Ok, there’s a lot been going on since I returned from SpringVegas. It’s the middle of finals (I completely and utterly bombed my International Law test the other day. Seriously. Completely bombed. We had to read and analyze a 30 page article for part of it and even with 6 hours of prep on it the night before and 4 hours during the 8 hr exam to break down a critique I still can’t really explain the relative normativity of international law to you. Hell I still am not sure that normativity is a real word. Spell check sure as shit doesn’t think so. Siiiigh.)
Additionally there is been the steady decrease in my already shaky study habits, which certainly weren’t helped by the lack of payoff to all my prep for Intl Law, quick goodbyes to friends moving to Ireland, quick hellos to friends back briefly from Argentina, a countless number of hours in the library, a much more quantifiable number of productive hours in the library, a bizarre moment last week where a whole brewery spontaneous commenced reenacting Sept 11th with paper airplanes and empty cups, and of course the 7th (and apparently final) Jammy Awards yesterday at the theater at MSG.
But details, especially on those last two items, will have to wait. Torts looms tomorrow and while after Intl it’ll feel like the equivalent of reading a Dick and Jane book, it still doesn’t mean I know the material well at all. So somehow I need to stop committing potential torts and start issue spotting potential torts.
Tomorrow’s (Friday’s) final immediately precedes a cab ride to the airport for my second of two whirlwind wedding trips back to Illinois in a mere three weeks. This one luckily is only to Chicago but unluckily is once again on United. I am nothing if not masochistic.
I return Sunday afternoon but with an incredibly scary Admin final staring me down on Wed I don’t expect to have time to update again before it. Of course I only have 4 days after Admin to pack up my room, pack my bag, back up my laptop, see my friends, celebrate my birthday and god willing finally receive my visa (OH that’s a whole post in and of itself) but I promise to somehow squeeze in enough time to give you stuff to catch up on while I am in transit to, and settling into Cameroon.
In the meantime I leave you with links to some videos from this (Video #1), and prior (Video #2), years NYU law musical revue called, appropriately enough, Law Revue. You’ll either get that joke or you won’t but it doesn’t matter cause it’s not that funny. At least the first half of that disclaimer applies to the videos as well.
Oh and those of you in the City, come out to the Beer Garden in Astoria on Saturday the 17th around 7pm for the Birthday / See Dave Before He Dies in Cameroon Party. It should be a good time.
Yeah that’s right there’s earthquakes, Drew’s getting married, we have officially entered the end times. And what better place to do it than the city that has inspired me to more sin than the Pope in a roomful of little boys?
Day started out more than a little rough though. Getting up before I even put my head down to get a haircut. I was so out of it that she was halfway through removing my embryonic mullet before I realized I went to high school with her. That was followed up by a phone call from groomsman Mookie telling me that after all Jacob and Kelly went through with the weather last night a last minute and completely unrelated mechanical problem killed their trip right when they were taxi-ing out. Damn. I can’t begin to describe how much a bummer that was to hear.
But we don’t dwell on the sadness here, specially when I am writing this later and supposed to be studying torts. I had enough time post haircut to go home, lay on my bed for 45 mins and suit up for the show.
And what a show it was. Joe and I sat in the back which was probably for the best as our behavior in church is actually worse than when we were in grade school. Much worse actually. Luckily the Body and Kristy were next to us and knew what to expect.
But none of us expected this. About ten minutes in Joe elbows me and starts making shotgun pantomimes. I found this entirely perplexing until I looked where he was gesturing. I’ll be damned if the old dude in the row ahead of us wasn’t wearing some serious ear protectors. It’s like he just came from work directing fighter jet landings on an aircraft carrier. Apparently he didn’t think much of the musical accompaniment cause he put those things on every time any music started. I dunno, I thought the music seemed alright. Though he really would have needed them if Joe and I had gotten a chance to bust loose on Lead Me Lord, but they didn’t play it. (We did quietly exchange verses when we got bored.)
But the wedding part of the mass was good and low and behold Drew, the human Cheeto, of all people is now lawfully wed to an absolutely wonderful girl. I have no idea how he did it. I was trying to think of a way to explain my disbelief but he took care of it for me: the man woke up early this morning to go lifting cause even your wedding is no excuse to skip a day in the weight room. I love this kid.
The happy couple were joined in their exit from the church by Duke, all decked out in a tux of his own.
While the wedding party went off to ride the party bus around, Joe, Colleen and I retired to the beauty salon to drink and watch the Bears’ draft. We made it to the reception in (12 minutes no matter what Joe says) in time to move from Dos Equis to Jack and cokes before the wedding party came in.
It also gave me time to realize that I was seated at a table in no man’s land half a huge ballroom away from everyone I knew. Seriously it was so far away that I had to organize a search party to help me find it. (My pic of Drew and Molly didn’t come out but I got a nice one of him and his sister. I can’t imagine how happy she is to get him out of the house.)
Here’s the Father of the Groom. I can imagine how happy he is to get Drew out of the house and its wildly.
So I just table hopped around, alternating tables between courses and drinks between tables. It worked out.
But after dinner, speeches and dances the real drinking started. See that look on Shea’s face? This is a serious business.
And apparently serious drinking called for a serious costume change for the groomsmen.
And that costume change suffered further alteration as the evening went on.
Till eventually no one in the wedding party had sleeves. (Most badass groom I’ve ever seen.)
Though at least Larry the Cable Guy here classed it up a little with a camo hat.
Well, let’s just say Larry went through a number of looks. This is more his Priscilla Queen of the Desert dancing outfit, featuring the dog’s tuxedo top hat. Normally that’s accessorized by a pitcher of beer but he appears to have put it down here to really get jiggy with it.
Ah there it is, complete with booty shaking. Good old Ace.
Duke didn’t seem to mind the loss of his hat though. He was wondering through the tables all night in his tux with his leash dragging behind him.
Eventually things became a little rough. Obviously. Though I think
Eventually I staggered out though. I mean after yesterday’s hellish trip and a mere three hours of sleep staying till 1am is respectable right? Course I didn’t go to bed I went downtown. (And double popped my collars. Gotta keep it classy.)
Stan Bush - The Touch (A classic, it just sounded appropriate)
That’s right if I am only in town for 28 hours there’s no time for sleep. Specially when I can witness the debut of No Nonsense ’08, Tommy’s summer of (wait for it…) no nonsense. It’s like the Summer of George in Seinfeld, cept with less nonsense. (See, see what I am doing right there? That’s what Tommy thinks of nonsense.)
I mean by cutting out all that time that normally went to nonsense we had time to steal a case of Busch out of Liz’s garage and go over the Pone Zone where Tommy, Liz, the Big Pone Amanda and I joined now by DJ learned real lessons about life. It’s worth taking a moment to note that DJ in a stunning move was rocking multicolored pone! And thus he became the Technopone. (Double down on the Pone.) Way to up the ante buddy.
Like the five second rule as it applies to gummy Life Savers.
And that you should never try to set fire to a can of Busch with a crème brule lighter.
Or this bit of wisdom from Tommy, “That’s what rules the world DJ, little midgets on little ponies”. I believe this life lesson immediately preceded Tommy falling in the sink. Now some of you might suspect his little people/little pony theory is nonsense, but that’s just cause you forgot that this is No Nonsense ’08 fools.
But it wasn’t all fun and games and 5am trips to CVS for frozen pizza, no there were somber moments too. Where we remembered those who’ve passed. Like Chester. Chester was a squirrel. Big Pone killed him.
The lesson we learned here was, when feeding an injured squirrel its two parts water, one part mixture not one part water, two parts mixture. Cause then the squirrel explodes.
See and you though there couldn’t possibly be any good reason to stay up till 7am.
Can’t wait to get up in three hours, get my car and go to the airport. Awesome.
Moe. - Plane Crash (2/10/05 one of the greatest shows I’ve ever seen by any band ever. Hear it all HERE)
(Note: Clocking in at an impressive 4,130 words this is believed to be the longest post in the history of WhereDaveIs and certainly the one with the lowest picture per word ratio. Read at your own risk.)
Some of you, many of you I hope, are familiar with my hatred of United Airlines. They were miserable at Thanksgiving and they were fucking horrific assholes at Christmas. Truly the last word is customer service or respect. So I swore I would do everything in my power to avoid ever again giving them my business.
Of course it’s hard to do when they are the only way to fly into Springfield Illinois, and when flying into a nearby city and then driving would be a huge pain in the ass cause the trip home is one of those whirlwind 38 hour headaches. The headache, and the risk of once again putting my fate in the hands of United, seemed worthwhile. My good friend Drew is getting married and despite the fact that I really should be desperately studying for my finals which start a week from Monday I couldn’t possibly miss it.
So after class I swung home, packed a carryon bag (Fuck if I give them the chance to fuck me on my baggage again) with my suit and a change of t-shirt, threw my international law notes and my Crunchtime guide to Administrative Law in my backpack and at 5:15 hopped the subway/bus to LaGuardia Airport.
I was smart enough about halfway through the ensuing ordeal to start jotting down notes so the rest of this experience has been live blogged for your edification. As GI Joe said at the end of every episode, “Now you know. And knowing is half the battle.”
6:02 – Got off that awful bus at the United Terminal. I live approximately 7 minutes from LaGuardia by car yet somehow that bus trip takes a half hour. I hate the bus, in fact I am pretty sure that in the 8 years I’ve i’ved in this town I haven’t taken a bus 20 times. They are overcrowded, difficult to maneuver in and stop every ten seconds.
6:05 – While doing the DIY check in I am told that my flight might be delayed and did I want a standby ticket for another flight. Hmmm, this is not a good sign, specially cause my stand by flight wouldn’t depart till 930, obviously leaving me stranded at O’Hare. But the big board still has my flight listed as 7pm and on time so I maintain some cautious/hopeful optimism.
6:18 – Breeze through security and get to my gate ten minutes before scheduled boarding with all signs still saying “On Time”
6:30 –Scheduled loading comes…and goes. But appears to be cause of delay in unloading passengers and isn’t serious. The weather is supposedly lousy in Chicago which delayed the 5pm and 6pm United Flights but they just started loading which hopefully means that its passed and we should be good to go.
7:00 – Our scheduled departure time signals the beginning of seating. Half hour delay, nothing to worry about. There isn’t a lot of time between when we land and when my flight to Springfield departs but I’ve learned how to run through O’Hare with some skill, and just in case of such a crunch I sacrificed my usual window seat for a middle seat (god help me) in order to be near the front of the plane. It’s only a two hour flight; the mild discomfort is a reasonable trade off to improve my chances at the connection.
7:02 – Sully, my good friend the Marine Lt. recently returned from Iraq, and Drew’s best man is flying in from San Diego with his wife Kelly. We are actually booked on the same puddle jumper from Chicago to Springfield tonight and are pretty excited about getting the celebration started on the flight and having our airport pick up take us and deposit us directly at the bars. I had spoken to him around 5pm and he said there were some delays on his flight cause of weather; well he called now to say that his flight had been cancelled completely and he wasn’t going to be able to make it home now. I can’t tell you what a horrible bummer that is. Best man, just back from the war suddenly isn’t gonna be able to come. That’s terrible. I board the plane pretty bummed.
7:30 – Boarding complete, United flight 693 taxi’s to the runway while they play that annoying safety video dirtying Gershwin’s memory by using Rhapsody in Blue as the background music to “Your seat cushion is a flotation device”. Yeah, I don’t care how beautiful and New Yorkish the music is I still am not buying that if this plane makes a “water landing” that any of us will survive long enough to forget to bring our seat cushion with us out of the plane.
7:40 – Uh oh, pilot comes on the loudspeaker to announce that there is going to be a 40 minute delay. I am less concerned with the uncomfortableness of time on the tarmac as I am the ability to make my connection but some quick math tells me it’s still possible to make it and I hold out hope that maybe we will get out a little earlier. My optimism is further buoyed by the news that Sully is headed from San Diego to LA to catch a flight there so he still might be coming. That more than offsets the delay.
7:42 –My admittedly naïve optimism is quickly dashed. That 40 minute delay? Now a 1:40 minute delay. Cannot like it when the airline predicts it that long. There goes my connection. So I call my folks and break the news to them that they might have to come up and get my ass in Chicago, again, for the second fucking time in a row. Still, cause of the pilot’s generous advanced warning of wait time they can get on the road in an hour or so and be there when I land, meaning that even with the four hour drive time we can get home around 1am. Oh boy.
7:45 – NBC on United begins episode of 30 Rock. (There is a reason I note this.)
7:50 – Getting home at 1am isn’t at all the same as getting it at 10:30 and enjoying a rare night in town with my friends but hey I could be Sully. Details of his plans are coming in as I used the tarmac time to send more text messages and make more calls than I have since the days where I was tied to a blackberry. Turns out his flight from LA will get him into O’Hare at 5am at which point they will rent a car and drive down to Springfield giving them just enough time to shower and change before wedding photos start. Wow. That sounds fucking terrible. Better than missing it to be sure but fucking death nonetheless. Does raise the possibility that if my flight gets significantly further delayed I could have my parents abort their trip, sleep on O’Hare’s comfortably cold and hard floors till 5 and hope in Jake’s car but hopefully it won’t come to that.
8:10 The lady sitting in my preferred window seat is a large woman. I’m not saying she’s fat, though she is full bodied, its more that she is just of very big dimensions, tall, square etc. She’s also watching some movie on her portable DVD player and apparently it’s a horror movie or something cause every few minutes she lets out a loud gasp or exclamation. The first time is scared the shit out of me as I was looking down halfheartedly at a flow chart for determining when to give an administrative agency decision Chevron deference and not expecting the person to my left to suddenly act like a dead baby had just dropped into her lap. I’m getting used to it though over time. I’m less used to the amount of space she takes up. Even after I put the armrest down my airspace is all kinds of invaded with large elbows and parts of her bulky leather coat (used as a blanket) spill over and further constrict my comfort.
8:17 – NBC on United moves to an episode of some “Isn’t nature beautiful” program designed to more boring than a blank screen.
8:40 – Lady behind me asked the flight attendant for some snacks. Pretzels, peanuts anything she’s starving and the attendant told her that they didn’t have any food at all on this flight. Seriously? Not even the nuts that even the stingy useless United Airlines usually gives out with its beverage service? Nope nothing. Sorry lady but this airline blows.
8:47 – My companion’s DVD player ran out of juice much to her disappointment cause, as she told me, “I didn’t know that was a scary movie but now I how can I not know how it ends?” I shrugged and she dealt with her curiosity by falling asleep and splaying herself out even further into my narrow little 13B slice of hell.
9:10 – The pilot finally makes another announcement. Still no developments. We are waiting on news of conditions in O’Hare. Hopefully we should know something in another 20 mins. I pass this info on to the folks and suggest they start driving. We discuss the possibility of me just waiting for Jacob to land at 5am, and I can tell the old man is tempted by a course of action that doesn’t involve him leaving the couch but he rightly points out that it’s still risky to count on him making it so they are gonna start driving.
9:30 –NBC on United airs second 30 Rock episode. I bet we are in for another nature special next.
9:40 – Flight attendants have started handing out granola bars and are working their way down the rows. Hmm, what happened to that whole no food on the plane thing? Well turns out that the box with the granola bars explicitly said on it that it couldn’t be opened unless the plane had been sitting around for over two hours. ARE YOU KIDDING ME? REALLY? I can’t decide if the guy is full of shit (he seems sincere and apologetic but its UAL presumably they have an extensive lying training program) or United really is that fucking terrible that they plan for disaster rations but only for disasters lasting longer than two hours. Oh, and the granola bars suck. They are dry and leave crumbs everywhere. You’d think an airline would try to avoid a snack that will make a mess.
9:45 – The pilot thanks us for our patience in the same sort of way that Riker’s Island might thank convicts for choosing to stay with them (“We know you have many prison options; thank you for choosing ours”) and tells us that they are working on a new route to Chicago that will avoid the weather (in the interest of full disclosure, as much as I despise United and want to heap all the blame for everything up to and including the Holocaust on it, it does sound like the weather in Chicago is pretty hellish. Like tornado conditions hellish.)
9:50 – I have given up trying to study for the moment. I had only made it through few pages anyway and now I was too busy listening to the control tower channel to find out updates. Turns out all three of UAL’s O’Hare bound flights are here in a row waiting to take off and now one of the ones ahead of us is headed back to the gate cause they burnt so much gas sitting on their ass on the tarmac that they have to refuel before they can leave. Uh oh, didn’t they leave right when we did?
10:00 – Yep, pilot announces that we have to go back to the gate to get more go-juice or else we won’t be able to make it to Chi-town. You’d think they would’ve realized this problem earlier instead of waiting until apparently conditions were sufficient for us to take off. Awesome, the crowd is loving this. I honestly think right now that if Leslie Nielson were to walk out of the cockpit and tell everyone not to panic the passengers would go as crazy as anyone in Airplane! I fight the desire to stand up and yell DOES ANYONE SPEAK JIVE?
10:01 – Nature special #2. Though a far more interesting nature special could be filmed in coach at the moment.
10:10 – Back at the gate, a mere 2:40 minutes after we left it they tell us that we are third in line for the one fuel truck so it’ll be a few minutes but they are moving as fast as they can and that this flight is in no way cancelled. They do tell us that anyone who wants to can get off the flight and rebook. But they follow that by saying that there are no other flights tonight, all the morning flights tomorrow have been filled by people from the other two planes who got back to the gate first and that there are only three overworked UAL agents outside in the terminal to help you rebook. Oh, and United will not provide hotel rooms and will not return your luggage (Gosh who’d have seen that coming.) Personally I wished he would add that everyone of you fuckers who gets up to leave delays the rest of us so sit the fuck back down but he doesn’t and after some initial calm a whole mess of people abandon ship.
10:17 – I am not sure I’ve made this clear enough: I fucking hate United.
10:25 – Further bad news from California. Sully’s flight has been pushed back to 1230. It gets pushed back anymore and it’ll have to be cancelled and that’ll be the end of his trip home. Spirits are low.
10:37 – I go through a Zen phase where I accept the situation as one of my own making. I fucking knew better than to involve myself with United again.
10:58 – NBC of United opts to change it up and play some absolutely terrible ass Sci-Fi show. Really, terribly looking. Can only imagine its worse if I listened to the audio.
11:10 – Sister 6pm flight UN 691 takes off. The joy that departure might actually be a possibility is tempered by the knowledge that if all these people weren’t dicking around getting off we’d be wheels up by now.
11:12 – Zen phase over. I fucking hate the middle seat.
11:15 – It’s a good thing people delayed us by getting off cause it kept us at the gate till United’s 5pm flight cancelled allowing us to further delay our departure to fill all the newly empty spots with refugees from the other flight. Turns out that after being delayed for hours, then spending hours on the tarmac, then spending time refueling, the plane was finally ready to go but the flight crew was now over their flight hour max and not allowed to fly. I can’t help but feel like this, just like the fuel situation, IS SOMETHING THAT SHOULDVE BEEN BROUGHT TO SOMEONE’S ATTENTION EARLIER! It’s not like maximum hours on the flight deck is a random variable that changes on you at a moment’s notice. This isn’t a fucking raffle. Jesus Christ.
11:17 – Text from Jacob: “All this for the red dragon”. Response: “I never even liked the damn Cheeto.” (The lucky groom is red haired.) Spirits are high all around.
11:25 – The pilot announces a change in policy. Those who want to get off the plane and walk around the concourse now can. The pilot doesn’t exactly tell us why they are suddenly letting people do this. In fact he tells us that all concessions are closed, there is no place out there to smoke and everyone who gets off has to take all their carryon luggage cause we expect to be able to leave soon and if you don’t make it back in time we will leave you. Wait so excuse me you are saying that we expect to finally FINALLY be able to leave very shortly but an hour after the option first became possible you are going to now NOW let people off the plane. You don’t think that might ultimately delay things even further? Specially if you fucking make people find, remove and then return and replace their fucking carryons in one of these fucking packed overhead bins? Really? You really think this is a good idea? I bet you thought giving into Hitler at Munich was a good long term strategy too.
11:28 – I consider the potential delay that’ll result if I try to strangle the people getting off the plane with the cord from United’s complimentary 1980’s era headphones. I reluctantly decide it wouldn’t shorten the wait enough to be worth the effort.
11:31 – Pilot asks everyone to reboard cause we can now leave. Of course this process is going to take some time. Sigh. One lady returning to the plane complains of how she now reeks of smoke cause she used the bathroom and every stall was occupied by people trying to get a quick illicit nicotine fix. That’s the kind of thing anti-smoking ads should show instead of those dumbass “magical amount” musical ads. Joe Camel wouldn’t be half as cool pictured huddled in a dirty ass bathrobe stall, puffing as fast as he can at a cig while nervously looking through the door crack to see if an overweight security guard is coming to yell at him.
11:40 Have I mentioned I fucking hate sitting in the middle row? And HOW IS THIS FUCKING SCI-FI SHOW STILL ON?
11:44 – Well we were almost ready to go. Everyone seemed to be back in but then some young Gordon Gecko wannabe looking guy in the front row who would been buying a lot of those $6 things of wine did something to piss off the head flight attendant. Hard to tell what he did cause every time I saw him he looked like he was standing quietly by his seat sipping his drink. But the attendant talks to him looking annoyed but not excessively, then a minute or two later two cops come onboard and take him off. He’s followed by his friend who looks like he goes voluntarily. Of course they have to root around to find their carry ons. Sigh. Oddly, someone behind me had been telling travel horror stories and totally called a person getting removed by the police like 10 minutes before this happened. On the plus side, I am now glad I decided not to try to strangle someone.
11:50 – It’s started to rain. Nice. This can’t possibly help.
11:52 – The guy who got hauled off by the cops is inexplicably let back on. Cept at this point his seat has been given to someone from the bumped plane so he is sat in an empty seat (dunno why that seat was still empty) back near us. His friend doesn’t return. I have no idea what’s going on. But it’s all time consuming.
11:55 – We leave the gate! The level of excitement is surprisingly muted. Maybe everyone’s holding off till we are airborne. Or else they’ve lost the will to live.
12:00 – Last report before turning the phone off has Jacob’s plane moved up slightly. They should be good.
12:06 – Wheels up. Finally. Some minimally cheerful response in the cabin area.
12:16 – Pilot comes on to thank us for our patience then test it further with the announcement that due to rerouting to avoid the weather we will be taking the scenic route over northern Michigan and around western Wisconsin and clock out tonight at 2:40 of flight time. It’s a good thing they prohibit those little souvenir baseball bats from carry ons now cause otherwise I swear people would’ve gone Baseball Furies on the flight crew. All I can do is contemplate another 2:45 next to the occasionally snoring future starting defensive tackle to my left.
12:32 – NBC on United begins third episode of 30 Rock. For the love of god you have The Office and all you give me is this shit and views of nature I will never see cause I will never make it out of this fucking smelly enclosed squished entirely artificial and miserable flying coffin? I might rip that TV off the fucking ceiling.
12:34 Hmm, now I haven’t actually plugged in my headphones and watched any of these earlier shows but this might be a replay of one of tonight’s two earlier episodes.
12:36 Yep. Kill me.
12:43 – Pilot back on to announce that miraculously United as parted the friendly skies and will be flying the normal route to Chicago, flight time reverts to 1:40. First legitimately good news of the night, which makes me suspicious that the 2:45 was a double bluff to set this “adjustment” back up and earn them a little good will. Fuck them. I cede them nothing.
1:01 – NBC on United airs repeat of earlier Isn’t Nature Cool show. I entertain myself by bouncing my head off the seat in front of me, praying for a concussion.
1:10 – Beverage service comes around with drinks and pretzels. WAIT WHAT? PRETZELS? WHAT THE FUCK HAPPENED TO THE WHOLE WE HAVE NO FUCKING FOOD CEPT ‘TWO HOUR ON TARMAC GRANOLA BARS’?
“Well, we aren’t allowed to give these out till in flight beverage service. But you can have as many packs as you want.”
If everyone wasn’t so hungry he would’ve died in a hail of pretzels. He’s lucky they weren’t pretzel sticks cause we’d only have had to waste one to shove it up his nose and into his brain.
1:11 – Flight attendant slips me a Miller Genuine Draft for free along with my soda, softening my pure hatred for this airline and everything associated with it.
1:12 Hatred returns. Enjoyed the beer though.
1:20 – I have to be honest I have no idea what I did for the last half hour of the flight. I think I sort of fell into that quasi-passed out state. The kind of sleep you get in the middle row of a plane with a large woman intruding extensively into your space from the left, the asshole in front of you putting his seat back as far into you in the front as he can and your bag occupying all your leg space.
1:45 – We touch down at O’Hare at 12:45 CST. WooHoo.
1:58 – Walking through O’Hare we walked right into a line that must have stretched 50 yards down the concourse and went 4-5 people deep. Seriously we are talking a few hundred people. The line for customer service. Poor bastards.
1:59 – Before I can make it past this incredibly long line a PA announcement reveals that the customer service desk will be closing at 1:45 (2:45 EST) and will reopen at 4am (CST). The crowd is so beaten by life that there is no noticeable reaction. Wow could have had it worse.
2:08 – Get off the phone with Sully, who was checking it to see if I made it. He and Kelly are on the plane taxi-ing right now. Looks like I could’ve waited for them and caught a ride at 5am. I am so happy to hear they are gonna make it that despite all the bullshit tonight I have a big shit eating grin on my face and am actually bouncing a little bit to the Talking Heads (Wild Wild Life to be precise) as I head to the pickup area
2:11 Screw waiting for Sully. My parents, up way past their bedtime already were waiting for me and as soon as Laurel and Hardy stopped getting lost in the parking garage I had a Mama K cookie and a Grape Crush.
2:12 Course, we also have a four hour drive ahead of us.
4:30 – We stop for gas in Bloomington and my mother is so tired I find her just sort of staring uncomprehendingly at the sign indicating ladies room to the left, men’s to the right. It was like she was asleep on her feet.
4:40 – I drive coming out of the gas station cause the old man was starting to be a lot more casual about lane lines which suggests he wasn’t doing so hot either. Nothing like miles of open desolate flat highway almost 21 hours after you began your day.
6:04 – I walk in my front door. I am so tired I physically ache for sleep. But finally, finally, 6.5 hours after I should’ve arrived home, I made it to my bed. My glorious, soft, inviting bed.
I can’t wait to get out of it in three hours cause I have a haircut.
(One of the greatest songs ever recorded and my absolute go-to song in karaoke situations. The Dink is God.)
It’s that time of the year. The flowers are blooming, the birds are singing and law students are buried in the library. Yep, its finals season, when young men’s fancy turns to love.
The sense of panic hasn’t arrived yet. The study aids haven’t yet been open and the tension in the halls isn’t yet palpable but finals undeniable harbinger has already struck twice, I fell in love. The other day it was the girl of the pink coat. No longer so clad, but with a visage no less stunning in its classical beauty. Hers is the face of Greek goddesses, movie stars, at the very least the girls in the Noxima commercials. I was instantly again under her sway.
But as wondrous as she is the light of her countenance pales in the blinding fire of what I saw this afternoon. Today, for the first time, I know what love is. Love is a beautiful, intelligent One-L with immaculate taste. As she walked into class today, my periphery became hazy and Dreamweaver kicked in. She was, she was…wearing a He-Man t-shirt.
Masters of the Universe Theme
Now her beauty wasn’t a revelation. I had my road to Damascus moment last week courtesy of a yellow shirt as everyway as awe inspiring and heavenly as any pillar of light, but no Biblical deity holds a candle to the awesome reverence of He-Man. I damn near swooned. It was all I could do just to muster the ability to compliment her on it and so besotted was I that I uttered little more, specially after she seemed unimpressed with the fact that I still sleep on a He-Man pillow. Sigh. Orko would have had more game. Hell I’m even sure exactly what game is. I was less tongue tied as an idiot freshman when I charmed 2000 Playmate of the Year Brandi Roderick. (She said I was a nice guy!)
I’m as confused and disconcerted as Skeletor when he discovers the power of Christmas in the He-Man and She-Ra Christmas special. How can I possibly study defenses to negligence in tort with She-Ra the paragon of taste and beauty wandering around?
(Update: Turns out my pink preferring former #1 is married. The power of Greyskull could now by my only hope.)
I got so wrapped up in ranting about Catholicism that I didn’t have space to talk about the important part of my day which saw me train it out to CT to resume a tradition that was interrupted by my travels last year: Passover Seder at my parent’s.
I’m told it’s a mitzvah to bring a gentile to Passover. Well if more mitzvahs involved brisket I’d be a kosher guinea pig every day of the year. I’m not kidding there have been years when Lou and I have done our level best to cause a double digit spike in brisket futures. I’ve even come to appreciate matzo ball soup. Still draw the line at Gefilte fish though. Looks like death, tastes like worse.
Still it’s a hell of a meal when topped off with some amazing homemade chocolate covered macaroons, peanut brittle, and this year, an amazing looking homemade fruit bouquet.
But as amazing as that brisket is it pales in comparison to the overall dinner experience. The Pesach, the Moror, long dissertations on the tomb like living conditions of the guards at the Tomb of the Unknown Soldier, the shank bone, several generations of awesomely crazy Briers, Willa the dog fighting Michael to lead the meal, the four questions, yarmulkes (I look so rakish in them.) and dozens of Pee-Wee Herman jokes. I can’t remember how he came up originally but I could not stop referring to him. Honestly, me and another Passoverer got to the point where we were crying we were laughing so hard. Ultimately, Michael revoked my yarmulke over it. That’s a parent’s tough love right there.
But the Briers followed that by bequeathing me my very own bathrobe, a wondrous blue fleece garment from heaven. I might never take this off, though I expect it’d garner some looks on the subway. It felt great on the ride back to the city (also lovingly arranged by my surrogate folks). After today I am seriously considering this whole Jewish thing. I mean all Catholicism ever gave me was a weekly wafer that tasted like cardboard and an old guy with an overblown sense of authority who may or may not have been a Nazi. All Judaism has given me is my weight in brisket and the kind of bathrobe Jesus would renounce religion for. Something to consider.
Checking out all those damn papists and then getting down Hebrew style on some brisket.
Phish - Lifeboy
You might try to credit it to divine intervention, but I actually got up early today. The Pope is in town this weekend which has everyone (by everyone I mean elected officials, old Catholics and tons of people from out of town) in a tizzy.
He got in yesterday morning, gave a speech to the UN and visited a synagogue. Today he is giving members (of the cloth) only mass at St Patrick’s Cathedral on 5th Ave. It’s the first time a pontiff has ever performed mass at this New York landmark. He follows that with lunch with the soon to be ex-Cardinal of NY and then a popemobile ride up 5th Ave all the way to 72nd. I dunno what he does when he gets there but tomorrow he’s doing mass at Yankee Stadium which means travel on the Major Deegan tomorrow afternoon is gonna be worse than the Red Sea was for Pharaoh.
Now somehow, parochial school product that I am, and ordained Reverend in good standing of the world’s foremost online religion, my name was left off the invited list for St. Pats. Still, despite the slight, I felt compelled to put in an appearance on 5th Ave and see what all the fuss was about. Now when I say fuss I mean I went to see the anti-pope protest put on by NYC Atheists.
Yeah as if anything outside of Christian wrestling could ever sound more up my alley. The protest was scheduled to run from 8-12 on 47th street but miraculous risings for me on a Saturday still don’t start before 8am so I hit 5th Ave and 59th street a little before 10 figuring I’d walk the rest of the way and check out the believers too.
Got to be honest I wasn’t as blown away by the papists as I thought. For all the talk of the ridiculous lengths people are going to to get ducats to tomorrow’s mass (The church has staunchly condemned ticket scalping as a sin, which seems reasonable. Lot of parallels between that and the money lenders in the temple.) there really wasn’t the insane crowd I was expecting. The masses weren’t pouring out of the subway, forcing me to wind my way through the elaborate barricade maze for no reason. There was no crowd backlogged into the open area in front of The Plaza and hell it wasn’t till I’d gone about ten blocks downtown that I actually had to break stride due to sidewalk congestion.
Now granted the sidewalk was divided in two by more of NYPD’s ubiquitous mobile railings, and the front spectator sections had decent crowds in them, but even those weren’t packed to the brim, fire hazard, front row at Pearl Jam type crowded. Now this might be cause the man wasn’t scheduled to mosey uptown for another 3-3.5 hrs, and it might be cause you needed tickets to get into the spectator sections (I couldn’t tell. I wasn’t really considering that at first but later when I cut back to 6th Ave to avoid increasing traffic I realized that a lot of people were showing cops their tickets and asking for directions.) but even so I expected more of the crowd. Hell, this didn’t seem half the turnout that the Thanksgiving Parade gets or, god help them, the Gay Pride Parade folk and those celebrations of sin occur every year unlike this “once in a lifetime event”.
I will say though that it was being marketed like a once in a lifetime event. The number of bootleggers hawking Popeaphanalia from their little carts or backpacks was impressive. There were several on every block moving up and down the barriers, being completely ignored by cops. You could get seemingly anything, bumper stickers, pins, buttons, banners and shirts with sweet airbrush looking images of Pope Adolf and today’s date, but the most popular item seemed to be Pope flags. I dunno if they are Vatican flags, the Pope’s special banner or something created just for this weekend but they were going like manna from heaven.
Sure that money could go to the poor and hungry per Jeus’ instructions but fuck it! There’s shit to buy! A CBS story quoted a Catholic book store owner, “Sales have risen, probably, at least 50 percent. He has brought a spiritual healing and a financial fulfillment.” Catholicism 2008: It’s faaaantastic.
Apparently everyone just wanted something to wave when the pope goes by (and until then at their opposite number across the street in some sort of “who’s the more pious” flair competition). Those that didn’t have flags bought two shirts, one to wear, one to wave or opted for the (presumably) free “Welcomes Pope Benedict XVI” signs.
Now I fucking love’d these. These signs, which were everywhere, actually say “The Catholic Channel Welcomes Pope Benedict XVI” and feature a hugely prominent ad for Sirius Radio which airs the channel. Sponsored religion? How fucking awesome is that? People are rending their garments over the mere suggestion that Wrigley Field get’s a corporate sponsor’s name but Jesus can be brought to you by satellite radio? I LOVE IT. I think there’s no outcry cause its satellite radio. It’s up there in the heavens with the Big Guy. There is no way a terrestrial radio station could make that deal.
Later Noah and I spent a lot of time trying to come up with future marketing opportunities for the Catholic Church. Like, “Nabisco presents the Body of Christ” or “Holy Water courtesy of Evian”, tagline: “Cause you don’t want your baby baptized in tap”. Gospel readings too could become a huge moneymaker. I mean it’s a captive audience, in the day of TiVo, and On Demand, it’s an audience that cant skip over commercials. So when the priest finishes the day’s reading he can say, “Coke presents, the word of the Lord.” And the congregation responds, “Praise be to God.” I mean right there you are inextricably tying your soft drink to a brand that demands exultations. The fight between Coke and PepsiCo for that deal will be insane!
And what about weddings? Their costs are spiraling out of control and here’s a chance for a young couple to recoup a few bucks with some discreet product placement. “With this Kay Jewelers ring, I thee wed.” Or, “With the power vested in me by Jesus Christ our Lord and AG Edwards and Sons I now pronounce you man and wife.” Why, there wouldn’t be a dry eye in the house.
Course the only problem here is that the money the church made off these endorsements would just join the rest of their massive fortune doing nothing. I mean the Catholic Church is one of the world’s largest landowners, one of the world’s largest art collectors, and one of the world’s largest believers in pomp and circumstance and it claims all basis for its moral authority on a guy who wandered around homeless and dirty with nothing more than the dirty rags on his back begging for food. The fucking irony there is painful.
I’ve harped on it before and I’ll harp on it again so I’ll restrict myself here to one anecdote. When I was a freshman in college, my first Christmas season in the city, one on cold snowy night, my roommate and I walked down from 59th to 44th enjoying the beautiful Christmas decorations and store windows on 5th Avenue. As we walked past St Pats, there, in front of the doorway to this huge expensive church on one of the most expensive per square foot bits of real estate in the world was a homeless man trying to sleep on a thin piece of cardboard. I can think of no stronger condemnation of a religion’s hypocrisy than that.
Which is of course why I came out today. So end of digressions and back to the show. Eventually I got bored with the believers and hotfooted it down to 47, where south of the Church, and separated from the faithful by big barricades of dump trucks were the members of NYC Atheists protesting his presence.
Now despite my vitriol towards the Catholic Church (and note my distinction between Church and Catholicism), my bemused fascination with Mormonism, and even my online ordination, I don’t claim to be an atheist. I think their most likely right but there is too much absolutism surrounding religion already so I’m content to call myself agnostic and mock them all in turn.
Today’s group had its mock worthy elements. It wasn’t as big or impressive as I had hoped. I really wanted a strong showing. But considering how unpublicized it was (I can’t for the life of me remember how I heard about it) it was acceptable, especially considering that people must have come and gone over the course of the four hours. The website claims representation today from a wide range of people ranging from pro-choicers to ex-priests to humanists to homosexuals to relatives of victims of pedophilic priests to, uh, clowns. Apparently if there is a hell, it will include clowns.
The key points today appeared to be:
They are proud to be atheists and resent the Pope blaming them for the world’s problems
The Pope is a Nazi.
The Pope protects pedophiles.
It’s bullshit that our tax dollars have to go towards paying for his visit
Those were the main points (or at least the ones they premade signs for) and I will address them one by one but of course like any leftist PCU style protest there was a mixture of other messages and extremists including one group, at the far southern end of the protest area who seemed way more interested in trying to sell me some shitty and extremist anti-religion book. I mean this is why I don’t ever join in any protests cause you get assholes like this who seem to think there is an inextricable connection between buying their book and accepting their ideas and if you reject one you reject both and are some sort of stupid asshole. Really I tried listening to the guy for a few minutes but at no point did he advocate any positions or opinions or arguments against the Church. He just kept telling me how great this book is while trying to find the fucking table of contents which, when he finally discovered it (in the front go figure) he thrust in my face as if just looking at the chapter headings would open my eyes to his truth. Fuck you dude you are about as stupid as those lunatic right wing Christians I argued with outside the Mormon’s Hill of Cumorah pageant last year.
As absolutely infuriating as those idiots were the main body seemed a little more entertaining. So let’s address their points:
Cue Lee Greenwood, “And I’m proud to be an Atheist, where at least I know I’m free”. Yeah they got a valid point here. The Pope laid a lot of blame for the world’s problems on atheism. Pretty hypocritical for the leader of a religion that calls condom use a sin contributing to the continuing failure in the worldwide war on AIDS, has been harboring thousands of child abusers for years (more on that in a moment) and who has given ideological support or justification to a huge percentage of the armed conflicts of the last two millennia.
Point #2: The Pope is a Nazi. Alright I confess I too refer to the man as Pope Adolf, and I do think he is pretty evil for a pontiff (Which is impressive for a position that churned out Nazi collaborator Pious XII and pretty much anyone who claimed the title in the late Middle Ages) and the man does look exactly like the Emperor from Star Wars which is really fucking creepy, but let’s face it he is not a Nazi. Yeah he was a member of the Hitler Youth and he served in the army but it’s not like he had much of a choice in the matter and it sounds like he was a distinctly unenthusiastic participant throughout. That said I would have a much less hard time with his past if he were just a bishop or even a cardinal. God believes in forgives after all (depending on which part of the Bible you are reading). But I can’t help but think that God would never have let Jesus get drafted into the Hitler Youth. I mean Cheney managed five draft deferments in Nam, and you’re telling me God didn’t have the power to pull some strings for the man who is a direct descendent of Peter, the rock of the Church and currently God’s go-to guy on earth? C’mon, that’s crazy talk. So Ratzinger may not be a Nazi, but he’s also probably not God’s infallible voice.
Point #3: The Pope protects pedophiles. Yep. Can’t argue that one. The Church has protected kiddy rapists, is protecting kiddy rapists and most likely will continue to protect kiddy rapists. Cause if there is one thing God hates more than his apostles violating the sanctity of seven year old orifices its scandal. Yep, this religion has its priorities in order. So shut the fuck up little kids, think of yourselves like Job. God’s testing your resolve, and if you pass he has a nice little piece of candy in his pocket for you.
Point #4: We (NYC) shouldn’t have to pay for his visit. I couldn’t agree more. I don’t see why secular, non-Catholic tax payers should have to foot the enormous bill for this trip. The police overtime alone is clocking in at something like $5 million. That’s ridiculous. And it’s not like the Church doesn’t have the money to pay it. As we’ve established, its rich. And don’t give me all that shit about how Vatican City is sovereign so we are actually welcoming a foreign leader. That’s a bunch of crap. It’s “sovereignty” is an archaic technicality leftover from back in the day when they feared giving any one country influence over the pontiff. It’s a bunch of crap. The Pope isn’t here to negotiate a new economic treaty he’s here on a big fat fucking publicity junket for his religion and as a non-believer I don’t feel like I should have to pay to stroke his ego.
So you could say I agreed with them on many things but still I felt completely disconnected. (Perhaps I just refuse to commit to any group so I can continue to go around mocking everyone else’s.) I also have to say I don’t necessarily approve of using your kids to further your own views. That holds true for the papists and the anti-papists. I mean that kid pictured at the top cant possibly understand what his sign means. Fuck, I dont know what his sign means. But as much as I disagree with religion in general and Catholicism in particular I feel that faith is a choice that everyone needs to make for themselves. So while there is no doubt I will make my opinion clear to my children I also intend to educate them on the basics of other religions and then let them figure out what they want on their own. I certainly don’t intend to put them in the front lines at events like this surrounded by nutballs of all creed and caliber. Hell eventually even I couldn’t take it and I fled to the secular confines of the 42nd Street Library.
Of course to do so I had to walk down an empty 5th Avenue. Last time I saw it this traffic free was back in September of ‘01, that time too it was the direct result of religion. Hmmm…
(I love this song, the band too for that matter. Not my usual style but they blew me away at Pinkpop in the Netherlands last year.)
What is a silent rave you may ask? Well I first heard of it at Bonnaroo a few years back where the dance tent (pavilion really) would give people wireless headphones so they could hear whatever the DJ was spinning and to everyone without headphones it would look like just a bunch of crazy hippie spunions silently dancing around. I confess I thought it a kind of cool effect when I saw it.
Today though it existed in slightly different form as an offshoot of the flash mobs that were briefly so popular. Conveniently planned for the most beautiful day of the year, everyone who wanted to boogie gathered at the south end of Union Square Park and at the stroke of 630 (supposedly. I showed up at 625 and everyone was already busting a move) start dancing to whatever they were listening to in their IPods.
Coming only a few weeks on the heels of International Pillow Fight day, the event was distinctly underwhelming. It lacked the visual excitement of hundreds of feathered weapons and quite frankly I have spent enough time in Phish parking lots and festival grounds to have burned out whatever scant curiosity I ever had in strange dancing.
Also everyone insisted on cheering quite frequently which for me seemed totally counter to the purpose of a silent rave. The effect would have been much cooler and surreal if no one ever said a word or made any noise.
Still there were some interesting moments. Some uber raver was running around with a pineapple with glow sticks jammed in it and every time he thrust it up the crowd went crazy.
Ultimately he climbed to the top of the equestrian statue and led the crowd in quasi silent raging from there.
The crowd ranged from happy hippie free hug distributing flower children
to dirty biscohead dancers waving around some sort of smelly, burning thing that stunk and annoyed the shit out of everyone else,
to the day-glo, pacifier sucking, baggy Ecko pant wearing, candy bracelet eating rave kids to punk rockers,
to little kids (Mom, get that girl an mp3 player. Seriously that discman was dead technology before she was born.)
to some dude bellowing along to bad 70’s rock and far too many people trying to share a set of earbuds.
Hell, even some dude on crutches was out there. Presumably he busted a move a little too hard recently.
My personal favorite though was the group of about 20 or so “hardcore” people who gathered to the east of the statue. They were all done up to be tough, lots of tool t-shirts, black clothing, studs and attitude. They kept trying to form a human wall so no one who wasn’t hardcore, Goth (and maybe emo though I couldn’t tell) could pass. And one super asshole in full army camouflage, right down to the hat, kept screaming at anyone who turned a camera their direction, threatening to break it if they took their picture.
C’mon fellas, let’s be honest here. You came, in costume, cause there is no way most of you could wear that shit to work, to a SILENT RAVE. You know what that means? You have no street cred. You aren’t tough. You aren’t a bad ass. Bad asses don’t go to silent raves unless it’s to beat the shit out of everyone there. Just cause you listen to Tool and enjoy moshing doesn’t make you a law unto yourself. People like this are the reason that emo kids are getting beaten up en masse in Mexico at the moment.
Still even watching silent rave mob justice got old after about 10 minutes and I bailed even though the thing was apparently still going on after 9pm. Sure, I could muster up a little soft shoe gentle sway but I don’t feel like dancing, no sir, no dancing today.
Hulk Hogan & the Wrestling Boot Band - I Want to be a Hulkamaniac
Well, has been visited 20,000 times since its inception in July of 2006. Still for a blog devoted purely to my ego that’s not bad.
I went over the top today thanks to a dramatic surge earlier this week, presumably in response to my Blind Spot post. Got 153 views when that went up making it one of the most successful individual days in WhereDaveIs history. Thanks to all the Massholes who made that possible.
As if the plane flight and the vaccinations weren’t enough for a kid who already was looking an empty bank account and a credit card bill with a lot of zeros, I discovered today that it’ll probably end up costing about $150 to get my Cameroon visa. That’s not all that surprising really I mean $100 for the visa is a little steep but not unforeseeably so and those of you who clinked on the earlier link to the embassy website will understand why it’s worth the $50 to send my visa app through a reliable third party provider. Still it just adds to the debt, though it is far more welcome than the $145 bill I just got from St Vincent’s for last month’s little emergency room visit.
It’s not enough that NYU doesn’t do a good job, or rather any job of helping you budget your trip or point out hidden expenses, they have to go and close their fucking Health Center on Sundays forcing me and my exploded lymph node to limp into a real hospital with only NYU’s pitiful insurance as protection. Fuck you NYU. I hope the school’s administration and the head of the Health Center all come down with a gonorrhea/lupus hybrid on a Sunday and are forced to take their oozing puss filled genitals to any one of the city’s fun welcoming, uncrowded and affordable emergency rooms.
To conclude the final and seemingly never-ending Lawyering project I had to give oral arguments for my motion to deny the Wanoda Tribe of California’s request for a preliminary injunction. I wasn’t happy with the way my brief had turned out, I wasn’t happy with the way my oral argument went and I definitely wasn’t happy to be in a suit (though it was the debut of my new Barney’s warehouse sale duds) but despite all that I somewhat inexplicably ended up winning the day.
Take that you damn Indians.
It was an interesting experience actually as my opponent and I had to trek down to the Wall Street area and argue in front of a lawyer down there. Apparently most of the “judges” NYU gets for this thing have done it so many times before they already have their minds made up before we open our mouths. But this was her first time and we were rewarded with a judge who was really engaged in the material. But it made for a “hot bench” meaning tons of quick difficult questions. Mercifully it was only 15 minutes.
The best part was in the critique with her afterwards when she was discussing our briefs. She told me that she had started my brief firmly convinced I didn’t have case after reading my opponents brief and the bench memo, but finished my brief totally on my side. (That’s not the good part.) The good part is that she went back and reread mine a couple times and while doing so she said she realized that my arguments were more rhetorical smoke and mirrors and less substantive evidence. But she was really impressed by the fact that I managed to get it by her the first time. I took that as quite the compliment to my ability to bullshit.
My legal research skills are still in their infancy but man I can talk some shit like nobody’s business. And now Lawyering is over. I’d be ecstatic if that didn’t mean finals are almost upon me.
