New Year's Resolution

In the year 2007 I resolve to: Poke a badger with a spoon. Get your resolution here.

Happy Holidays!

Synchronized Christmas Lights

Hey Ya! Charlie Brown Style

Music Question

I listened to Steely Dan's song Josie (from the Aja album) this morning and I have a question: how does one pray like a Roman? I gather that it includes setting one's eyes on fire, but I am a little fuzzy on the details.

Battlestar Galactica, Season 2


Linda and I are watching Seasons 2 and 2.5 on DVD. I admit that I was very impressed with the initial mini-series but I felt let down in the first season. The second season is following the same pattern for me: some very impressive moments followed by some serious crap. I shall explain.

First, what I like:

1. The premise of the show is just ripe with great conflict. They could spin nearly endless interesting episodes from the problems the fleet faces on a macro level (e.g., finding resources like water or raw materials). The space battles are icing on the cake.

2. Several of the characters are quite interesting. I like Col. Tigh because he is the perfect incompetent middle-manager (with some blood thirstiness thrown in). He is an ass in a believable way and that makes him a great antagonist. I like the fact that Adama is deeply flawed but a believable leader.

3. The two-part episode introducing the Pegasus was pretty amazing. Admiral Cain was a great villain and it held great promise as a source of even more conflict and interesting developments.

What I don't like:

1. Apollo sucks. I have no problem with the fact that he is a good pilot and that he has leadership potential. However, the character suffers from what I call "lead character syndrome," which manifests as the ability to perform every task correctly and constant use of unerring judgment. The man is always right and his path to leadership is clear and steady. All of the women love him and all of the men want to be him. The show has attempted to introduce flaws and conflict, but they are underdeveloped, come out of left field, and fall flat. In my opinion, the single best source of conflict for the character - the fact that he is the son of the fleet's military leader and therefore open to feelings of resentment and charges of nepotism - is underutilized. In short, the character is boring.

2. Alas, Starbuck sucks too. She suffers from the same malady as Apollo but what makes it worse in this case is the fact that she actually has interesting and developed character flaws. Her recklessness and insubordination do not hinder her in the least, although they should obstacles to her development as a leader. She does not learn from her mistakes and she is rarely called to task for them. I see Starbuck as failed potential.

2. Most of the villains are straw men. They are simplistic and shallow and could be defeated by the robot dog in the original series. It is an old trick: make the heroes look good by making all of the villains stupid. Admiral Cain was a notable exception. She was smart and strong, using her position of strength to her advantage in ways that the heroes of the series could not ignore or wave away. She was also a great role model for Starbuck, an example of a woman who uses her talent and ambition in a focused way to achieve great things. The show introduces this idea in the episodes that Cain appears in but does not develop it.

3. I am conflicted by the Cylons. They have great potential as interesting villains but I am not sure this potential has been realized. Here is a blog post that examines this problem in much more depth than I can give it.

Despite its deep flaws, the show remains an interesting one. I will continue to watch it and I hope that in time the good will outweigh the bad.

"Reno" is Spanish for "reading a lot of books"

Whilst I lounge upon the stony banks of the gurgling, duck-infested Truckee River, I read a lot of books.

Thud! by Terry Pratchett. This a recent addition to Mr. Pratchett's ongoing Discworld series. It takes place in the city of Ankh-Morpork, where simmering racial tensions between dwarfs and trolls escalate when a prominent dwarf is murdered. The main character is the commander of the city's watch and he and his police force (populated by, among other things, werewolves and vampires) work feverishly to solve the murder and stave off the impending race riots. The book does not make it very easy for readers unfamiliar with recent developments in the series, as it does not pause to explain several "quirks" that have some importance to the plot that were featured prominently in other books. If you have read his recent work, then you will find this one entertaining. If not, then you will find it a little confusing.

Anansi Boys by Neil Gaiman. In this book, Fat Charlie discovers that his recently-deceased father was actually Anansi, the spider trickster god of folklore. To make matters worse, he finds he has a brother who inherited all of their father's godly power. Hijinks ensue as the brothers learn how to deal with each other. A quick and entertaining read.

Thank You For Smoking, by Christopher Buckley. This is a satire of the tobacco industry in general and tobacco lobbyists in particular. I did not see the film (yet), but I found the book to be pretty entertaining.

Currently reading: From Russia With Love, by Ian Fleming.

In the queue: The Gun Seller, by Hugh Laurie.

Uncle Patrick's Tragic Traveling Tale of Woe!

Part II

Needless to say, three or so hours in a cold hotel room was not really enough to get us back into fighting trim. I won't bore you with details regarding the shuttle ride back to the airport, save to say that there were no swarthy little men or fellows just in from Mexico involved.

I wanted to check with our airline's luggage desk to see if someone could give us a better idea what happened to our stuff, but it was not open at 4 in the morning. We checked in and flew to Phoenix none the wiser.

Our sluggish friend booked us on a flight from Phoenix to Reno on another airline, so we had to go through security again. The TSA people were particularly slow there and they paused with every bag that went through their screening process, squinting intently at their monitors. I suppose I should be appreciative that they were diligent but I was very tired and I felt like a BB bouncing around in a boxcar, with no control over where I went or how I got there. Linda passed through before me but, while I waited, the fellow at the monitor stopped the queue to get a better look at her bag. Apparently, he was very confused and needed help. He also had a weak voice, for when he called out for assistance I could barely hear him and I was standing right beside him. Eventually, someone happened to float by and heard his plaintive pleas. After more squinting, they determined that everything was fine and we were allowed to continue.

When we got to Reno, I felt confident that our bag made it there before us. After all, the airline employee told us that it went ahead and he wouldn't lie to us, right? We strolled to the airline ticket counter to ask about it. There was no one there. It was midmorning. We turned to our left and to our right and watched other airlines and their ticket counters fully staffed and operational. The ticket counter before was was dark. There were no signs that told us that staff was out to lunch, or that the counter was closed. No indication at all what was going on. Did they know we were coming and decided to hide?

So we stood around for a while, uncertain about what to do (remember: less than three hours of sleep). An employee for a rival airline, working a ticket counter nearby, took pity on us and slipped through a door and, after a few moments, emerged with an employee from our airline. She blinked rapidly in the sunlight. It turns out that there were only two flights to and from Reno from her airline that day and we caught her between flights. Apparently, the airline did not feel the need to man its counter during working hours unless it was absolutely necessary.

I am being unfair, of course. Once the airline employee grasped our situation, she boldly stepped into the breach. Between profuse apologies about the way her fellow employees treated us, she set to work on her computer. My spirits lifted for a moment, happy that someone was working on the problem. Unfortunately, my spirits were soon dashed when she informed us that our luggage was not in the system. She had no idea where the suitcase was; no on in the Denver airport bothered to enter the status or location of our bag into the database.

The three of us rallied and put our heads together. Hypotheticals were proposed and tested. The employee placed a world-wide call for any information regarding our bag. Linda and I took turns scouring the baggage claim area, on the off chance that the bag flew in on another flight and sat - lonely and terrified - in some dark corner of the airport. The employee pumped all of her contacts in other airlines for information. Nothing worked. We filed a claim with the airline and fretted.

At some point in the process, I went to the office of the airline that took us from Phoenix to Reno (recall that it was a different airline from the one that we started with). I explained our situation as best I could and asked that they forward our bag to the original airline's ticket counter, should it arrive. When I returned, Linda was in deep conversation with a manager of the original airline. We ended up with a comped hotel room and instructions on where to file a claim for our luggage. It turns out that we should have filed a claim with the airline that took us from Phoenix to Reno. No one told me this earlier, when this information would have been needed and helpful. I had just come from the other airline and no one told me to file a claim with them. I didn't even know enough to ask. I understood their reticence once I learned that the airline responsible for the claim would have to foot the bill for any charges concerning the delivery of our suitcase. No one wanted to pay out money, if they didn't have to.

Linda and I decided to trust in the computer system and get to our hotel as soon as possible, to catch up on our sleep. Our next stop was the car rental desk. As it turned out, it was the attendant's first day on the job. After much pecking at his computer keyboard, he nearly rented us a car that had British Columbia license plates (that would have gotten us pulled over by the local cops) for twice as much as the amount we told him we would pay. There was a good ten minute discussion about insurance - three different contracts were filled out and then shredded - before someone who knew what they were doing came forward and gave us the car that was larger than the one we originally asked for but at the price we were originally quoted.

By that time, I was on the verge of running away, screaming at the top of my lungs. The whole experience was a test of my restraint and intestinal fortitude and I nearly lost it at the end. We still had enough wherewithal to go to a Target and buy clothes and other stuff necessary to be functional on our trip, in the event that the bag disappeared from the face of the earth. I drove us to the hotel in our (presumably) legit rental car, checked in, and collapsed.

We slept for over ten hours. I slept so soundly that I did not hear the phone ring. The front desk left us a message, informing us that our suitcase had arrived and was waiting for us. All's well that ends well, I suppose.

Uncle Patrick's Tragic Traveling Tale of Woe!

Part I

Recent events have convinced me that sometime in the last century, Denver's city fathers put their heads together and decided that a Native American burial ground would be an excellent site for an airport. As we all know from the movie Poltergeist, building something atop a Native American burial ground is asking for metaphysical trouble. It certainly explains the spiritual wedgie I received there.

The plan was simple enough. Linda and I planned to fly to Reno on Wednesday afternoon. The trip had two parts: the first took us from Austin to the thrice-cursed Denver airport; the second took us from spiritually bereft Denver airport to Reno. We would arrive at our hotel, exhausted but satisfied that our country's modern transportation system brought us safely to our destination. Alas, it was not to be.

It may come as a shock to my Austin-area readers that things are pretty damned cold in other parts of the country. While we plod our way through humid days of eighty degree heat, other people are freezing their butts off in snow and ice. I mention this fact because it played an important part in this story.

When we checked into the Austin airport, things could not have been easier. There were no lines at the ticket counter. The TSA people at the security checkpoint were efficient and friendly. Linda and I had a couple of great hamburgers, courtesy of Waterloo Ice House (I am convinced that Austin's airport is among the best in the world based solely upon the excellent selection of food one can find there). All was right with the world. We were early and did not feel rushed or stressed. We settled down comfortably at our gate - Linda in her kerchief and I in my cap, as it were - waiting for our plane.

I was so relaxed that I did not grow alarmed when we learned that our plane would be thirty minutes late. In retrospect, this should have been a source of consternation. I should have taken matters in hand. I did not. I was floating in some rarefied air, content and confident, never realizing that I would soon fall, Icarus-like, to earth.

The plane ride to Denver was not interesting. As we approached the moral black hole that is the Denver airport, Linda looked at me and said "We are going to miss the flight to Reno."

I shrugged and said, nonchalantly, "Let us see what happens. Worst case scenario: we get another flight."

I looked out the window and saw snow everywhere. I have not seen snow in over a year and I enjoyed the view. At the time, it did not occur to me that the snow was the reason we were late and that it would continue to plague me for the rest of the night. At that moment, I was thinking sleigh rides, hot chocolate, and chairs by the fire with a good book.

We left the plane and rushed to the woman assigned to help people like us. We asked her where we could find the gate for our next flight. I was hopeful that she would tell us that the flight to Reno was delayed too and that we would have plenty of time to climb aboard. Instead, she stared at us blankly, shrugged, and told us that our flight had already left. She jerked her head in the direction of the customer service desk and turned away, doubtless to stare blankly at another desperate passenger.

The customer service desk was not far. It was a tall counter and a maze of mesh line designed to control the mass of unwashed petitioners who flocked there and force them to fall into line and wait their turn. The counter had six computer terminals, but only three employees manned them. Two of them were with customers, a third was busily counting little slips of paper very slowly. Other employees came and went but they were not there to help us. They looked at us, they lingered to talk with other employees, but we were not within their job description.

There were not many of us, but in airline queues it is often quality, not quantity. We stood for nearly ten minutes, watching two employees squint at their computer screens and the third employee continue to count his little slips of paper. A couple of bubbly blond young people treated the employee who helped them as a sort of concierge, asking for all of their options, weighing each one carefully, talking to friends on their cell phones. An elderly man mumbled at the employee who helped him, trying to understand what the hell she was saying to him, trying to get her to understand what he was telling her. The third employee continued to count paper. We waited.

Finally, the third employee looked up from his counting, noticed that a line of people were waiting for help, and summoned us to him. We explained our situation, trying to impress him with a sense of urgency. The man stared back at us slowly (if you had told me a few days ago that a person could stare at another person slowly, I would not have believed it possible). I imagine that if I were trying to communicate to a mountain gorilla, I would experience the same kind of reception. Eventually, he gathered that we needed another flight to Reno and began the process of learning how to use his computer. After a good twenty minutes, he discovered that his airline had other flights to Reno and, much to his delight, other airlines flew there too. The experience so moved him that he left the counter, walked through a door behind him, and disappeared for a good ten minutes. I suppose he needed to share his good fortune with other employees, perhaps take a breather on a sofa, drink a beer. When he returned, he produced tickets that would first take us to Phoenix, then to Reno. The catch: we had to be back at the airport by 4:00 in the morning. It was already 10:30 at night.

I asked him about our luggage. He told us that we needed to pick it up tonight and recheck it in the morning. He gave us directions to the baggage carousel, provided us with a voucher that discounted our stay at a local hotel (the airline would not pay for the hotel because, as someone explained to us, they were not responsible for the weather), and sent us on our way.

His directions led us to a blank wall. I saw no baggage carousel. I asked another person who wandered by for new directions and, after a train ride and some head scratching, we found the carousel. We waited for a luggage but it did not emerge. We talked to the airline representative who loitered nearby and he told us to wait a while longer. After fifteen minutes, we were still sans luggage. We consulted another representative, who told us that luggage that belonged to people who missed their flights were often late. We waited some more. Nothing. We went to a third representative, who told us that our bag "must have been sent on to Reno." He told us that there had been time after our Austin plane touched down for the bags to make it onto the plane. He could not locate our bag in the computer system but he assured us that was what happened to it. I began to wonder if the woman we talked to when we disembarked had any idea concerning the status of our flight to Reno. I wondered if we could have caught the flight. In any event, our luggage had gone to Reno and we were still in the god-forsaken Denver airport.

Linda and I consulted. It was clear to us, with the information we had available, that we should proceed to Reno. We had to trust in karma (for we had surely accumulated some good karma in this ordeal) to deliver the bag to us when we got there. We were certain that the airline people we dealt with could no longer help us. The only decision left to make that night was what to do with the rest of our evening. By then, it was after 11:00.

Linda made some calls and found a hotel that had a shuttle willing to return us to the airport at 4:00 am. We took our meager belongings outside and waited in the freezing wind for the shuttle to take us away. As we waited, a van pulled up. Its driver, a swarthy little man, emerged and walked along the curb. He told anyone within earshot that he could take anyone to any hotel for ten dollars. We did not take him up on it, and he disappeared.

We waited in the bitter cold for another ten minutes before the shuttle arrived. I must say that Denver knows how to keep it's roads clean and free of ice and snow! It took us twenty minutes to get to the hotel but we didn't slide into a ditch or slam into another vehicle, as I had half expected.

We stumbled into the lobby of the hotel to find a melee in progress. The swarthy little man was screeching at the hotel clerk and another fellow who was trying to check in. We soon learned that the fellow came to the hotel on the swarthy little man's shuttle but had not paid him ten dollars. The fellow attempted to explain to us that he just arrived from Mexico and had no American currency and, besides, he did not know that he had to pay the swarthy little man anything. For his part, the swarthy little man was prepared to haul witnesses out of his shuttle (who were presumably waiting to be taken to their own hotels so they could get some sleep) to testify that he told everyone that they must pay for the privilege of riding in his van. The clerk kept quiet and soon a manager appeared. She did not seem prepared to deal with swarthy little men and fellows just in from Mexico. She insisted that the swarthy little man could not come into her hotel and threaten anyone. The swarthy little man insisted that he could and again promised many witnesses and much retribution. Eventually, the fellow just in from Mexico offered to pay the swarthy little man with a credit card. The swarthy little man danced out to his shuttle (where his witnesses awaited their cue to come forth) to retrieve the card reader. I gather that the manager was not aware that the parties reached an agreement, as she was on a cell phone trying to get someone to tell her what to do. When the swarthy little man left the lobby, she grabbed the fellow just in from Mexico by the elbow, apologize profusely for the inconvenience, and personally escort him to his room. By the time the swarthy little man came back with the card reader, his customer was gone. I should note that the fellow just in from Mexico did not stop the manager from leading him away so he could pay the swarthy little man.

Although the swarthy little man looked as if his head would explode like an overripe swarthy little grapefruit, he collected himself and promised to return in the morning with witnesses and retribution. He had other customers he needed to attend to. He focused his ire on the manager and muttered something about getting her fired.

Linda and I stood to the side and said nothing. We just wanted to get some sleep. It was well after midnight and we needed to get back to the airport early for more punishment. The clerk gave us a look and checked us in.

We finally crawled into bed around 12:30 am.

Little did we know that darker clouds were building on the horizon....