Time to end this un-interesting clap trap...
I really, really wanted to stay in and watch movies. My co-worker had other plans.
Again, I was asked what I wanted for dinner (specifically. She was displeased with my response "I don't really care. Go ahead and pick something") We settled on "seafood" and my promise that I'd google some places before freshening up. One jarring phone call later (Seriously? Why do hotels have their phone ringers set to Defcon 5?) we were headed down to do the strip. We parked at NY, NY where the parking gods were again in our favor and didn't get charged. (Really. For some reason I recalled that we were able to park anywhere for free) and we meandered around before settling on the Luxor buffet. (Kind of underwhelming. And by kind of- there was nary a piece of seafood with the exception of some cod in a soupy tomato melange)
Then we walked. We putzed through MGM (NO LIONS?!?! WHERE WERE THEY? SMOKING?) Mandalay, and New York before hitting the street to check out the new City Center compound. On the way, we were accosted by MORE street performers. (More aggravating than the porn-fwappers, IMO. Catwoman? Peter Griffith? Bumblebee from the Transformers? What the shit?) At City Center, we finally got around to gambling a little bit before making our way back home.
Oh. The changes. City Center is vast. While a majority of it is comprised of meeting/conference centers- it does have it's fair share of casinos and funky Gehry inspired hotels. And standing out on the open air skyways and taking it all in, I'm just amazed at how much the place has changed in the nearly 20 years since I first visited Vegas. And I'm guessing it was around here that I lost my driver's license. A little nugget I wouldn't discover until I was emptying my pockets at the hotel.
fuck
The next morning after a phone call to the airport and LVPD I was assured that I'd be fine, and that if I was overseas I'd be really fucked (their words, not mine) and once I was politely admitted to the airport "proper"...it was off to home sweet home. It was at this point that I really wondered if I p#ssed someone off karmically (again) because the family in front of me had a crying pampie and the dude next to me was coughing like he had the plague...and apparently had never heard of covering his mouth. Gross.
I may end up getting sent back in a quarter or two. I think I'll listen to my gut and stay in the hotel room. And for your pleasure...a timeline:
1992- The last great family road trip, we visit Vegas for a night on our way home. Having camped the last 5 nights, dad ponies up and gets us a big room at the Lady Luck. He gives me a pocket ful of dimes and tells me to "look 21". I manage to spend it all, and get one of those stupid post-cards that superimposes your picture over the old downtown strip. On our way out of town, we see the big ass "new" casino being built in the distance called "Excalibur".
2004- Stayed at the Westin behind the Barbary Coast. Find out how much Vegas has changed. Rented a convertable with leather seats which we learn is a terrible idea when it's 90 degrees and sunny. Saw a nudie Cirque show and Celene Dion. I did.
2005- Stayed at the Golden Nugget. Did NOT rent a car which was a terrible idea, and spent nearly $150 on cab fare over 3 days. DID visit Red Rock and fell in love a little more with the desert. Tried the buffet at the Flamingo and my life was changed. DID see "Mama Mia"...and why? Learn that the Lady Luck has been demolished.
2007- Stayed at the Strat w/Moda for my birthday. Saw the vampire titty show, and the best Cirque show in memory- Also had a gallon sized gin + tonic for $9 and we managed to get lost on a chilly hike. We are officially demoted to B-squad hikers.
Showing posts with label work. Show all posts
Showing posts with label work. Show all posts
Wednesday, October 12, 2011
Thursday, October 06, 2011
Off Site "Work" (pt 4)
Work is one thing. Working off site? Another. "Working" out of state? Can get to you.
I managed a speedy scramble in the hotel gym, growing flustered when the built in TV doesn't seem to pick up any reception and I'm forced to listen to the grind of the track instead of tuning out to whatever is playing. (Eventually, 2.5 miles into 3 I find a channel...Stock Reports. Fun.) I'm running late as usual and I'm supposed to meet my co-worker in the lobby in 15 minutes. I make it back to the room swilling coffee and water before taking a very fast shower and heading down to the lobby. It's here, where I should mention the travel hairspray I purchased works very well- by which I mean to say it kept my hair pasted down and immobile in spite of my attempts to "floompf" it out. And I was still sweating profusely when we got to the office. It would be the 2nd time in my working life when co-worker looked at me to see if I'm okay when it's just "I was doing speed-work an hour ago!" Frass.
We attend a few meetings before performing some "shadowing" and...it's here I need to derail for a sec:
1) It's interesting to interact with Vegas "residents" proper. The one's who avoid the strip, the tourons. That go to work, then the grocery store, then home. Nevada is their home. Not that this is a huge deal. Just worth noting that most folks dealing with Vegas only tend to know the strip. They're people. And...
2) It struck me that, in a state that can provide outdoor type activities- year round- in a 4 state area? It seemed that a lot of them weren't very active. It was qualified to me that most people can only manage 1.5 mile walks at a time 9 months out of the year...still. We don't like going outside 6 months out of the year...and we seem kind of. I don't know. More active? Ambulatory? Willing to get outside to enjoy nature?
Through happenstance, I shadowed with a dude who was a runner and heading to Long Beach for a 1/2 Mary and he made these comments to me. (He lives 1/2 mile away but biking was out of the question, stating he'd be sweaty- then inside the blasting a.c. and miserable for the rest of the day while he dried) The guy was cool, and actually invited me to the UNLV track to do hill work with the running club he was a part of. Tempting. But we had plans. Next time, I exclaimed. *
After lunch at Super-Tex and a few more meetings (Whyyyy? Corporations, hear me. Do NOT schedule meetings right after lunch. During? Sure. The rest of us will be propping our eyelids open with paper clips) we finally made it back to the hotel after a very long day. My reward for this productivity: My co-worker wanting to meet in the lobby at 5pm to figure out dinner. (I balked and said 6. And that if we weren't getting sushi- my first choice- then we were getting seafood.)
And finally...your buddy gets his hot tub. In the rain. And I didn't care.
I managed a speedy scramble in the hotel gym, growing flustered when the built in TV doesn't seem to pick up any reception and I'm forced to listen to the grind of the track instead of tuning out to whatever is playing. (Eventually, 2.5 miles into 3 I find a channel...Stock Reports. Fun.) I'm running late as usual and I'm supposed to meet my co-worker in the lobby in 15 minutes. I make it back to the room swilling coffee and water before taking a very fast shower and heading down to the lobby. It's here, where I should mention the travel hairspray I purchased works very well- by which I mean to say it kept my hair pasted down and immobile in spite of my attempts to "floompf" it out. And I was still sweating profusely when we got to the office. It would be the 2nd time in my working life when co-worker looked at me to see if I'm okay when it's just "I was doing speed-work an hour ago!" Frass.
We attend a few meetings before performing some "shadowing" and...it's here I need to derail for a sec:
1) It's interesting to interact with Vegas "residents" proper. The one's who avoid the strip, the tourons. That go to work, then the grocery store, then home. Nevada is their home. Not that this is a huge deal. Just worth noting that most folks dealing with Vegas only tend to know the strip. They're people. And...
2) It struck me that, in a state that can provide outdoor type activities- year round- in a 4 state area? It seemed that a lot of them weren't very active. It was qualified to me that most people can only manage 1.5 mile walks at a time 9 months out of the year...still. We don't like going outside 6 months out of the year...and we seem kind of. I don't know. More active? Ambulatory? Willing to get outside to enjoy nature?
Through happenstance, I shadowed with a dude who was a runner and heading to Long Beach for a 1/2 Mary and he made these comments to me. (He lives 1/2 mile away but biking was out of the question, stating he'd be sweaty- then inside the blasting a.c. and miserable for the rest of the day while he dried) The guy was cool, and actually invited me to the UNLV track to do hill work with the running club he was a part of. Tempting. But we had plans. Next time, I exclaimed. *
After lunch at Super-Tex and a few more meetings (Whyyyy? Corporations, hear me. Do NOT schedule meetings right after lunch. During? Sure. The rest of us will be propping our eyelids open with paper clips) we finally made it back to the hotel after a very long day. My reward for this productivity: My co-worker wanting to meet in the lobby at 5pm to figure out dinner. (I balked and said 6. And that if we weren't getting sushi- my first choice- then we were getting seafood.)
And finally...your buddy gets his hot tub. In the rain. And I didn't care.
I don't remember those people...(pt 3)
I like to nap. A lot. And after a mildly stressful day, I felt it my civic duty as a resident of the state of MN to diplomatically bring the nap to the Southwest. (And really...it was an attractively large bed.) We had agreed to meet up and make a plan for dinner and after I had tucked myself in and checked my online business- I got busy burying myself in the sheets...
Until the phone rang at a decibel level reserved for 12 year olds on the roller coaster. It was the front desk. Making sure I was checked in and settled in all right. Yes, I said. I was just downstairs procuring my key not 20 minutes ago. Thank you.
And then my cell. My boss wanted to know if we'd settled on anything for dinner. (Again, with the settling.) After a flurry of texts, she bowed out and left it up to my co-worker and I to figure out. I pulled the sheets back up, started to fade again, when the screaming ringer went off on the phone. Again. This time it was the co-worker asking if I'd came up with any ideas for dinner. I said I'd meet her in the lobby in 15 minutes and after checking to see that I hadn't wet the bed due to being startled a second time, we headed out.
I decided that instead of picking something close to the hotel we'd drive toward the strip and see if anything floated our fancy. This parlayed into a trip down the strip and...wow. Every time I go to Vegas, it feels like the strip gets longer. (Mostly this can be attributed to traffic, but as it was a Monday night ,traffic was reasonably light) While snapping camera pics she asked me where "downtown" was. So I said "let's go". And go we did. (Sad note- "The Sahara" is now gone baby gone. No particular memory of that place, just kind of sad seeing a big, dark casino with the unused roller coaster in front.) We passed the glut of bail bonds offices, nasty hotels, and drive-through casinos before hitting downtown proper, circling the block, and finally parking at the 4 Queens.
And WTF...
Downtown is a great place to "come down" after an all day gamble/party binge. I stayed at the Nugget a few years back and while it wasn't the popular part of town, I liked the old-school chill feeling. And while it still retains some of that, it's going through some growing pains experienced by the Vegas Strip "proper". Namely...the characters. And not the tour-ons. I mean how I had to slam on the brakes in the rental to let Jack Sparrow cross "drunkedly". Earlier, my co-worker asked why I don't take a theater gig in Vegas. Reasons aside, I told her that the good Captain there was probably the best role someone like myself could hope to land.
Except it didn't really end with that...weird...anachronistic dude. We had, in addition to the showgirls who posed for pictures:
The Blues Brothers
The Mad Hatter (from the "Alice" remake)
Some guys that looked like the Rat Pack waaaaaay past their prime
Spider-Man...in one of those costumes in a bag from around 1998. (I later bumped into Spidey who had taken off most of his costume, where it was being worn almost like a scarf. I guess he was off-duty)
It just didn't make sense. After dinner, where we eavesdropped on an East Coast family yelling at each other ("If I had my way, I'd feed you to a wood-chipper and am it at the Hudson!") we meandered a bit before realizing that we hit a two-beer wall and needed to go home. (It was "only" 10:00 pm...but we were still rocking CST time) We were released from the parking ramp for free (I didn't know it needed validation, and the guy was offended we didn't do any gambling in the casino) And we slowly ambled our way back to the Marriott via the back roads to avoid the Strip...long and loud bolts of lightening mottling the sky.
Until the phone rang at a decibel level reserved for 12 year olds on the roller coaster. It was the front desk. Making sure I was checked in and settled in all right. Yes, I said. I was just downstairs procuring my key not 20 minutes ago. Thank you.
And then my cell. My boss wanted to know if we'd settled on anything for dinner. (Again, with the settling.) After a flurry of texts, she bowed out and left it up to my co-worker and I to figure out. I pulled the sheets back up, started to fade again, when the screaming ringer went off on the phone. Again. This time it was the co-worker asking if I'd came up with any ideas for dinner. I said I'd meet her in the lobby in 15 minutes and after checking to see that I hadn't wet the bed due to being startled a second time, we headed out.
I decided that instead of picking something close to the hotel we'd drive toward the strip and see if anything floated our fancy. This parlayed into a trip down the strip and...wow. Every time I go to Vegas, it feels like the strip gets longer. (Mostly this can be attributed to traffic, but as it was a Monday night ,traffic was reasonably light) While snapping camera pics she asked me where "downtown" was. So I said "let's go". And go we did. (Sad note- "The Sahara" is now gone baby gone. No particular memory of that place, just kind of sad seeing a big, dark casino with the unused roller coaster in front.) We passed the glut of bail bonds offices, nasty hotels, and drive-through casinos before hitting downtown proper, circling the block, and finally parking at the 4 Queens.
And WTF...
Downtown is a great place to "come down" after an all day gamble/party binge. I stayed at the Nugget a few years back and while it wasn't the popular part of town, I liked the old-school chill feeling. And while it still retains some of that, it's going through some growing pains experienced by the Vegas Strip "proper". Namely...the characters. And not the tour-ons. I mean how I had to slam on the brakes in the rental to let Jack Sparrow cross "drunkedly". Earlier, my co-worker asked why I don't take a theater gig in Vegas. Reasons aside, I told her that the good Captain there was probably the best role someone like myself could hope to land.
Except it didn't really end with that...weird...anachronistic dude. We had, in addition to the showgirls who posed for pictures:
The Blues Brothers
The Mad Hatter (from the "Alice" remake)
Some guys that looked like the Rat Pack waaaaaay past their prime
Spider-Man...in one of those costumes in a bag from around 1998. (I later bumped into Spidey who had taken off most of his costume, where it was being worn almost like a scarf. I guess he was off-duty)
It just didn't make sense. After dinner, where we eavesdropped on an East Coast family yelling at each other ("If I had my way, I'd feed you to a wood-chipper and am it at the Hudson!") we meandered a bit before realizing that we hit a two-beer wall and needed to go home. (It was "only" 10:00 pm...but we were still rocking CST time) We were released from the parking ramp for free (I didn't know it needed validation, and the guy was offended we didn't do any gambling in the casino) And we slowly ambled our way back to the Marriott via the back roads to avoid the Strip...long and loud bolts of lightening mottling the sky.
Monday, October 03, 2011
Vega...wow...it's still hot. pt 2
(Part two)
So in spite of being violated, spilled-on (a woman dropped her latte' in the terminal and it ran down the back of my leg) and wedged in a teeny seat, the flight was on-time and underwhelming. I ended up making small talk with the woman next to me. (Nursing doctorate that works at Mayo in the pediatric ward, attending a convention at the Hilton. For five days. My idea of hell, but that's just my opinion...man) I gave her some show ideas that I'd enjoyed in the past (gently advising against "Thunder from Down Under"), talked business "self-help" books (She was reading "Who moved my Cheese" and I said that- for my money- "Gung Ho" was both satisfying and helpful without being too cloying)
I did get up to make potty once on the trip. I didn't really have to go, mind you, but I was itching to see what was in that envelope that had (clearly) been stashed since 2006 or so. So locked in the Delta flight 1517 toilet I ended up making the "discovered cash in a pocket" discovery of the year. I rarely get to brag, and am frequently poor- having just spent $450 on my car before I left...and while it wasn't close to that, it gave me enough folding money to cover meals on my own, and even a show/craps table if I wanted to play. I closed my eyes and thought a very sincere "thanks, dad" before returning to my seat.
When we landed, we hit a 'Bucks for some wake-up juice and both were lamenting that we were both sweating balls. Big-time. I had spent the first hour of the flight leaning forward in my seat while back-swass ran down and pinching open my shirt front to let the cabin fan do some work. We booked it to our rental place where we waited in line for nearly an hour- joking with other patrons, making fun of the Vegas Plastic Surgery commercial on the TV hawking ass implants ("Sometimes...you want to take the wallet OUT of the jeans and set it on top...") We then hurriedly sent to the garage...where we proceeded to wait. Some more. ("There's the GD Hyundai right there. Right. There. What exactly are we waiting for?" Please note, we both were getting more and more surly the more we had to wait. It was nearing 1pm and neither of us had eaten anything since before 7am) Sure enough, after group upon group had been given their chariots, someone finally looked at our receipt and was all like "Ohhhh. That silver Hyundai over there is yours!" No. F#cking. Shit. Vegas, you were winning at this point. I admit.
We ended up getting lost (her GPS on her phone sent us in the opposite direction of our office. This did, however, get me re-acclimated with the streets again. Nothing says helping your "internal GPS" like getting lost in a town and being forced to find the right way again. Did I mention I was playing Maverick to her Goose because, and I quote: "My husband thinks it's a good idea if you drive. I'd get way too mad. At everyone"
We finally found our office. We finally found the restaurant. The weather was cooling off from the high-80's (when we left home, it was 50 degrees at the airport) and...wait. Why does it smell rainy?
Kaboom. You know in Minnie when we have a thunder boomie storm? Sure it'll like up the sky. Sure it'll wake you up sometimes when it's right over head. In Vegas? It's like you stare right into a camera flash while someone hits a pair of cymbals behind your head...and then? It rains.
A lot. And the rain has no where to go. In Minnie, we freak out a lot when underpasses are submerged. We saw pics of NE Minneapolis and Uptown where cars were submerged up to their wheel wells and thought "Whoa!" And if you've been here, or heard stories about Vegas rainstorms then you know they're rare and only last for a few minutes. Well here now, at 6pm Pacific time...it's dumping rain. And driving in it? Peeps, there are NO streets that AREN'T submerged. At one point we both looked around for parking lots that might be on a hill. I even started frassin' about my brakes.
Eventually, we made it to Albertsons (think "Kowalskis"). And I procured hairspray. We're nearing civilization, now. And it's here I should mention that, in going through my packing I packed more running/gym clothes than I did work clothes.
So in spite of being violated, spilled-on (a woman dropped her latte' in the terminal and it ran down the back of my leg) and wedged in a teeny seat, the flight was on-time and underwhelming. I ended up making small talk with the woman next to me. (Nursing doctorate that works at Mayo in the pediatric ward, attending a convention at the Hilton. For five days. My idea of hell, but that's just my opinion...man) I gave her some show ideas that I'd enjoyed in the past (gently advising against "Thunder from Down Under"), talked business "self-help" books (She was reading "Who moved my Cheese" and I said that- for my money- "Gung Ho" was both satisfying and helpful without being too cloying)
I did get up to make potty once on the trip. I didn't really have to go, mind you, but I was itching to see what was in that envelope that had (clearly) been stashed since 2006 or so. So locked in the Delta flight 1517 toilet I ended up making the "discovered cash in a pocket" discovery of the year. I rarely get to brag, and am frequently poor- having just spent $450 on my car before I left...and while it wasn't close to that, it gave me enough folding money to cover meals on my own, and even a show/craps table if I wanted to play. I closed my eyes and thought a very sincere "thanks, dad" before returning to my seat.
When we landed, we hit a 'Bucks for some wake-up juice and both were lamenting that we were both sweating balls. Big-time. I had spent the first hour of the flight leaning forward in my seat while back-swass ran down and pinching open my shirt front to let the cabin fan do some work. We booked it to our rental place where we waited in line for nearly an hour- joking with other patrons, making fun of the Vegas Plastic Surgery commercial on the TV hawking ass implants ("Sometimes...you want to take the wallet OUT of the jeans and set it on top...") We then hurriedly sent to the garage...where we proceeded to wait. Some more. ("There's the GD Hyundai right there. Right. There. What exactly are we waiting for?" Please note, we both were getting more and more surly the more we had to wait. It was nearing 1pm and neither of us had eaten anything since before 7am) Sure enough, after group upon group had been given their chariots, someone finally looked at our receipt and was all like "Ohhhh. That silver Hyundai over there is yours!" No. F#cking. Shit. Vegas, you were winning at this point. I admit.
We ended up getting lost (her GPS on her phone sent us in the opposite direction of our office. This did, however, get me re-acclimated with the streets again. Nothing says helping your "internal GPS" like getting lost in a town and being forced to find the right way again. Did I mention I was playing Maverick to her Goose because, and I quote: "My husband thinks it's a good idea if you drive. I'd get way too mad. At everyone"
We finally found our office. We finally found the restaurant. The weather was cooling off from the high-80's (when we left home, it was 50 degrees at the airport) and...wait. Why does it smell rainy?
Kaboom. You know in Minnie when we have a thunder boomie storm? Sure it'll like up the sky. Sure it'll wake you up sometimes when it's right over head. In Vegas? It's like you stare right into a camera flash while someone hits a pair of cymbals behind your head...and then? It rains.
A lot. And the rain has no where to go. In Minnie, we freak out a lot when underpasses are submerged. We saw pics of NE Minneapolis and Uptown where cars were submerged up to their wheel wells and thought "Whoa!" And if you've been here, or heard stories about Vegas rainstorms then you know they're rare and only last for a few minutes. Well here now, at 6pm Pacific time...it's dumping rain. And driving in it? Peeps, there are NO streets that AREN'T submerged. At one point we both looked around for parking lots that might be on a hill. I even started frassin' about my brakes.
Eventually, we made it to Albertsons (think "Kowalskis"). And I procured hairspray. We're nearing civilization, now. And it's here I should mention that, in going through my packing I packed more running/gym clothes than I did work clothes.
VEGAS BABY!!! Zzzzzzzz (pt 1)
(Author's note: The good managers at my office determined that my co-worker and I should visit our Las Vegas headquarters for a company kick-off/HOO-rah party. Since being hired, it'd been intimated that there may be some offsite travel- however as we fleshed out the capacities of our position we both realized that any reason for us to visit Vegas didn't seem to make a lot of sense. (We kinda stay in our own world here.) Then, a month ago, our friendly COO came over to describe an upcoming deal that we should "definitely be in Vegas to check out". Swell. After a few conference calls with our manager, her visiting our MN office for a week, we were sent an itinerary and flight confirmation. Vegas, it would seem, would once again be patronized by yours truly...my first trip back since late 2007 or so...
Thing is, would it be fun for a business trip?)
Soooo...I usually overpack, is my first problem. Scratch that. My first problem is that I usually have a problem asking for a ride to the LRT until the last minute. (Knowing my roommate seems to genuinely like to help out in that respect.) No, in having conversations with my co-worker- I realized that since this is an actual business trip that would last (technically) 2 days- I had no business bringing a duffel bag or the oversized "dead-hooker deluxe" model. I challenged myself to see about cramming my crap into a small suitcase, and playing business-traveler like a grown up. Which turned out to be fortuitous, since I'd returned all oversized luggage to their rightful owners (family) and the only thing I had left was an overhead bag.
My co-worker asked me if I wanted to watch any movies on the flight, which I mistook for in-flight movies and made to condescendingly correct her that we didn't have that- to which she condescendingly responded we'd watch it on her Ipad. I told her I was fine with a book- which only harbored a stare...which was lifted upon my response "Um. A movie'd be great. What did you have in mind?" We settled on "Transformers 3", and said our weekend good-byes.
Insomnia kept me awake most of the night after 3am, along with nightmares about crashing into the ocean...many of these were assuaged only by the fact that we wouldn't actually be flying over the ocean. (I blame the Chinese take-out before bed and the movie "Con-Air"...which was on TBS that afternoon) When I finally got up to do my pre-luggage check (the 4th of such "checks") I realized that I actually had less time to get ready and go then I had originally thought- knowing the LRT would take at least 35 minutes to get from downtown to MSP int'l. My roommate, the acme of calm (that morning, anyway) told me he'd rather take me to the gate anyway. Score. So we beat ass to get there and I still wound up with less than two hours to kill.
My panic resurfaced when I realized that in spite of having the under-sized package (snerk), it still didn't seem to fit in those measure-box deals that tell you if it's cool for the overhead compartments. I sat on it. Looked around plaintively until a friendly airport employee told me if I could move some stuff from the front pockets into the main compartment, I'd be sound as a pound. Except, as I knelt in front of her while she rustled up my boarding pass, those compartments contained all of my underwear. So, there I was...bleary eyed, and surrounded by Hanes like some crop-circle consisting of my balled-up unmentionables.
I was busy re-arranging everything when she caught sight of a bottle of hairspray next to my leg, also to go in the box. "You can't bring that, hon." (Mind, my hair is still wet...pretty long for my standards, and pasted to my head with the grace of God. I had planned on my last-minute gussying in the terminal bathroom) "Oh. Why is that?" "It's a big bottle. It exceeds the limit on liquids you can carry on". Great. Not even through the x-ray and I'm already a flight risk named "Pantene Pro-Hold". So...I chuck it. She smiled and told me that Vegas has drug stores I could patronize. ("Really? Just like MN? That is sooooo weird!")
So I do the obligatory shoe-shucking and toss my stuff in my pockets in the X-ray bins. They ask me 4 times (Yes) if there is ANYthing in my pockets to which I respond in the negative. And then...I enter the thing. I hope the beaming process is painless and where ever I land is a class "M" Planet. No dice. I stand there with my feet apart and my hands over my head like I'm about to perform the kata Kil-Sim (eh? Eh? Karate reference? Anyone?) and it's done. I exit the booth. Annnnnd...
Minor pandemonium. I'm told to turn around and face the read-out machine which shows a vague, blobby outline which (I guess) is me (Did I gain weight? Jesus) and has a glowing red-spot on my leg that looks like the kind of graphic you'd see on an anti-itch commercial. I'm asked another 3 times (yes) if I had anything in my pockets because the MACHINE showed I DEFINITELY HAD SOMETHING IN MY POCKET!!! And that's when the guy walked over to me with the nitrile gloves and a smirk. Folks. I got the frisk. And it wasn't even as exciting as I thought. And the fucker didn't even acknowledge that there was still. Nothing. In. My. Pocket.
Right. (Note- There have been peoples, stories, of those wrongly imprisoned, taken off of their flight, held under interrogation for hours without explanation- all because they tripped the profile. And I think it's horrible and wrong and makes my experience look like a handshake at vespers. I just want you to know, that if they fuck it up with a cherry like me? Well...you've been warned.)
So I'm digging through the suitcase to retrieve keys, wallet, gum, et.al. when I see a green envelope that says "Mikey. Merry X-Mas. Love, Mom and Dad." (Swallows hard. Folds it. And keeps it in his pocket...and it still feels thick. Oh...btw...think about that one if you're wondering how long it's been since I last used that suitcase.)
I manage to grab a Starbucks, grab a Men's Health magazine, and chill for the next 90 minutes until my co-worker shows up...only to discover that we weren't even sitting next to each other. No movies for buddies. More over, I'm in the center seat...on an over booked flight. And stuck for 3.5 hours with nothing but my magazine, the Sky Mall Catalogue, and "The Help"...So far, this trip wasn't too peachy.
Thing is, would it be fun for a business trip?)
Soooo...I usually overpack, is my first problem. Scratch that. My first problem is that I usually have a problem asking for a ride to the LRT until the last minute. (Knowing my roommate seems to genuinely like to help out in that respect.) No, in having conversations with my co-worker- I realized that since this is an actual business trip that would last (technically) 2 days- I had no business bringing a duffel bag or the oversized "dead-hooker deluxe" model. I challenged myself to see about cramming my crap into a small suitcase, and playing business-traveler like a grown up. Which turned out to be fortuitous, since I'd returned all oversized luggage to their rightful owners (family) and the only thing I had left was an overhead bag.
My co-worker asked me if I wanted to watch any movies on the flight, which I mistook for in-flight movies and made to condescendingly correct her that we didn't have that- to which she condescendingly responded we'd watch it on her Ipad. I told her I was fine with a book- which only harbored a stare...which was lifted upon my response "Um. A movie'd be great. What did you have in mind?" We settled on "Transformers 3", and said our weekend good-byes.
Insomnia kept me awake most of the night after 3am, along with nightmares about crashing into the ocean...many of these were assuaged only by the fact that we wouldn't actually be flying over the ocean. (I blame the Chinese take-out before bed and the movie "Con-Air"...which was on TBS that afternoon) When I finally got up to do my pre-luggage check (the 4th of such "checks") I realized that I actually had less time to get ready and go then I had originally thought- knowing the LRT would take at least 35 minutes to get from downtown to MSP int'l. My roommate, the acme of calm (that morning, anyway) told me he'd rather take me to the gate anyway. Score. So we beat ass to get there and I still wound up with less than two hours to kill.
My panic resurfaced when I realized that in spite of having the under-sized package (snerk), it still didn't seem to fit in those measure-box deals that tell you if it's cool for the overhead compartments. I sat on it. Looked around plaintively until a friendly airport employee told me if I could move some stuff from the front pockets into the main compartment, I'd be sound as a pound. Except, as I knelt in front of her while she rustled up my boarding pass, those compartments contained all of my underwear. So, there I was...bleary eyed, and surrounded by Hanes like some crop-circle consisting of my balled-up unmentionables.
I was busy re-arranging everything when she caught sight of a bottle of hairspray next to my leg, also to go in the box. "You can't bring that, hon." (Mind, my hair is still wet...pretty long for my standards, and pasted to my head with the grace of God. I had planned on my last-minute gussying in the terminal bathroom) "Oh. Why is that?" "It's a big bottle. It exceeds the limit on liquids you can carry on". Great. Not even through the x-ray and I'm already a flight risk named "Pantene Pro-Hold". So...I chuck it. She smiled and told me that Vegas has drug stores I could patronize. ("Really? Just like MN? That is sooooo weird!")
So I do the obligatory shoe-shucking and toss my stuff in my pockets in the X-ray bins. They ask me 4 times (Yes) if there is ANYthing in my pockets to which I respond in the negative. And then...I enter the thing. I hope the beaming process is painless and where ever I land is a class "M" Planet. No dice. I stand there with my feet apart and my hands over my head like I'm about to perform the kata Kil-Sim (eh? Eh? Karate reference? Anyone?) and it's done. I exit the booth. Annnnnd...
Minor pandemonium. I'm told to turn around and face the read-out machine which shows a vague, blobby outline which (I guess) is me (Did I gain weight? Jesus) and has a glowing red-spot on my leg that looks like the kind of graphic you'd see on an anti-itch commercial. I'm asked another 3 times (yes) if I had anything in my pockets because the MACHINE showed I DEFINITELY HAD SOMETHING IN MY POCKET!!! And that's when the guy walked over to me with the nitrile gloves and a smirk. Folks. I got the frisk. And it wasn't even as exciting as I thought. And the fucker didn't even acknowledge that there was still. Nothing. In. My. Pocket.
Right. (Note- There have been peoples, stories, of those wrongly imprisoned, taken off of their flight, held under interrogation for hours without explanation- all because they tripped the profile. And I think it's horrible and wrong and makes my experience look like a handshake at vespers. I just want you to know, that if they fuck it up with a cherry like me? Well...you've been warned.)
So I'm digging through the suitcase to retrieve keys, wallet, gum, et.al. when I see a green envelope that says "Mikey. Merry X-Mas. Love, Mom and Dad." (Swallows hard. Folds it. And keeps it in his pocket...and it still feels thick. Oh...btw...think about that one if you're wondering how long it's been since I last used that suitcase.)
I manage to grab a Starbucks, grab a Men's Health magazine, and chill for the next 90 minutes until my co-worker shows up...only to discover that we weren't even sitting next to each other. No movies for buddies. More over, I'm in the center seat...on an over booked flight. And stuck for 3.5 hours with nothing but my magazine, the Sky Mall Catalogue, and "The Help"...So far, this trip wasn't too peachy.
Friday, April 15, 2011
"Do you miss unemployment?"
Well, I'm officially at the end of week one at the new job and it's about what you'd expect from the 1st week. (Partnering, figuring out systems, finding the cafeteria, etc.) I've recently read that it's considered one of the most favorable companies to work for in terms of employee satisfaction/happiness and so far there's been nothing to indicate otherwise. I even joined the in-house gym (It's not cheating, Fitness Crossroads. It's just to kill time before rehearsal for the next few weeks. And they are dirty cheap) so that I can keep up my run training while figuring out what my actual schedule is going to be. So fingers crossed- so far, so good. (Of COURSE two of the places I applied to got back to me for an interview. I think, though, I'm going to stick around here if you don't mind- in spite of the drive to move folks to sales)
That said, a comment was made a few weeks back where I was asked if I "liked" being unemployed. (I was hemming and hawing over an offer that seemed like it wouldn't be a good fit.) So let's clear one thing up right away- I don't/didn't "like" being unemployed. What I didn't like was not having a steady income/ability to put $ away. And truthfully, that's about it.
See, I figured out this last period of downtime that I didn't want to just take any douche-y job that came up- even if it meant continued unemployment. Reason being, I don't think over the last 18 years or so? I haven't really enjoyed any job outside of the theatre. (I had a very, very brief run at The 'Artford when I created the quality team, was training, felt my input to the senior leaders was valuable, AND they had me travelling. AND I liked my boss a lot. And as a caveat, not all theatre gigs- And I'm talking "paid" gigs now- are aces. Let me know how you feel after singing and dancing outside in cowboy boots and a light up shirt in 104 degree heat during the summer come mid-July and you'll know what I mean.)
Everything ends up being about skills, or more specifically how happy are you at eating bullshit. And the economy of fear has people dumbing-down their palates. My big thing, is that I didn't want to dread going to the office. If I found/find a job that I actually enjoy doing? That would be a huge bonus. So I figured out some pros and cons after thinking about this for a few minutes, not to help find my strengths or establish a goal- but rather to say that being unemployed wasn't too bad. At least until the checks from the gubmint run out. So the list:
-The physical routine. After my last two lay-offs/shit-cannings, I learned my lesson well: Just because you're not a productive member of society does not mean you can start your day off with eggs and a bloody Mary. Daily. That's a recipe for heartburn/gut rot and that shit takes the motivation right out of you. While I like set hours (I like routine, whatever.) I was able to get up every day and hit the gym. Every. Day. And the last month or so, I started to truly feel like my body was coming together. And it wasn't a rushed visit. It was being able to do it at my own pace. And karate? Sheeeeit. I could hit the afternoon class where there weren't as many people.
- Cruising the internet without fear of reprisal. Especially for new work! Every company makes you sign off on that disclaimer that you aren't to use the interweb for personal use...including Pr0n. Well after checking my business and doing my due diligence with employment websites? It's off to frass!
- It's so, sooooo easy to go to auditions. Trying to get on-camera work is hard enough in this town. Trying to land auditions, book gigs, while holding down a 9-5? Dicey prospect at best. There's trying to tell your boss you need a few hours off during the day, and IF you land it there's taking PTO to do the actual shoot. (And many times, having a boss that just plain says "No.") If you want to land gigs, you can't piss away auditions...and after I got tossed from the last job one of the first things I did was call my agent and tell them to send me on as many auditions that come up that I'm eligible for.
-Never late, never worry. Meeting buddies for lunch is super easy! I could be on-time to shows b/c I wasn't worried about cramming in a commute.
-No commute. 'Nuff said.
-Bathrobes are considered "business casual". Of course.
- Taking care of business. I was able to really capitalize on projects that sit around and look me in the face on a day-to-day basis. The bathroom sink debacle? There's probably a good chance that would have taken over a month or two to finish otherwise.
-Siesta's Look, while I did do my due diligence in the morning, I fully acknowledge that I could have gotten into the depressing habit of sleeping in with my door shut every day until I went feral. As it stood, I would get up when Moda slept over and shuffle off to the gym so that I did, in fact, have a routine in place to get me out the door. That said...around 1...maybe 2 in the afternoon? I sure as shit listened to my body when it said "NAP TIME!!!" And like a good toddler, I'd go down for about 45 minutes or so...waking later and feeling refreshed. (This backfired slightly when Moda eventually asked if I was sick because I "seemed to take a lot of naps".)
So what don't I miss? Well, you spend most of your time on house-arrest b/c gas costs money, and you need to limit going out superfluously. So that's a LOT of your house to spend time in. And as much as I care about my roommate...well, you get to intimately know their routine and ultimately see a LOT of them. Which, for my part, is too much. (I recognize as I get older there is a little introvert in me that cherishes "Mike-Time".) There also tends to be a stigma that looms over your head...the one that says "UNEMPLOYED"...which can translate in my mind into "LOSER". Not the rule, but it could have been.
Monday, April 04, 2011
I gotta go bad...
So I'm probably jinxing myself here, but I'll frass about this quick anyway-
Funemployment can be great and all, but there is this strange and pressing need for an income that cannot be circumnavigated. And in the last two years, I've been in the same boat a few times and it never, ever, changes. You do your due diligence, of course. Hound the temp agencies. Comb through Monster and Careerbuilder...and the disappointing Classifieds. And when they call you, you need to keep cool, Fonzie. Do NOT sound desperate. Do NOT let them hear your tail wag. And above all, be wary of your own pride. (It's hard to not jump at the first s#it job they throw at you. )
So I was fairly surprised when the in house temp company who originally hired me on my last contracted fi-DOUCHE-iary assignment called me in for...the strangest thing. I'll frass about it more tomorrow if/when I confirm the po-po, let's just say that they said it's mine after I fill out the background check and take a drug test.
Wait whaaaaat?
So this is really no big deal, except it makes me feel like I've got to answer the riddle of the Sphinx beforehand (after all, it is a test) and it gives me the same, weird, deep-seated anxiety that you get when you see a cop car flash their lights behind you before they pass you up, or when the truant officer would say "Michael, the principal would like to see you". (When really it's about the d-bag you walk to school with who had chewing tobacco in his backpack) I mean I even feel like they'll call me out for that time I was 12 and ate almost an entire bottle of Children's Tylenol because they tasted like Smarties.
I guess it strikes me as weird in this day and age that the ability to determine if you have drugs in your body is a factor in whether they need you to work in a corporate setting. You'd think they'd either want you mega-sedated to help alleviate the tedium of being a cube-jockey or hopped-up on goofballs to improve your productivity.
They'll be sore disappointed when they find an NO2 based active-male multi-vitamin, and herbal ech/ginseng, and possibly dark chocolate. (I should probably skip the "everything" bagel from Brueggers beforehand, huh?)
And am I an asshole for wanting to eat a lot...and I mean a lot of asparagus before I go in?
Funemployment can be great and all, but there is this strange and pressing need for an income that cannot be circumnavigated. And in the last two years, I've been in the same boat a few times and it never, ever, changes. You do your due diligence, of course. Hound the temp agencies. Comb through Monster and Careerbuilder...and the disappointing Classifieds. And when they call you, you need to keep cool, Fonzie. Do NOT sound desperate. Do NOT let them hear your tail wag. And above all, be wary of your own pride. (It's hard to not jump at the first s#it job they throw at you. )
So I was fairly surprised when the in house temp company who originally hired me on my last contracted fi-DOUCHE-iary assignment called me in for...the strangest thing. I'll frass about it more tomorrow if/when I confirm the po-po, let's just say that they said it's mine after I fill out the background check and take a drug test.
Wait whaaaaat?
So this is really no big deal, except it makes me feel like I've got to answer the riddle of the Sphinx beforehand (after all, it is a test) and it gives me the same, weird, deep-seated anxiety that you get when you see a cop car flash their lights behind you before they pass you up, or when the truant officer would say "Michael, the principal would like to see you". (When really it's about the d-bag you walk to school with who had chewing tobacco in his backpack) I mean I even feel like they'll call me out for that time I was 12 and ate almost an entire bottle of Children's Tylenol because they tasted like Smarties.
I guess it strikes me as weird in this day and age that the ability to determine if you have drugs in your body is a factor in whether they need you to work in a corporate setting. You'd think they'd either want you mega-sedated to help alleviate the tedium of being a cube-jockey or hopped-up on goofballs to improve your productivity.
They'll be sore disappointed when they find an NO2 based active-male multi-vitamin, and herbal ech/ginseng, and possibly dark chocolate. (I should probably skip the "everything" bagel from Brueggers beforehand, huh?)
And am I an asshole for wanting to eat a lot...and I mean a lot of asparagus before I go in?
Tuesday, March 29, 2011
New Directions! Welcome!
Hiya! Welcome to HappyChristmasBaby, or welcome back as the case may be. I've been making spartan posts these last few years and I hope to change that in order to drudge up some new readers and focus on what is important- My ever changing stupid view on our world, Minnesota, and my place in it. The content won't be changing too much- You'll still get my doofy opinions, I'm bound to offend, I will make many spelling errors, and this won't be horribly exciting to those who don't know me (I'm hoping to change that)
Still...
I'll be focusing on things in smaller, bite-sized portions! In an attempt to make your lives more enriched they will be areas that make me happy, drive me nuts, and mostly are points of interest that I feel a stronger thought-base and will make for a an entertaining read. Eventually-meaning sooner rather than later- I'll be reverting to Tumblr or Wordpress etc. which will give me the ability to categorize the content so that you can skip the bits you don't like or care for and read what you do enjoy. (Kind of like the folks who circle their cereal bowl to focus on the marshmallows in their Lucky Charms versus the tasteless bits)
Areas will include:
Daily observations and personal jibba/jabba- This is the part where I say something like "Does anyone else want to own a custom made baseball jersey that says "Warlock" on the back? Or "Watch the faces of other drivers when they roll through a stop sign...it looks something like this:" (Inserts wacky self-portrait via the digital camera I received for Christmas.)
Originally, I was going to resume posting the crap about being unemployed which makes spending time on this baby wonderful. HOWever (fingers crossed) that may very well change soon. I hope. : (
Food/Home/Garden- Here, you'll find the projects I've been working on or starting around the house (i.e. the great bathroom sink debacle) garden status (guess what? There are GARLIC NUBBINS!) Cooking disasters (I may or may not title it "Crap I make with what I have in the pantry") Restaurant reviews/opinions (Did you know what I learned at Meritage? That if you 86 the tarragon from bernaise sauce? You get Hollandaise. No lie. Their fries are crack)
Working out/Running/Karate/Health- Like it hasn't been trampled to death, I'm taking my race training more seriously this year, in addition to weight training. I've also made a goal w/'Fu to start putting more time into getting the black belt I've put off for the last 10 years or so.
Theater shite- I just closed "Joseph" out in Ah-No!-Kah and will be starting 12 Angry Homeslices in about a week. Here you'll find theater mumbo/jumbo and the ilk.
Movie Reviews/Netflix/Nerd Ravings/Pop Culture hoo-ha- Readers Digest condensed movie reviews will live here, plus salivations regarding upcoming geeky film events. I have a feeling Moda will give this one some distance. Just sayin'.
Reality TV/Professional Sports/Politics- Are. You. F#cking. Kidding me?
There it is, kids. I'll be regurgitating some ideas here that I've been typing up so there'll be boo-too stuff to keep you occupied. For my two subscribers, hello. For new readers, I hope you'll enjoy this. For Mom- I'm sorry.
Feel free to comment, frassers...
Pip
Still...
I'll be focusing on things in smaller, bite-sized portions! In an attempt to make your lives more enriched they will be areas that make me happy, drive me nuts, and mostly are points of interest that I feel a stronger thought-base and will make for a an entertaining read. Eventually-meaning sooner rather than later- I'll be reverting to Tumblr or Wordpress etc. which will give me the ability to categorize the content so that you can skip the bits you don't like or care for and read what you do enjoy. (Kind of like the folks who circle their cereal bowl to focus on the marshmallows in their Lucky Charms versus the tasteless bits)
Areas will include:
Daily observations and personal jibba/jabba- This is the part where I say something like "Does anyone else want to own a custom made baseball jersey that says "Warlock" on the back? Or "Watch the faces of other drivers when they roll through a stop sign...it looks something like this:" (Inserts wacky self-portrait via the digital camera I received for Christmas.)
Originally, I was going to resume posting the crap about being unemployed which makes spending time on this baby wonderful. HOWever (fingers crossed) that may very well change soon. I hope. : (
Food/Home/Garden- Here, you'll find the projects I've been working on or starting around the house (i.e. the great bathroom sink debacle) garden status (guess what? There are GARLIC NUBBINS!) Cooking disasters (I may or may not title it "Crap I make with what I have in the pantry") Restaurant reviews/opinions (Did you know what I learned at Meritage? That if you 86 the tarragon from bernaise sauce? You get Hollandaise. No lie. Their fries are crack)
Working out/Running/Karate/Health- Like it hasn't been trampled to death, I'm taking my race training more seriously this year, in addition to weight training. I've also made a goal w/'Fu to start putting more time into getting the black belt I've put off for the last 10 years or so.
Theater shite- I just closed "Joseph" out in Ah-No!-Kah and will be starting 12 Angry Homeslices in about a week. Here you'll find theater mumbo/jumbo and the ilk.
Movie Reviews/Netflix/Nerd Ravings/Pop Culture hoo-ha- Readers Digest condensed movie reviews will live here, plus salivations regarding upcoming geeky film events. I have a feeling Moda will give this one some distance. Just sayin'.
Reality TV/Professional Sports/Politics- Are. You. F#cking. Kidding me?
There it is, kids. I'll be regurgitating some ideas here that I've been typing up so there'll be boo-too stuff to keep you occupied. For my two subscribers, hello. For new readers, I hope you'll enjoy this. For Mom- I'm sorry.
Feel free to comment, frassers...
Pip
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