Ghost of Christmas Past

With it being the Christmas season and all, I thought I would share a story of a Christmas past...

When I moved back to Virginia from Florida in October of '85, I got a job as a night auditor at a Holiday Inn. Night Auditor is essentially the person that works through the night (11pm - 7am), is the manager on duty (usually you are the only person there, so you are in charge) and balances what the registers say was taken in to the actual cash on hand. I was always good at balancing the books, so the actual work took only a few hours and then I was free to do what I wanted...usually sleep. However...many interesting things can happen in a hotel overnight, so very often it was worth my while to stay up and be entertained by the goings on.

One evening in December, when the hotel lobby was beautifully decorated with a Christmas tree and about a hundred gorgeous poinsetta plants, I arrived at work a little early...around 10:45. A little after midnight, soon after the hotel bar had closed, as I was going about my usual work routine, a man approached the desk. He started talking to me but I thought the way he began the conversation was a little strange...

"What time did you start working tonight?" he queried.

I replied, "My shift started at eleven, but I was actually here a little before that."

"Yes...yes, it must be you," he said.

As I said, I thought this a little odd, but I was distracted with my work and didn't really give it much thought. The man continued on...

"Today is my wife's birthday," he said. "And I really wanted to do something special for her."

So, I'm figuring that he wanted to buy a nice bottle of champagne from the bar for her but had found that the bar was closed. I started to prepare myself to tell him that there was nothing I could do, as I wasn't legally allowed to sell alcohol and didn't have the keys to the bar in any case.

"When we got here, around ten till eleven, my wife looked around and was really impressed."

Okay...now I'm thinking that his wife has a December birthday so feels a sort of affinity for Poinsettia plants. I will say, the hotel had done a magnificient job decorating and the Poinsettias were the prettiest ones I had ever seen. I'm sure that I wasn't supposed to, and probably would get in trouble if anyone found out, but I was going to tell the guy he could take a plant or two for his wife...with best wishes for a happy birthday.

"So...what I'm trying to say...that is...what my wife really wants and I would like to give her for her birthday...is another man."

Say what! Guess I was young and naieve, but I really hadn't seen that coming. I explained that I was on duty and could not leave the desk unattended. He looked a little crestfallen and gave me their room number...in case I changed my mind...and then wandered off.

From that day to this, I have never regretted my decision to pass on this offer...but I do wonder sometimes if there would have been some sort of gift bow involved.

On the Road Again

So, as I head south for warmer climes on a Christmas break cross-country road trip (why does cross-country seem to me as though it should apply only to East/West trips and not North/South...doesn't matter, I will be at the beach either way), a question occurs to me. What is it about the open road that quickens my heart and stirs my blood? Why do I get a glowing sense of happiness and smile for what seems no reason at all? I think it must be my sense of adventure, of the unknown, of rising up to meet life head on and just experiencing the glory of it. When I take a road trip, I have no definite plans, so I never know what I will see, who I will meet, or what I will experience. I tend to live fully in each moment as it comes, to go with the flow...to live it, experience it, learn from it and then move on. Rather than ask why I enjoy unplanned road trips, perhaps the better question is why I don't live every day of my life as if I were on one...hmm...food for thought there.

No One is to Blame...

So, for about the last day or so this song has been running through my head. Don't think I heard it recently...it just came bubbling up out of the dim recesses of the past and started circling around my brain...like the pheonix rising from the ashes of its death...or maybe more like the stench rising from a cowpie in which you have just stepped...yes, I think that is more like it. In any case, I thought I would borrow a page from Ryan's playbook and post the lyrics. Maybe there is some kind of message in there for me (kinda hope it isn't "Aspirations in the clouds but your hopes go down the drain")...maybe I am having some kind of flashback to the 80's (hey...they weren't THAT bad)...but hopefully publishing this here will purge it from my brain and restore my normal cranial soundtrack.

"No One is to Blame" - Howard Jones

You can look at the menu but you just cant eat
You can feel the cushions but you cant have a seat
You can dip your foot in the pool but you cant have a swim
You can feel the punishment but you cant commit the sin
And you want her and she wants you
We want everyone
And you want her and she wants you
No one, no one, no one ever is to blame
You can build a mansion but you just cant live in it
Youre the fastest runner but youre not allowed to win
Some break the rules
And live to count the cost
The insecurity is the thing that wont get lost
And you want her and she wants you
We want everyone
And you want her and she wants you
No one, no one, no one ever is to blame
You can see the summit but you cant reach it
Its the last piece of the puzzle but you just cant make it fit
Doctor says youre cured but you still feel the pain
Aspirations in the clouds but your hopes go down the drain
And you want her and she wants you
We want everyone
And you want her and she wants you
No one, no one, no one ever is to blame
No one ever is to blame
No one ever is to blame

Just Like Mario Kart

When I started this blog, the idea was to write funny, interesting, and bizarre stories from my past. I guess maybe my present has been too interesting (yeah, right!) because I have yet to tell a tale of years past. So...here we go...a recounting of a golden moment in my life...



Back in the early 80's, I was living alone in my parents' house in Ft Myers, Florida. Yep, a four bedroom house complete with a pool...and best of all, rent-free (that's a story unto itself). My car at the time was a 1972 VW 411 that I had inherited from my grandfather. No air-conditioning and black vinyl interior in Florida, what a treat! Yes, that is me and the wonder vehicle in the photo on the left...note the tan (probably the darkest I have ever been...I worked on a golf course in FL), the high school class ring and, of course, the Ozzy Osbourne concert shirt. This was not what I would consider my intellectual period...and here are a few car stories to prove it:

At some point, the lock cylinder on my VW started to have problems. Every now and then, the mechanism that locked the key in the ignition would jam. This would require me to unplug the cylinder from the electrical harness, remove it, and reset the mechanism. One day, probably when I was running late to work, the lock cylinder jammed but my normal procedure failed to reset the jam. There I was holding the lock cylinder in my hand, trying and trying to reset it...and getting more and more frustrated with each attempt. Eventually, I hit my boiling point and decided I would show that lock who was in charge...I threw it down on my driveway with all the might I could muster. Not exactly the cleverest thing to do. As I watched in horror, the entire lock cylinder exploded from the force and pieces went flying in every direction. So...what was a poor boy to do? I had a job to get to and a car that could get me there, it was just missing that key piece of equipment...the ignition switch. Armed with some wire strippers and no knowledge whatsoever, I went to work and within about 5 minutes I figured out how to hotwire a car (its actually pretty easy). Later that day, I ran by Radio Shack and made a few purchases and before you know it, I had the only car I have ever seen that started by flipping a switch and pressing a button...impressive, no?

After having survived a few winters in VA and then a year in the brutal Ft Myers sun, the lovely green paint job on my car started to look really bad. The color became faded and splotchy and in some places the paint was flaking off. Given these circumstances, one day my friend and I decided it was high time to give it a new, homemade paint job. And what color did we decide to paint it? Why, what other color could we possibly pick except camouflage? And not just any camouflage...oh no, this was special...we used spray paint and unwittingly mixed forest and desert colors. Needless to say, from that day on, I received many, many "compliments" from other drivers on the road..."nice war wagon!"..."Hey! Does Hitler know you have his car?"...and other such fun. Feel free to add your own comments...I've even included the photo on the right to give that all important visual. Trash the car as you deem appropriate, but please be kind to me...that was my orange haired Tom Petty period and I am still recovering from the emotional scars.


Ft Myers is separated from Cape Coral, the town just to the west, by the Caloosahatchee River. Back in those days, there was only one bridge that spanned the river connecting the two towns, the Cape Coral Bridge. At 3400 feet long and 55 feet tall, this was not an insignificant bridge...If you don't believe me, check out the picture (and its all artsy too, framed by a tree and all). So one day I went over to Cape Coral to return some videos I had rented the previous day. Since I had only had the tapes for a day, I expected, go figure, to pay for just one day's rental. So imagine my surprise when the wonderfully helpful sales clerk said that it had been over 24 hours (it had been just over 25) so I would have to pay an extra day's rental. Being a perpetually broke person at that point in my life (I mean, for goodness sakes, look at the car I was driving), I was not happy. Suddenly, my spiteful side rose up and decided that if I was going to pay for an extra day, I would be damned if I would let them rent the tape again and get double the fee. I took the videos with me and vowed to return the next day at precisely the cut off time so that I would get every penny's worth...and the store would not have the opportunity to rent again before then. There I was, crossing the Cape Coral bridge heading for home, when I glanced over at the offending videos on the seat next to me. It all suddenly hit me...the extra cost, the fact that I would have to go back to Cape Coral tomorrow...and yes, probably my stupidity at not just returning the tapes. In a burst of frustration, I hit the steering wheel...and it came off in my hand! For just a split second, I continued trying to steer with the disembodied wheel...then I stared at it, failed at trying to jam it back on the steering column and threw it into the back seat. By this time, my car was heading for the edge of the bridge just about at the midpoint...the highest point of the span. In a frenzy of panic, I grabbed the exposed steering hub and tried to steer with it. In case you are ever in this situation, let me give you some advice...do not try this! It is impossible to do and will tear up your hands to boot. Luckily my feet are smarter than my head and they had figured out to hit the brake pretty quickly. My car rolled to a stop within inches of the guard rail...whew! I turned on my flashers and just sat there for a few minutes catching my breath. Then I retrieved the steering wheel from the back seat, very carefully worked it back on the hub, and drove home. I believe I spent the rest of the day floating around the pool with a cool drink trying very hard not to think about what happened. Curiously, I have no recollection of whether I actually made it back to the store in time with the videos...but I'm sure if I was late, I would have just paid the fee.

A Word to the Wise...

On my recent trip to the Pacific Northwest, I went to Mt Rainier and then drove back to I-5 and found a hotel to crash in for the night (roadside hotels, don't get me started...ugh!). The next day was my last day before flying home and I was planning to drive up to SeaTac (where the airport is located), get a hotel for the night (or as much of a night as I would get...flight out was at 5:15 am), and then drive into downtown Seattle and check out the market again.

All went according to plan the next morning, I checked out and hit the road heading north to SeaTac on I-5. That's when something unexpected happened...I took an exit. I saw a sign for a state park and, for some reason, I found myself getting off the interstate. As I was driving the 2 - 3 miles to the park, heading down a 50 mph two lane highway that just happened to be deserted, I came upon a deer just standing at the side of the road looking at me. I slowed my car to a stop and looked at the deer...and the deer continued to look at me. Then a fawn came out of the woods and joined the adult, which I now took to be its mother. I looked at them and they looked back at me as if to say, "Hello! Glad you could make it." As soon as I picked up my camera, which was sitting on the passenger's seat, both deer ran off into the woods. It was after this somewhat surreal experience that I really started to wonder why I wasn't still heading north...why had I taken that exit?

I continued on to the park, got out of my car, and proceeded to walk around. It was the kind of park that I LOVE! There was a forest of big, fragrant pine trees with trails running through it, campfires were permitted so there was a scent of woodsmoke in the air, and right in the middle of the park was a beautiful lake...Deep Lake. I wandered around, just absorbing and enjoying all of the sights, sounds, and scents...and taking lots of pictures, of course. My wanderings took me past a multitude of picnic tables scattered throughout the woods, but I kept wandering. A few hours later, I decided I wanted to sit and read in this beautiful place, so I continued through the woods until I came to one of the tables. As I sat, I looked down at the table and there, scratched into its surface was a message. It said, "Call everything by its name." So, I put my book away and sat there contemplating this message. Soon I was pondering life, the universe, and everything...and my place in it.

It was at that point that something, which had been building all during this trip, came to fruition. At a random picnic table, in a park I wasn't supposed to be at, sitting next to Deep Lake, staring at a mysterious carved message, I found me...and more amazingly...I found I love me. That's right, flaws, issues, and all...I love me. Still sounds corny saying it (or writing it in this case), but its true and, while not much time has passed since, my life has already been changed for the better because of it.

While I'm still not sure what that message means...I do have some ideas, but still not sure...one thing of which I am convinced is that it was specifically meant for me.

Just How Slow is Slow?

So...on my way driving from Redmond, WA to Portland, OR, I had to drive on a small road on which some construction was happening. If I am remembering correctly, the right lane was closed and traffic was being diverted around the constuction by using a turn lane (in other words, the traffic in the opposite direction was not being stopped). As I came up on the construction area, I saw the usual signs...the ones that say something about construction and being prepared to stop. I approached the actual construction, where there were actual construction workers and I saw a guy standing somewhat in the road with the infamous "slow" sign. I had already slowed somewhat and proceeded to slow more as I passed him. There was nothing in the road and I was now coasting with my foot ready on the brake. The guy holding the sign started to give me the universal construction worker sign to slow down by flapping one arm rapidly up and down. Next thing I know, another construction worker leaps into the road in front of my car, causing me to come to a complete stop (which I did, by the way, without any trouble or screeching brakes) and he then proceeds to take pictures of me, my car, and my license plate...as if to say "Ha, ha! we have you now." I don't understand what the point of this exercise was...the sign said only "slow" and I was already going what I considered a slow speed (20 to 25 miles under the posted speed limit). Was I supposed to know that "slow" actually meant slower than I was going? Does anyone know...just how slow is slow?

Luke, I am your father...

On the advice of my psychic, my therapist, and my better judgement, I am in the Pacific Northwest on a spontaneous vacation. I flew out here with just a car reservation with the idea that I would drive around and see what I could see.

Yesterday I was in Seattle and I stopped in at The Pike, a local brewpub. I ended up talking with a fellow patron and we got into a bit of a disagreement. We were discussing wine (yes, yes, I know...talking wine in a brewpub, how snooty...patootie even) and the ranking of Virginia as a wine producing state came up...which is where we disagreed. I said it was in the top 3 and he, a professional in the local regional wine industry, said it was not even in the top 10...turns out we were both wrong, it actually ranks 5th. After we resolved our debate, he mentioned that I should check out Woodenville, where there are many good wineries (and a good brewpub). After we parted ways, I tried to look Woodenville up on my GPS but had no luck.

Later on in the day, I visited the Space Needle and on my way out, I noticed one of those racks that holds tourist brochures. Lo and behold...there was a brochure advertising the Woodinville wine country. That explains my difficulty, I had been spelling it wrong. So I decided to head north, check into a hotel, and visit the wineries the next day. The back of the brochure listed 3 places to stay near the wineries so I figured I was all set. My first choice was a B&B, so I drove to it thinking they were sure to have a room on a Wednesday night. However, when I got there, the door was locked and I just got an answering machine when I called. Giving up on it, I picked my 2nd choice and, being a little smarter now, called them to check their availability. Wouldn't you know it, they were sold out. Ah well...last choice, a Marriott, it is.

I drove to the Marriott and checked in. It is located in a kind of town center, somewhat similar to the Reston town center with lots of stores and office buildings. This morning I went for a run and at one point I stopped and checked out a map of what was in the center. Turns out Microsoft has a major presence right here...coincidence? act of God? the breath of the universe pushing me along in the right direction? I don't know, but for an out of work software engineer, finding out that the largest software company in the world is 2 doors down from you seems somewhat miraculous. So...I am going to get cleaned up from my run and then pop on over and ask if they could use my services. I figure the worst that could happen is they call security (not like I haven't been there before) and...who knows?...I could end up with one of those cushy jobs on a death star.

And I ran, I ran so far away

So today I finally got some new running shoes...Brooks Adrenaline GTS 8's...aren't they beautiful? Decided I had to put them to the test so I went for a 7 mile run on the W&OD trail...well, actually on the bridle path beside the trail. The shoes were comfortable, the run felt good and the little bit of rain there was actually helped to cool me down. I noticed something on this run that I thought was a little strange. I saw a lot of animals...numerous rabbits, two groundhogs, a Siamese cat, and a whole leash of deer. All of these animals just stood and watched me run by (except the cat, the only domesticated animal, who ran away)...and I was passing within 5 feet or less of them. It just made me wonder why they didn't run or at least back away from me. Could it be that they are so used to seeing people on the trail that they have become blasé? Or maybe there is something about running that puts me into a state of mind where I am more open and in tune with the natural world and they could sense this? I'm thinking the ladder...no the farmer...umm...actually I think it is probably a combination of the two. I know that when I run, I can get to a place where all cares and thoughts of the future are gone...like my mind turns off and I just feel light and open and free. I wonder if everyone has something in their life that produces this feeling? In any case, the wildlife (except that darn cat...we are Siamese indeed!) added to the enjoyment of the run and I rewarded myself with some excellent BBQ afterwards :-)