adventures

adventures / Friday / NYC / photo / video — Comments Off on Today was my birthday last year
16
Jan 26

Today was my birthday last year

Got in some quality work today. I all but locked down two syllabi. I decided to give myself an extra day or two to meditate on whether I made any big errors there. Sunday. I have started the final polish on the first two days of lectures. Monday. I thought about laundry. Tomorrow. It was a great afternoon.

And sunny. Suuuuuuunny. Spring is on the way, sunny. We made it, sunny. The world is full of possibilities again, sunny. When I finally went outside it was 25 degrees.

There was some mild discussion about a jacket. As in, You need a jacket and, “Nah, it’ll be fine.” It was, you see, an evening with brief moments of outdoors.

It was not my birthday, but it was the day of my present. So we took a ride to the train station, and took a train to Penn Station, and took a subway up to 72nd. And this is where my jacket risk became a consideration. It was sunny and 25 when I climbed into the car. Now it is dark. And I have no idea how far we are walking from station to venue.

Fortunately, it was just two blocks. And there was a line. But it moved quickly enough that the cold didn’t set in.

And so we went inside the Beacon Theater, which will celebrate its centennial in a few years. The Beacon opened in 1929, it was to be part of a chain of elaborate movie theaters. But then, right after this incredible place opened The Great Depression sank in. This was one of the last things to go up in that older world. There was a hotel attached to the project, and an airway beacon placed on the roof of the hotel, hence the name.

It was a daily movie theater, which ran 12 hours a day. And then they added radio broadcasts. (Your live podcasts aren’t that novel.) They stumped for bonds during World War 2. In the 1960s, plays became a part of the rotation. In the 70s, it became a concert hall, and also got a renovation. It almost became a night club and disco in the 1980s. That plan got tied up in court and plans changed. It became an IMAX, then got renovated again in the ‘oughts.

Today, it’s a popular live event venue, having entertained Manhattan for almost 100 years now.

I said this in the venue. I know people in New York aren’t mean. People from elsewhere might think so, but that’s not the case. It has been argued to me that the people in New York just aren’t concerned about you. But under that, there’s a kindness there, as you will find in any decent person. A decent one, anyway. Sometimes you get the random person who will try to help if you look lost. You will also get the person who will walk by you or cut you off if you’re not moving. They’re just focused on what their focused on, and not you.

The people outside the venue were all in the usual mode of evening happiness. They were going to see a show they’d been looking forward to. On a date. Out with friends. Faking a birthday. Whatever. And we got up to the woman who scanned tickets, who had a small talk conversation with you, which I don’t know that’s ever happened to me in the city. It stood out enough that I considered asking if she was originally from there, but if not, then I run the risk of insulting her. So I let it slide. The security people were security people. Inside, someone was handing long-stemmed roses to the ladies.

I went to the restroom. In the restroom there is a man who has the job of standing there and making sure everything is clean and orderly. I walked in and he welcomed me to the theater. This man is on bathroom duty. He’s drying countertops. “Welcome to the Beacon, sir.” After I washed my hands, shaking them brusquely in the sink so as not to mar his dry workspace, he handed me a custom, artisanally torn stretch of paper towel and said “Enjoy the show,” with a sort of sincerity that you don’t often occur in a men’s room, or in the liminal space between that room and the rest of your life.

And, you know what, I was going to enjoy that show. It was my part of my birthday present, after all.

Mandal was the opening act. Here’s a guy who is cleverly pretending to be foolish. Not that it is clever to do so, but that he is clever at it. Online, I found a set he did for a Netflix comedy fest eight months ago. Here’s his debut on The Tonight Show six months ago. And, so, between these two points and what we saw tonight, I’ve gotten a little sense of how his set was evolving, which is fun.

He did about 20 minutes, I guess, but I wish he had more. I was ready to settle in, in that way that you do when someone has brought a really funny person over to your party and you sit around the kitchen and listen to them go on and on until the evening ends.

But the evening wasn’t ending. Josh Johnson was the headliner. He’s one of the most prolific — and topical and timely — comedy writers of his generation. Just has to be. He’s produced almost five hours of material on YouTube just this month, plus his day job working (and now occasionally hosting) at The Daily Show. I wonder if this set will go online in the next few days. I’d watch it again.

When the show was over — and the bathroom gentleman was right, we did enjoy it very much — we went across the street for dinner. Because it is Manhattan we had a host of nearby things. Mediterranean, two cheesy American places, Italian, something else that didn’t really get a lot of consideration, and Thai. So we chose that, and it was right across the street.

The woman working up front at Sala Thai asked if we had reservations. We did not. She said it would be 15 minutes, and asked for a number to text us at. There was nowhere to stay inside, so we ducked back out to the street and I said, “Let’s walk the block. Keep us warm, see a bit more, and we’ll be close.”

We rounded the corner and got buzzed to come back inside. It is a tight, crowded, hopping little place. It reminded me of home.

I’m from Thailand.

No, there’s an incredible — incredible to me, anyway — Thai place in my hometown and I miss it a great deal. This place I was excited to try because they also offered a coconut soup, just as my favorite place does. And, being a cold night, it was perfect for coconut soup. (I’d eat coconut soup in the middle of summer, and have.)

Theirs was a bit sweeter, compared to what I recall, and had some odd little mushrooms, compared to what I prefer, but it was tasty. Also on the menu was this.

Kao Soy (a northern style curry noodle soup, the menu said) looked very similar to my beloved Chicken Noodle Bowl. And it was close.

This is egg noodles, onion, bean sprouts, pickled mustard greens in a red coconut broth. I immediately scooped the pickled mustard greens out of the way. I wish it had just a bit less of the broth, and had some plump long grain rice. Then it would be my beloved Chicken Noodle Bowl. Not quite the same, but very, flavorful and filling.

The tables in this place are so on top of us that, to my right, there was an acrylic divider between us and the next table. An older couple sat there. The table to my left was so close that we couldn’t leave without interrupting their meal. Two younger people sat there, still very much in an early phase of dating. She was still talking about her school work.

So my lovely bride and, being between them in the phases of relationships, alternated between sounding like an old couple and acting like two young people just finding one another.

We left, walked the two blocks to the subway, and talked about the merits and challenges of living in a big city. She, who grew up in a suitcase town and lived a few times in Atlanta, regrets never having done it. Me, having lived in suburbs and exurbs most of my life, am set in my ways and glad I don’t live in a big city. But I do appreciate being so close to world class cities. It was something I reflect on the reverse trip. Five quick subway stops. A late train out of town, and then a quick ride on an empty late night freeway. A couple of easy moves and I can be up there for the 100th anniversary of the Beacon, or celebrating other events, or enjoying some of the other fabulous looking things on that Thai menu. And, most importantly, it is even easier to get back out again.

I’ll be back for more of that menu.

And the Chicken Noodle Bowl? I’m going to have that again, this spring. That will also not be my birthday, but I might celebrate it just the same.

adventures / cycling / Monday / photo — Comments Off on Tried a new app, ready to ditch an old one
12
Jan 26

Tried a new app, ready to ditch an old one

On Saturday night we were invited to a hockey game. Some friends had extra tickets, and so sure we could go. If we could get there. Somehow, we missed an exit. The re-route was not drive-able, despite passing right in front of the venue, there were several cut-throughs that were blocked off. I am sure there are reasons, but they all hampered us. So we had to continue on, up and past the venue, now the venue is behind us. Now it is well behind us. Now, and only now, we can turn left, a leap of faith despite running two maps to plot our course.

Lewis and Clark would be so proud. The explorers, I mean, not the defensemen.

Let’s assume there are two players skating named Lewis and Clark. They’d be proud, too, but not as proud as the explorers. For with the bright glowing lights of two sports venues to guide us, traffic to follow, and who knows how many satellites connected to two separate maps, we managed to park across the street.

Not where we’d reserved parking, but where we could pay anew.

The walk was easy. We got in. Had to walk halfway around the joint to get to our seats to see friends. It was dollar pretzel night. I sprung for pretzels and mustard for everyone. Let’s do a little algebra.

On dollar pretzel night, I purchased four pretzels. I purchased two waters. The bill was $18 and change.

And so you see why the water wars to come will be brutal.

But not as bad as the hockey we saw tonight. The home team would, from time-to-time, put on an impressive display of holding the puck in front of their opponent’s net. The opposing team refused to do that, however. They just shot the thing at the home goalie.

And, friends and puck fans, he was not up to the task tonight. On our way out of the venue, when it was 6-1 and they were still skating, people in the concourse had some thoughts about the local netminder. They weren’t shy or polite about it, either. The final score was 7-2. (They played again this evening. It was not much better.)

But, hey, free hockey!

I enjoy all of the things they do in between periods. The light show is a lot of fun, though it might need to be refreshed. Also, if you mistime it, you can make the pyrotechnic show look like a calamity!

We were parked under this sign. On Sunday, that team did no better. Glad we weren’t there for that.

But I’ll probably never go to a game there. The prices are outrageous. I just couldn’t enjoy myself knowing what was spent on this ticket, especially when I every angle possible on the television, and climate controlled conditions, just a few miles away. It got into the 20s last night when they were suffering through that playoff game. I was sitting next to a blanket on my sofa.

The sky had a full day of it, yesterday, too. It was one of those indecisive days. I am a blue sky! Now I am moody! Now I am purple! But what if I embrace the gray and dark! Oh, I’m in my bright blue era again! And so on.

Worked on a class again today. Got in some of the email. I have made a list of notes for a meeting tomorrow. After tomorrow, I will have to do a lot more work. So, this evening, then, I am getting on the bike.

I haven’t ridden a lot in a long while. Just didn’t feel the need to. Or the motivation. One or the other. Maybe both. I could feel what little bit of fitness i had slipping away, though, so there’s that. That’ll happen when you ride for just a few minutes a week. It’s mental, as much as anything, but now I feel, mentally, that I want to ride some more.

Also, we are trying a new service. Our indoor riding has been on Zwift for years. In the winter time, that’s what you’ve seen here. It looks like a video game, and it is. It is useful for training, but it’s an intricate series of animations, basically. My lovely bride unilaterally decided she wanted to try Rouvy, which is funny, because I have been meaning to mention that same platform to her.

On Rouvy, you ride through real places. So, to the extent that the visuals matter, you’ve got that going for you. The first route I tried, just for the name, was Death Road, or Yungas in Bolivia. The road itself is 40-mile long highwire act. It has been replaced by a better route, and is now largely for tourists. And it kills an absurd number of people a year. No way in the world I’d get on this gravel in the real world, on any sort of vehicle. But I can’t fall off my smart trainer!

Yungas Road looks, in part, like this.

And then, just to round out a little time, I rode through Safari Park Dvur, a zoo in Czech Republic. I saw some deer, some varieties of other antlered wildlife, something perhaps related to an antelope. There was the flank of some huge animal that I could not identify, for it came and went quickly. I passed by a giraffe which was walking on the side of the road. For a few moment, two tiger cubs trotted alongside me.

This is done by cameras. Someone has strapped recording equipment to themselves, to their bikes or mopeds or cars and given me this predetermined route. The next time I visit that zoo, those tiger cubs should still be there. (Though it’ll blow my mind if they aren’t. Maybe I should ride it again tomorrow and see?)

There’s some other great data you get from the rides, and cyclists love their data. I was spending a lot of time in Zone 3 today, because see the self-criticism about my fitness. And since that’s lacking at the moment, the hills felt even more real. What’s a 7 percent gradient when you have no legs?

My lovely bride tried Rouvy for the first time yesterday. When she came back upstairs I asked her how it was. She liked it so much she canceled Zwift before she was finished riding. Today, I rode under and was slightly splashed by a small waterfall on Yungas Road. They say they have routes in 71 countries available to ride. They say I can import my own routes — there’s a road I’ve wanted to ride since 2011 or so. It was absolutely the first thing I checked when I downloaded the Rouvy app.

We drove that road, a 51 mile route from the highway to a mountain opposite Mount St Helens, ages ago. It’s just been sitting here, waiting for me to ride in some way or another. And now I have an app that will let me do it, if I can figure out some problem with the GPX import issue.

Of course this means I will need to make a Rouvy banner for the site. And ride a lot more. Tomorrow is going to be a great day to ride.

adventures / family / Monday / photo — Comments Off on One last Christmas party
29
Dec 25

One last Christmas party

All told, we had three family Christmases this year. One with my family, last week, and then with the in-laws on Thursday. Today, with the god-in-laws. (Just go with it.)

So there we all were, 15 of us in one lovely little three-bedroom split-level home. This was where my god-sisters-in-law grew up. Their parents are my lovely bride’s godparents. And my in-laws are their godparents. And, of course, there’s the next generation, five between the ages of 5 and 17. We visit, listen to the standards, Sinatra, Martin, a lot of Nat King Cole this year, which was lovely. We have appetizers while the kids run around. We open presents, by order of age.

In that room I’m the sixth oldest. That’s on the wrong side of the median, but I try not to think about it. It’s fun watching them all pair off. My father-in-law and my godfather-in-law have known each other since elementary school. My mother-in-law and my godmather-in-law went to nursing school together. My godparents-in-law met at my in-law’s wedding. And this family has grown up together, three generations worth.

Nine of us gather for dinner around a table built for six. There are place cards. I am usually sat at the right hand of the other end of the table, but today I was at the left hand of the head of the table. We have homemade lasagna. It’s better than what you know.

It just is, and I’m not sorry about that, but I am sorry for you.

My godmother-in-law reads a bit of scripture. The kids dine in the kitchen, and the oldest one, is gracious enough to dine over there. Better than spending time with us, I’m sure. She is on the right side of the median age, and she’s smart enough that she figured that out long before I did.

She is now preparing to go to college next fall, where she’ll play field hockey on a campus that looks like it came straight out of a European fairy tale. (They have a castle.) People are buying her gifts to decorate her dorm room. I am trying to decide how to buy her car things and not hurt the tiny little ember of credibility I have in her eyes.

We chat. Some people have coffee. Cookies and other treats appear from nowhere. Before long, someone has to scurry off to this event, and then someone else must slip away for that event. It’s a lovely way to wind down the holidays, and mark it all with people who like you enough to include you into things. I am grateful for that. And the lasagna. But mostly to be included.

A little while later, everyone sets out for home. I help move a few things around so our hosts don’t have to. There are many hugs and all of the usual things. My in-laws head north. We head south.

We stopped in to check on the cats of a friend. The front door was partially open. I grabbed something sturdy and swing-able and we walked through the whole of the house. No one was there. The cats were there. The lights were on in the proper configuration. The back door was locked. The pantry was open. We called the neighbor, a woman who dashed right over in her pajamas and long coat. She’d been in. And she’d opened the pantry. Maybe she’d forgot to latch and lock the door. We all had a laugh. I made a joke about wiping down my fingerprints.

We got home around 8 p.m., and for some reason I thought it was time for bed, but it was 8 p.m. So we sat up and watched the game and read and I’ll soon go to bed. Tomorrow, it is back to work.

The first part of this break flew by. Now I’ll need the second part to pass much, much more slowly.

adventures / books / family / Friday — Comments Off on A quiet end to a quiet week
26
Dec 25

A quiet end to a quiet week

Weather is coming in, and the whole region is in a tizzy. Snow and then ice. Or maybe it is ice and then snow. Could it be rain and then snow and then ice?

(It turned out to be sleet, and then rain. And that was about it. So it could have been worse. Indeed, in some places it was far more dramatic.)

The in-laws had come down yesterday. They celebrated a quiet Christmas with us and had planned to head back home just after lunch, but that forecast meant they were going to leave mid-morning.

So, last night, I’d set my alarm so I could be sociable for a a little while before they left. It seemed like a good idea until the alarm went off. When the alarm went off it woke me up from a dream. In the dream, I was giving — to an unseen audience — the little speech I give to students after Thanksgiving break. “I know you’ve done a lot. I know you’re tired. Rededicate yourself to this for three more weeks so you can finish strong.”

I woke up from a dream giving that speech. And I woke up exhausted.

So I decided that, instead of starting back to work tomorrow, I’ll give myself the day off.

Also, my throat is a little scratchy? And I’m sneezing some.

Anyway, my father-in-law asked me to put a little air in one of his rear tires, which I was happy to do. Plug in the travel compressor, attach it to the tire stem, top him off with about four whole pounds.

I got that travel compressor years and years ago, as a Christmas gift. It lives in the trunk of my car, just a fabulous gift. You can get a modern version similar to it for about $30 and I can tell you whatever it cost back when, it has paid for itself many times over. (If you get the sort that plugs into a cigarette lighter for power, make sure it has a very long power cable, so you can easily reach your back wheel.)

We went back inside, warmed up and sat for a bit, unsure how to talk trash about the music trivia game we’d played last night. He won the first round and I won the second. The four of us are already planning rematches. I clearly need to do some studying.

They made it home without incident, home before the weather. My lovely bride and I had a quiet afternoon and evening, at home, reading. I have to finish a few things so I can get to one of these, which I received for Christmas.

Santa brought me the first of this Rick Atkinson trilogy a few years ago. This second installment was released earlier this year, which was about two years longer than I wanted to wait. The British Are Coming was such a great read, covering a lot of ground, human and real, thoughtful and beautifully detailed. I could say that about everything of Atkinson’s work that I’ve read — the man has won the Pulitzer Prize for reporting, twice, and once for his historical works — and I’m sure The Fate of the Day will be another wonderful read.

That other book, Men at Work could be another good read. My Santa Claus book club never steers me wrong.

And that’s why I need to get some other stuff read. Guess what I’m doing this weekend?

Tonight, I turned on the light in the backyard several times, and just saw rain.

I wonder what I’ll see what I wake up tomorrow.

adventures / Instagram / journalism / memories / photo / Rowan / television / Tuesday — Comments Off on No title Tuesday
23
Dec 25

No title Tuesday

When we got in last night, the first thing I did was put my things down.

No, that’s too early, let me back up.

When we got in last night, we stood on the curb at the airport for some time. The place we used as a park-and-ride had one shuttle running to the airport the week before Christmas, which seemed smart. It was cold. We waited. But it was at least night to be out of an airport, off of planes. Our trip began just before 6 p.m. and we landed just after 11 p.m. Not bad, considering we had a short layover in Detroit. It turned out that we took the same plane, so we disembarked long enough to grab a bite, and then get back on the plane. For our first leg of the flight I sat next to a retired Delta pilot. He is now flying rich people around out of Detroit. There are, he said, five wealthy families in Detroit and six jets. Then he showed me his Christmas card from Bob Seger, who is one of those families.

We covered a lot of ground as we were flying over the ground. The styles of flying, how much money people typically earn before they buy a plane of their own, some of his anecdotes, and so on. He asked me what I do for a living, and I told him, and he found this interesting, so we talked about media for a long while. One of my former students is in Detroit, and he has surely seen him on CBS. He was very curious about the nature and process of media, and the conversation gave me more grist for my “people don’t understand what we do” mill.

It goes both ways, of course. I’ve been on many planes, and I can fly one just as well as he could produce a media product. We think we know about other things because of our experience, but it’s not an expertise. He told me the progency of the plane we were on, and told me about the insulation properties of the fuselage. I know nothing about his business. Now, let me explain the basics of local media economic models.

There’s going to be a hypothesis in there, somewhere, eventually.

We left him in Detroit, it was his last work for a week. It sounds like has a pretty good gig for a retired man. On the second leg of the trip I sat with my lovely bride. She watched a documentary, I caught up on the day’s news. I also learned that one of my former students will be on national television on Christmas Eve. She’s a meteorologist, having gone from Greenville, North Carolina to Albuquerque to San Francisco, a real talent, a credible forecaster and now she’s getting turns on national TV.

I bet she could have told me whether I had on enough layers for the curbside cold. Standing there, getting on the shuttle, getting to the car and getting home, might have taken about the same amount of time as either one of our flights this evening.

And so, finally, the first thing I did was put my things down. Then I petted the cats. They were very insistent and full of attitude, as if to say “These are the hi-jinx you could have enjoyed if you’d been here the last week.”

Today, there has been a lot of desperate cuddling.

And a lot of loud complaining.

One of their friends spent the week with them. They had a good time. I saw the photos and videos. I’m not sure who they think they’re fooling with this act.

But the kitties are doing well. And all of the cuddling slowed down today’s grading. This last batch took the afternoon and the first half of the evening. Much longer than necessary, but the class was the class was the class.

I’ll submit the final grades tomorrow, marking the end of the fall term. I’ll take a few days off. And then, starting Saturday, I’ll go back to designing a new class for the spring term. This will be my third brand new class in as many terms, and my 11th new prep in six semesters.

That, if you are not in this business, is a lot.

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