Flying the line

A quick observation while on the road - in the last year of work with my last employer, I had my wings clipped as it were.  My business travel pretty much ground to a halt.  It was a radical change of pace for me and frankly, a welcome one.  But that pace gets in your blood.  You get used to scenes like this:

Reason #110 why Coach blows

You start to miss the intrusion of the tool seated next to you in 3B.  You get the shakes thinking about playing "Upgrade Lotto."  You get worried that you can no longer precisely recite the safety dance demo in three languages.  You fret that you are missing the taste (and I use that word loosely) of airplane food.  It's then that you know it's time to get back on an airplane. 

This week put me back "flying the line" with a vengence - here's what this week brought:

• Day One - ORD/SFO
• Day Two - SFO/ORD
• Day Three - ORD/LAX/PHX
• Day Four - PHX/DFW/PHX
• Day Five - PHX/DEN/ORD

I have to admit that it's been fairly uneventful...so far.  Two more days to go.  And one of those days is going to spent with an airline with whom my relationship could be described as "volatile/hostile" on its best day.  Good times.

Ears to hear

Over the course of the last several weeks, my hearing has been getting progressively worse and worse.  It had gotten so bad that I began contemplating what life was going to be like with a device like the gent to the left is sporting.  Was this another sign of my march into solid middle-age? How much longer could I go on leaning into conversations without looking, well, pervy?

I finally decided to get an answer today by scoring a same-day appointment with our medical provider (yeah, COBRA coverage!).  I saw an internist and within twenty minutes and after a bit of  fun with some poorly named device called 'Elephant Ears,' I was hearing again.  I wanted to hug the doctor but given that I was wearing a lovely paper gown, I thought it might be a little awkward, so I refrained.

So here I am - hearing literally everything again.  Turns out I'm a whole lot louder than I thought.  I need to tone it down.  I'm not Nigel Tufnel - no need for the "11" notch.  In spite of being loud, it's good to be whole when it comes to hearing.  It's not something you want to be without.  I got to thinking about a scripture in the book of Matthew, chapter 11, verse 15 in the New Testament:

He that hath ears to hear, let him hear.

Eight wise words.  We need to be active in our hearing.  We need to be open to messages both obvious and subtle, loud and quiet.  I find that when I'm actively searching for an answer that the answers come quietly.  That's how the Lord works with me.  Guidance comes quietly and I have to be alert and open to hearing those quiet answers.  I'm just glad my ears are back to working as designed.

The travails of Mitt Antoinette

Queen Marie Antoinette once allegedly said, "Let them eat cake!" in response to the suffering of famine-stricken peasants during the reign of her husband.  To be fair and according to the truth monitor of the interweb, Wikipedia, there is no evidence that the ill-fated Queen (she'd have a date with a guillotine later in life that would go horribly wrong for her) that she ever made the now infamous declaration.

The same cannot be said of the Republican presidential nominee and heir apparent, Mitt Antoinette Romney.  He had an epic "Marie Antoinette" moment earlier this week on CNN in a live interview with Soledad O'Brien. In referring to America's poor, Mitt said:

"I'm not concerned about the very poor.  We have a safety net there.  If it needs repair, I'll fix it."

If you saw it, Soledad's reaction is priceless.  If you DVR'd it, you can play it back at super-slow speed and see where her head briefly explodes.

Mitt, in a now firmly established pattern, flipped on his comments, saying they needed 'context.'  He claimed they were a "misstatement" and that he "misspoke."  Umm, apparently.  But actions speak even louder.  Upon declaring his disregard for the poor, Mitt essentially genuflected before the King of All Tawdry Wealth, Donald Trump, in order to supplicate enough to get the Donald's endorsement.  Donald, a couple of things: A) the 80's called and want all the gold leaf back and B) gravity called and wants a serious explanation about your hair.

Like most politicians, and make no mistake, Romney is a politician, Mitt is shockingly out of touch.  But he seems particularly disconnected from the reality of America today.  This latest gaffe is proof positive of that.  

I'm eight weeks into unemployment now, Mitt.  Ask me about my safety net.  And about those nets, let me ask you something, Mitt.  Would you let one of your grandchildren use one of these nets?

I didn't think so.

My (near) futbol melee

I was saddened to read of the deaths, at the time of this writing, of 73 football fans at a match between rival teams in Egypt.  The BBC reporter described the rivalry between the two teams as "bitter."  With 73 fans dead, I'd say kudos for the typically dry British approach to that detail.

This got me thinking about my first trip to Sao Paulo, Brazil, a few years ago and the opportunity that was mine to go to a "futbol" game, where the rivalry was, well, bitter.  I've been to Sao Paulo several times now but as I recall my first trip was in 2007 to participate in a business conference.  Our conference hosts had arranged for us to attend a futbol match between the famed Sao Paulo team, Palmeiras, and one of their most hated rivals.  Sadly, the name of said team escapes me - that's what I get for not faithfully blogging back then.

Upon learning that we'd be going to the match, I was really excited.  I'd been introduced to Australian Rules Football  a couple of years before while in Melbourne and had the time of my life at that match.  I figured this was going to be much like that.

That vision began to change when the hotel concierge learned that my colleagues and I were attending the game.  They checked our tickets to insure we were sitting on the Palmeiras side.  We were then given very explicit instructions about the colors we could not where - no green, white, red, or black.  We were told this as if our lives depended on it. Turns out this was wise guidance.  Then things got interesting - the hotel advised that we would be using their bus to get to/from the match and P.S. they had hired bodyguards - yes, bodyguards - to accompany us.  Wait, what?  This futbol match was now turning into some bizarre death match event.

So with all this in mind, caution was tossed to the wind and to the match we went.  The "U"-shaped stadium was full of Palmeiras fans.  The visiting team's fans got one section of the "U" - at top of the "U" on the left.  Said seating section was topped by barbed wire and had armed police in full riot gear surrounding it at every other row.  The section next to it was empty - a veritable no man's land. Peppered throughout the rest of the stadium were more of the riot cops.  Clearly this was no ordinary game.  In spite of the huge firearm presence, the vibe was electric.  That electric feeling went nuclear when Palmeiras was the first to score.  The entire stadium shot to their and in one fell swoop moved towards the top of the "U," lunging en masse at the hapless visiting fans.  That paltry crowd had the testicular fortitude to start throwing things.  It was clear that this was not going to end well.  It was also clear that this was going to be one of the wildest nights ever.

It was clear that we needed to be Palmeiras fans and we were.  Each time our team scored, we rose to our feet and joined the crush toward the opposing team.  I picked up some Portuguese that night that I won't be repeating in mixed company.  It was an amazing night.  Palmeiras won.  It was incredible to be a part of it.  As we clawed our way out of the stadium, I was never so glad for the bodyguards.  There was gunfire, there was fighting, a fire or two in the street - apparently, a typical night at a futbol match.  Like I said, I loved it.  I'm ready to go again.