Driving in the rain, just driving in the rain

It is the typical early winter weather here in northern CA which includes quite a bit of heavy rain mixed with the occasional flooding. Now while I love the rain I hate driving in the rain. This has very little to do with my desire to drive in the rain and more to do with all the bad drivers who are clueless on how to drive in inclement weather. These are people who drive well below the speed of traffic in the fast lane and think there is nothing wrong with driving in bad fog and rain with no headlights or turn signals. What shocks me is when people complain about the number of accidents and blame it on poor physical road condition or fluke accidents. One wonders where some of these people are taught to drive as these are not teenagers driving without headlights just to be cute or rebels. Now with humility I will admit there was that one time at 3am that I was driving to a medical event and I forgot to turn my headlights on, so it does happen, but when a good 10-15% of the cars all have their headlights off one really needs to question it.

But my large angst today is with a major corporation. Comcast cable who is using their new ad campaign of their service being comcastic has just lowered the bar on how low a major company can go. This is the company that offered to me a free iPod shuffle for signing up for digital cable, now four months post promise, over a dozen phone calls I am still waiting for this promotional gift. Well today I received my bill and I found it has almost doubled in amount. Calling in, they informed me that promotional discounts have all expired. I have no problem with that, but if they are getting their promotional gift (more of my money) does this mean I should also be getting my promotional gift? Absolutely not. They inform me they have up to six months to send this promotional gift out to me, would you believe that? Upon asking them to itemize my bill they charge equipment rental on the digital box (I am ok with this), but then they charge me for ‘DVR service’. I ask what this service entails, the response the hard drive and other hardware. Well wouldn’t this be the digital box since there is only one box? Of course not, they get to charge twice for the exact same box, and you know what we let them. We have no choice but to go with this. Basic cable, we are talking nothing added, just absolute basic cable is now running at $47 per month. And they wonder why people are starting to complain. You have got to be kidding. I am so sick of this company and their shady business practices. If you have any opportunity not to go with them (they are the only cable provider here in CA), PLEASE for my sake go with the competitor.

Its only a dollar or two

Today is Christmas Eve day, it bears very little religious meaning to me as I am not Christian but the spirit it embodies and brings out in most people is both addicting and wonderful. I am working on a present for my grandmother, one that is taking quite a bit of time, more than I expected so I needed to run to the corner drugstore for a few more supplies. It is a wonderful CA day here in San Francisco, temperature around 60 degrees with only the slightest hint of clouds. People are about and for the most part fairly cheerful, as they tend to be in this city.

Walking towards Longs drugs I pass a man in reasonably nice clothes selling newspapers from the homeless. I did not buy a paper when he offered but I wished him a Merry Christmas. He returns verbally that that is almost better than buying a paper and wishes me the same in return and a wonderful weekend. I continue to the drugstore, gather the needed supplies and as I move to the checkout pass the coolers with all types of liquid refreshments. Now those of you who know me here in CA know that for several years I have stolen an idea from a great friend of keeping a number of water bottles in my car. When I encounter a person on the exit ramp of the highway or at an intersection begging for money, food or work, I can at least offer a bottle of water. Especially in the summer, I feel that this is a way of helping that can’t be turned into other modes of debauchery. So as I am at the drugstore I grab a ½ liter of water for a very reasonable price of 99 cents. I leave the store with a bit of step in my stride and return along the same path I came down just a few minutes ago.

Up in front of me sitting cross legged hugging a beautiful black Labrador is a young lady, looking younger than myself, college age actually. She is wearing slightly dirty but still in shape jeans and a nice black t-shirt. She balances a sign that leans on her arms that simply says Very Hungry…Please. She keeps her eyes lowered to the ground, either from shear exhaustion or embarrassment. She is quite attractive and in different circumstances where we might meet at a bar or coffee shop I would be trying quite diligently to possibly make her acquaintance and possibly get a phone number. And yet just like that without a pause in the stride I pass her. I know she has a story, she must have a story, but we have grown so accustomed to this, and so cynical to the nature of ‘sob stories’ that we don’t even give them the chance to listen. Is she down on her luck or a victim of some excessive substances, or maybe simply lost in life. Granted her young age, nice appearance and clothing probably had more to do with these questions than the man sleeping in a corner in a dirty sleeping bag with a dirty beard several inches long and an appearance of not having showered since the 1990s.

I continue the walk with these questions pounding in my head like the headache after an all night bender, and my bag filled with supplies and a candy bar feels heavier than when I left the store. I pass the spot where the older gentleman selling newspapers was located, only to find it vacated. I am a little disappointed at this inability to help especially now with a water I could have and maybe should have given to another. About a half a block further I see him sitting on a stoop in the shade. He sees and recognizes me. He greets me from a few feet away with a wave, smile and another Merry Christmas. I reach into the bag to bring out my offering of water (ignore the religious implications of that sentence purely accidental) and just before I grasp the bottle I see in his hang a paper bag with a 40 of malt beer. I am not deterred and continue with the offering which he takes gladly and another wish of a good weekend, I move on. What is his story? Is he struggling with an addiction while still battling that feeling of wanting to work for a living, hence his selling of newspapers? Is he not one of the crazy homeless, but rather another down on their luck and a victim of circumstances? I will never know.

These thoughts go through my head as I continue down the street with more anguish than joy at this moment. According to the mayor’s office and the last census there are at least 5,600 homeless in this city. There are services for them, but many do not qualify or don’t know about them. On this day of holiday in one religion we examine others as well. Islam does not simply reward but demands of its followers to provide food, money and shelter for the homeless especially during Ramadan but also at other times, even going so far as to list specific percents of your salary to donate. In old Jewish law, farmers were required to leave the corners of all their fields un-harvested for all who were hungry to harvest for themselves and their families. How do we translate this to today’s needs without aiding and abetting the causes that might have led them here to begin with. It is simply too easy to give money to a group like Salvation Army wash your hands and say you are done. As I have talked about before money without any skin in the game is a only half a gift. Nor am I saying we should all run out and buy hundreds of dollars of McDonalds gift certificates and spend our days walking down the street handing them out. But there has to be a way. The challenge of course is there are scammers, people willing to degrade the name of beggars with fake stories of woe and troubles. I was once approached in the suburbs by a young lady with an infant claiming to have been beaten by her husband, thrown out of the house with no where to go, could I help her. I stopped and started to offer her phone numbers for shelters for people in those circumstances, she declined. I offered her assistance to a police station she declined, she simply asked for money for food and shelter. I offered to walk the 30 feet back to the fast food establishment I just left and buy her a meal. She declined. I had no choice but to leave for I believe in my heart that offering cash is not the solution. Was she faking?

We don’t think twice of ordering an extra beer in a restaurant or bar at the low and unreasonable price of 8 or 9 dollars. Of course there is a dollar or two tip every time for the bar staff. Yet we hold back even a single dollar to one on the street requesting help. We have become so immune to their please that we don’t even think twice. Clearly I do not have all the answers, but I put forward to you as many of you are with friends and family celebrating both a religious day and soon the beginning of a new year. Ask yourself how can I help someone else who might not have had the luck I have had. Everyone has a story, has a history, if we took the time to hear it would it move us to help? Think of that the next time you pass a young man or woman on the street who simply asks for a moment of your time and a little consideration.

I know that young lady will be in my mind for quite some time. If it is me sister I would move mountains, what if she simply has no brother to be there for her. That thought will weigh on me.

Merry Christmas, Happy Hanukah or Happy Kwanza may whatever God you believe in grant you, your family and friends health, peace and happiness.

Must love dogs

One of the things I love about California is that smoking is absolutely forbidden in any indoor location (except maybe a private residence or two). The second thing I love about San Francisco in particular is a interesting and exciting fascination with dogs. Most shops leave a dish of water out for any random dog that comes by. So last weekend on Friday night I went out and at one of the bars where we enjoyed some liquid refreshments. Now I don’t know the type of dog (the image is posted below), but this dog honestly and truly believed it was human. He was wearing a coat and sat on the barstool with his two hind legs, his two front legs resting on the bar where he eagerly enjoyed treats provided by the bartender and others, while his owners enjoyed a light conversation with other guests. He neither barked nor resisted any human touch and was perfectly comfortable in this loud environment with all kinds of weird lighting. The next night as other friends were about to enjoy a movie (Narnia, I HIGHLY recommend this movie), one of the friends walked into the theater with her breast moving quite a bit, almost heaving. No she was not out of breath or excited, she was keeping a tiny little Chiwawa warm inside her shirt. Now this dog, although looking like a hairless rat, was certainly as cute as any other curling up in your lap or in your shirt at the drop of a hat. Granted if I was a dog nestled in Paris Hilton’s shirt I wouldn’t have a problem with it either. As we had dinner outside after the movie nearly everyone that walked by either wanted to pet little Pixie (what better name for a tiny little puppy to give it a slight size complex) or at least just smile as they walked past. Dogs just seem to brighten everyone’s day. Probably one of the best day before Thanksgivings I ever spent in an airport was when the humane society brought orphan kittens and puppies to the airport to cheer up passengers, and you know what it worked. So next time you are in a funk or just need a smile, find a dog and give it a good pet ( just don’t let it bite you).

As for other odds and ends, it is indeed getting close to the Christmas season which means wonderful garland all around (a certain lacking of mistletoe in the office however), presents being wrapped (I am challenged as I am every year to not have my presents look like a big ball of wrapping paper), and working out in the gym to Christmas Carols. Ahhh, yes I love the season.

So I hope all of you who have already purchased all your presents rejoice in your own over zealous, obsessive compulsive shop early way, while the rest of us scramble last minute in a bit of holiday frantic and panic zest. The most wonderful time of year.

The dog who thought he was an adult in a bar. 

Thong anyone?

With my travel schedule being what it has been, I have not done laundry in almost four weeks. It had gotten so bad that I had to go back to my recourse from college days and actually buy more underwear and socks from wonderful Wal-Mart. Not proud of it, but I have to do what a guy has to do.

So I finally break down and do laundry today while working from home. I go down there and one of my fellow residents is just pulling her clothes out of the wash. Now I know many women (and men in the city for that matter) lay out certain items that they will dry separately for whatever reason. Well this resident had laid out her underwear across all the dryers and washers. I have never seen so many variety and number of thongs since my last visit to Victoria Secret with an ex-girlfriend. Now I like thongs as much as the next guy, but wow this was something else. Each piece had less fabric than the next; one has to wonder if there was enough to even hold it up to her waist. It was quite exciting especially in the course of conversation she mentions she is also a yoga instructor. Fear not, there was a nice large wedding ring on her hand to prevent any forward advances.

But let’s take a quick second and talk about thongs for a minute, for as a normal guy one can not pass up the opportunity. I have talked to a number of women about this through my years of dating and I have found that a vast majority of woman either love them or hate them. Most will wear nothing but or anything but (not to be confused with butt). Personally I can not imagine wearing a thong, but then again could not imagine wearing high heels, makeup, tights, waxing, or any of the other unbelievable heights women go to please us men. So let me take a second and thank all women who go through unbelievable lengths for us men. THANK YOU!

Snowplow or faceplow

With a cold virus, near physical and mental exhaustion our hero braved the elements and took his first trip to a ski slope in his life. Maybe a little melodramatic, but indeed I did go skiing this weekend after having returned from Vegas. But lets start from the very beginning.

I have received endless mocking and merciless ridicule for my choice in car that I purchased almost a year ago from friends and family members. Yes I went the yuppie route and bought a Lexus SUV complete with seat warmers and back massager. It is amazing how quickly people stop laughing when they spend 4-5 hours in the car and realize just how comfortable it is. I strapped 3 pairs of skis and a snowboard to the roof along with enough clothes, toiletries, etc to clothe a small army. Three friends and I set out from work at almost 8:30pm and made our way out to Reno. Over the mountains and through fog so thick we were barely able to see the road we made it to the hotel by 1am. I don’t remember the last time I spent so long in a single place with good friends with just the road and the occasional music to distract. Conversations abound, until of course sleep overtook most passengers.

The next day bright and early it was time for skiing, we dragged ourselves out of our collective beds, loaded back into the car and drove to Northstar in Tahoe. Setting up at the resort I had the infinite pleasure of going to the ticket window and identifying myself not only as a beginner but as someone who has never touched a ski in his life. There was only a little bit of smirking from the 17 year old who has been skiing for 12 years when I had to sign up for the most beginner of beginner classes. But yet I bucked up and took it like a man. The class consisted primarily of Japanese who spoke rarely a word of English and myself. After an hour of learning how to put skis on and take them off my friends took me onto the hill. Not the bunny hill, one larger than that. This is where they taught me to stop (just like throwing someone into the pool and then teaching them to float). There were a few 360s and even 180s which if it was intentional would have looked very good, alas there were usually followed by a face full of snow. But I braved it again and again and took those crazy ski lifts (no seatbelts, what are they thinking?) to the middle of a mountain.

The vistas were stunning, the company phenomenal, the weather outstanding, and the sport well definitely entertaining. I have a long ways to go, but I am excited to go again. I was told however that everyone looks 30% cuter/hoter in ski clothes, which amazed me until I put them on and if I do say so myself, damn I looked good. Actually I think it just covers all of our imperfections making us all look a little better. But much to my surprise I find that the ski slope is an absolute pick-up spot for kids, I don’t think I have seen so much flirting and showing-off since the last time I went to a high school football game. That was almost as entertaining as the skiing itself. Oh and for the family members out there, fear not I broke neither bone nor cartilage.

Man these ski lifts take you high off the ground! 

Do I look cold, how about cool? Lets not answer that (as long as you know which one is me) 

Eating fruit is a great way to prevent getting sick, although usually helps to peel it first. 

At the end of a long day this is me warming my feet by a nice cozy fire (doesn't work as well inside these ski boots that look like they are going to rebels in Star Wars) 

That is my hill. Doesn't look too large? Try it on your first day, becomes much larger. 

In and back out again

First my apologies for my tardiness in updating this blog, those of you who have been avid followers or even recreational readers know it is unlike me. Thank you for words of concern. I was not in some far off distant land, rather I was on my final business trip of the year to Vegas (yet again). Now Vegas is considered to be the sin city, and while I understand it, coming from Amsterdam this city is amateur hour. However since so much is only legal at arms length the city does accomplish the feeling of dirtiness. More on this later.

Keep in mind between Amsterdam and Vegas I had a precious 18 hours, laundry was out of the question, sleep and eating was about as much as I accomplished. So arriving in Vegas I was already a little zonked. Suffice to say I didn’t get much sleep once I arrived, between work and social engagements it was a rag-tag run around of events. Not only was my convention in town, a modest 1700 individuals, but there was a major pharmacy convention which attracted around 10,000 pharmacy students, residents, and pharmacists, keep in mind most of these are college kids. The third major event was the AMA or music awards attended by 50 cent, Eminem and all other variety of artists which come with their own fan clubs and paparazzi. Finally and the most pervasive group was the national rodeo competition/finals. This massive event lasts 10 days and brings in tens of thousands of attendees, you have never seen so many big hats, big boots, big belts and big ummm well egos all grouped in one place besides Texas. Suffice to say Vegas was definitely hopping by the time I got there.

Now I want to go back the nasty or dirty feeling of Vegas in the same vein as I talked about Amsterdam in my previous entries. In Amsterdam, prostitutes are legal and even protected by the state, thus providing an aboveground industry. Vegas on the other hand is anything but above ground and clean. First the city of Clark County has decided to take a legal trade throughout the rest of the state and make it illegal in a particularly small county of a city, and yet they turn a blind eye to the trade. How do I figure? Well considering as you walk down the street there are literally hundreds of predominately Mexican illegals handing out cards with a picture of a girl and a phone number, I would consider this fairly blatant. These are not individuals in trench coats waiting in back alleys, rather these are people with neon yellow and red shirts with the name of certain agencies plastered right on the front standing in the middle of the sidewalk offering every man, woman and child a card with a majority nude female offering anything desired to your room in 20 minutes. If that wasn’t enough walking into any casino between the hours of 7pm and 2am you will be inundated with a number of women hanging out at the bar drinking non-alcoholic drinks, looking at a video poker machine they are only haphazardly playing and smiling at every male person who walks by. Once you see the type and see a couple you can spot them everywhere you go, or even easier if you see the prettiest girl in a casino giving the ugliest guy an award winning smile give them a second look. Either way with both of these as prevalent as they are you can not tell me that the city is not turning a blind eye. And yet to talk to such a female or even get a card from the street has this feeling of breaking the law and all eyes are on you. It is a feeling of dirtiness that I think makes Vegas famous.

Although I do write about these actions I do not participate, rather I instead go to the dance clubs where I kick up my heels and meet random locals. This time was no exception. Vegas is infamous for creating massive lines for their clubs to ensure the entire club looks more popular than it might be in actuality and thus causes it to gain popularity. They will do this in one of two ways, at Pure for instance a club in Caesar’s they create a line that can stretch for an hour or two since they only let in a dozen or so people every 30 minutes, even if the club is absolutely empty. There is always a line for all female groups but that is to be expected. Although this might seem at eternity this is actually a good thing for us males. Other clubs like Light in Bellagio has no line, rather a mosh pit in front where the bouncer can pick and choose who they want to let in, go figure that it tends to be large groups of females that are let in. The best option for a single guy in this situation is to befriend a group of females and tag along with them, at least as long as it takes to enter the club (hence my love for the pharmacy convention). Does this seem like a lot of work? Trust me you have no idea, and this is just to get into the club.

Once in the club there is a whole unwritten system of rules about getting in and around and interacting with others, especially if out to dance with random people. This is not something I have perfected, but I certainly enjoyed my time anyway. Once I figure out all the nuances of these rules I will be happy to share.

I arrived home last night after a minor drama of losing my pager in the taxi, having to find which taxi was mine and having him drop it off at the casino to mail back to me. But I love good natured people, sure enough pager got shipped back and was on my desk this afternoon. Who said there are not good natured people out these days. Tonight I drive out to Reno and try my hand at skiing for the first time. I am excited so many more stories on this I am sure will follow. Have a great weekend everyone.

Red becomes orange

Is it possible to wake up the next morning and not have a hangover rather to actually still be drunk? I think I need to back up and tell you more of this story, but first I have received a number of queries from people asking what the red light district feels like and looks like. I will try to paint a picture for all of you who have not been, for those who have you can keep me honest.

One first needs to get a feeling for the city of Amsterdam. Imagine a series of concentric rings, each being a waterway that completely surrounds the city. A whole network of bridges cross these waterways in multiple places. One can walk or take one of the ample number of street trams to Dam square close to city center and a perfect place to get a cup of coffee and watch the world go by. The square is bordered on one side by the edifice of a magnificent church, one of the oldest ones in the city and famous for bringing sailors in after months at sea. As one explores you walk a scant 2 blocks away when you find a street with a waterway traversing directly through the middle, bisecting it into two one way streets each no more than 10 feet wide. The waterway itself is a main one easily spanning 40-50 feet. The street is shared by bicyclists (ample in number as mentioned in previous entries), pedestrians, and of course small European cars. The side of the street bordering on the waterway is protected simply by a small chain roughly 3 feet off the ground. This is your typical cobblestone street that runs throughout Amsterdam, here however there is a difference. On both sides of the street there are a number of simple glass doors that would appear to be like any other front door to a house, there is no decoration just a single piece of glass. Running over the door is either the classic lamp with a red bulb hanging out front or a more modern florescent red bulb running over the entire top of the door. Clearly this is where the red light district received its name.

Behind each glass door that are sometimes as street level, other times at either second floor or basement level, there is a female standing or perhaps lounging languidly on a stool. Many choose to have a black light in this small anteroom to help highlight the florescent bikini or other lingerie they might be wearing. As a particularly interesting client walks by they might tap the glass trying to get ones attention, each time one looks up they are rewarded with an award winning smile, maybe a sway of the hips or chest and a distinct invitational moment with a single finger. If one was to accept such an invitation they would approach the door at which time the woman will unlock from the inside and welcome their new friend. In the higher class establishments this anteroom actually leads deeper into the building to a bedroom which are furnished with beds, couches and a sink. Less expensive areas simply have a wood cot with a mattress in the anteroom itself. Woman rent these ante-rooms and accordingly pay based on location and amenities. The price from their guest’s perspective is a set price issued by the state, 50 euros (approximately $65) for those who might be interested. Once a guest is welcomed in the shades are drawn across the door (ironically a deep velvet red) for the approximately 10-15 minutes while business is being conducted. Usually this can be identified as a friend or two waits outside trying to look inconspicuous and not waiting for a friend to emerge with a silly grin on their face. Interspersed throughout these doors are shops selling every imaginably video, magazine, and toy created for adult entertainment, many require pictorial directions for the less educated. There are also a number of sex shops where for a reduced fee (10 euros, 12 dollars) you can watch professionals engaging in sex for your viewing pleasure. This comes in every imaginably form including male with female, male with two females, two females, female with banana (famous banana bar), and full on orgies with 4+ individuals. All woman are tested by the state for STDs every month and need to be licensed to rent the rooms.

While trying to walk casually down this road cars are of course attempting to share the road with pedestrians and bicycles and all the mentioned individuals are looking in the direction of the ladies and the stores. It is a wonder more people do not fall into the waterway, although this might be a wonderful form of population control. Down small alleys along this street that measure no more than 6-8 feet wide doors abound on either side with woman seeking company. The further from the main street the more unique they are, of course Asian, African American, and Hispanic each have their own alley, as does older woman (40+), and larger woman from a weight perspective. The streets are heavily patrolled by police and each door has a small buzzer on the inside for the lady to use if in any case of distress, they are protected by the state not by any pimps or private citizens. There is however numerous individuals lounging along the street willing to sell hard drugs such as cocaine and heroin which are quite illegal that carry very strict penalties. All types of people walk along this street including both genders, tourists and residents alike.

I hope that I have provided an interesting window into this unique environment and hope you can visit it yourself someday. Lets proceed back to the original story.

I have finished my conference and simply looking for a nice quiet place to have some dinner and maybe have a drink or two. Keeping in mind it is 30 degrees I am attempting to limit my time outside in the elements. I proceed to Lypenstyden square, a place ripe with bars and restaurants. I find a simple British pub where I quickly order a pint of their finest and peruse the menu. Picking a selection, I take a look around at the other patrons. The inn is quite full and yet none are eating, when the waitress comes over she tries to dissuade me from the food, apparently they are more well known for their liquid refreshments and atmosphere. I finish my beer and re-brave the elements. Deciding against any type of ethnic variety I find a hole in the wall sports bar that seems appealing enough. Suffice to say I certainly chose the right bar. To maintain proper ratios all the wait staff including the bartender are all females, attractive ones at that, not that I met a lot of unattractive females in Amsterdam. Sitting at the bar I find a great hockey game on (NY against Pittsburgh), now with perfect atmosphere and entertainment, I just need to find some sustenance. Armed with an additional beer I dive into an order of excellent ribs and other fatty foods. The hockey game is phenomenal, NY rises to a 3 goal lead only to be tied by Phil with 5 minutes to go). All excited now, and you guessed it the station is changed to some weird sport where people run around kicking a ball around the field, I think they call it football you might know it better by soccer. I quickly request and beg the bartender (who has no control of the stations) then the manager. This fine young chap tells me he has 150 extreme soccer fans upstairs with only 1 hockey fan down here. Still trying to grasp his point I am quickly placated by the bartender with an additional pint and shot of jaggermeister. This proceeds into conversation with the wonderful hip and fun bartender who continues to provide me a shot for every beer I order. By 1am I have now had 7 or 8 beers and just one shy in shots (I think). Singing along with Will Smith and 50 cent on the radio the wait staff and I proceeded to outlast the remaining customers closing the bar and drinking well into the morning, singing and dancing in our own private club. As each employee finished their shift they would quickly roll a joint and begin to smile deeper and deeper. I was fairly socked to find out the youngest waitress was only at a tender age of 18 while the oldest was not more than 26, they might be young but their certainly know how to party.

Afterwards when we were all pretty sloshed, everyone left and with the exception of me proceeded to get on bikes to return to their respective homes. I hailed a cab and although more than slightly inebriated proceeded to haggle over an outrageously expensive cab far down by a good 10 euros (half price). I landed at home by 3am only to wake up at 6 to proceed to the airport. Thus we approach the beginning of my story where I believe I am still drunk as compared to being hung over. At least I was during breakfast.

Quick but certainly entertaining trip, but as always will be great to be home. Oh and in case you are curious on how I have so much knowledge of everything mentioned above, the government actually publishes pamphlets to inform tourists.