Joy’s Neighborhood

Wow, the stickers in Woodside are so targeted.

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Before I begin this post, I wanted to say hi to all of my Vox neighbors (those that are left, anyway).  Sorry I haven't been around much since Jake died....but its been kind of a hard few months and I just haven't felt much like talking about stuff.

That being said, I had an experience recently that I wanted to share (and remember)...

Anyone who knows me well, knows that in the last 10 years or so, I've developed a little fear of flying.   I still do it, but I really don't love it.  I refuse to drink or take medication to calm my fears, so I grit my teeth and go.   The part I really can't stand is take-off.  That feeling of slowly climbing into the air completely freaks me out.  Once we're up and the flight attendants start serving, I'm pretty much OK - assuming there isn't a ton of turbulence.

I should point out that I never had an issue with flying until a few years ago.  Nothing specific happened to stress me out...perhaps just getting older or perhaps its because I tended to hyper-focus on news reports of aviation disasters.  (much like I watch shows about serial killers even though I'm terrified of them).   In the last few years, I've read a few books about flying and I change the channel when there is ANYTHING to do with plane crashes. 

I consider myself to be a very rational black-and-white person, which is why I'm baffled by how irrational my fear is.  People think they're being helpful by saying "you have a greater chance of winning the lottery than being in a plane crash".  But I think to myself...I COULD win the lottery....assuming I ever bought a ticket.   So in the past few years, I've read books, logged onto the FAA website to read the statistics and have regular conversations with myself about how safe flying truly is.

Sometimes it helps, sometimes it doesn't.  The fear usually creeps in about a week before I have to fly.  I maniacally clean my house in case I don't come home.  I hope that my family will give a flattering picture of me to the folks at Dateline who are SURE to do a story on the accident.  I can't stand when people tell me to "have a safe flight" because I assume they've suddenly gone psychic on me and they know something that I don't.   I ask Dan if he "has any feelings about the flight"....again, I assume everyone I know is a member of the Psychic Friends Network.  I make Dan look up statistics about how many takeoffs and landings there are each year from the Minneapolis airport.  (450,000 in case you're curious).

When I get to the airport, I look around to see if its looks like its anyone's "time".  I swear to you.  Its horrible.  If there is ever a famous person on my flight, I'm about ready to turn around and go home.   I stare at the departures and arrivals screens to see how many flights there are, what airlines I've never heard of and how many faraway destinations there are.  These things are supposed to make me feel better, but they tend to freak me out all the more.

That being said, Dan and I usually fly first class because it does seem to help me out a little.  That or I'm just saying that so Dan will pony up for the good seats.   I tend to feel worse if its a really crowded flight.   I also feel much better if the pilot and the flight attendants are older.  If the pilot is under 40, I assume he's an idiot.   Why?  I couldn't tell you.

SO...last week I had the opportunity to take a quick trip to Cancun with my best friend Donna.  Donna and I have taken a ton of vacations together and she's a great travel partner.  Mainly because she distracts me during takeoff by telling stories about her mother that make me laugh.  She also knows that while I look calm on the outside, on the inside I look like a Edward Munch painting.

For some reason, my usual pre-flight thoughts weren't scary ones.  In fact, I did really well the night before and didn't even think much about the flight.  Same thing when we got to the airport.  We get on the plane and I offer to take the middle seat and give Donna the aisle.  (keep in mind that she's been taking the middle for me for about 15 years).  I can't figure out why I'm feeling so calm, but I'm pleased.

The day of our flight was the day when the entire U.S. was hit with storms, blizzards and record cold and yet...I'm still not afraid.

The plane takes off and I'm just fine.  A little fluttering in the stomach, but nothing I can't handle.  The flight is going great.  No turbulence, a gray-haired pilot AND an older flight attendant.  What more could I ask for?

When food service begins, Donna and I decide to look at the menu and have a little snack.  I offer a menu to the woman on the other side of me and she just stares blankly.  She's an older woman, about 70 or so.  The flight attendant asks her if she wants peanuts, pretzels or cookies and she just stares back at her.  I ask her the question again and in a very thick Polish accent, she says "no English".   (I know its Polish because Donna's best friend from home is Polish)  I tell the flight attendant to give her all 3 options.  I try to see if she wants something to drink by giving the universal sign for "drink".  She says "Sprite".

I decide to have a cocktail since I see Pomegranate Martinis on the menu.   The flight attendant shakes my drink and Donna pulls out her travel Yahtzee game (sound dorky...but a great time-waster on a plane). 

Just as we begin to play, the plane starts to shake a little.  And then a little more.  I'm doing OK.   The pilot comes on and says to buckle up because they are expecting a little rough weather.  I'm still OK.  In fact, I'm doing better because I LOVE when the pilot tells me what's going on.  (can you say "control freak"?)

All of a sudden from the left side of the plane comes a big BOOM.  Donna says "I think that was thunder".   I turn around to the guy behind me and say "was that thunder?" when all of a sudden it felt like we were rear-ended by a semi.  The plane pitches forward, shakes from side to side and drops to the point where I'm straining against my selt belt.  

As all of this happens, I see my Pomegranate Martini levitate off my tray and catch it in mid-air without a drop spilled.  I mean, if I'm going to pay $7.00 for a Rande Gerber cocktail, I'm not letting it spill all over some elderly Polish lady. 

People start SCREAMING...and I mean, horror movie screaming and things are flying all over.  It seems to last for 5 minutes when all of a sudden everything is still.   Throughout all of this, I'm calm.  I didn't utter a peep, a yelp, a howl, nothing.  I look down and I see my martini in my left hand and my red Yahtzee pencil in my right.  The entire Yahtzee game was gone.  Not in my lap, not in Donna's, not in the aisle...just gone. 

I look to my right and the little Polish lady is fiddling with her scarf and just absolutely terrified.  I rub her arm and say "its OK, its OK".  She smiles.  I turn to Donna to start to laugh about the insanity of it all and there she is...my big brave travel partner with tears just streaming down her face.   I put my arm around her and say "we're OK.  we're OK".  She starts to cry and says "my whole life just flashed in front of my eyes.  OK...not my whole life, just the part where I think I'm a mean person".   I start to laugh and laugh hard.  Then she stops crying and yells "that fucking pilot better tell us what just happened".   I can't help it...I start to laugh even harder.  She tells me to look at the aisle and when I do, there are cameras, books, empty cups, ice, magazines strewn everywhere.  There is tomato juice, coffee and diet coke dripping down from where it hit the ceiling.  And still no Yahtzee game.   Donna is covered in some beverage and I kind of feel guilty that I made such a great catch of my own beverage.

The flight attendants come by with napkins to help with the clean up when the pilot comes on and in the most chipper voices say "sorry for the bumps there.  We were trying to divert around the bad weather over Jackson, Mississippi".  Now everyone on the plane is laughing....that kind of embarrassed, nervous laughter.   I can't stop laughing, but I really want to know where the Yahtzee game went.  We find it in the aisle under some seats....that is all but one dice.

I turn around to ask the guy behind me if they've seen any dice.  He starts to laugh and says "yeah, its in my son's pocket".  Apparently, the dice went flying over the seat into the kid's lap and he pocketed it.  The kid hands it back and we're all still laughing.

When the flight attendant stops at our seats, I ask her "so...do pilots feel what we feel back here?"  (yes, I'm that goon who feels the need to ask those kind of questions).  Irritated, she yells "NO and really irritates me.  They have no idea".   Then she tells me that in Row 18 where we were was nothing compared with Row 28 who REALLY felt it.

What struck me is how not scared she was...just annoyed because once we arrive in Cancun she only has 90 minutes to get the plane ready for the return flight.

Throughout all of this, I couldn't believe that I was so calm.  As I've said many times before, I am great in a crisis.  The house could be on fire, my arm could be hanging from its socket and I'd be calm as a cucumber....but God forbid the grocery store only has curly parsley instead of flat-leaf because NOW I'm going to burn the house down.  Weird how things work out that way. 

Donna kept saying "You're so brave, I'm so proud of you. Unlike me on the other hand, who looked like the petrified cat in this week's episode of "Hoarders"  I lost it again.  She has a way of making references that she just knows I'm going to get.   Its great to have a best friend like that.  Then she said something that I think will help me with future flights.  She said that whenever I get scared on another flight, to remember what happened on THIS one and compare the two.   I think its great advice.

When we arrived in Cancun, all of the goons on the plane started to applaud.  I jumped out of my seat and was waiting to exit the plane when I hear this little voice saying "help me...help me".  I look over at my Polish seatmate and her seat belt is completely twisted around her and she can't get out.   I reach over, unbuckle her and give her a goodbye arm rub.  She smiles gratefully and we leave.

I can't say this cured my fear of flying because on the way home, I had the usual take-off flutters.  But I have to admit, that I am proud of how I handled a potentially bad situation.   If this would have happened some other day, the flight attendants would have had to hog-tie me to the seat and there would have been federal marshalls meeting me at the gate.

Stay tuned for the next installment of "Nancy and Donna Go To Cancun"....entitled "That's The Gayest Thing I've Ever Done".

We're looking for Bonds' barco-lounger.

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Sometimes technology empowers me. Things work smoother and faster and I can write, connect, watch, create and generally do and be more, as result of magic of technology.

Then there are times when technology thwarts me at every turn. Things break, slow down or just become ridiculously complicated. When that happens, technology can suck the energy out of just about every task big and small.

After months of everything working relatively smoothly, I seem to find myself thwarted by machines, captive to electrical conundrums, bogged down by bad connections and generally wading through the muck of technology gone wrong.  

The Television Has Fallen Ill

The televisions have had memory cards replaced, firmware upgrades and new panels installed. The cordless phones have taken to randomly deciding to let me know who's calling or not, as it pleases them. The programmable thermostat seems to want to decide for itself when the heat should go full blast or completely off. Bulbs in my bedroom and the backyard refuse to power up and provide light. My Blackberry's trackball has developed a sluggishness and a stickiness that makes me suspect that some of that nasty green goo from Ghost Busters is oozing just behind the faceplate.

But the most vexing problems are with my computer and its relationship to programs and the Internet. It's slow. Really realley sl-o-o-o-o-o-o-w. Which is maddening enough, but it loses things. It forgets things. It doesn't want to connect to sites and people it should connect to. It misbehaves, acting like it doesn't care to help me do the things I need and want to do. This defiant, sluggish laptop was purchased in May of this year.

Can You See The Ghost In The Machine?

I've tried all the usual (but not extreme) remedies that those of us with an above average comfort level with personal technology know to do in these situations. I've tried them two and three times or more.

It might be time for more drastic measures. But before I go that far, one of my business partners offered up his "Technology Cleansing Ritual".

I think it might be worth a shot.

When you are in the snowy cold of Minnesota, take your laptop, remove any jewelry and do the following:

 

1.       Gather freshly cut parsley and place it in a pan of distilled water. Let it soak for nine minutes. Sprinkle the water throughout the house while visualizing a calm environment.

2.       Go outside, face Seattle and chant the following: I will uphold the Redmond creed. High in spirit, I shall succeed. Power of the Elements Five, will help my data stay alive. From grains of earth to the moving air, past the burning fire that magic flares, flow with water, lakes, and streams; around the spirit's aura and dreams.  Keep my karma high aloft and let me play with Microsoft.

3.       Avoid eating any liver or organ meat for one month.

 

You should be good to go!

J  

How has technology changed the way you watch movies and listen to music?
Sponsored by LifeScoop: Bringing You Tips for a Connected Lifestyle.

It's great being able to buy just that one song - that one song that you just want playing on repeat on your ipod - but you don't really like the artist enough to buy his/her/their CD.

How has technology changed the way you watch movies and listen to music?
Sponsored by LifeScoop: Bringing You Tips for a Connected Lifestyle.

Thank goodness I don't have to carry my cassette walkman around anymore. But I did see some guy on the bus carrying his around...

This statue is on the west side of Market Street, near the corner of Third Street, in downtown San Francisco:

Market and Third

I'm still cold from last week.

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