united gets to be the good guy here...

I came across this story this morning and decided to repost it here as, well, it gave me the warm and fuzzies...cuz stories like these make my day. Anyways...here it is below, along with a link to the original post:


United Airlines Holds Plane So Passenger Kerry Drake Can Say Goodbye To His Dying Mother

Kerry Drake's mother was dying. She'd suffered from rheumatoid arthritis for decades and the drugs used to treat her condition had decimated her immune system. One morning his brother called him to say her time time had come. 

Drake caught the next flight from San Francisco, where he works for the federal government, to Lubbock, Texas, via Houston. 

"I knew this itinerary was a risk because the stopover in Houston was only about 40 minutes, and my connecting flight was the last flight to Lubbock that day," he says. "But I needed to get there as soon as possible, so I took the risk." 

As it turns out, United flight 667 was delayed leaving San Francisco. Drake was visibly distraught. You can't prepare for a moment like this, but now came the very real possibility that he wouldn't have chance to see his mother before she passed away. 

A flight attendant, Sofia Lares, tried to comfort him. "She said she would do everything she could and brought extra napkins for my tears," Kerry says. 

Another flight attendant, Lan Chung, asked Kerry for his flight number and relayed it to the captain. 
Flight 667 made up some time enroute to Houston, but not enough. By the time Drake's plane landed, his connecting flight had left the gate. At least that's what he thought. 

"As I was running up to the gate, the gate agent saw me coming and shouted, 'Mr. Drake? We've been expecting you'," he said. "That's when I knew they had conspired to help me. She waved me onto the plane without looking at my boarding pass." 

United had held the aircraft for him. Not only did he make it to Lubbock as scheduled, but so did his luggage. 

"Had I missed my flight to Lubbock, I would not have been able to tell my mom goodbye," Drake said. "When she died, I realized I was wiping away my tears with the extra United napkins that Sofia had given me the day before." 

Drake says he's grateful to the flight crew that made his farewell possible, including the attendants on his San Francisco flight and Denver-based captain Edward Goldstein and Dirk Chilian, the flight's first officer. He also thanks Houston customer service rep Marie Robertson and all the Houston baggage handlers who got his luggage to his final destination. 

United Airlines is the second recipient of our Elliott Award for Excellent Customer Service. (Here's last week's winner.) 

It's been a few years since we've had an airline hold a flight for a passenger in need. Nice work, United.

50 beans | disaster myopia

I think I may have earned myself a lifetime ban from Temple Café on 9th and Jst.

I suppose I should probably elaborate. I went down to Temple this morning to get a Guatemalan pour-over. I asked for a bit of room for cream and sugar as I quite enjoy this aspect of coffee. I waited patiently as the lady behind the counter carefully poured 207°F water over carefully ground Guatemalan beans. She looked at me with a stern please be patient or you will never get to know what this magnificent coffee will taste like look as she rotated the hario long-stemmed kettle over the coffee. It was quite a tantalizing wait. The barista then brought the coffee over to me with a lid and pointed me in the direction of the cream and sugar, all the while probably silently judging and thinking what kind of poindexter puts cream and sugar in their coffee?

I walked over to the cream and sugar stand and proceeded to pour a bit of cream into the cup. I then continued on to the sugar, which wasn’t really there. Dumbstruck (for just a second), I looked around before I realized that Temple makes simple syrup (equal parts sugar and water) for you to use, so you can add it to iced coffee too. I picked it up, and immediately noticed the oxo pour-topper with a small lever on the side. Not thinking much of it, I turned the bottle to pour, and noticed that the syrup was coming out at quite the slow rate. Of course, being curious if it was supposed to flow like this, I figured I’d give the lever a try. I pulled on it, which seemed to slow down the pour to a standstill. Ok…wrong direction. That’s when I tried the other direction (pushing forward).

bad idea.

You see, I never would have, in a million years, thought that by pushing on the lever upward, it would loosen the topper. Or pop off the topper. Or hurl the topper right into my coffee. Or pour the bottle’s remaining simple syrup all over their cream/sugar table. You see, this hadn’t really occurred to me. So I pushed on the lever. And it all happened in sloooowww moooottttiiiioooonnn.

Have you ever seen something bad unfold before your eyes? You know it’s going to be bad, and while it’s playing in slow motion, a million thoughts are playing through your head – uh-oh, what now? Do I make a play for the door? Do I fish out the topper? Do I admit to my wrong doing?? As I played all of these questions through my head, the topper plops into my coffee and a deluge of simple syrup is unleashing itself all over the tabletop.

ahh fiddlesticks…

I quickly reach for the paper towels as I notice out of the corner of my eyes that a barista is walking over – the same barista with the stern face earlier, who frowns at the thought of cream and sugar adulterating the perfectly crafted cup of coffee – she is walking over with a towel and she does not appear to be happy. I quietly ask for a spoon to rescue the overboard topper from my cup and I wipe off the countertop with the towel she brings. She gets the topper from me and says I think it’s safe to say you’re no longer allowed to come back…but then she half smiles and walks away, presumably desperately trying to hold in her laughter as, really, what kind of yahoo pours an entire bottle of simple syrup onto the table in a crowded coffee shop??

Of course, me being the simpleminded guy that I am, can’t really read the barista…was she serious that I was banned?! Or was it a joke? *sigh* I guess I’ll find out when I try to go back. What’s the worse they could do??

Charles

**since the elections are over, we now return to our regularly scheduled programming**

Tonight during small group, a discussion question from the study on the last chapter of Tim Keller's King's Cross brought back to my mind a vivid story of a little buddy named Charles. While at the time, I didn't feel it appropriate to bring up the story, it's still a story I'd like to share with you. Before I dive in, here's a little background on Charles.

couldn't find a picture of Charles, so here's Chris feeding the successor

Charles was a hamster that lived in the AΓΩ house for two and a half years. He was a Christmas gift to us from ΑΔΧ (the christian sorority) in 2004. Charles enjoyed spending much of his time in random people's pocket curled up into a little ball. He was a trooper, surviving two summer breaks and three Christmas vacations, countless evenings of being passed around for everyone to hold and even having to be cut out of Levi's couch because he found the only hole to get to the underside. He survived in the AGO house for longer than anyone expected, by two years.

One afternoon in the spring of 2006, we got a distraught email from Keith Shively, one of the guys at the AGO house. He went into the active room to check on charles and fill up his water bottle when he noticed Charles wasn't moving and felt cold to the touch. Kieth tried numerous resuscitate the creature and even tried splashing water on him. After about 30 minutes, nothing worked, and it seemed Charles had finally gone to meet his maker. Kieth then proceeded to take the cage (along with Charles) out to the dumpster to in front of the house and they parted ways. Later that evening, I wrapped up my 6-8pm class and was walking back to the AGO house. As I was rounding the corner, I heard an oh-my-goodness from near the dumpsters. I walked over to check it out, and I see one of the neighbors from the sorority next to us gaping into the dumpster. Apparently she had heard some squeaking from the dumpster when she tossed out her garbage and decided to look inside. I walked over and peered inside: there was Charles, in his cage, jogging on his squeaky hamster wheel as if nothing had happened.

While Keith swears Charles came back to life, a lot of us were a bit more skeptical. Whatever kept Charles alive, we will never know, but we sure were glad he was able to be with us for another year.

red flagged

jetlagged again...so i got some time. strap yourselves in...we're going on a rant!

The lady at the US Airways check-in counter didn't like me. Normally, I'm horrible at reading people. I can't tell if someone likes or loathes me, but with this lady, I knew the moment she looked at me. Maybe it was the fact that there weren't many asians in Rome? Maybe I had just had a certain look. I'm not sure, all I know is that this lady did not like me. We'll call her Miriam, since... well, that was her real name (yea let's just say if you flag me as a terrorist, the courtesy of a fake-name isn't extended to you).

The minute I walked up to the counter she started the series of questions...the usual stuff first. Are you transporting anything dangerous? Did anyone give you any strange packages? Apparently she didn't like my answers to binary yes/no questions, so she pointed me to a back room to search my checked luggage. Then she brought in two more ppl to search, since she said I appeared nervous. Yea, US Airways put their check-in counter in a makeshift open-air warehouse (imagine birds everywhere) at Fiumicino airport with no air conditioning when Rome is routinely in the 80's with 85-90% humidity and she's wondering why her customer has a little bit of sweat on his forehead?  Miriam, lets just say if it wasn't the temperature in the warehouse, then my uneasiness could also be contributed to the fact that a pigeon just flew by my head at the airport counter.

After a thorough search of my luggage, she tagged them as oversized (it was a carry-on sized bag) so they'd be re-examined before going into the plane. Then she escorted me to security and mentioned to the guy at the metal detector to thoroughly check me. After a through search that revealed nothing (big surprise!) i went on my merry way into the terminal. I got to the airport 2 hours before the flight so I could have enough time to get some coffee and walk around the terminal a bit. Yeaaaa, i now have only 15 minutes to get to the gate for boarding. I get out my boarding pass, get in line, and as i got to the counter, guess who was there?

Miriam was there waiting for me, and flagged me over to two security officer for a "random" preboarding check of bags and pockets. Again. And they found nothing suspicious. Again. You would think that she'd have given up by now, but nope. I felt tempted to make a comment to her as i boarded the plane, but it'd be a rude awakening if i got to Charlotte and she was there with some US Customs agents. No, no...just keep walking.

I honestly can't believe one disgruntled US Airways check-in lady could single-handedly have so much power to mess with someone the whole day. She basically picked me out of a lineup and decided to have some fun. Well i guess my encounter with Miriam is over hopefully...unless she put me on a no-fly list too. I hope not...

like an episode of cheers, minus the bar and wisecracks

I know, I talk about my cousins quite a bit haha. For any of you who've been to tuesday prayer meetings, I try to make cousin updates a weekly thing. As an only child, my cousins are like my sisters, and i try to connect with them whenever i can. Anyways, this weekend, we tried to do a big cousin reunion in boston, and we succeeded in getting most of us out here.

It started with Christine and I moving into the guestrooms at the MIT dorms (courtesy of Julie - thanks for hosting). The wifi here was lightning fast, but given the location, some freshman comp. engineering student was probably hacking into my iPad and changing default language settings to polish or something. After settling in we cleaned up and headed out to the pourhouse for some brunch, followed by a bit of shopping, as we needed a housewarming gift for our cousin Lily (and in my haste to pack I may have forgotten a jacket, socks, and shoes). Part of our Boston adventures included a trip to Bodega, a shoe shop hidden behind a coke machine in the back of a mom&pop liquor store.

We got back to MIT just in time to Skype Kathy, who wasn't able to join us this time, though we lover her nonetheless. Kathy is a pretty cool kid (I know...she'll always be a kid in my book haha) and really REALLY loves her animals. So...halfway through the skype, she busts out Fluffy, her furry little hamster...cute little thing (not as cute as Sparky). Of course, Fluffy makes a break for it at the end of the Skype.

I miss Kathy, maybe next time we'll visit her again when I work up the nerves to go to Cleveland again. We hopped over to Watertown for dinner with Lily (our cousin/aunt...not sure what to call her) and her husband Patrick. Saw their new place and got a chance to hang out with Denny (another cousin/uncle) and his wife Hillary. Since they're a bit more removed from us, maybe I'll save their stories for another post. Well that's all for now, it's boarding time =)

blue bottle, a frenchman, and déjà vu (and a chubby squirrel)

chubby squirrel - doesn't really have anything 
to do with the story, just cute.

 This year, I’ve been on a jihad to empty my stockpile of vacation days. It all started three years ago in the back of a Sunday school class. We had finished the discussion questions early (I know…a rare sight to see), so we started making plans for the world cup coming up in 2010. We made a decision to go, and I began putting away vacation days like a chubby squirrel storing nuts in his cheeks for winter. Little did I know we weren’t able to go to South Africa. Well, the two week surplus of vacation days became three and a half weeks, and I was pushing the limit of what I could accrue (California has some dumb law where you can only accrue up to 1.75x of your annual limit), ergo my recent fervor in trying to get my days down to a net zero balance.

And thus, my thursday adventure begins.

Yesterday morning I headed down to san francisco once again in pursuit of a visa. Yep, same SF traffic, same SF frustrations. I got up at the crack of dawn (well…not even the crack of dawn…dawn cracked when I was by walnut creek) and headed down hwy 80 at a modest speed (been driving like a grandpa ever since speeding ticket…story to be told at a later date). I-80 is an interesting beast. It can flow perfectly for miles and all of a sudden you enter Berkeley and nobody knows where the gas pedal is. Then the next 10 miles leading up to the bay bridge is basically idling your car and hoping the traffic gods move it forward.

kyoto drip

Once I got into SF it wasn’t so bad. I made my routine SF pilgrimage to blue bottle for their Kyoto drip, which is cold brew going through this complex Japanese tube system for 14 hours before reaching the bottom…very cool looking contraption. By the time I had gotten there, the line was already out the door, and they had the full staff of hipsters behind the counter buzzing around making the magical elixir that fuels people like me. After a quick stop at the post office (the consulate requires a self-addressed stamped express-mail envelope… *sigh* divas) I was ready to throw myself at the mercy of the visa officer.

I get into the building on Kearny St. where the consulate is, and wait in the lobby until I can get buzzed in to the floor where they sit. I go up, and I find myself in this long beige hallway with two doors, one for citizens, and one for visas. Both are locked. Finally one person comes out of the citizen door and badges to go to the visa side, so naturally I tag along. The guy turns around and looks at me in horror like I was about to rob him and says “no no no no, 9am! It says 9am!!” in a thick French accent. I was so taken aback that I hopped back across the door and close it. The guy behind me chuckles…apparently that happened to him last week.

Little did I know, French guy turned out to be my visa officer. Great…

At promptly 9:00 the door opens, and I hear a heavily accented voice come over the speaker “NOW you can enter.” I make my way inside, and check in on the list of visa applicants. After a quick journey through the metal detector and I find myself face-to-face with visa counter #2 and the thinly mustachioed frenchman with no nametag…we’ll call him Pierre.

P: Please give me the application.

Me: The entire thing including the supporting docs?

P: I said application!!

Me: oo sorry. Here you go.

P: Is this your first time visiting?

Me: yep…very excited.

P: Why is your visa application so late? We require 3 weeks minimum!

Me: Oh sorry…this was kinda spontaneous. Didn’t plan on going until just recently…will it be enough time to get a visa?

P: ok…we’ll let you know in 1-2 weeks. Don’t worry, even if we reject you, we’ll let you know before your flight.

Me: oh…uhm…that’s comforting……

A few more minutes of small talk and I’m on my merry way (btw small-talk with a non-talkative Pierre is tiny-talk). After I left, I marveled at the line that had started forming…apparently there were quite a few people waiting to get visas. I make a beeline back to the garage that I parked in (learned my lesson this time…garage: 2.75/hr…street meter: 3.50/hr). As I got into the garage, I realize that I was blocked in, and I don’t mean one car blocking me in…cars were quadruple parked in this garage. It took 30min for the attendant to move the cars like the iphone game, and then I was on the road again. After a few minor roadblocks/crazy drivers/pedestrians I was back on my way to sac! Hopefully I hear back from the visa folks before the two weeks are up, but maybe that’s wishful thinking. In the meantime, rosetta stone here I come!

adventures with charbilditha

I clutched my caffeinated beverage in hand, backpack in tow, wind blowing through my non-bieber-like hair as we rolled into Monterey like a group of well-manner school children on a class field trip. Labor Day certainly wasn’t going to be the boring sit-at-home-and-bbq day I had envisioned it to be. No…we were on an adventure! Our plan was to grab a quick lunch and head down to the marina and pick up some bikes and invade some of the tourist points along the water. We parked, sunblocked, and grabbed our stuff and headed to town, picking up clam chowder samples along the route like marathon runners filling up on water (only thicker and saltier). We peered high and low for a bathroom first because the search helped us get adjusted to the lay of the land (and the coffee from the car-ride was working its magic).

the hood of monterey - clearly one of the rougher areas

After the pit-stop, we moseyed farther inland to the rougher areas of Monterey and ended up face-to-face with a falafel/swarma/gyro place. While the place looked exciting and new, and had many exuberant review on yelp, it was Labor Day and we were americans goshdarnit (well most of us were…), so we ended up getting sandwiches at a deli closer to the bike-rental place. After an engaging meal over sandwich/soup/fruit/omelette and a lively discussion about youth group and the differences between jam and jelly, we finished up and headed down to Adventures by the Sea to rent our surrey (read: bikepath tank). Ohh yes, this thing was legit. The surrey could fit up to 6 (although we saw 7-8 asian tourists on one), but only four people could pedal. The surrey came with two steering wheels, but only one works (otherwise it’d be bad news).

the guy adjusting our surrey for us

The guy adjusted the pedals for us (we didn’t realize till a bit later why the pedals needed to be bent back to original shape…) and we were ready to storm the tourist spots! As we breezed down the bikepath at electric-wheelchair speeds (we were overtaken by a few pre-schoolers on tricycles), we came up on our first bikepath obstacle: two poles in the middle of the road (presumably to keep cars from driving down the bikepath) just wide enough to fit the surrey with 6” of room on either side, followed by a slight ramp down to the street where oncoming traffic was flowing. This was pretty much at every block. No sweat. As we inched closer to the poles, we slowed to fit our surrey through (chariots of fire going through my head the whole time) and sped-up into oncoming car traffic (who were gracious enough to stop for us – they must’ve been intimidated by our bikepath-tank). We incurred a few battle-scars on our surrey by the end of the trip, but all was well.

Our first stop was Lover’s Point, a nice rocky place that juts out into the water surrounded by sandy beaches, pristine water, and Asian tourists rocking the murse/fannypack combo and DSLRs with lenses slightly smaller than the Hubble telescope. After doing a 12-point turn to park our surrey (it doesn’t maneuver as well as an electric-wheelchair), we made our way out to the rocks to check out the scenery and dodge the birds. We stayed for a while (it was quite windy) before retreating to the safety of our surrey.

We then headed in the opposite direction to visit the Marina and Fisherman’s Wharf (looks kinda like the SF one, but smaller). We go through the same set of obstacles heading back the other direction, avoiding the harrowing perils of the poles and dodging the narrow misses of tricycles cutting us off on the road (freakin kids…). We quickly park our surrey across from the wharf and head down the street where the shops are. After wandering through a few of the shops and checking out the local scenery, we head back toward our surrey, hoping and praying that we didn’t get ticketed or towed. We made the decision to check out nearby Carmel as well, cuz, you know, it’s a wonderful place and, heck, any town that elects Clint Eastwood as mayor must be A-Ok. After a 4-point turn (we were getting better at surrey parking), we returned the surrey and headed back to the car for the scenic drive down to the beautiful city of Carmel-by-the-Sea.

hehe...

mmm...desserts...

so much plaid...

Carmel is an interesting town. Founded in 1902, this town is notable for being long connected to artistic history. Carmel is known for its dog-friendly atmosphere, and apparently has several unusual laws; including a ban on high-heeled shoes unless you obtain a permit from the city first (Clint must’ve gotten that one passed during his term…). As we drove through town, the parking gods smiled upon us, and lo-and-behold, a spot open up right by where we wanted to be. We were able to walk around the town before supper to check out the local shopping area, with shops that had lots and lots of fancy candles and plaid clothing, and the nearby beach, where the people who buy plaid clothing go to frolic along the sand.

post-dinner affogato

For dinner, we headed back up to the main part of Carmel and found a place called Basil (4 stars on yelp), which had pastas and seafood. The wait-staff were a bit confused, but probably because it was early. The menu was fairly simple, but the food was very good. We mostly went with the black fettucine with calamari, with Billy being the adventurous one and going with the prosciutto tortellini. For dessert we went with a gluten-free chocolate cake and a Bailey’s affogato. All in all a good meal, and we all felt satisfied before beginning the arduous journey back home (thanks for driving, Billy!).

le coffee shop

We hit up a coffee place in downtown Carmel featuring an otter logo, and an old probat roaster on display so you know the beans are roasted there. This way Billy was able to get enough juice to get us back to davis safely. The drive back was long and traffic-laden, but we passed the time with lively banter and making plans for future food outings. All in all, it was a mighty fine way to spend a Labor Day holiday.

the AMAZING Aroma-Disk!!!

Ok so late last night i was at my local am-pm because i needed gas and, well shoot, cuz i wanted some peanuts. I don't know why, but they sell these peanuts in little planters tubes...pretty good and they don't go bad as fast. Anyways...I was standing in line with the spare change from my car and a tube of peanuts when suddenly, i noticed at the register, they had these little air fresheners on the counter for like...50 cents. Nay, not just an air freshener...but the amazing AROMA-DISK!!

My sleep-deprived mind started convincing myself that this is clearly the way to go. Just as an fyi, there's been some weird smell coming from the airvents in my car after the AC goes off...it's probably the condensation in the AC mildewing over...but i'm almost convinced something like a cricket or a miniature squirrel died in there. Soooo I figured this was the perfect opportunity to get rid of the smell!

As i got up to the counter, I sorted through some random flavors: cherry? nah...not a big fan. As a matter of fact, we can probably cross off the twinkleberry, lavender peach, and some of the other frou-frou flavors as well. Vanilla? Somehow i'd think that it would just be too much after a while. Cinnamon? Also may be overpowering. New car? NEW CAR?? They make a scent like stamped plastic and glue?? interesting...but maybe not this time. Finally, i see spring rain in the corner of the assorted 144-pack box. Hmm...interesting, and not too awkward smelling. Ok! let's give this a shot! I pay for the peanut tube and the aroma-disk and walked/moseyed/skipped happily to my car to test out the amazingness that was promised on the packaging. I flipped over the packet to find the instructions awaiting:

Can be placed in/on: vehicle floorboards, gym bags, sneakers, under trashcan liners, dried flower arrangements, or other areas where you can find a place to put aroma-disk.

Caution: keep off plastic, vinyl, wood, upholstery, and painted surfaces - may cause damage. (writer's note: essentially all parts of a car...)

For health emergency: Contact physician/poison control center immediately.

hmm...a little scary but ok. So i opened the little packet, hoping to be taken to a magical world by this little corkboard disk. I place it in the coin area and started driving, making sure the AC was off to see if the smell would be masked. *sigh* You know the smell when a miniature squirrel dies, and all the other squirrels send flowers? Well...that's what it smelled like.

You disappoint me, Aroma-Disk.

bathroom faux-pas

**disclaimer: this is about bathrooms…do not read on if you don’t like people’s interactions with bathrooms**


The bathroom is a sacred place. It’s a place of solitude, a place of peace, where you can think and be alone with your thoughts. Well today, I may have taken it a bit too far. So I was in the 3rd stall today on the 10th floor men’s room, doing my thing, minding my own business. For the record, I like to zone out a bit when I’m in there. In a world of cubicles and open offices/conference rooms, it’s pretty much the only place you can go to be alone with your thoughts.

Anyways, I was in there doing some thinking (don’t judge), when I started thinking about music, specifically Meaghan Smith’s It Snowed (love that song). Playing music in my head is a nice way to pass the time, but yea, tragically it didn’t end there. By the time I realized what I was doing, I was whistling the chorus of the song. That’s when it occurred to me: I’m not the only one in the bathroom.

Ohhhh nooooo…

As a matter of fact, in the afternoon, the bathroom gets a decent amount of traffic. Great. Now what do I do?? Of course I cut off the song mid-verse (just when I got to the good part too!!) and waited…and waited…and waited. There was a chuckle by the sink, but the guy left right after. At this point, I try to use my ears to take inventory of who else is left in the bathroom. Aside from the guy at the sink, there seemed to be three other people in the bathroom. I need to wait for them to clear out, then make my daring escape.

Four minutes go by, two guys leave, talking about work on the way out. One left. Ok, since this guy’s occupied in the next stall, I surmise that it’s time to channel my inner Steve McQueen and make a great escape (sans the germans, electric fences, and a motorcycle chase…). The second I hear toilet-paper unraveling next door, I quickly flush and fly out of the stall. So stealthy and nimble was I that I had washed, dried, and departed the bathroom before the stall door closed. Ohh yea, bathroom escape ninja-turtle style. As I get back to my desk, I think of the close call from just seconds ago. *sigh* crisis averted.

SF defies logic once again.

Strap yourself in…we’re going on a rant.

This morning I had to head into san francisco to submit a visa application. I get up this morning and Sunnyvale is a nice sunny 65 degrees. Ahh…the weather was perfect, I thought as I don my flipflops and tshirt and head out bright and early to SF, giving myself a little bit of a cushion in case there’s traffic. Of course the minute I hit SF city limits the cloud appears out of nowhere and the temperature drops 15 degrees. Didn’t know overcast weather adhered to city borders.

Anyways, the consulate opens at 9am, and I arrived in town at 8:15 (yes…I like to be punctual). Perfect! I’ll just swing by Blue Bottle for a little Kyoto iced coffee to jumpstart my day. I pull into the meager (3 spaces and two are handicap only) parking lot. No open spaces. Ok…I’ll just find street parking. I pull out into the street and there was a row of open spaces…great! I pull into one…yellow (loading only). Ok, I’ll move ahead to another space…white (who knows what that means)...grrr. So I move up a few more spaces to no paint on the sidewalk and a free meter. Awesome! I get out to feed the meter when I see a that the meter had a friendly tip printed on it: Check for restrictions before feeding this meter. Oh that’s nice of them, so I look up:

No Parking from 2am-6am
No Stopping from 2pm-7pm
Passenger Loading only from 7pm-2am
No Parking on Thursdays from 4am-9am for street cleaning

Wow, if this is a space with no paint, I’d hate to see the restrictions on the ones with paint. I needed a calendar, a watch, and a magic 8-ball just to figure out the sliver of time in which I could park there. Oh and did I mention I needed $3.50 in quarters for 1 hour? After searching every crevice of my car for spare change, I was finally ready to get some coffee. I pick up the heavenly coffee in a to-go cup and think to myself…hey this day is turning out to be alright.

Too soon. Wayyy too soon.

I decide to take a brisk walk over to the consulate (it was on Market street a few blocks down). As I pass by a nice looking parking garage, I decide to glance at the rates, hoping it’d make me feel better about saving so much $$ by parking on the street. $2.75/hr. How the heck is garage cheaper than street parking?? *sigh* oh well, just keep walking.

I get to the consulate, which is in a high-rise (kinda weird, but meh…whatever works), and I check in at the ground floor. I take the elevator, which apparently makes you type in the floor you want to go to, and if you mess up, sorry, you’re going to that floor (sucks). Anyways, I get to the front door of the consulate on 24th floor, and the guard makes me sign in again, and does a body search, just in case I’m there to hurt the three admins and security guard. And that’s when they broke the news: the coffee needs to go in the trash.

WHAT???

Yep. I asked if I could just set it aside for later…nope. Can I leave it outside the door? Nope. They watched as I slowly lowered it into the garbage can. After an appropriate time of mourning, rending my garments and donning sackcloth and ashes, I was ready to submit my application. 15 minutes later, it was over. Come back in 5 business days and get your passport, only in the afternoon though.

Great, I get to see what the other end of SF rush-hour looks like. Yippee.

some old testament action

I'm glad we're starting to go through 1 & 2 Kings in Acacia. I've always had a difficult time remembering which kings did what, which ones followed God, and which ones were evil. Going through the books will help me remember and keep the different kings straight. The one thing I did remember, the one thing that always sticks in minds like mine, was that the books of Kings were filled with action!

I remember as a boy, with my children's illustrated bible, was that the books of kings were the ones where battles were pitched, kings leading great armies into battle, and of course, the losing king would always get hit by a stray arrow or fall on his sword or something. Yep, like a lot of the old testament, there was always action in Kings.

I still recall one pledge entertainment we had to do on a May monday night meeting (in AΓΩ the pledges have to perform skits and stuff to entertain the actives after dinner). We had wracked out brains all weekend trying to come up with something that wouldn't get us booed, and wouldn't get us in trouble. I forget who suggested a brief reenactment of the old testament (mostly the action scenes). Well, since we couldn't come up anything better, we all decided to go with it. We went out to safeway the night before and picked up all the supplies, with one of the members writing the script and narrating it for us. The rest of us had no lines, just a bit of silent acting.

Oh, one minor detail I may have forgotten to mention: this was a brief history of the old testament reenacted with pies. We had about 60-80 paper plates filled with whipped cream and tarp laid out on the ground. Basically, our inspiration were the great Laurel and Hardy pie fights from the black & white days. Since we were working with live ammo, we had one shot to get it right. The second Michael started narrating, the pies flew. It was magnificent. *sigh* To this day, the story of Jehoshaphat's victory over the Moabites (me) conjure up the memory of a six-pie bombardment.

Good thing we don't do much skits in Acacia.

clearly not a blessing from heaven.

I feel cheated.

I feel used.

I was told to expect it, and it didn’t deliver.

It was a clear blue Saturday morning, winds gusting at 22mph from the north. The early afternoon sun was just overhead, ready to darken my flip flop tan by another few shades. As I was raking up the last of the leaves outside Birch Lane Elementary, it happened. There is something distinct about the slight warmth and sliminess of bird poop that will inevitable send chills down the back of your spine. When you get hit, you just KNOW it’s not rain. I looked up, and guess what?? NO BIRDS ANYWHERE!! Ok I know the winds were gusting that day, but seriously?! So not only did I get hit by bird poop, I got hit by bird poop that was generated like, a block away. Yep. High self-esteem day for me.

According to maritime tradition, being pooped on by a bird is considered a blessing from the heavens. Somehow I think that’s just a myth some very unlucky sailor concocted. I honestly don’t think being crapped on would be any bit of a good thing, not to mention mystery poop from a phantom bird. Since that day, I’ve had two crappy (no pun intended) days at work and ate a sandwich with funny-tasting olives that’s sure to lead to my downfall. Some Luck!

remember to use the crosswalk.

Yikes, I certainly saw my share of cops today. The drive into work was a little weird and strangely familiar. The causeway slowed down to 60mph as there must've been at least 10 police vehicles driving down hwy80 towards Sacramento. My suspicions were confirmed when I got in to work this morning: today is the annual peace officer memorial service at the capitol. Police officers from all over the state come together at the capitol to honor the officers killed in the line of duty.

I still remember the first time I experienced the annual memorial service. It was spring quarter 2006, and I was on my way to work. As I was walking toward the capitol building, I noticed that they had turned 10th street into a parking area for police vehicles. Across from 10th St. on the lawn of the capitol grounds, was the memorial, with at least 700 police officers from all over the state gathered there waiting for the ceremony to start. Since the street in front of me had essentially been converted into a parking lot, I assumed it was safe to cross the street at the most convenient point. At that moment, a crowd of police officers turned and looked my way. I wasn't really sure what was going on so I kept walking across the street. Upon reaching the other side of the road, the police nearest me walked up to me and asked: do you realize you just jaywalked in front of at least 700 cops? After giving me a little good-humored ribbing, he let me continue on my way (I like to think it was my folksy charm that did the trick). Phew! If you thought for a second that I jaywalked today you'd be out of your mind! After that day, I made sure that on police memorial service day I look both ways before crossing at the crosswalk when the walking man blinks at me.

By the time I was heading home after work, I assumed the rest of my day was going to be cop-free. I was sooo wrong. I have to tell you, it's a little unsettling when you turn onto your street and see flashing lights and swat folks by your house. I suspect Davis PD doesn't get action like this often and have all come out to have something fun to do. An hour later the standoff ended and the cops left. Well, it's been a funny day (funny-weird, not funny-haha), so until next year's police memorial day, hopefully my interactions with cops will be confined to FBC meetings and not much else.

noodles, poop-notes, and books

Even though I've been living in davis in the few years since graduation, I rarely ever venture back on campus, unless it's to go to a specific place, like Mrak to pick up a diploma, mondavi to take in a performance, or the MU to go play pool. Other than that, I generally tend to shy away from campus. It's not that I don't like being on campus, but I never really have a reason to bum around there. Well, on Friday I had nothing to do, so after meeting up with Yingnan at Pho King 4 (horrible name btw) we ventured out on campus for a little bookstore/quad/arboretum adventure. But more on that in a moment. First, comes the pho.

The minute I walked into PK4, the smell hits my nose, that mixture of pho broth and cilantro is pretty strong there, which was weird because in my mind I was still going to orange hut. Heck, even uncle tom (the old orange hut guy) was there to greet us, as he was sitting at a table by the door enjoying his pho with some buddies. We quickly said hi and waited our turn to get seated. After we sat down and ordered, we (well, I) pretty much compared everything to hoa viet, as, having been in davis for so long with really only one pho place, I've gotten used to their food. By the time the food came, we were so hungry that we dug in and completely forgot to snap a picture of the food. Not to worry, it pretty much looked like this:

The pho was ok, nothing too phenomenal. Actually, it tasted kind of like hoa viet, which has by now become my measuring stick (I know, could've definitely picked a better place). While I was comparing the food/service to hoa viet, Yingnan was comparing the place (setting) to orange hut. Aside from the fact that uncle tom was still there, the place has changed quite a bit on the inside. Apparently there was a new door, and the counter shifted over a bit. Other than that I couldn't notice anything different, although I'm sure Yingnan definitely did. One thing I did notice, the coffee was a bit too sweet. Oh yes, did I forget to mention that I ordered coffee? The cà phê su dá came already pre-iced (robbing me the ritual of pouring it myself), but it did look promising (aside from the sweetness...oh well). This, of course, was captured on camera (only the important stuff...).

After downing the coffee and pho, we venture out on campus for a fun afternoon of bumming around. First we hit up the bookstore to see if they have any good UCD t-shirts. I don't know why, but I always feel like I have absolutely zero school spirit. It was time to remedy that with a t-shirt! After circling for a few minutes and staring wide-eyed at the prices of shirts these days ($28!!) we grew sad and decided to check out some other stuff. Apparently, they have started making notebooks out of recycled cow, elephant, and donkey poo. While I'm sure it was a novel idea, I just don't see how feasible this would be. I don't know if this would be very effective for note-taking, as the pages were kind of rough (their diets are very fibrous), although I'm sure to the parent's chagrin, the students these days would find it amusing.

sandwich boards!! I remember these from compass, but now it seems everybody has one...

On a side note, after mike and I started talking with random people (alex at OTH and Kim at the pool hall), I've been running into these people at random places in Davis. The other day I ran into Kim at hometown, and on friday, we see both! Kim had wandered into PK4 and Alex was hanging out in the MU coffee house. I'm not sure if God's trying to send me messages, but it was definitely strange.

this guy has opted to park his bike in a tree...novel.

After leaving the bookstore and coffee house, we decided to take a leisurely stroll around campus. Having not been here for quite some time, I took in all the sights and smells of campus. We pretty much just strolled around and looked at some random stuff. We encountered random people (including a 50 yr. old guy who overheard us talking about 50 yr. old grad students) and stared at random things (like bridge support mechanisms). Finally, as Yingnan and I parted ways, I decided to pay my old college professor a visit (the one who guided me through my research paper on banking contagion).

She was still in the same old office, working tirelessly to get published (she's up for tenure next fall). It was pretty cool to catch up and talk about old economic theories (I still got it!) and current reading lists. It's funny, we're actually reading almost the same things, since she is going through The Rise and Fall of Alexandria, and apparently just finished John Adams (David McMullough - same guy that wrote 1776!). She even named a working paper after Team of Rivals (a book on Lincoln - on my reading list too). Apparently both she and her husband are avid history readers, and acquired most of the David McCullough books while Borders was closing. Sadly, since I parked in a meter zone, I had to conclude the catching-up and history book-a-thon and get going. I said farewell, promised to visit soon, and headed on my way.

As I was walking to my car, I looked back at campus once more, taking in the familiar sights of the bus area at the MU and quietly entertained the idea of possibly going back to school once more. While no decisions were made over the course of this on-campus adventure, I could certainly see myself thrown back into the college life.