Posted by Davis | Filed under Uncategorized
Air travel is a strange thing. You step on the airplane in place A, buckle up, consider buying a $60,000 lava lamp water bed from Sky Mall, drink a ginger ale, and step off in place Z. How you get from place A to place Z is by and large a mystery to you. You have no idea which state or country you flew over once you left the airspace of place A, or the last one you flew over before arriving in place B. In a way, flying is more like teleporting than traveling. It doesn’t feel like your body actually moves through space. Distance is measured in hours, not miles.
I had occasion to think about this – and many, many other things – during the 7 days Melissa and I spent driving from New York to Utah. I don’t know how many times I’ve flown this route during the years I lived in New York; maybe 50? And yet for all of those flights I took I never had a clue about what places I was flying over. I mean, I knew I was flying over the middle of the country, and I might have glanced at the little map that shows where you are, but I never gave it much thought. It’s hard to describe how much I enjoyed putting together – state by state – the route I’ve flown over so many times. It’s like looking at a picture of a person for years and years and then finally getting to meet them. I loved experiencing the gradual change in geography and scenery as we drove North to South and then East to West. I loved experienced the change in accents, cuisine, and body mass index. I loved it all. Here’s the route we took:
New York: I’ve said enough about the Empire State. We were sad to leave, and I’d be lying if I told you I didn’t get a little misty when we plunged into the Holland Tunnel. But just as soon as we emerged on the other side my sadness dissipated and was replaced by excitement for our new life in Utah and the trip we were taking to get there.
New Jersey: There are parts of New Jersey that are really very gorgeous. They just didn’t happen to build any freeways or highways by those parts.
Pennsylvania: Melissa somehow talked me into stopping at an outlet in Hershey that was only about 300 miles off our path. Outside of its outlets, Pennsylvania is one of the prettiest states in the nation, and it doesn’t get as much credit as it deserves.
Maryland: I’ve spent enough time in Maryland to feel confident that I more or less had the state and its people pretty well pegged. It only took one stop at a Chick-Fil-A in Cumberland to blow that confidence to ashes. It’s like marrying a debutante and coming home to find her lighting blue darts with your buddies. Cumberland marked the first place on our trip where all the local women looked at me lustily for being the skinniest man in town. I felt like a regular runway model. Melissa and I were clearly the only people at Chick-Fil-A who were not known to the other patrons, as nobody made any effort to hide the fact that they were staring at us from the moment we walked in to the moment we departed.
The “Four Seasons” in West Virginia means something different than it does in New York.
West Virginia: I’m not exaggerating when I say that the night we spent in West Virginia felt like the opening scene out of a horror movie: the clueless couple from the big city rolls in late at night on a foggy road, gets lost, sees the gas tank hit “E,” loses cell phone coverage, fade to black. Oh, and we stopped at a gas station where we felt like we were about to be attacked by a band of meth zombies. And I woke up every 20 minutes all night to make sure the meth zombies weren’t breaking into our moving truck. Long night. On the plus side, West Virginia – the actual land – is stunning, and it’s impossible to eat a meal without at least three items being doused in gravy. We overcame the lack of sleep and the river of gravy and went for a a great little day hike in the cranberry glades of the Monongahela National Forest.
“Captain, this was the last picture from the camera that was in the bag that was next to the mutilated bodies.”
Virginia: Like Maryland, I thought I knew Virginia. I used to live in Virginia. But not this Virginia.
Somebody’s not happy she didn’t get the top bunk at Braden’s.
Tennessee: Braden was the only DDDT commenter who was kind enough to offer us a place to stay, so we took him up on it and spent a lovely evening with him and his family. It’s hard to describe where they live, but it was one of the prettiest, quaintest areas I’ve ever seen. We had a great meal, played kickball, and stayed up chatting. We bid them farewell and headed into Nashville to take in the sights of the Country Music Hall of Fame and Museum. I don’t know why, exactly, but this was one of my favorite parts of the trip. It turns out that country music – before it was taken over by guys in Ed Hardy button-up shirts with frosted tips – was actually pretty good. We enjoyed some BBQ and headed to Memphis, where we ate fried pickles and chicken at Guss’, checked out Beale Street, and hit Graceland. Graceland is awesome.
The sash I normally tie around my neck was packed away in the truck.
Arkansas: Our time in Arkansas was brief and consisted of a visit to the Clinton Presidential Library (where I guess the exhibit on the impeachment was at the cleaners?).
Oklahoma: I had my heart set on eating a steak at Cattlemen’s, but we didn’t roll into Oklahoma City until 11 PM. So we had steak for breakfast. Along with eggs, hash browns, and biscuits and gravy. I don’t care what you think. I’m not sorry. It was the best steak I’ve ever had in my life, and I often find myself staring out the window, remembering its taste and texture. Melissa’s cousin and her husband were our gracious hosts, and I’ll definitely drop by and see them next time I fly out to visit Cattlemen’s.
Miss you.
Texas: We drove straight from Cattelmen’s (sigh) to Palo Duro Canyon State Park outside of Amarillo for a great hike. Great and hot. Very, very hot. We ate in Amarillo, where Melissa – with varying degrees of success – tried to compare everyone we saw to a character in Friday Night Lights. After a stop at Cadillac Ranch we headed for Santa Fe.
“Captain, this was the last picture from the camera that was in the bag that was next to the badly sunburned and dehydrated bodies.”
New Mexico; I don’t have much to say about New Mexico. We walked around Santa Fe for a bit, and later I ran the truck into the roof of a drive-through restaurant. Nothing to see here. (I’m hoping forensics don’t link me to the bent rain gutter in West Virginia and the dented sign pole in Arkansas).
Colorado: The country between Santa Fe and Durango is some of the prettiest I’ve ever seen. In particular, the the area around Pagosa Springs is like nothing I’ve ever seen. Honestly. I’m obsessed. We ate lunch in Durango, got stopped for speeding in Dove Creek, and then crossed into Utah.
Home.
| November 10th, 2010
Posted by Ryan | Filed under Advertising
Remember years and years ago, after the Internet had established its place firmly in our lives, and irony was taking hold across the world, when that one guy got his well-earned 15 minutes by selling ad space on his forehead to the highest bidder on eBay? Remember how everyone in the media made such a big deal about that at the time? Seems like that would never even get your local network’s backup weather girl over to your house nowadays. Everyone in the world is a sophisticated self-promoter now, and most of us have rented out our foreheads at one time or another too. (I went for classy– $250 to tattoo “TIAA-CREF” in bright blue, but then the money ran out so I had to supplement it with upper-cheekbone ads for the Candwich). But you know who’s not sophisticated at marketing and promotion? People who market and promote large corporations. That’s why we live in the badvertising era.
Those were some of the tastiest looking cheekbones you’ve ever seen
My particular gripe is not with the substance of ads these days. Everyone knows they’re crap. And there really isn’t much dispute about this from the makers of Audi Sports Cars, the Jenga Onyx Edition, Teekanne Teas, or Late Night: all nighter Cheeseburger Doritos. But lately, the ads are not only horrible, but they’re horribly placed too. I’m talking about the crazed outgrowth of advertising into really stupid places.
Yesterday, I was watching a football game on a podunk network that has been specially set aside for really good football teams that aren’t part of the BCS elite and do not deserve to be watched by national audiences. When one of the teams got within striking distance of the end zone, everything within the twenty yard line lit up in bright red and a Verizon logo appeared under the players’ feet in the middle of the red zone. The red zone, you see, had been brought to us by Verizon. Read the rest of this entry »
| November 8th, 2010
Posted by Christian | Filed under Uncategorized
I love stereotypes and I always have. That sounds like an awful thing to admit, but really it’s not. Because you’re the same way. For some reason, an affinity for stereotypes is human nature. Our species craves a feeling of comprehension about our environment, which gives us a sense of control. Even if it’s false control. If that sounds true and profound to you, it’s because it is; I got it off a science website. But like all people who mean well most of the time (I’ll tell you when I don’t mean well: WHEN I’M IN A ROOM FULL OF CHOCOLATE!!!) my instinctive enjoyment of stereotypes is a beast I try mightily to run off, the way White Fang’s owner tried to run him off with lies about him not wanting White Fang around anymore. Same deal. Because if you indulge too much in stereotypical thinking, you begin to subconsciously believe stereotypes define the world. Then you consciously believe it. And then you wake up one day and find you’re a crazy person who clings to his guns and religion who believes all San Franciscans are gay communists. Or you wake up and realize you’re a gay communist San Franciscan who thinks all religious gun owners are crazy. Sure, right, all San Franciscans are gay communists. Right. What’s the real number? 60%? If that?
Read the rest of this entry »
| November 5th, 2010
Posted by Davis | Filed under Uncategorized
Sorry, folks. Not happening today. BUT. I do have one for next week. Probably.
| November 3rd, 2010
Posted by Ryan | Filed under Combat, Stories
We were asking Rex today what he thought it would be like to have a brother or two. Some of his friends have multiple brothers, and we asked how they get along. He said sometimes they fight, but most of the time they get along.
That’s about how it was with me and my brothers. We pretty much just got along. But sometimes, not. Brothers that get along are all alike. Every unhappy set of brothers is unhappy in its own way. These are the stories of the most vivid memory I have of fighting with each of my three brothers. (I honestly have no recollection of any fight with either of my sisters).
***
As we have already chronicled, Braden was sort of the self-appointed potentate of the fiefdom of our back yard and beyond. He was the boss, and I alternated between minion and secessionist. I don’t remember the lead up. I just remember that we were battling in the yard one day. I was probably nine or ten, and he would have been fourteen-ish. The sword fight took a turn for the serious, and I got mad. My wooden blade (a trusty, stripped down tree branch) flew more briskly, and he could tell I was playing for keeps. Not wanting to stay in a pretend swordfight with a really angry little brother, he began to beat a retreat toward the swing-set. It developed into a full-on chase, and he ran under the trapeze bar in a sprint. I still don’t know if it was an accident or a more devious stratagem, but as he flew under the bar, his hand caught the bar (pushing it out of his way? giving it a good hard swing?) and by the time I was under it, the big, thick steel bar was in full backswing. It clocked me HARD, right in the forehead. Read the rest of this entry »
| November 1st, 2010
Posted by Christian | Filed under Uncategorized
I’m starting to get a glimpse of the enormous challenge that is effectively teaching and guiding multiple children throughout their different life stages. And my oldest is only 4. As a parent, some of your teaching methodology comes from your own experience and skill set and familiarity with your individual kids and their present needs. But a lot of it is just dumb ol’ trial and error. Trying this and trying that. Like messing with the various dials on a short wave radio until you get the right combination that taps into a frequency that works. I’ve been thinking about this, and about the great job my parents did at this sort of thing. They were always teaching, always trying, always innovating. Some things worked and some things didn’t. Thinking about all of this recently brought to mind one of my favorite teaching memories.
Growing up, the only music allowed in my home on Sunday was churchy music and classical music, and maybe The Safety Kids (not to be confused with The Cold War Kids). And even on weekdays, Oldies 94.1 and CDs like Big River and Barry Manilow’s Showstoppers was about as crazy as things got, at least out in the common area of the house. But one morning I woke up to a sweet new sound floating through the hallways of Morning Peace (What’s that you say? Oh, we didn’t tell you? Why yes, my parents named our house “Morning Peace” after touring Europe, with all its titled estates. The house has a plaque to prove it). I think it was Led Zeppelin. Maybe Metallica. At 8 in the morning. Very loud, coming from the family room’s stereo system. It was Sunday.
Bleary-eyed, I followed the sound to its source. I assumed mom and dad had died during the night and the older kids were celebrating our liberation. But instead of the French Revolution scene I was expecting, I found an awkward, confusing one. The music was uncomfortably loud, even for us kids. And there, standing in the family room was my Mom, trying to look casual, trying to look like she was enjoying herself. Mother had cracked. The older kids, having enough older kid wisdom to smell a rat, refused to participate in the charade. They weren’t going to be anyone’s patsy. They were eating breakfast at the table near by, alternating between ignoring her and glowering disdainfully at the disingenuous scene this woman in her mid forties was forcing us all to endure.
I asked her what was going on.
“What do you mean?” she yelled with a forced smile.
“Why are we listening to Z93 Rock? You don’t ever let us play this. And today is Sunday.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about. I’m having a real cool time. Aren’t you? This is neat music, I think!”
Neat Sabbath Music
I enjoyed myself for a few minutes, but soon the weirdness overcame even young me. Something shady was afoot, and even if one could get past the fact that this was a apparently a set up, having a two-person dance party to Deep Purple with your snapping mother is only fun for so long.
As it turned out this was an object lesson. Hours later we were asked how listening to this music on the Sabbath made us feel? I defiantly said I loved it (BURN!). Others probably answered that it gave them an awful, dark feeling inside, but more because mom was acting groovy than because of Hendrix’s brilliant guitar riffs.
I love that memory. You might even say I cherish it. Because, as I’ve said before, I love entrepreneurs. And I think all people should be entrepreneurs in their parenting. Always reaching and adapting and hustling. My mom certainly was, and I aim to be the same.
| October 29th, 2010
Posted by Davis | Filed under Uncategorized
After two weeks of ideal fall weather, winter bared its fangs. So this morning I threw on my coat and hopped into my car, at which point I was reminded of a dilemma that has tortured me for years Read the rest of this entry »
| October 27th, 2010
Posted by Ryan | Filed under Adventure, Stories
Not long ago I was embroiled in a pretty intense, laborious case that kept me working hard and traveling all over the place. For just a few months, my life was one of those cliches where every airport, car rental place, restaurant and hotel seems exactly like the one you were last in, and no town is any different from any other. One of those trips was to a collection of airports and hotels known as San Diego. I got there at night, picked up my rental car and drove up the freeway to my hotel. I’ve never been a ‘car guy’ and I doubt I knew that day what kind of car I was driving, and I certainly don’t know now. But it was sort of smallish inside, kind of cozy. The hotel was out in a more open area, with lots of trees and foliage growing up around the buildings. I left my car near a grove of trees and took my stuff up to my room. I came back ten minutes later to drive out and find a place for dinner. When I opened the driver’s side door, a flash of movement by the passenger’s seat grabbed my eye. I saw almost nothing, but what I saw was fast and furry. And it was gone. I looked around underneath the seat a little, but I was also hungry, so I didn’t tear the car apart or anything. I assumed that being next to the wooded area, some squirrel had sneaked in somehow and would be gone as quick as he came.
A great hiding place for squirrels. Right?
After depositions the following day, I drove a couple hours up the freeway to Pasadena. There were a few strange squeaking noises coming from somewhere near the engine. But they always quieted down once I was paying attention. By the time I was driving back to San Diego the next evening it was dark and I was exhausted. I settled in for a mindless freeway run with the radio turned up and my eyes pried open. Somewhere in the middle of that monotonous journey, I became aware that something was touching my knee. Read the rest of this entry »
| October 25th, 2010
Posted by Christian | Filed under Uncategorized
My wife and I seem to have been poisoned by bad water in our humidifier last night. No joke. Woke up barely able to breathe and now have the worst flu-like symptoms I remember. Not sure what will happen. Feeling pretty weird and awful. If this is the end for us, I want you all to take care of my kids together, as a dddt community.
It’s been a great ride.
(Just kidding about the kids, btw, in case we really do die. They go to Brad and Angie)
| October 22nd, 2010
Posted by Ryan | Filed under Uncategorized
I enjoyed this piece on NPR today. It’s a little story on the many cookie-cutter ads being run by both parties in competitive races. They’re using the term ‘cookie-cutter’ to refer to ads that repeat the same lines and tropes and just re-package them for each different race.
Anyway, they ran through some of the whoppers now being trotted out for voters’ delectation around the country. One Democratic ad claims that Republican opponents are trying to privatize social security. This is true because the Republican has argued that we have to find a way to reduce social security. Another Republican ad says that the Democratic candidate supported millions of dollars of funding for research on exotic ants. This is true because the Democrat voted for a funding bill, and a tiny fraction of the funding amount was given to a research institution that then decided to use it to research ants.
But the best one by far is the Republican claim that Harry Reid supports providing government funded Viagra to sex offenders and child molesters! Did you know that? Harry Reid wants sex offenders to have unlimited government-provided Viagra! WHAT A MONSTER! What! Well, he supported government funding healthcare, which appears to include Viagra, and it’s theoretically possible that a sex offender could apply for these benefits. So it’s totally true. He should not only lose his seat, but should be ridden out of town on a rail.
Anyway, that’s just a little sampling for what passes for ‘truth’ these days. The bigger question is why anyone would ever believe this stuff. I’m imagining some guy listening to these ads and then conjuring an image of Harry Reid arguing passionately on the Senate floor for why our country’s working rapists desperately need the government to provide erectile dysfunction drugs for them. Please, Harry, we need to resolve this country’s real issues before you go providing potency drugs to rapists. Like, for one, let’s first figure out what effect Viagra would have on exotic ants.
| October 20th, 2010
