Global Wandering

I am staying at the Westin in Cincinnati. Some hotels hold more memories than others. This one is full of them.

Tonight as I returned to my room after a delightful Thai dinner with a friend, the fire alarm went off. So I sat in the lobby while the front desk staff decided whether the hotel was burning or not. I hadn’t sat there in a long time. Two memories were particularly strong.

When I was seventeen, my Dad had just gotten out of rehab for alcoholism and was staying at a halfway house. It was Christmas Eve and my sisters and I picked him up to take a drive around the city to look at the holiday lights. It was a frigid night, close to zero. Our car didn’t like the cold and always enjoyed stalling at the most inopportune times. It chose to do so now⎯on Vine Street about a block from the Westin. After several futile attempts to restart the car, we hiked to the hotel to call a tow truck. While we waited, we sat in the lobby near the Christmas tree and opened the gifts we had brought for each other. I don’t remember what I gave my Dad, but I remember he was embarrassed about the gifts he brought us⎯some donated books he had found at the halfway house. He gave me a volume about St. Paul. I have never read it, but I keep it on my bookshelf. It reminds me of the sadness I felt that night. Sadness for my Dad that his life had deteriorated to a point where he had nothing to give his kids on Christmas, other than what he could scavenge from his sparse living quarters. I suppose the experience also had an impact on him. For this time, after several unsuccessful attempts, he finally stopped drinking.

Five years later, during a happier Christmas season, I sat with LaPriel in the Westin lobby listening to a pianist play holiday songs. It was our first date after having broken up six months earlier (I call it breaking up, she would say we were never going out⎯which was probably true. Men are renown for reading more into a relationship than is actually there). Which was why as a love-struck twenty-two year old sitting holding LaPriel’s hand, I was already planning out a wedding while she was probably wondering whether she should be there at all.

Posted by jd at 8:20 PM | Permalink | Comments (5)

Today was my first time venturing out into the wide blue yonder under TSA’s level orange. My destination was San Antonio to help a client close a sale. I meticulously didn’t pack my toothpaste, shaving cream or the plethora of other things I can no longer take with me if I wish to enjoy the privilege of pulling my rollerbag through the concourse.

The security line at my local airport was a breeze. In fact, it was if nothing had changed. No one asked if I was carrying contraband like bottled water. They didn’t even search my luggage, even though I was the only one going through with a rollerbag.

My flight to Salt Lake City was uneventful. I stopped in Delta’s Crown Room to hydrate and stock up on supplies for lunch – an apple and some new date nut bars Delta has started serving this summer in preparation for charging everyone an annual fee to enter instead of allowing Platinum flyers in gratis.

On the way back to my gate, I noticed a few flyers who also hadn’t checked their luggage. The rollerbag toting demographic is now overwhelmingly male. The few females I saw pulling luggage weren’t wearing makeup and apparently figured they could do without.

I snapped this poor quality cell phone picture of this woman’s tattoo. I’m not a big tattoo fan, but this one was ingenious. She has an oak tree on her neck. It looked as if it sprouted out of her shirt. It is also strategically placed, so when she let’s down her hair, no one can see she has a tattoo.

At my gate, things did not look good. Maintenance was trying to get the door on the plane to open all the way. They finally gave up so they let us board with the assistance of the portable ramp. It was at that point the pilot decided maybe he should check if the San Antonio Airport crew had a portable ramp at their disposal. No sense flying all that way if we can’t exit the plane. Of course they didn’t have one, so we deplaned and proceeded to wait three hours with no information whatsoever. I should point out this flight was run by Atlantic Southeast Airlines (ASA), one of Delta’s Connection Carriers, whose maintenance record was so poor about a decade ago, Delta had to step in and take over. ASA was bought by SkyWest last year.

Three hours later, just when I was about to head back home because there was no way I would make my San Antonio meeting in time, they called us to reboard. I checked with my client, and they encouraged me to still try to get there.

Onboard, I was amused with my seatmate’s portable life raft, which apparently is still allowed by TSA despite the danger it poses should the thing pop.

I also entertained myself taking pictures of how disgustingly dirty this airplane was. Hasn’t ASA ever heard of deep cleaning?

When I arrived in San Antonio, I dashed outside into the 100 degree heat in search of a taxi. Luck would have it, the taxi at the front of the line was driven by a 75 year old man. The temperature inside the cab was at least 110 degrees. The driver asked me if I would like the air conditioner turned on. I gave him the obvious reply and proceeded to ask whether he didn’t always drive with the air conditioner on given the oppressive heat. He informed me no. He saved the air conditioner for his customers, and since I was a customer I could choose to have it turned on or not. At that point, I didn’t dare tell him to hurry up his driving, even though I was an hour late for my meeting. It was too risky, because he was too occupied trying to cool off by raising his armpits into the blowing air.

I arrived at my meeting in time to speak for about ten minutes.

P.S. Total cost for toiletries at the hotel gift shop: $10

Posted by jd at 8:59 PM | Permalink | Comments (6)

Lisa wrote a marvelous post revealing the contents of her Moleskine notebook. In June 2003, I bought my first Moleskine in Aspen Colorado. I was attending a writers conference, and I just knew I had found my calling in life. Writing fiction. For five days I sat with fellow writers as we critiqued each other’s work and soaked in the wisdom of a master storyteller who served as our workshop leader.

Three years later, I still enjoy writing, but I no longer dream of publishing. Writing is hard; breaking into the Byzantine world of publishing is even harder. I admire individuals who persevere for years and years and finally get their book published. I just don’t have the drive or ambition to do that. There are too many other things I find of interest, too many projects I want to pursue.

I wrote a story. I fell in love with the characters and I waded through seven drafts, polishing each sentence until I knew the book was the best I could make it. I’ve added a link on this blog with the first eight chapters. The link has instructions for how to get the rest of the book if someone wants to see how the story ends.

I'm not secretly hoping an agent will discover it there. I'm not even banking on anyone reading it. It’s just a part of me that I finally feel like sharing.

Now for a sampling of notes I've taken in my Moleskine the last three years:

• Notes I took from the Aspen writer’s workshop. Such cryptic nuggets like “the truth is in the body” and “take a bath in the scene”
• Pages of character profiles, dialogue, plot issues for my novel
• Quote by Ann Patchett at a talk in Driggs, Idaho in October 2003 – “You don’t have to know everything, it just has to be believable by writing on what you are passionate about”
• Notes from my drive from San Diego to San Luis Rio Colorado, Mexico – a town I used to stay at on the border many moons ago that I wanted to revisit because of a scene in my book
• Lists of memorable people I've seen, like the older woman who stretched out her arms and legs coming down an escalator as if she was flying
• Snippets of memorable dialogue I’ve had or overheard in my travels, such as the woman I met in the elevator at the parking garage as she escaped from a New Orleans casino, “I gotta get out of here boy. They crippled me. Whew these machines are bad.”
• List of books I read in college that influenced me. Including Heart of Darkness and Far Sargasso Sea
• Another list of interesting scenes that would make good short story starters – A man in San Diego’s gaslight district pushing an empty wheelchair. Who used to sit in the chair? Where are they?
• Mayan and Spanish words for certain plants in my book given to me by a Mayan boy who served as our guide at some archaeological ruins in Campeche, Mexico.

Those are some of the literary entries. It is also plum full of notes dealing with business, finance, and life in general. I’ll share those another time.

One final quote by Samuel T. Coleridge on the first page of my notebook:

“Nothing can permanently please if it doesn’t contain in itself the reason why it is as it is and not otherwise.”

That is what I try to do with all my writing.

Posted by jd at 4:55 PM | Permalink | Comments (4)

Because my business office is above the garage, I go for days without shaving and generally give the impression that I’m a bum, folks often approach me with new business opportunities. Not real business opportunities but those that fall under the category of “creating multiple streams of income,” better known as network marketing. I have nothing against network marketing and consider it a legitimate way to make money. What galls me is when people try to pretend it's something that it's not and try to sell benefits that aren’t really there. Multilevel marketing businesses simply allocate a very large percentage of their revenue to paying independent reps instead of hiring a sales staff, renting office space and advertising.

For example, several years ago I guy tried to get me to sell noni juice. I don’t even remember the name of the company. What I do remember is the talk I listened to from the company’s founder. He was very upfront. He said multilevel marketing only works if the product costs little to produce but has some ethereal or mystical quality for which people are willing to pay a premium. In other words, the product must have extremely high gross margins in order to compensate all the reps up and down the pyramid. I spent a few hours analyzing the noni juice line and determined a liter of juice that retailed for $29.95 cost no more $2 or $3 to produce. Which means at least 80% of the sale price went to paying independent reps.

One of the original multilevel marketing companies was Amway. They now go by Quixtar. While this is a legitimate enterprise, I have never understood their recruiting approach. Here is a company with ample brand equity, yet whose reps will never tell you the name of the company they represet unless they are sitting in your living room. They always talk about a “business” opportunity or a part-time “business.” In fact, if anyone ever approaches you about a “business” but seems to go out of their way not to tell you the name of the business, you can almost guarantee its Quixtar.

As long as I am on the subject of multiple streams of income, LaPriel and I have developed a new business opportunity for all you looking for some residual income. It is a special seasoning package guaranteed to help you lose weight. We have spent years perfecting the secret formula for this meal replacement.

The concept is simple. Twice a day instead of your regular meal, eat a cup of beans sprinkled with this special seasoning. Due to a patented chemical reaction, you’ll feel full, fulfilled and the weight will just fall off. Each package is all-natural and sells for $1.95. That’s less then $4 per day plus the cost of beans. Its proven. Guaranteed.

Posted by jd at 7:14 PM | Permalink | Comments (4)

Earlier this week I stood in the security checkpoint line at my local airport and thought how nice it was that there hadn’t been a notable terrorist threat in some time, leading to heightened airport security. The next day that had changed.

I have never been one to think flying is a hassle. I don’t insist on an aisle seat, but still enjoy a window so I can see out, even after a million plus flight miles. I don’t drag through airports with an anguished look on my face as if I have been sentenced to a labor camp. I gladly take my shoes and jacket off on my way through security (of course it helps that our local airport is small enough that everyone knows me so I don’t have to be patted down). Now the inconvenience factor has been raised. Here is the list of things that can no longer be carried through security according to the U.S. Transportation Security Agency:

Body creams and lotions
Bubble baths
Bubble bath balls (gels)
Eye drops / gels
Gel caps
Gel deodorants
Hair detangler
Hair sprays / aerosol bottles
Hair styling gels
Hand sanitizers
Lip gels (Carmex in tubes, etc)
Lip glosses/liquids (solid lip glosses and blushes are allowed)
Liquid foundations
Liquid medications (non-essential)
Liquid Soaps
Make up removers / facial cleansers
Mascaras
Mosquito sprays
Mouthwashes
Nail polishes, such as those shown here, are now prohibited from the security checkpoint and in your carry-on baggage. Nail polish and removers
Neosporin like cremes
Ointments
Perfumes / colognes
Saline Solutions
Shampoos and conditioners
Shaving creams and gels
Toothpastes
Topical creams
All beverages (excluding formula/breast milk)
Camelbaks and similar backpacks must be empty
Gel based sports supplements
Jellos
Puddings
Yogurts (or gel like substances)
Baby teethers (with gel or liquid inside)
Children’s toys with gel inside
Gel candles
Gel shoe inserts

A less seasoned traveler would resign themselves to checking their rollerbag. I, of course, will continue to carry on all my luggage. I’ll either buy my toiletries when I arrive at my destination or I’ll learn to groom with baby formula.

Posted by jd at 3:58 PM | Permalink | Comments (8)

This part of Idaho is a land of rolling farm fields, sage, sand dunes, pine and aspen covered slopes and the jutted peaks of the Tetons. Mighty streams like the Henry’s Fork, the Teton, Fall, and Warm Rivers tumble through this varied terrain. Much of the area is national and state owned forests. Camping spots are abundant. There is no need to own recreational property here, yet LaPriel and I can’t seem to shake the desire to buy some land to call our own.

You see, our valley has been discovered. The building and speculation that used to stay on the Wyoming side of the Tetons in Jackson Hole is spilling over to Idaho. There are 72 subdivisions under development in Idaho’s Teton County alone. The county’s land use planning is a disaster. Comparatively speaking, property is still affordable, yet it is no longer cheap and the prices are climbing. We’ve told ourselves it’s stupid to buy land. It’s just one more thing to worry about. We don’t want or need it for investment purposes, because investing is my profession and there are far easier and less risky ways to make money. I have tried to analyze what it is I seek when I contemplate owning acreage along a creek, or overlooking the Tetons, or along the edge of a forest. I can experience all that nature without paying a dime.

It comes down to permanence and intimacy. If I buy my own land perhaps the rest of the valley will be gobbled up in a patchwork of subdivisions but my acreage will remain untouched by development. The goal would not be to subdivide for profit, but to conserve the land for native grasses, flowers and trees. The Teton Regional Land Trust has led the conservation efforts in these parts.

But it isn’t just permanence I seek. I can find permanence in the national forest. I crave intimacy. I want to return year after year to the same spot and marvel at newly formed lupine buds, study how the moss has crept another half inch along a rock’s northern face, and see the countless ways light plays against an aspen’s shimmering leaves. Intimacy and permanence. Perhaps they are quixotic ideas money can’t buy. Still, LaPriel and I had fun looking the past few days. We drove over a hundred miles up canyons, around mountains, and through streams. We added new scratches to our Subaru's side panels and came across a young hawk by the roadside that hadn’t yet learned to fear man. All and all a wonderful weekend.

Posted by jd at 11:10 PM | Permalink | Comments (9)

I haven't spent much time on meme's, only because it requires too much thought. Lisa, however, tagged me with one that doesn't seem too taxing, and it seemed like a good thing to do on my first anniversary of blogging.

"YOU CAN'T HANDLE THE MEME" - "A Few Good Men"

Five items in my freezer:
1. Rasberries
2. Corn tortillas
3. Tilapia
4. Rice socks for aches and pains
5. Half eaten popsicle

Five items in my closet:
1. CO2 cartridge for emergency bike flats - which I never carry with me, thanks to emergency cell phone calls to LaPriel
2. Switch blade - gift from my brother-in-law - in case I ever join a gang
3. Electrical outlet converter kit for international travel
4. My childhood beach towel - Biker Dude with "Ride On Babe" saying
5. Neck pillow for very long plane rides

Five items in my car:
1. Empty Fiji and Evian water bottles - I've decided Evian taste better
2. Dust from mountain drives along dirt roads
3. Map and restaurant guide for Jackson Hole, Wyoming
4. Last month's Fast Company magazine
5. Delta headset (see below)

Five items in my briefcase:
1. Apple Powerbook
2. iPod Nano
3. Assortment of Delta headsets collected from when I get upgraded to first class so when my family flies coach we don't have to buy more to watch the movie
4. Jabra JX10 Bluetooth Headset
5. Super Soduku puzzle book

I tag Simmons and Popeye. Aussie Yam is also welcomed to participate, but I am afraid she might be all memed out.

Posted by jd at 1:42 PM | Permalink | Comments (5)