. It's twelve degrees. Fuuuuuck.

Two baggage carousels are broken at Logan, so there's one working carousel for three incoming flights, meaning crowds about five deep looking for their luggage. Amazingly, my bag comes out right away and I manage to get the hell out of there within a few minutes.

My sister picks me up and I crash at her place. The next day she drives me to my parents so I can pick up my car. I head back to my place and prepare to take a huge nap, until I step inside and realize it's forty degrees in my apartment. D'oh.

So yeah, Cali's nice. But there is no place like home. Even if it is freezing.

California Diary Day 5

We had a sales meeting in another hotel (the name escapes me) right next to the Pacific ocean. The weather was OK--cloudy, but in the high fifties, and I got to sniff two of my favorite scents--the ocean, and freshly cut grass (still a few months off from experiencing either back east).

We had our sales meeting in one of the hotel confernence rooms, and I got to meet a few more people. I didn't have to give a presentation (which was likely for the best for both myself and the audience).

We break around one thirty and I roam around taking pictures of the harbor. I head back to my hotel room for a shower and change of clothes. Flipping around on the tube, I remember Around The Horn and PTI are on at 2 in the afternoon, which is weird. They also have this local show about USC and UCLA sports, hosted by the two biggest douchbags I ever saw in my life. Picture the most annoying fratboy jock you ever met in college, age them five years, and you have these two guys. They talk about women's water polo like it's the World Series or something.

I also stumbled across the International Channel, which aired shows from Japan. I assume so, anyway, but everything looked real cheap and low rent. Best of all was a Japanese talk show called homeboy, with a dorky, Urkel-esque black guy as the host in front of a crowd of Japanese people. Beyond inexplicable, even if I could understand what was being said.

We all had a farewell dinner that night in a wonderful restaurant with the most amazing view of downtown San Diego. We ordered several bottles of wine that night, and while I'm not the biggest wine drinker, I figured I'd have a glass. Why not, right? Well, as soon as I finish my first glass, someone says "Let me top you off." Oh, well, I guess a second glass couldn't hurt, right? As soon as I finish that one, BAM, the glass is magically full again. This process repeated, I dunno, about 30 times during the dinner. I was pretty silly by the end. Thankfully, not pissing my pants or walking into walls or propositioning strangers, but making it to the bathroom and back was an adventure.

We take a cab back to the hotel. Some people wanted to go out for more drinks, but I decided discretion was the better part of valor, even though my flight didn't leave until noon the next day.

I tried to read--yeah, fat chance of that happening when the were bouncing around. I go to bed and sleep the sleep of the drunk.

Next: The Conclusion

Go shorty, it's your birthday, we gonna party like it's your birthday

It really is my birthday today, as well as the one year anniversary of this blog.

It's been a pretty good year. I bought my condo. The Red Sox won the World Series. I got some haircuts. Can't ask for much more than that.

Kind of a lousy birthday though. I got my first cold of the winter, so I stumbled through work and didn't go visit anyone because I didn't want to spread my germs. Fun.

Birthdays don't mean a lot anymore. When you were a kid, birthdays were awesome because you got presents and got to eat cake. I didn't realize it was my birthday today until I was stopped at a red light driving to work. Then it was like "Oh yeah, it's my birthday."

Nothing much else to add. I found out I'm hosting Easter this Sunday, which should be fun. I should be done the Cali diary before 2007. And MVP baseball is a really fun game. Now, here are some words on the band Stryper I found at Pitchfork.

"Christian metal: What's the fuckin' point? I mean the whole reason we listened to metal was because it wasn't acceptable and it wasn't approved of by our parents and teachers and what ever other authority figure there was to rebel against. I listened to Mötley Crüe because I wanted to create a schism between my parents and I. It's not like I really wished my parents could have appreciated "Shout at the Devil" so that we could have shared it together. I always felt really sorry for the kids who had to resort to Stryper because their parents were too strict. I'd hate to see where those kids are now. They're probably all dentists."

"

California Diary: Day 4, Yankees 2 (2/16)

Woke up at 4:30 to catch a flight from San Fran International down to L.A., then catch another flight toSan Diego.

I was picked up at the Airport by a taxi service. The driver was Chinese, niceguy, English was a little rough. We start heading on the highway and the roadforks, the left exit take you to San Fran, the right taking you to downtown Oakland. So we head...right?

"Uh, I'm heading to San Fran Airport," I say.

"I know. This is a shortcut," he replies.

We drive through some of the, uh, lesser parts of Oakland, and I see numerous folks who look like extras from the next Grand Theft Auto game. I duck my head and pray we don't break down. Thankfully we're back on the highway soon, and we probably saved about five minutes.
My flight doesn't leave until 8:30, so I have a ton of time to kill. I finish The Fortress of Solitude. I dunno. I liked it, I guess, but I never really connected with it (or vice versa). Needing something lighter, I switch to the first Stephanie Plum novel (hey don't laugh, I needed something breezy and it only cost me a buck).

Anyway, the flight to LA is brief and uneventful. Unfortunately, an issue with my ticket not printing means I have to go through LAX security again. Joy. Then I have to catch a charter bus to my connecting flight, which is in another part of the airport. I'm sweating pretty bad when I make it to my flight. We're on this really small plane that looks, uh, a tad antiquated.
Anyway, I land and step out into sunny San Diego, 60 degrees with a light breeze. I almost start crying.

A new rep named Brad picks me up. Brad used to play AA ball with the Padres, whichis definitely the coolest sports feat from someone I personally know. He drives me through sunny downtown San Diego, and everything I've heard about the city is true. It's gorgeous. I'm thinking about moving and becoming a hobo--it would still be anupgrade from Massachusetts.

I bum around the San Diego office for the afternoon, basically killing time. I call home and let my parents know I'm alive, but I might not ever come home.

Afterwards I meet up with my boss and we head over to Corronado and check into the Cordova hotel. The hotel manager is one of those people who are a little too energetic and perky, and this really annoying, you know?

The Cordova's a nice place, kind of a retro Spanish feel to it. I actually get lost trying to find my room. Embarassing, I know.

We go out to eat. More whining and dining! I get the pasta with clams. Yum.

I'm exhausted at this point, so I return to my hotel room for some zzzz's.

California Diary Day Trois (2/15)

It poured rain all day. I'm not talking drizzles or scattered showers--I'm talking record rainfall. Figures.

I drove with a rep down to San Jose--it took two hours. My total commute time to and from work is around 25 minutes, so I was getting a little antsy. San Jose did seem like a nice town, but I'm told housing prices are astronomical out here. In the Bay Area, $900,000 will get you started on buying a house. Cripes.

After San Jose, we drove back to San Fran, so I got to see a lot of the sights (well, kinda, it was really foggy). I did see Monster Park (or whatever the hell the call Candlestick Park these days) and the Golden Gate Bridge. We then had lunch at this Chinese restaurant where you don't have a menu. People just come by on carts with different items, and you just pick what you want, and they'll stamp your menu. Pretty cool. Thanks to my experience with sushi the day before, I'm a whiz with chopsticks.

[Tangent: Why don't atheists ever complain about the cities in CA starting with "San" (San meaning saint in Spanish). There's a ton of 'em--San Francisco, San Diego, San Pedro, San Jose. If they argue about "under God" being in the Pledge of Allegiance, you think this would be next on the list.]

After that, I trudge around SF in the pouring rain (does seem like a nice city). Then I get taken out to dinner (the very nice thing about business travel is the fact that you get whined and dined for everything).

I go back to my hotel, pack my things, and get ready to bid San Francisco a heartfelt goodbye.

Next: Destination San Diego

A quick break from my Cali Diary to recap a few things:

1. Watched the first few eps of Law & Order: Trial By Jury. Pretty good stuff. It’s similar to the mothership, but different enough where you don’t feel like you’re watching a carbon copy (a la CSI and its various spinoffs). Bebe Neurith is solid as the frazzled ADA, but Jerry Orbach looked awful health-wise in the pilot, and it sounded like they had to loop his dialogue in afterwards because he was too weak to speak. Sad to watch.

With four ongoing series, I hope the storylines don’t get watered down. I can’t remember if it was last season or the one before, but both L&O and Criminal Intent did stories based on the Jason Blair scandal. Hell, L&O used to do the occasional rape story before SVU came to town.

2. I’m reading Airframe by Michael Crighton right now. I picked up a bunch of paperbacks for a dollar before my trip to read on the plane, but since this one deals with the investigation of a troubled flight that kills three people, I decided to wait until I was home to read it.

This is actually the first Crighton novel I’ve read. It’s, well, problematic. Half the novel reads like a Boening instruction manual. The back cover of the novel touts its “authentic information,” and I realize planes are pretty damn technical, but god damn it can get boring talking about slates and VHUDS and NAIL and the like.

The other issue is the dialogue, which blows. I’m talking passages like

“That sleazebag,” Kenny Burne said. “He knows it’s not true!”

and

"Christ," Marder said, disgusted. He pounded the table. "Don't you people understand? I want this fucking thing solved!"

It’s painful at times. But I’m a good portion through the book, so I may as well finish it. There is an OK amount of suspense, and I am curious to see how it ends. We’ll see.

3. I was reading on kickboxing organization K-1 in Japan, and their plans to bring in the Olympic gold medalist from the Polish Judo Team. I don’t know why, but the thought of the Polish Judo Team kills me. I think I found my roto team name.

California Diary Day 2 (2/14/05)

Woke up at 5 AM, which is 8 AM ET, which is when I usually get up, so I guess it all evened out.

It's so weird for me being in the Bay Area, since I used to worship the punkscene out here in college or high school, and here I am, practically in Berkeley.Of course, if I tried to go to Gillman Street today I'd probably get my ass kicked.Getting old sucks, kids.

The day started out cloudy but it was 55 degrees, so I has no complaints.

I spent the day in Oakland meeting brokers. Oakland's kind of dumpy, at least theportions I saw. I did learn the Golden State Warriors (maybe the most nondescriptfranchise in NBA history) play in Oakland. Who knew?

I had sushi for lunch. Hey, when in Rome, right? It's, uh, a bit of an acquiredtaste, and I don't think I've acquired it yet.

It started raining about noon. Oh well, it was still an upgrade from back east.

Fun notes: I passed by a place called "God's Gym." No idea what was going on there. And I marked out for being on Telegraph Avenue, which has been referencedin seemingly dozens of songs.

Since it was Valentine's Day, every one had prior plans, so I went back to my hoteland ate a Bit O'Honey and a Diet Coke for supper. All in all, it was a pretty goodVD for me.