I'm Not Cool Anymore

This is true for a number of reasons, not limited to the following:

1. I have stopped trying to keep up with trends, music, movies, etc.
2. I don't have a Blackberry, iPhone, or similar device.
3. I increasingly choose sleep over other, cooler activities.
4. I have only a vague idea of what Twitter is.
5. I am currently helping to plan my 10 year high school reunion. (This will become important later.)

Considering how uncool I have just proven myself to be, I thought it was an accomplishment when I found myself going to a bar on Friday night with every intention of staying until they closed the place down. I have been working and out of town so much that it has been quite a while. I thought I looked good and was seriously pulling off my cool facade.

I went in support of my cousin Daniel's band, Short Version of a Long Day (http://www.myspace.com/shortversionofalongday). They are a metal band, as were all of the bands that went on that night. There was a mosh pit and a girl broke her nose! I was really getting into it when, out of nowhere, reality dealt quite a blow. I was talking to another cousin about the mosh pit/nose breaking incident. We had both moshed in the past and agreed that we didn't feel any need to do it again. She asked when I had last been in a mosh pit. "Hard Rock Rockfest at the Atlanta Motor Speedway," I told her. "Cool, when was that?" It was right after I graduated from high school. "That was innnnnn. . .1999," I answered. She laughed. Hard.

My cool facade was unravelling fast. I suddenly realized how much I stood out in my dark wash jeans (no holes), my black heels, and my green satin shirt.

Most of the patrons looked like this:

Actual photo of girls at "The Haven"

Further detracting from any cool points I might have had was the fact that most of my family was there including aunts, uncles, cousins, and MY PARENTS. (Those of you who have ever seen or heard of my dad are laughing.) In truth, I thought some of the "music" was just noise. One uncle said the vocals sounded, "like Godzilla roaring," which was true. I thought they were using more profanity than was necessary to get their point across, and grew tired of hearing the command, "Drink, bitches! Get intoxicated!" coming from the stage. I didn't like the smoke and wasn't drinking for fear it would interfere with my workout the next day. All this leads us back to where we started. I'm not cool anymore. And that's okay.

Nevada in Pictures

It would be easy to post pictures of the gorgeous Nevada landscape or the lights on the Strip, but everybody's seen that. Instead, behold my favorite (G-rated) signs. Are those little dots supposed to be loose rocks falling or something else. . .

I guess that's one way to meet geeks on the highway. Not everyone's idea of a good time.

The best thing about this picture is that the red lines are actually tape. What would the sign mean without the red lines? That's one fat, orange motorcycle.

What's up, Docs?

What's the difference between a cop and a doctor? A firefighter and a doctor? They all save lives, but there are some obvious differences. Most cops can't write prescriptions. Most doctors don't carry guns. Most firefighters can't perform surgery. Most doctors wouldn't know how to safely extinguish a structure fire. But even more fundamental than all of these, what is the difference between most first responders and most doctors? In a word, manners. I'll elaborate.

I teach courses for a small research center at a university in Tampa and my primary audience is the first responder community. Less often, I teach for hospitals, clinics, and medical organizations. Most of the time I have quite a few teaching materials to bring into the classroom. When I find myself at a police station or a firehouse, which is pretty often, I am bound to be greeted cheerfully by an average of 1-3 of the cops/firefighters from my class. Normally they've come early, set up the room, made coffee, possibly put out doughnuts, and now are ready to assist me with whatever I need. They will always offer to carry my plastic tub full of teaching materials, my boxes of empty paint cans (I have 25 on average, used to transport samples), my work bag, even my purse and car keys. Usually, there will even be another guy there to make sure that I don't have to open any doors for myself. I'm not a princess by any means, but it is refreshing to see men being so chivalrous, and they truly enjoy it as well. I don't have any photos of them carrying my materials to illustrate my point (if I had a camera, they'd probably be carrying it anyway) but I found this great example of helpful cops on the web.

When I teach at a hospital, things are a little different. Yesterday was no exception. I drove 4 hours to the south Florida location and arrived early to set up the room. I had actually been told ahead of time exactly where I would be teaching. This was exciting, since ordinarily they haven't seen fit to do so and I am forced to seek help from the "Information Desk" at the main entrance (they have never been able to help). When I arrived in the room to prepare, I was told it was booked until 1:00 (my start time) for a lunch meeting. I left to find myself some lunch and returned at 12:55. The room was still full of doctors but the meeting was clearly over. They were standing around, chatting, ignoring the fact that I had an armload of teaching materials, a laptop, and my bag. In fact, there were 4 male doctors and 1 female doctor standing in the doorway to the room, effectively blocking me from entering. One of the men was actually leaning against the door, propping it open. They glanced at me but didn't stop their conversation long enough for me to say, "excuse me." As I was trying to politely get around them (my arms were getting tired), the gab session broke up. All five of them walked straight toward me as they left, looking right at me. Because they were walking toward me in a herd, I couldn't get to the door until they passed. The door, no longer propped open by the ignorant doctor's ass, was closing fast and slammed in my face just as I reached it. Three of the aforementioned group looked back and witnessed this. NOT ONE OF THEM STEPPED BACK TO GET THE DOOR! Nobody even offered! Because the door had actual handles you had to turn, I had to put down my materials, open it and hold it with one foot, retrieve my supplies, and let myself in.

This would NEVER happen at a firehouse.

I'm not smooth.

I never really have been. I have been very nervous lately, anticipating some possible good news, and feel that I have been decidedly less cool in this situation than I would like. In an attempt to calm myself by laughing at myself, I offer the following examples of me totally embarassing myself.

I became a serious hockey fan when I lived in Orlando. This was around 1996 or 1997 at the height of the "Friends" popularity. I was about 15 or 16. My parents had season tickets to the Orlando Solar Bears, and would sometimes let me take a friend. One night, my friend Katie and I noticed a guy sitting in the next section. He looked a little like a skinny, goateed Chandler Bing to us. We dared each other to go over and tell him so, but I was the stupid one who did it. The conversation went something like this:

Me: Hey, how's it going?

Guy: Not too bad. Enjoying the game?

Me: Oh yeah, I love hockey.

Guy: Me too. I'm a Senators fan.

Me: Oh, I'm sorry.

Guy: Are the Solar Bears any better?

Me: Touché. Has anybody ever told you that you look like that guy from Friends?

Guy: Really? Which one?

Me: Chandler.

Guy: Oh, is that a good thing?

Me: Yeah, he's good looking.

Guy: Well then thanks!

Me: Okay, well enjoy the game.

Guy: You too.

I don't remember the outcome of the game, but I do remember watching the 11:00 news that night. They showed some shots from the hockey players, then showed a fan in the crowd. A guy who looked a bit like a skinny, goateed Chandler. And the newscaster said, "Actor Matthew Perry enjoys a hockey game while in town. . ."

Remember when Chandler looked like this?

Sadly that was not the first time I had made a fool out of myself in front of a celebrity, nor would it be the last. Behold:

1996 - I was running through the Orlando airport to welcome my brother home from the Navy. this was back in the days when you could meet people at the gates. My father, who was behind me, yelled something and as I turned, I ran SMACK into . . .

. . .Dolph Lundgren!

It felt like I had run into a brick wall. If I hadn't made a noise, however, I don't think he would have noticed at all. He's that huge.

Later that same year, I was in the bathroom at the Planet Hollywood in Orlando. As I was washing my hands, someone exited a stall and began washing their hands in the sink next to me. Who was it?

I had no idea. I was just stunned to see a big dude at the bathroom sink. He was very pleasant (and hot!) and smiled at me.

Guy: Hello, how are you?

Me: Good, I guess. Umm, one of us is in the wrong. . .

Guy: It's you.

Me: Whoops, sorry! There were no urinals and the guy out there who barely speaks English told me this was the ladies' room!

Guy: No worries. You should come by our party downstairs. . .

Apparently this dude plays "Jax" on General Hospital and his name is Ingo Rademacher. They were having some sort of General Hospital party at the restaurant and we chatted about it as we dried our hands and walked out of the men's room. As if this encounter wasn't bad enough, my friend saw me say walking out of the bathroom and saying goodbye to him, ran over and started pummeling me. Apparently, she DID know who he was and was a huge fan. She made me chase after him and get his autograph. Then I had to admit I hadn't known who he was in the bathroom. Awful!

Well, that's all the energy I have now. I will be back with part 2 soon. I hope you enjoyed a laugh at my expense.

UGG!!

So I am sitting in the Jacksonville airport, waiting for my flight home, when I am suddenly surrounded by a gaggle of loud, frenzied teenage girls in matching jackets with their graduation years on them. This is clearly a class trip. What strikes me about this group, other than the fact that they are completely obnoxious, is that 100% of them are wearing terrible outfits, and 85% of them have paired these heinous clothes with Ugg boots. Let me refer you to line one, where I mentioned I am in Jacksonville. "Jacksonville, NY?" you ask. Nope, FloridDUH! And they are from a LOCAL school. Now their presence in the airport does indicate they are taking a trip, but I doubt if their destination justifies this egregious error in judgement. I say this because I see these fur-lined monstrosities everywhere around this great Sunshine State of mine. And the temperature outside right now is in the 70s. I spent 10 days in Alaska in the fall and guess how many Ugg boots I saw. NONE! If I reach just one person who is considering whether or not to splurge on these $150+ eyesores then I have done my job. In fact, I hope one of these squawking teenagers is reading over my shoulder right now. Every generation has their own fashion missteps to live down, (Birkenstocks with socks and shorts really WERE cool at the time!) but this is one trend that has clearly worn out its welcome. If you're in doubt, be honest with yourself and admit that they even make Elle MacPherson look like a dork.

Ship of Fools

Thanks to all for the comments, and as promised I will relate the story of this boat trip.
This past year, my brother and parents bought a boat together. This is the third boat my dad has owned and he has never learned to swim. This fact, although unrelated to the story, really sums up my dad. Anyway, we took the boat out on the river. It was November, but remember we live in Florida so it was not exactly cold. My father was born in Pennsylvania and used to live in northern Minnesota, but now shivers like a chihuahua at temperatures below 72. He was decked out that day in a short-sleeved t-shirt, long-sleeved t-shirt, mossy oak sweatshirt, jeans, green jacket, and water shoes (the water shoes will have their own post one day when I have the strength).

When the wind picked up, he would put on his ski mask and hunting jacket, as seen in the original photo. At one point he was very cold and was sitting at the front of the boat doing this:

You can't tell from the photo, but he was actually pointing in the direction he wanted my brother to steer the boat and yelling instructions.

At this point we were concerned people would think some crazy man in an orange ski mask had hijacked the boat and was holding us hostage. We stopped along the way and my dad decided to start blowing the emergency whistle at my mom. They have been married for almost 37 years and you can still see the embarassment in her eyes. It's kinda cute!

Immediately after this photo was taken she told him that if he blew the whistle one more time she was she was going to make him eat it.

It was a good day.

Anybody out there? Besides Darcy?

It has come to my attention that other people visited the blog this week BESIDES DARCY! I even had some repeat readers I don't even know, and yet no comments or feedback. In a shameless attempt to elicit the aforementioned, behold the photo below and write me your own caption or explanation. You can do so by clicking on the pencil or the words "0 comments" at the bottom of the post. You can also email this post to others by clicking the envelope. The actual circumstances surrounding the photo will be posted soon.



Hint: Lest you think, "This is easy. It's a hunter on a hunting trip." Please take note of the fact that the structure behind this gentleman is not some kind of hunting blind or tree stand, but the T-top of a Sea Pro. That's right, this joker is on a boat. Oh, and he's my dad.