Musings & Observations

Cool Cousin Steve

2010-08-30T20:50:00.005-04:00

My cousin Steve died last fall. It was a senseless accident, really. He was riding his bike. From what I understand, he was biking along, traveling down a steep hill when he attempted to avoid a dog that suddenly jumped out at him. In his efforts, he was thrown from his bike and struck his head. The rest of the details are really immaterial; the most significant detail is that he didn’t make it.

His widow, Dawn, didn’t schedule a memorial for him until this past August. I didn’t ask about the reasons for the delay, although I’m sure I understand them. His loss hit me hard, and I rarely had the opportunity to see him; I couldn’t imagine the magnitude of the pain she must have been feeling.

That’s one of the toughest parts about growing up, and getting older, actually. The specter of death becomes more real every day. Parents die. Peers pass on. Loved ones succumb to various ailments, afflictions and accidents. The loss of Steve is a reminder of the fragility of life, and the importance of appreciating the loved ones in yours.

Steve and his brother Jeff were always my “cool” cousins. When I was growing up, they were the older cousins that a young, wannabe cool kid would naturally look up to. Steve was seven years older than I, and Jeff was four. I didn’t get to see them very often, as we lived six or seven hours away. But at holiday time, and during the occasional visit to the house, I often got a chance to see them and, for a limited time, hang out with them.

I loved hanging out with both of them. To the young, pre-teen me, they were very similar in many ways, and I was really too young to differentiate between the nuances of their very different tastes and personalities. They were just cool, and I always looked forward to spending any kind of time with them.

I learned as an adult that Steve was the gentlest of souls, but to a young pre-teenager growing up, he had a dangerous-coolness about him that I gravitated towards. Because there was a seven year difference between us, I could never hope to be cool enough for him to want to hang out with me, but he still did, because that’s what cousins are supposed to do. And I reveled in the time I got to spend with him.

A child of the ‘60s, Steve had the obligatory long hair, torn jeans, and (to me) psychedelic tastes. (That's Steve, on the left, in one of my favorite pictures of him.)

He went to college and studied fine arts, and photography. He was a true artist and was a master of the camera, and of sculpture. I learned, only after his passing, how well-respected he was in the art community, and how well received his art work was. At his memorial, I read one of the local reviews of his sculptures, which included an interview with him. He was fascinating. He saw things in art, and in design, that I could never hope to see. He had a talent, and an eye, and knew how to bring his vision to fruition, in brilliant and challenging ways.

Steve was also a car nut. It might seem incongruous – an artist and sculptor who liked to get his hands dirty under the hood. But he did. He worked on cars, tinkered with cars, repaired cars, and swapped cars like a horse-trader from the old West. He owned Porsches, and Volvos, and Volkswagens, and Alfas. He had a Morgan that he rebuilt, and an original Mini. He owned almost 70 cars in his life, having acquired them in one deal or another, and he made them all run.

He helped me revive an old Volvo I’d bought years ago. It was a bad car, really, but when I called him on the phone for advice, he’d told me it was a good deal at $250. He told me that, for that price, I was getting a great car. Although I trusted his judgment, that trust was sorely tested the first day I drove that car because the wind caught the edge of the hood and blew it clean off the car; too much rust inside the engine compartment. I had to pull off the road to pick up the hood and reattach it, holding it in place with a couple of bungie cords. When I told Steve of my misadventures, he told me to bring the car up and we’d make it road worthy. And we did. We spent a weekend rebuilding that Volvo, and literally bolting the hood back in place. It was nothing if not a colorful vehicle.

Around Christmas of 2005, I realized that I hadn’t seen Steve in more than 20 years. Oh, sure, I’d talked to him on the telephone, and exchanged an occasional note. But our lives had gone in very different directions, in very different parts of the country, and the relationship between cousins who live as far apart as we did was difficult to maintain. But I decided I wanted to change that. So I sent a card to Steve that Christmas, and he responded with a phone call and an email. It felt really good inside to be in touch with him again. He was my cool cousin Steve, and I was glad to be getting to know him again.

He sent me pictures of his work, and it was very impressive.

I had no idea how he created the things he did, but the things he did were amazing. He visited me in the summer of 2007; there was an exhibition at the Museum of Modern Art that he just had to see, and I was more than happy to have him stay with me while he visited the museum. It was great fun connecting with him again, although it was a bit of a wake-up call for me to see my long-haired hippie freak of a cousin standing at my door looking like Charlie Legit. But I was so happy to have him back in my life again, and thrilled to finally meet his wife, who I’d never had the chance to meet before.

Over the past four years, Steve told me about his farm, and the horses his wife took care of, and his art. When my dad got sick in the fall of 2006, he expressed concern, and after my dad passed, it was Steve who tried to coordinate a reunion of my mother and his mother, sisters who hadn’t seen each other in years because life sometimes gets in the way. I tried to help Steve in his efforts by giving my mom a little push towards a trip to upstate New York. She never had the strength for that trip, and she passed, too, in the summer of 2008 before getting the chance to see her sister, and her nephews, again.

Selfishly, I was sad, both for her, and for me, because I figured I’d get her up there, and we could all sit around and tell the old stories again. And it would have been a good excuse for me to finally get up to visit Steve at his Blue Moon Farm. I just wish I hadn’t needed an excuse; I should have just gone when I wanted to.

So my cousin went on that bike ride in October 2009. I wish I knew if the bike ride was a usual thing for him. I wish I knew where he was going. I wish I knew what his daily routine was. I wish I knew what special magic made him such a popular fellow that something like 100 people showed up at his farm in August, nearly a year after his passing, to honor his memory, and to celebrate his life.

Mostly, though, I wish I knew why I never made the time to get up there to see him again, and spend time with him, and to continue to reconnect with someone who not only was a nice guy, but a special man.

No Job Is Beneath You

2009-01-06T23:52:00.003-05:00

I have a feeling I'm going to sound old-fogey-ish with this, but I guess that happens as time goes by (although I don't ever remember feeling differently about this issue). See, when I was growing up, I wanted -- and really needed -- to work. I was responsible for my own car, my own car repairs, my own car insurance, my own bills, and any "fancy" clothes that I might want. So I worked. And I grew up with the understanding that, if you got a job, you worked it, no matter what kind of job it was. And if you couldn't find a job doing something you really wanted to do, you found a job doing something so that they would pay you every week.

So I've done everything: I picked apples. I pumped gas and learned how to change oil, tune-up cars, do brakes, and replace clutches, among other things. I worked retail in several different places -- and one lovely task involved unloading a tractor-trailer full of charcoal briquets at one particular drug store I worked at. I drove limos, worked in radio, worked as a statistician, and have (finally!) settled into a career in law. But even as a lawyer, when I moved from Ohio to New Jersey, and had to await bar results, I still had to eat and pay bills. So, I worked for a temp agency, and wound up on loading docks, on an assembly line, as a secretary, and as a records researcher -- all the while with a law degree in my back pocket. The point is I worked at whatever I had to work at because that's how you feed yourself and your family. Lounging around, waiting for the "right" opportunity, was never an option. That's not how I was raised, and that's not what you do.

But in the time we live now, too many Americans -- some young, and some old -- think that it is beneath them to work at a particular job, or in a particular field, or even to put in what they consider "long" hours. People rail against illegal immigrants taking American jobs, yet many of the jobs in question -- floor sweeper, demolition laborer on a construction site, house painter, maid, toilet cleaner at fast food joints -- are jobs that many Americans simply refuse to take. I have heard people say, "I won't take that position -- I'm better than that." Or, "I don't want to get up at 6:00 a.m. to get to work." Or, "It's too hot to work outside in the summer." Please.

People think that work is supposed to be a "fun" place. It's not. It's work. That's why they call it "work." If it was fun, they'd call it "play." Sure, some folks are fortunate enough to land in a field that they truly enjoy, but there's still crap to put up with even in a dream job. My dream job was when I was a dj -- I loved it, but not every minute of it. I worked holidays, including Christmas day. I had to get up at 4:00 a.m. to make the air by 6. But I did it because that's what you do.

People think work is supposed to be TV-type glamorous, Mary Tyler Moore-esq, "The Office"-type places to work. Again, there are moments like that in any job, but it's still a job, and you just do it.

If the only job you can get is hauling rocks from a construction site to a dumpster, who do you think you are to believe that that job is beneath you? It's a job. It pays you money. In some cases, it gives you benefits, and if it doesn't include benefits, that's all the more reason to work, so you can afford things like doctors and dentists. A job -- any job -- is guaranteed money in your pocket every week. And if it doesn't pay enough, you know what you do? You find another, better-paying job. But you keep working at the job you're at while you look, because you still have to eat.

People -- both young and old -- are so spoiled in this country, it is almost sickening. No one is guaranteed anything in life, and life doesn't owe you anything, either. You can take the bull by the horns and make a name for yourself, but you've got to take the initiative. Starring in "The Real World" is not a career path. The guys who give out jobs aren't coming to your door to offer one to you; you've got to go get it, go find it, or find something that you can do that can pay you money on a regular basis. And showing that you're a hard worker -- whether you're stocking shelves or parking cars at a restaurant -- is an important step in showing that you're a responsible human being, and not just a spoiled brat.

Immigrants are people too.

2009-01-06T23:49:00.001-05:00

Was watching ABC Primetime tonight, and they did an interesting piece on their "What Would You Do?" segment. In a deli in Linden, New Jersey, they put an actor behind the counter acting like a total tool when waiting on two other actors posing as Mexican day laborers. (For those who don't know, these are folks, some here legally, some not, who live in and around towns and gather at certain spots around town, waiting for contractors, construction firms, carpenters, painters, etc., to come round and offer them a day's worth of work. Many -- if not most -- have little, if any, ability to speak English, but they can work, so they do, and contractors use them freely, easily, and voluntarily.)

Anyway, with hidden cameras rolling, the actor behind the counter took the position that he would not serve the actor-day laborers who were trying to buy a sandwich and a cup of coffee, because they couldn't speak English. He called them illegals, told them to go to Taco Bell to get service, and said he wouldn't serve them. It got ugly (play-acting ugly, of course, but it looked real enough). The point of the story was to elicit reactions from others in the store.

88 people were subject to the "show." 44 took no position. 9 sided with the clerk, some vehemently, telling the workers to get out of the store or the cops would be called, another saying he'd like to hang out with the clerk. But the rest stood up -- vigorously -- in support of the workers. One lady was in tears over the treatment, canceled her food order, and left. Another guy -- an obvious regular -- called the manager over and told him to straighten out the obnoxious clerk. One lady I thought was gonna go over the counter after the clerk, calling him an asshole, and looked like she'd rip his throat out with her bare hands if she could get to him.

It was good to see. Yes, I know -- illegal immigrants take jobs. I know they don't "follow the rules" and they should. I know they don't speak the language, and they should try to assimilate more. But they're still people. Legal or illegal, that doesn't change the fact that they are entitled to the same humane, decent treatment you would show any other human being. And, they do take jobs -- but the jobs that a good number of Americans these days find "beneath them" (which I'm going to discuss in a minute, in another post.) It would be one thing if illegals were coming to this country and taking CEO positions, and IT jobs and such. But they're coming here and picking apples in orchards, and cleaning toilets in McDonalds, and hauling rocks from a construction site. Should they be legal? Of course. But should they not be here at all? See what happens to this country if that ever happens.

My "Glad" List for 2009

2009-01-03T10:33:00.002-05:00

I've seen too many posts to start this year about people "wishing" for that, or "hoping" for this.....I thought an "I'm Glad For" list might be appropriate:

1. I’m glad we didn’t have macbooks, psp’s, gameboys, and dvd players when I was a kid — it helped me learn to interact with people (my parents and siblings) on long drives and on tv-free vacations, and it forced us to be creative to entertain ourselves with games like “The Alphabet Game” and “20 Questions” (which I’ve passed on to my kids).

2. I’m glad we had to sit around the table for dinner every night when I was a kid, instead of eating in front of the TV, or on the couch, because I learned how to have a conversation, how to listen, and how to behave in a restaurant.

3. I’m glad my parents didn’t overindulge me with every gift I could conceive of (not that they were in any position to do so) because it taught me how to appreciate those gifts that I did get.

4. I’m glad I had to start working at 15 in order to make enough money for my own car, car insurance, and expenses, because it taught me to appreciate my things more, and taught me responsibility.

5. I’m glad that I learned how to apologize as a kid, because it is far better to take ownership of the mistakes you make, rather than try to pin the blame on someone else.

6. I’m glad I turned out the way I am, because, while I’m not perfect by any stretch, I’m cofortable in my own skin, and in my life.

A Message to Our Children

2009-01-03T10:31:00.000-05:00

I gave you life, but I can not live it for you.
I can teach you things, but I can not make you learn.
I can give you directions, but I can not always be there to lead you.
I can allow you freedom, but I can not account for it.
I can take you to church, but I can not make you believe.
I can teach you right from wrong, but I can not always decide for you.
I can buy you beautiful clothes, but I can not make you lovely inside.
I can offer you advice, but I can not accept it for you.
I can give you love, but I can not force it upon you.
I can teach you to be a friend, but I can not make you one.
I can teach you to share, but I can not make you unselfish.
I can teach you repsect, but I can not teach you honor.
I can grieve about your report card, but I can not doubt your teachers.
I can advise you about friends, but I can not choose them for you.
I can teach you about sex, but I can not keep you pure.
I can tell you the facts of life, but I can not build your reputation.
I can tell you about drink, but I can not say NO for you.
I can warn you about drugs, but I can not prevent you from using them.
I can tell you about lofty goals, but I can not achieve them for you.
I can let you babysit, but I can not be accountable for your actions.
I can teach you kindness, but I can not force you to be gracious.
I can warn you about sins, but I can not make your morals.
I can love you as a daughter or son, but I can not place you in God’s family.
I can pray for you, but I can not make you walk with God.

— The Rev. Dr. John L. Hines

Smoking

2008-12-12T15:08:00.004-05:00

I first smoked when I was in the second grade. No, really. My family was living overseas and I fell in with a crowd of older kids who got their kicks pinching cigarettes from folks who'd left them with their belongings at poolside while they swam a few laps. So, my "gang" would lift a few cigarettes here and there, and then we'd all run off into the bushes to smoke. I don't remember too much about the actual "smoking" itself, but I was accepted by the "big" kids, so I remember being content. When we got back to the US, there was no pool, no "cool" big kids, and no one pinching cigarettes for me so, in a non-smoking household, I had no reason, and no opportunity, to keep up the habit.

I didn't pick up a cigarette again for another twelve years. Then, in college, I hooked up with a girl who smoked, and she found it relaxing and calming, so I tried it again (college being a semi-stressful time, especially around exam time). And she was right -- the act of smoking, and the nicotine, was relaxing and calming. Lighting a cigarette, by itself, was a ritualistic event. Then, the slow inhale of smoke, and the slight nicotine buzz you got, had a calming effect.

At the time, though, I was also playing basketball. Smoking and basketball does not mix (imagine that). All that smoke tends to clog up the lungs, and basketball was far more important to me, so I stopped after a few months. Cold turkey. No problem. I just stopped, and didn't pick up another cigarette for almost a decade.

Law school brought the cigarettes home again. Stressed out and anxious during my first year (which took place after I'd worked in the "real world" for a few years), I remembered the calming effect of the cigs, so went back to them, to help get me through the first few months of being a 1L (first year law student). But basketball saved me again; I hooked up with a bunch of basketball players during that first year and, three times a week, we all had a 3 hour block of time between classes, so we'd play pick-up games for a couple hours, to relieve stress and escape from the rigors of class. That, plus my running (I was doing about four miles a day on non-basketball days), kept me from letting the cigarettes take over. So I stopped smoking again, cold turkey, for a few more years.

I picked them up again in 1993, during the first year of my now soon-to-be-ending marriage. Again, stress and anxiety brought them into my life, and again working out and athletics (mostly running) chased them out.

2007 brought the return of the cigarettes. The recent loss of my dad, the demise of the marriage, the sickness and ultimate passing of my mom (and several other personal things going on that I have yet to chronicle) brought stress back into my life by the boatload. Enter the Camel (my brand of choice). I started up again in November 2007, and have yet to put them down. I'm only smoking about a half-pack (usually less) each day, but they certainly do help me handle the stress. It's something about the nicotine, and it's something about the act of lighting up, and sitting still, and not doing anything else but focusing on the cigarette, that slows life down, and calms me down. And, unfortunately for me, I don't have basketball right now, and I'm so tired of running (after many, many years of doing it) that I don't have the athletic counter that always seemed to intervene on my behalf.

Of course I know that smoking's not healthy. But it certainly is enjoyable, at least to me, and at least for now. Plus, smoking is cool, right? That's what it says here, isn't it?

And here, too, right?

And here are six reasons why I should keep smoking.

And what about the cool image that smoking projects?

I know I should quit. But this is actually the first time that I haven't really wanted to, and haven't really had the incentive to do so. There's still too much stress, I still look forward to the little peace that a cigarette break can bring, and I do enjoy my cigarette and coffee on those mornings when I actually have time for them.

But I will quit. I'm actually starting to miss basketball again, and I'm actually starting to miss my running again. I'm not smoking enough to stop me from doing either one of these things, but I know that I'll do them better without tobacco. So I will quit. I should. Just not quite yet.

The Bad Year . . . Or Two

2008-12-09T13:01:00.002-05:00

So I've mentioned in various places that I lost a lot of time from keeping up with both this blog, and my self-imposed duties at my Ask A Lawyer blog. As I sort of explained in May 2007, I lost my dad in November 2006. He and my mom were married for 47 years, and, as you might expect, she did not handle his passing very well.

There was a year there, from about March 2007 to about January 2008 where she really needed a lot of hand-holding and guidance and I, being the oldest (and geographically the closest) was the obvious choice to do the guiding and hand-holding (well, at least the bulk of it.) Well, she took ill in March 2008, and began a slow spiral downward, physically, mentally, and emotionally. I'm pretty sure she just gave up on life; she just didn't want to go on without my dad. She died on 8/8/08.

In this same time frame, my wife and I split, in November 2007. My choice, for various reasons. So, during the same time I'm holding my mother's hand through life, I'm divvying up property with my wife, and, at the same time, trying to make this . . . . transitional family unit, for lack of a better term, as pain-free as possible for my kids. (My soon-to-be-ex and I have actually been very successful in that regard because, if nothing else, we both put the kids first.)

So anyway, there, in three paragraphs, is the nutshell version of where I've been and what I've been doing.

Yeah, I know. You want to details. Well, I'm not so good on details. I guess if you've read this far, you probably want to know more, but I'm not so good at "opening up," which is probably a bad thing when running a blog like this. I mean, this generation (listen to me, sounding like my old man) is all about openness, and having no secrets, and sharing feelings, and blah-de-blah. Yeah, well, I'm not so good at that. Snarky reviews. Sure. Sarcastic observations. Check. Analytical essays. That I can do. Opening up in an on-line diary? Not so much.

But, who knows? Maybe in time, I'll feel compelled to provide more detail. Let's see what happens.

What's the opposite of gouging?

2008-12-08T23:41:00.003-05:00

I've talked about gas prices a few times, most notably here. That's back when gas jumped a ridiculous 60 cents between morning and night, for no apparent reason. Back then, in September 2005, $3.57 a gallon was not unheard of. Last summer, in June and July 2008, it was even worse. I paid more than $4.00 a gallon at some points.

Now, look:

I actually paid $1.54 for regular today. That's almost 66% less than I paid 5 months ago, and just goes to prove how artificial the oil prices are, how manipulative the oil companies are, and how gullible the people are. The "powers that be" blame the drop on the recession. Okay, except, what other product has dropped it's retail price 66% in the past five months? Can I get a 32 inch LCD HDTV anywhere for $200 today? Nope. Is my Quik Chek coffee costing me only 37 cents a cup now? Nope. Is my grocery bill two-thirds what it was last summer? Nope. Only gas.

Prices for barrels of oil are WAY down. The average price of a gallon of gas dropped 22 cents in the past two weeks, and has dropped over two dollars and forty-five cents in the past five months. That just proves it's all fake. Whether it's OPEC, or the oil companies, or speculators, or what have you -- the prices were always artificially inflated and kept that way.

What I'm hoping now is that all those speculators who were buying oil futures last summer, who kept prices at artificially high levels, and did so expecting a huge profit because of the rising oil prices, are taking the financial beating they deserve. Those prices hurt so many people, and changed so many things. Airlines increased fares, and added "baggage charges," supposedly to offset their increased fuel costs. Groceries cost more because trucking things around cost more. But have those prices come down? Nope.

I blame them all. Oil companies, speculators, and OPEC producers all rakes in their millions (or at least attempted to do so) at the expense of you and me. They all deserve what they get.

The Usurpation of Country Music

2008-12-06T01:57:00.000-05:00

Another rant, this time on behalf and in defense of my beloved country music.

Yes, I am a country music fan. My tastes don’t extend quite back to Patsy Cline, or early Johnny Cash, or Mel Tillis or George Jones. I’m more of a “new country” kind of guy. I liked Garth Brooks in his day; I like Alan Jackson, George Strait, Reba McIntire, and I’m a huge fan of Gretchen Wilson, Toby Keith, and Kenny Chesney. Martina McBride and Brooks & Dunn, and Sugarland also make regular appearances on my playlists.

But lately, there has been an influx of singers into the country world that really bothers me. Jewel is not a country singer. Ashley Simpson (*hack-phooey!*) is not a country singer. John Mellencamp (who I actually enjoy) is not a country singer. The Eagles is not a country band. Darius Rucker (the former lead singer of Hootie and the Blowfish) is not a country singer. But they’re all putting out country-sounding records now, and it really bothers me.

I know what they’re doing, and why they’re doing it, but it still bothers me. They all want to sell records, and there is no “adult contemporary” market anymore, not like there was in the 70s, 80s and early 90s. But there is a “country” market that is alive and well, and these folks are just trying to find a place to sell their records. So they “cross-over” into country. But, for me, country has a certain meaning, and a certain sound, and a certain history, that these posers don’t really have any connection to, and never will.

Gretchen, Toby, Kenny, Alan, George, Reba — they all have real roots in and a legitimate connection to country music. When any one of them sings a song about drinking, or heartbreak, or happiness, or family, or love, or humor, you can feel and hear the connection to “country.” But putting a fiddle or a Dobro guitar into a song doesn’t make you a country singer, doesn’t make your song a country song, and doesn’t give you any country credibility.

And I hate to see outlets like CMT on television, and satellite radio, wasting valuable air time on non-country acts, simply because they have a recognizable name, at the expense of legitimate country acts that could benefit from the exposure they might get if I didn’t have to waste time watching Jewel videos and listening to Ashley Simpson songs. It stinks, and I don’t like it.

The Murder of Harvey Milk

2008-12-02T11:12:00.008-05:00

Everyone refers to the "assassination" of Harvey Milk. But that "everyone" seems to be either the media, or the gay rights community seeking a martyr for their cause. (Now, don't get me wrong -- I'm a firm believer in equality for all, and equal treatment under the law. I oppose "don't ask - don't tell" in the military, and I support equal treatment and equal benefits for same-sex partners in a civil union. ["Gay marriage" is a topic for another day.]) The fact is that Harvey Milk was murdered by an angry co-worker, at work, because of a personal dispute between them, not because of Milk's beliefs or his sexual orientation. That's not an "assassination." Milk's murder should not have become -- nor should it remain -- a cause celebre.

An assassination is a murder, to be sure. But an assassination is a murder of a prominent public or political leader undertaken for political, social, or idealogic reasons. Often, an assassination is accompanied by what the dictionaries call "treacherous violence" (the Oxford English Dictionary) and is sometimes committed by a hired killer (an assassin). Assassinations are undertaken to further a political cause or a social agenda.

In 1968, Martin Luther King, Jr., prominent for his civil rights activities and his efforts to end segregation and racial discrimination through civil disobedience, was assassinated. James Earl Ray was convicted for the crime, although people still believe he was a pawn in a wider conspiracy bent on removing King for his polictical and social beliefs.

Mohandas K. Gandhi was assassinated in 1948 by Nathuram Godse because Godse believed that Gandhi had betrayed the Hindu cause.

The Archduke Franz Ferdinand was assassinated in 1914 by Serbian nationalist insurgents. The political purpose of this killing was to effect the separation of some Slavic provinces from Austria-Hungary in order to form a Greater Serbia. This assassination led to World War I.

Four Presidents of the United States were assassinated -- Abraham Lincoln, James Garfield, William McKinley, and John F. Kennedy -- all for political reasons.

Harvey Milk's killing doesn't even come close to meeting the requirements of an assassination. Milk, who was openly gay, was killed by a co-worker named Dan White. White and Milk were initially co-workers in San Francisco, each working for the City. Milk and White, if not friends, were at least friendly with each other. In fact, Dan White actually supported some of Milk's political initiatives.

White and Milk eventually had a falling out over a land zoning matter. After that dispute, White would clash with Milk and other members of San Franciso Board of Supervisors, of which he was an elected member. White eventually resigned his seat on the Board, claiming dissatisfaction with the corrupt inner-workings of San Francisco city politics. However, White's supporters convinced him to reverse his decision to resign and seek re-appointment to the Board.

The mayor at the time, George Moscone, refused to re-appoint White to the Board. Harvey Milk was among those who opposed the re-appointment, and White knew it. When he learned of the mayor's refusal, White went to San Francisco City Hall to meet with Moscone in an effort to convince the mayor to change his mind. When Moscone refused White's request, White shot and killed him. Then, White reloaded his gun, walked over to Milk's office, and shot Milk five times. According to reports, the last shot was made at very close range. The fact that the last shot was fired at close range, according to some experts, is an indication that the shot was fired out of anger, and was personal.

On these facts, and if you want to use the word "assassination" correctly, you cannot reasonably conclude that White assassinated Milk. White didn't dislike Milk because Milk was gay. White didn't clash with Milk over gay rights issues. White didn't view Milk as some kind of beacon of hope for the gay community who had to be taken out. On these facts, White saw Milk -- and the mayor -- as standing in the way of White's re-appointment to the Board. (And let's not forget that White killed the mayor first.) This wasn't a politically motivated killing, as were any of the assassinations already mentioned. This was a deranged co-worker, flying off the handle, and taking his anger out on those he believed were responsible for his lot in life. It was a tragic, horrible event, but not any more tragic than any other deranged co-worker killings.

For instance, in the event that coined the phrase "going postal," on August 20, 1986, postman Patrick Sherrill shot and killed 14 employees, and wounded six, in Edmond, Oklahoma. In 1988, in Sunnyvale, California, a 40-year-old man, angry that a former co-worker at ESL Corp. had rejected his advances, stormed into the company and killed 7 people with a shotgun before surrendering. In November, 1999, in Honolulu, a 40-year-old man killed 7 of his co-workers at a Xerox facility. Sadly, this list of workplace shootings could go on and on. The murder of Harvey Milk was no different from any of these other workplace shootings.

So why do people insist on characterizing Milk's murder as an "assassination"? Agendas. People are motivated by agendas, and the fact that Milk happened to be gay, and happened to be killed at work in City Hall make it easy to transmogrify his murder into an assassination in order to further the cause of gay rights. As the purported victim of "assassination," Milk can now be used to highlight the hatred for gays that, concededly, does exist in this country. To be sure, this issue needs to be highlighted, and needs to be resolved. There is no room in this country for such hatred, animosity, and discrimination merely because of a person's sexual orientation. But why manufacture something? Why create an issue where none exists? Why make Harvey Milk a martyr for the cause when he was, in actuality, simply in the wrong place at the wrong time?

Creating something out of nothing is what I really have a problem with here. There are plenty of appropriate examples of violence against gays that would serve as examples of the hatred that must be eradicated without the necessity of turning Harvey Milk into a martyr, or a saint.

Matthew Shepard is the first name that springs to mind. He was killed in 1998, simply because he was gay. His is the kind of tragic story that should evoke the sympathy, empathy, and anger of others. (The Matthew Shepard Foundation is a prime example of the good that can come out of a senseless tragedy, and is a beacon of hope against the hatred that spawned Matthew's death. It does good work that should be supported and continued.)

A lesser known, but equally tragic figure, is Rebecca Wight. She was killed simply because of her lesbian relationship with her partner.

These last two (and there are countless more) are examples of the mindless, senseless, and tragic violence against lesbians and gays that should be held out as examples of the kind of conduct and intolerance that should not be accepted under any circumstances in this country. But creating a martyr, and trying to make an event, like the Milk Murder, into something that it is not, undermines the entire movement and is a disservice to those like Shepard and Wight.

As Long As I'm Still Complaining About Palin.....

2008-11-14T08:35:00.003-05:00

.....would someone please tell her to go away now?

She doesn't answer questions directly, she doesn't answer questions well, and her positions are ridiculously extreme. She ain't going nowhere in 2012, and anyone with a little common sense and understanding of the electorate would see that. Oh, yeah. I forgot who I was talking about....

But I find this media blitz of hers very annoying......which pretty much sums up the way I feel about her: very annoyed.

A Correction -- Although I STILL Believe Palin Was A Terrible Choice

2008-11-14T08:15:00.002-05:00

Well, it appears that Sarah Palin isn't quite as dim as the alleged Africa story suggested. Here are the details of what appears to be a purported hoax.

But still, she's just not the brightest bulb in the chandelier. I'm not a Katie Couric fan, but her interview revealed so much about how ill-informed Palin is. She can't name a single Supreme Court decision? Surely, she remembers the Dred Scott decision from high school. (Well, actually, I guess she doesn't.....which is the point.)

But the question that gets me is the newspaper question. She couldn't name a single newspaper, magazine, or periodical that she read. Not a single one. Hey, even if she'd said USA Today, at least it's an answer, right? Newsweek, maybe? Even Redbook, for goodness sake. But . . . nothing.

So, even if the Africa story wasn't true, Palin's documented history of being ill-informed provides enough smoke to make one believe there IS fire there.

Just Another Example of Why Palin Was Such A Sorry Choice for VP

2008-11-06T20:49:00.002-05:00

I hated the choice of Palin from the outset. Sure, she was captivating in her speech at the convention -- a speech she didn't write, but delivered well.

And, yeah, she was definitely easy on the eye -- although that's hardly a qualification for being a heartbeat away from the presidency.

But it was her overarching ignorance, on so many levels, that bothered me so very much. And this article, revealing that she didn't even know that Africa was a continent, not a country, is simply chilling in its import. I expect this level of ignorance from some, but not from a person vying for one of the highest offices, in the most powerful country in the world.

History is Made

2008-11-05T11:02:00.003-05:00

I have to say that I'm pleased that Obama won, although I remain unconvinced that he was the best choice for the job as president. That's not to say he's a bad choice, but he's not the guy I would have picked for the job if you'd asked me last year.

Oh, don't get me wrong -- I don't believe that McCain was the best choice for president, either. McCain began losing me when he started hiring all the Bushies to run his campaign, and he put a dagger in my heart when he selected Palin as his running mate. His short-sightedness and his incredible lack of judgment in that selection truly stunned me. (And all those pundits who claim she didn't cost him votes have no true understanding of either the electorate or the media. And trying to suggest that she has "credentials" is laugable -- my teen-age son has more credentials than she does.)

But Obama's win is fitting and appropriate given the times in which we live and the disaster that has become our foreign policy, our domestic policy, and our international reputation. "Change" was Obama's buzz word, and it is what is needed. He was careful never to truly define exactly what he wanted to change; instead, he relied on the overarching need for change in general, and that truly is what we need.

One significant change, and what that seems to be overlooked by so many, is one that has already happened. Obama mobilized the electorate. He got people interested in politics and involved in the election and, most importantly, made them believe again in the process. Too many people -- regardless of their political beliefs -- have lost faith in the system we have. They don't believe that their vote can or will ever make a difference, so they don't bother to try. Obama's campaign changed that.

Voter turnout has always been a problem in this country. People focus more on voting for singing and dancing stars than on the people who actually make decisions that have significant impact on their lives. Obama gave people -- black and white, young and old -- who otherwise would not have gotten involved a reason to believe again, and that can't be anything but a good thing. Realizing that a single individual, working with other individuals to make a difference, is the premise upon which this country was founded, and tens of thousands of people who have never believed that before are now believers in the system, and that's good.

Obama will be different, although it won't be as easy for him to be as different as he may want to be. But I'm willing to give him the chance to make a difference, and to bring change, even if it's change back to the way things were before Bush. It would be nice to have the Constitution back in one piece and back on the coffee table, rather than shoved into the back of a dresser drawer in a spare bedroom, which is where Bush seems to have stashed it. It would be nice to have someone look at the world as a global community, rather than as a place that needs to be managed and run by us simply because we can. It would be nice to have someone string together some words in coherent sentences, rather than sound as if he were a high-school drop-out. And it would be nice to have someone who looks statesmanlike, rather than a smirking, mugging buffoon.

A man can dream, can't he?

The Return

2008-11-05T10:56:00.002-05:00

I'm back. I can't believe that it's been so long since I was last here. Oh, I've got reasons for the gap, believe me, but I'll touch on those in the days and weeks to come. But with the historic election just behind us, I felt compelled return. So here I am. Sorry I've been gone so long.

Two Choices

2007-11-01T23:29:00.000-04:00

This is something I came across years ago and I just happened to run across it again at a time in my life when I can really use it. It bears repeating here:

Jerry was the kind of guy you love to hate. He was always in a good mood and always had something positive to say. When someone would ask him how he was doing, he would reply, "If I were any better, I would be twins!"

He was a restaurant manager, and a unique one at that because he had several waiters who had followed him around from restaurant to restaurant. The reason the waiters followed Jerry was because of his attitude. He was a natural motivator. If an employee was having a bad day, Jerry was there telling the employee how to look on the positive side of the situation.

Seeing this style really made me curious, so one day I went up to Jerry and asked him, "I don't get it! You can't be a positive person all of the time. How do you do it?"

Jerry replied, "Each morning I wake up and say to myself, 'Jerry, you have two choices today. You can choose to be in a good mood or you can choose to be in a bad mood.' I choose to be in a good mood. Each time something bad happens, I can choose to be a victim or I can choose to learn from it. I choose to learn from it. Every time someone comes to me complaining, I can choose to accept their complaining or I can point out the positive side of life. I choose the positive side of life."

"Yeah, right, it's not that easy," I protested.

"Yes it is," Jerry said, "Life is all about choices. When you cut away all the junk, every situation is a choice. You choose how you react to situations. You choose how people will affect your mood. You choose to be in a good mood or bad mood. The bottom line: It's your choice how you live life."

I reflected on what Jerry said. Soon after, I left the restaurant industry to start my own business. We lost touch, but I often thought about him when I made a choice about life instead of reacting to it.

Several years later, I heard that Jerry did something you are never supposed to do in the restaurant business; he left the back door open one morning and was held up at gun point by three armed robbers. While trying to open the safe, his hand, shaking from nervousness, slipped off the dial for the combination lock. The robbers panicked and shot him. Luckily, Jerry was found relatively quickly and rushed to the local trauma center. After 18 hours of surgery and weeks of intensive care, Jerry was released from the hospital with fragments of the bullets still in his body.

I saw Jerry about six months after the accident. When I asked him how he was, he said, "If I were any better, I'd be twins. Wanna see my scars?" I declined to see his wounds but did ask him what had gone through his mind as the robbery took place.

"The first thing that went through my mind was that I should have locked the back door," Jerry replied. "Then, as I lay on the floor, I remembered that I had two choices - I could choose to live, or I could choose to die. I chose to live."

"Weren't you scared? Did you lose consciousness?" I asked.

Jerry continued, "The paramedics were great. They kept telling me I was going to be fine. But when they wheeled me into the emergency room and I saw the expressions on the faces of the doctors and nurses, I got really scared. In their eyes, I read, 'He's a dead man.' I knew I needed to take action."

"What did you do?" I asked.

"Well, there was a big, burly nurse shouting questions at me," said Jerry. "She asked if I was allergic to anything. 'Yes,' I replied. The doctors and nurses stopped working as they waited for my reply.

"I took a deep breath and yelled, 'Bullets!'

"Over their laughter, I told them, "I am choosing to live. Operate on me as if I am alive, not dead."

Jerry lived thanks to the skill of his doctors, but also because of his amazing attitude. I learned from him that every day we have the choice to live fully. Attitude, after all, is everything.

Concert Manners . . . or is that an oxymoron?

2007-10-30T23:32:00.000-04:00

I don't really believe that I'm getting old and crotchety, but I sure do find myself out of sync with the "younger generation" more and more these days. The most recent example -- going to a couple live concerts.

Now, don't get me wrong -- I happen to love music. I love to play it, listen to it, sing it, and, naturally, and I love live concerts. So I get the whole "concert experience." Now, I don't expect everyone to sit quietly in their seats as the singer runs through a few tunes, politely applauding after each little song. You're at a live concert and you get up and dance around, and sing the songs you know, and clap and yell and hoot and holler and just have a good ole time. Then the concert starts.

No, seriously, I get the whole experience. But what I don't get is those folks who go to concerts to become the star of the show themselves.

You know the ones I mean:

1) There's the Chair Stander. When everyone else is standing in front of their seats, the Chair Stander has to stand on his or her seat, making them taller than those around them AND blocking the view of those behind AND making everyone around them nervous that the Chair Stander is going to do a header in some as-yet-unknown direction. (Of course, if you add four or five beers to the Chair Stander, the whole experience becomes ever more interesting.)

2) There's the Arm Raiser. While everyone else is clapping, or dancing, the Arm Raiser has to, of course, raise his or her arms and punch upwards, or outwards, with each beat of the song, usually with a half-full beer glass in the upraised hand. This accomplishes the double goal of blocking the view of those behind AND drenching everyone around in beer spray.

3) There's the Herd. The Herd is a group of folks, usually from the nose-bleed seats, who happen to be friends with someone on the aisle in a lower section. Somehow, the Herd finds a way to circumvent security and take up a position in front of the entire section, blocking passage and views for all who've actually paid for tickets in that section. The Herd doesn't take kindly to friendly requests to move along, and it usually takes an intervention from Security to get the Herd to get back to their seats. (Now don't get me wrong; I don't begrudge anyone the opportunity to stand, and dance with their friends, and enjoy a show. But if you want to watch the show together, get all your tickets together. It's not that hard.)

4) There's the Obnoxiously Loud Off-Key Singer. This fan knows every word to every song and truly believes that he or she is the next rising rock star and belts out every song, in unison, with the main attraction. Except, off-key. And in your ear.

5) There's the Party Animal. I've never understood this one. The Party Animal starts drinking on the tail-gate in the parking lot, keeps drinking on the way into the venue, continues drinking through the opening act, and by the time the main attraction comes out, is either passed out on the seat next to you, or throwing up in the aisle behind you. I don't know about you, but I don't need to pay concert prices to get wasted to the point of oblivion while listening to loud music. I can do that at home for the price of a six pack and a CD.

The common thread through all of these is the apparent lack of any real interest in the performer. Rather, the focus is all on them. "Oooo, look at me! I'm standing on my chair! I'm singing every word of the song! I'm throwing-up on my shoes!" I just don't get that kind of self-centeredness. I'm all for living it up, and having fun. Hell, I'm the worst offender in the world as far as singing along with every song -- but I don't do it in my neighbor's ear, and I shut up if someone asks. It's a matter of simple courtesy. A little consideration goes a long way.

Time To Write

2007-10-17T18:34:00.000-04:00

Time to write. Seriously. It’s time to write.

Oh, don’t get me wrong. I’ve been writing. Just not here. And that’s silly of me, because this is supposed to be my writing place.

But there’s The Book. (Yes, I’ve graduated to capitalizing it now because I feel that I’m getting close to completing it.) That takes a lot of writing, and attention, and it sucks up much of the free time I devote to Writing.

There’s Work. (Always worthy of capitalization.) I do a LOT of writing there, which makes it more difficult to look forward to the writing I do for me. Difficult; not impossible.

And there’s . . . other stuff; other writings; other musings; other observations. I don’t post it all. But I love to write, so write I do.

However, the point of this space was to share some of those writings, so I’d best get back to that.

But where to start? Let’s see where the spirit moves me next.

The Daily Grind

2007-06-25T17:45:00.000-04:00

It never ceases to amaze me how the daily grind of life tends to make the days simply fly by. It seems like only yesterday that I was posting here, promising you, and me, that I would post more regularly, with the intent to return to my former practice of chatting about anything and everything.

Now, seven weeks later, look at the state of this blog. Nothing. May 1, 2007 to June 25, 2007, and I haven't had a spare minute to enter anything. Not a thing.

Oh, sure, a lot's gone on, all of which is ripe for comment.

Paris Hilton In Jail. (And it's about time!)

My 3 year old niece in a dance recital (and she was amazingly adorable).

Dealing with bill collectors attempting to squeeze the last possible dollar out of my father's estate. (There is one bill collector pursuing the estate for a bill for about $6.50. They've already been paid by Medicare, and you'd think that would be enough, but no.....they must insist on harassing the widow for their $6.50.)

Learning (or more appropriately, re-learning) the guitar. (My father's day present was a beautiful Seagull S6. What a nice instrument.)

One of our dearest friend's 50th Birthday Bash at the Beach. (What's more fun than a barbecue, with friends, and food, and liquor, on the Jersey Shore?)

Yet another chapter in my book about my dad. (It's far harder to write than I ever imagined it would be, and yet, the need -- the compulsion -- to write it remains very strong.)

The Jersey Shore in Spring Time. We had a wonderful weekend away, with friends, food, and drink, which, of course, was fully deserving of all of my attention.

All of this, and more, in the past seven weeks, and all of which, by way of explanation, rather than excuse, is the reason why this is my first post since May 1. The moral: Life goes on, despite your best intentions. Or, to paraphrase John Lennon, Life is what happens while you're making other plans.

An eventful eight months

2007-05-01T18:14:00.000-04:00

It really has been a very eventful eight months.

I won't bore you with details. Suffice it to say that, within a week of my August 2006 update, my father became quite ill. Unfortunately, he succumbed to his illness and died in November 2006. As you might expect, it has been a rather hectic and eventful period of time since then.

One of the many, many, many unfortunate side effects of my dad's passing was the loss of time I had to devote to things like this little blog of mine. It's not that I had nothing to say....to the contrary, I've got SO MUCH to say, but have little time to express it.

In any event, I will return to this blog, when I can, to say what I can, when time permits. In the meantime, thanks for your visits, your emails, and your time. I look forward to putting my thoughts out there once again for you to read, review, scoff at, and digest, at your leisure.

Thank you, and I hope you continue to visit.

David Kendall

Blog Upkeep

2006-07-31T21:16:00.000-04:00

I gotta tell ya -- I love this blog.

I like the idea of an on-line journal/column/venting space. I know some folks stop by to visit, read, and comment, but I have no idea how many, and that's not really the point in any event.

I, like so many other bloggers, love the idea that someone is reading my thoughts, deriving some benefit from my observations, or, at the very least, thinking about something they hadn't considered before, based on the things that I write.

But more important is the fact that I have a place to go to write, to say things, to experiment, to put things in "black-and-white" (or the functional equivalent of black and white in this electronic age).

So it is a curious thing that I find that I have such limited time to actually take advantage of this blog, despite the fact that I am the sole arbiter of what to write, when to write it, and how often I should post it. It's obviously a very important thing to me; otherwise, I wouldn't have taken the time to put so many things in it. At the same time, it's also obvious that I don't have time to devote to it every single day (much as I might like to). Sure, things happen, and I find myself thinking, "I should write about that." Only, nothing's ever so very important to me that I absolutely have to write about it today. In my mind, there's always tomorrow.

That thought, of course, will probably be the ultimate undoing of this blog, or at least will minimize the value of the entries here. I'll keep putting off until tomorrow what I could write about today, expecting that there will always be a tomorrow for me, when we all know that, eventually, we run out of tomorrows.

So what will my todays leave here? My tales about Disneyworld, and the Virgin Islands, and price gouging by gasoline retailers, and my adventures with bagless vacuum cleaners. That's not the end sum of my thoughts these days. That's just what inspired me, at any given time, to sit down and put fingers to keyboard. If nothing else, I hope it's all enjoyable, because I intend to keep up these random postings for as long as I can type.

An Apology From A Bush Voter

2006-06-06T00:31:00.000-04:00

This is a piece by Doug McIntyre, the host of the morning talk show on 790 KABC radio. I'm re-posting it here because I must -- reluctantly -- concede that he hits the proverbial nail on the head with it.

There's nothing harder in public life than admitting you're wrong. By the way, admitting you're wrong can be even tougher in private life. If you don't believe me, just ask Bill Clinton or Charlie Sheen. But when you go out on the limb in public, it's out there where everyone can see it, or in my case, hear it.

So, I'm saying today, I was wrong to have voted for George W. Bush. In historic terms, I believe George W. Bush is the worst two-term President in the history of the country. Worse than Grant. I also believe a case can be made that he's the worst President, period.

In 2000, I was a McCain guy. I wasn't sure about the Texas Governor. He had name recognition and a lot of money behind him, but other than that? What? Still, I was sick of all the Clinton shenanigans and the thought of President Gore was unthinkable. So, GWB became my guy.

For the first few months he was just flubbing along like most new Presidents, no great shakes, but no disasters either. He cut taxes and I like tax cuts.

Then September 11th happened. September 11th changed everything for me, like it did for so many of you. After September 11th, all the intramural idiocy of American politics stopped being funny. We had been attacked by a vicious and determined enemy and it was time for all of us to row in the same direction.

And we did for the blink of an eye. I believed the President when he said we were going to hunt down Bin Laden and all those responsible for the 9-11 murders. I believed President Bush when he said we would go after the terrorists and the nations that harbored them.

I supported the President when he sent our troops into Afghanistan, after all, that's where the Taliban was, that's where al-Qaida trained the killers, that's where Bin Laden was.

And I cheered when we quickly toppled the Taliban government, but winced when we let Bin Laden escape from Tora-Bora.

Then, the talk turned to Iraq and I winced again.

I thought the connection to 9-11 was sketchy at best. But Colin Powell impressed me at the UN, and Tony Blair was in, and after all, he was a Clinton guy, not a Bush guy, so I thought the case had to be strong. I was worried though, because I had read the Wolfowitz paper, The Project for the New American Century. It's been around since '92, and it raised alarm bells because it was based on a theory, Democratizing the Middle East, and I prefer pragmatism over theory. I was worried because Iraq was being justified on a radical new basis, pre-emptive war. Any time we do something without historical precedent I get nervous.

But the President shifted the argument to WMDs and the urgent threat of Iraq getting atomic weapons. The debate turned to Saddam passing nukes on to terror groups. After 9-11, the risk was too great. As the President said, "The next smoking gun might be a mushroom cloud." At least that's what I thought at the time.

I grew up in New York and watched them build the World Trade Center. I worked with a guy, Frank O'Brien, who put the elevators in both towers. I lost a very close friend on September 11th. 103 floor, tower one, Cantor Fitzgerald. Tim Coughlin was his name. If we had to take out Iraq to make sure something like that, or worse, never happened again, so be it. I knew the consequences. We have a soldier in our house. None of this was theoretical in my house.

But in the months and years since Shock and Awe I have been shocked repeatedly by a consistent litany of excuses, alibis, double-talk, inaccuracies, bogus predictions, and flat out lies. I have watched as the President and his administration changed the goals, redefined the reasons for going into Iraq, and fumbled the good will of the world and the focus necessary to catch the real killers of September 11th.

I have watched the President say the commanders on the ground will make the battlefield decisions, and the war won't be run from Washington. Yet, politics has consistently determined what the troops can and can't do on the ground and any commander who did not go along with the administration was sacked, and in some cases, maligned.

I watched and tried to justify the looting in Iraq after the fall of Saddam. I watched and tried to justify the dismantling of the entire Iraqi army. I tried to explain the complexities of building a functional new Iraqi army. I urged patience when no WMDs were found. Then the Vice President told us we were in the waning days of the insurgency. And I started wincing again. The President says we have to stay the course--- but what if it's the wrong course?

It was the wrong course. All of it was wrong. We are not on the road to victory. We're about to slink home with our tail between our legs, leaving civil war in Iraq and a nuclear armed Iran in our wake. Bali was bombed. Madrid was bombed. London was bombed. And Bin Laden is still making tapes. It's unspeakable. The liberal media didnt create this reality, bad policy did.

Most historians believe it takes 30-50 years before we get a reasonably accurate take on a President's place in history. So, maybe 50 years from now Iraq will be a peaceful member of the brotherhood of nations and George W. Bush will be celebrated as a visionary genius.

But we dont live fifty years in the future. We live now. We have to make public policy decisions now. We have to live with the consequences of the votes we cast and the leaders we chose now.

After five years of carefully watching George W. Bush I've reached the conclusion he's either grossly incompetent, or a hand puppet for a gaggle of detached theorists with their own private view of how the world works. Or both.

Presidential failures....James Buchanan, Franklin Pierce, Jimmy Carter, Warren Harding----the competition is fierce for the worst of the worst. Still, the damage this President has done is enormous. It will take decades to undo, and that's assuming we do everything right from now on. His mistakes have global implications, while the other failed Presidents mostly authored domestic embarrassments.

And speaking of domestic embarrassments, let's talk for a minute about President Bush's domestic record. Yes, he cut taxes. But tax cuts combined with reckless spending and borrowing is criminal mismanagement of the public's money. We're drunk at the mall with our great grandchildren's credit cards. Whatever happened to the party of fiscal responsibility?

Bush created a giant new entitlement, the prescription drug plan. He lied to his own party to get it passed. He lied to the country about its true cost. It was written by and for the pharmaceutical industry. It helps nobody except the multinationals that lobbied for it. So much for smaller government. In fact, virtually every tentacle of government has grown exponentially under Bush. Unless, of course, it was an agency to look after the public interest, or environmental protection, and/or workers' rights.

I've talked so often about the border issue, I won't bore you with a rehash. It's enough to say this President has been a catastrophe for the wages of working people; he's debased the work ethic itself. Jobs Americans won't do! He doesn't believe in the sovereign borders of the country he's sworn to protect and defend. And his devotion to cheap labor for his corporate benefactors, along with his worship of multinational trade deals, makes an utter mockery of homeland security in a post 9-11 world. The President's January 7th, 2004 speech on immigration, his first trial balloon on his guest worker scheme, was a deal breaker for me. I couldn't and didn't vote for him in 2004. And I'm glad I didn't.

Katrina, Harriet Myers, The Dubai Port Deal, skyrocketing gas prices, shrinking wages for working people, staggering debt, astronomical foreign debt, outsourcing, open borders, contempt for the opinion of the American people, the war on science, media manipulation, faith based initives, a cavalier attitude toward fundamental freedoms--- this President has run the most arrogant and out-of-touch administration in my lifetime----perhaps, in any American's lifetime.

You can make a case that Abraham Lincoln did what he had to do, the public be damned. If you roll the dice on your gut and you're right, history remembers you well. But, when your gut led you from one business failure to another, when your gut told you to trade Sammy Sosa to the Cubs, and you use the same gut to send our sons and daughters to fight and die in a distraction from the real war on terror, then history will and should be unapologetic in its condemnation.

None of this, by the way, should be interpreted as an endorsement of the opposition party. The Democrats are equally bankrupt. This is the second crime of our age. Again, historically speaking, it's times like these when America needs a vibrant opposition to check the power of a run-amuck majority party. It requires it. It doesn't work without one. Like the high and low tides keep the oceans alive, a healthy, positive opposition offers a path back to the center where all healthy societies live.

Tragically, the Democrats have allowed crackpots, leftists and demagogic cowards to snipe from the sidelines while taking no responsibility for anything. In fairness, I don't believe a Democrat president would have gone into Iraq. Unfortunately, I don't know if President Gore would have gone into Afghanistan. And that's one of the many problems with the Democrats.

The two party system has always been clumsy and imperfect, but it has only collapsed once, in the 1850s, and the result was civil war.

I believe, as I have said countless times, the two party system is on the brink of a second collapse. It's currently running on spin, anger, revenge, and pots and pots and pots of money.

We're being governed by paper-mache patriots; brightly painted red, white and blue, but hollow to the core. Both parties have mastered the cynical arts of media manipulation and fund-raising. They've learned the lessons of Watergate and burn the tapes. They have learned to divide the nation for their own gain. They have demonstrated the willingness to exploit any tragedy for personal advantage. The contempt they have for the American people is without parallel.

This is painful to say, and I'm sure for many of you, painful to read. But it's impossible to heal the country until we're willing to acknowledge the truth, no matter how painful. We have to wean ourselves off sugar coated partisan lies.

With a belated tip of the cap to Ralph Nader, the system is broken, so broken, it's almost inevitable it pukes up the Al Gores and George W. Bushes. Where are the Trumans and the Eisenhowers? Where are the men and women of vision and accomplishment? Why do we have to settle for recycled hacks and malleable ciphers? Greatness is always rare, but is basic competence and simple honesty too much to ask?

It may be decades before we have the full picture of how paranoid and contemptuous this administration has been. And I am open to the possibility that I'm all wet about everything I've just said. But I'm putting it out there, because I have to call it as I see it, and this is how I see it today. I don't say any of this lightly. I've thought about this for months and months. But eventually, the weight of evidence takes on a gravitational force of its own.

I believe that George W. Bush has taken us down a terrible road. I dont believe the Democrats are offering an alternative. That means we're on our own to save this magnificent country. The United States of America is a gift to the world, but it has been badly abused and its rightful owners, We the People, had better step up to the plate and reclaim it before the damage becomes irreparable.

So, accept my apology for allowing partisanship to blind me to an obvious truth; our President is incapable of the tasks he is charged with. I almost feel sorry for him. He is clearly in over his head. Yet, he doesn't generate the sympathy Warren Harding earned. Harding, a spectacular mediocrity, had the self-knowledge to tell any and all he shouldn't be President. George W. Bush continues to act the part, but at this point who's buying the act?

Does this make me a waffler? A flip-flopper? Maybe, although I prefer to call it realism. And, for those of you who never supported Bush, it's also fair to accuse me of kicking Bush while he's down. After all, you were kicking him while he was up.

You were right, I was wrong.

By Doug McIntyre / Host, McIntyre in the Morning Talk Radio 790 KABC

The Spanish Version of The Star Spangled Banner

2006-05-01T23:07:00.000-04:00

I'm sure you've heard by now that there's a Spanish "translation" of The Star Spangled Banner making the rounds these days. However, what's being propounded as a "translation" is anything but. Take a look. Here is the Spanish version that, as I understand it, is currently being played (to the tune of the Star Spangled Banner), followed by the English translation. (This is taken from from NPR's website.)

Lyrics to 'Nuestro Himno' ('Our Anthem')

Amanece, lo veis?, a la luz de la aurora?

lo que tanto aclamamos la noche caer?

sus estrellas sus franjas

flotaban ayer

en el fiero combate

en señal de victoria,

fulgor de lucha, al paso de la libertada.

Por la noche decßan:

"Se va defendiendo!"

Oh decid! Despliega aún

Voz a su hermosura estrellada,

sobre tierra de libres,

la bandera sagrada?

Sus estrellas, sus franjas,

la libertad, somos iguales.

Somos hermanos, en nuestro himno.

En el fiero combate en señal de victoria,

Fulgor de lucha, al paso de la libertada.

Mi gente sigue luchando.

Ya es tiempo de romper las cadenas.

Por la noche decßan: "!Se va defendiendo!"

Oh decid! Despliega aún su hermosura estrellada

sobre tierra de libres,

la bandera sagrada?

English translation of "Our Anthem":

By the light of the dawn, do you see arising,

what we proudly hailed at twilight's last fall?

Its stars, its stripes

yesterday streamed

above fierce combat

a gleaming emblem of victory

and the struggle toward liberty.

Throughout the night, they proclaimed:

"We will defend it!"

Tell me! Does its starry beauty still wave

above the land of the free,

the sacred flag?

Its stars, its stripes,

liberty, we are the same.

We are brothers in our anthem.

In fierce combat, a gleaming emblem of victory

and the struggle toward liberty.

My people fight on.

The time has come to break the chains.

Throughout the night they proclaimed, "We will defend it!"

Tell me! Does its starry beauty still wave

above the land of the free,

the sacred flag?

***

Here's where I come down on this. It's one thing to have a Spanish translation of the anthem so that someone who doesn't speak English can attempt to learn what the words of the anthem mean and understand the history behind it. It's quite another to propose another version of the anthem, in Spanish, as an accommodation to anyone, for any reason.

From what I've heard, one of the reasons for this translation is to remove the language pertaining to "rockets red glare" and "bombs bursting in air" because the imagery is too violent. Well, whoever came up with this version of the Anthem obviously has no idea what was going on when Francis Scott Key wrote the lyrics. The references to bombs and rockets are there because that's what was happening at the time. The anthem is about the formative years of this country, and what was going on as this country's soul was forged on the fields of battle.

Let's think for a minute: when was the last time a country -- any country -- was created without a few bombs bursting in air? It doesn't happen. And Francis Scott Key's lyrics were chosen over songs like God Bless America, and America the Beautiful because they capture the spirit of where this country came from. If you really listen to those words, and understand what inspired them, you cannot help but be moved by them.

It accomplishes nothing to promulgate this Spanish translation of The Star Spangled Banner, except maybe the scoring of a few politically-correct brownie points. Anyone who knows anything about doing translations knows that it can be ridiculously difficult to get an accurate translation of something like a poem, or a song, where the rhythm of the language, and the meaning of the words, is so important to the sentiment of the song. This "translation" is obviously intended to further some agenda that has nothing to do with what the National Anthem actually stands for.

By the way, I've heard it argued that this "translation" of the National Anthem is a "free speech" issue and is protected under the First Amendment. Let's clear that up right now. You are free to disagree with the choice of the anthem, and to voice that disagreement. You are free to express distate for the imagery suggested by the lyrics in the anthem. You are free to form a grass roots movement calling for the naming of a new national anthem. But the right to free speech does not protect your right (or anyone's right) to unilaterally re-write the national anthem, deem it to be the same as the actual National Anthem, and then adopt it as an acceptable alternative to that actual National Anthem. There's a huge difference between the two.

Let's nip this craziness in the bud.

Return to Brokeback Mountain

2006-04-24T00:24:00.000-04:00

If you haven’t seen my original take on Brokeback Mountain, it’s here. As you might have inferred, I didn’t have a burning, yearning desire to go see the movie. Sure, there was the curiosity factor, but if it hadn’t been for my wife’s desire to check it out, I probably wouldn’t have gotten around to renting the DVD for quite some time. But, with this weekend having been a typical Jersey spring-time weekend, filled with rain, wind, and chilly weather, it was the perfect opportunity to catch up on movies, and Brokeback made the short list. (By the way, consider this a spoiler alert. I’m going to discuss the plot and storylines a bit, so keep that in mind if you haven’t seen it yet.)

First reaction: it’s not a bad movie. It’s actually pretty good, with a decent story. But it’s only that – a decent story. It’s not overly profound, nor is it any more moving than any other love story, and not as moving as some I've seen. It is a nice little tale about two people who want to be together but are kept apart by circumstances. However, the only thing “ground-breaking” about it is the fact that it features two men in the lead roles, instead of a man and a woman. Had it been a man and a woman in the leads, it would have been a fairly formulaic “love story” about two people who want to be together but cannot be. Think Bridges of Madison County crossed with Same Time Next Year and replace the female lead with Jake Gyllenhaal, and you’ve got Brokeback Mountain. Seriously – that’s the movie.

Don’t get me wrong. Brokeback is certainly very well acted. Heath Ledger was extraordinary in the role of Ennis Del Mar, and both he and Gyllenhaal had to really get into their roles to sell the male-on-male aspect of the story. But they did it, they did it well (at least as far as I could tell), and, for me, they did sell me on the belief that they were attracted to each other. To me, that’s the sign of great acting in a good – not great -- movie.

Oh, I understand the social significance of the movie. It’s supposedly the first “mainstream” movie with gay characters in the leads, and it shows that “real” love transcends both gender and social “norms.” How “mainstream” the movie is remains an open question (which I addressed in my previous post on Brokeback). I also question how truly “significant” the movie is in this day and age. From Ellen Degeneris coming out on her sitcom and now hosting her own highly regarded talk show, to Queer Eye for the Straight Guy, to Will and Grace, people not only recognize that there are gay people in the world today, but also that gay and lesbian folks actually have lives and relationships, fall in love, adopt children, and lead fulfilling and influential lives. Moreover, those that don’t realize that now, or refuse to recognize it, aren’t going to be converted by a movie like Brokeback, primarily because they’ll never see it.

On top of that, it does occur to me that Brokeback is not really a “gay” movie at all. It’s a movie about a unique relationship between two unique people defined by its time and circumstances. To be sure, Gyllenhaal’s Jack Twist is without question gay, covering his orientation with a marriage of convenience. However, I’m not certain that you can characterize Ledger’s Ennis as “gay.” Sure, he jumps on Jack Twist up on the mountain (with surprisingly little provocation and virtually no chemistry that I could see), but as far as I can tell, Jack is the only male that Ennis is interested in in his entire life. Unlike Jack, we don’t see Ennis going after, talking with, or pursuing any other male in the movie – ever. He doesn’t seem interested in any other man, and based on his father’s “lesson” while Ennis was young, it seems that Ennis was repulsed by the idea of any other man. Ennis got married, had kids, and seemed to want to make it work with Alma. Ennis is curious, conflicted, and confused, but only with respect to Jack. I don’t see Ennis as “gay” so much as he is interested in Jack, and Jack alone. Of course, that’s just my purely heterosexual perspective on things. I’m sure others will have a different take.

Finally, as to all of the hoopla about how Brokeback got cheated out of the Best Picture Oscar in favor of Crash, the “Best Picture” is purely a subjective thing, so that’s your answer right there – the Academy made a subjective selection. From my perspective, there is no contest – Crash is a much better movie than Brokeback. Apart from the gay aspect of Brokeback, its plot is otherwise fairly pedestrian. I’ve seen this story before – having a gay backstory doesn’t change the underlying plot. Crash, on the other hand, is more unique and far more difficult to pull of seamlessly. Grand Canyon did something similar years ago, but not nearly as well as Crash. I haven’t seen Capote yet, which was also nominated, but between Crash and Brokeback, it’s not even close.

Overall, I would recommend Brokeback. It’s a good flick, and it’s well done. As long as you go in understanding you’re watching a love story, and expecting a lot of character development and exposition, you’ll enjoy it. Sit back, put your feet up, and indulge.

Gouging Revisited

2006-04-23T02:29:00.000-04:00

Can you believe these gas prices? It’s like deja vu all over again. As I’m sure you recall, we’ve been down this road before, most recently right after Katrina last fall. I had a few things to say back then.

Now, it’s more of the same, but this time, the supposed reasons for the increases are even more vague, and the outrage less defined, which means that the oil companies will simply get away with it again. Yeah, I mean the $3 to $4 per gallon gasoline.

Thing is, OPEC today said that there is no shortage. (You have to really look for the fine print in the news stories to pick that one up, by the way, but it’s there.) The media says that the skyrocketing prices are due to some vague, ambiguous, and undefined fears related to the continuing situation in Iran, and the continuing unrest in Iraq, and the continuing situation in the Middle East, and blah-dee-blah. What’s all that mean? It means that there is no real basis for these prices. It’s a manufactured situation that just happens to coincide with the summer driving season, when oil consumption in the US goes up as more people drive, fly and otherwise travel to their vacation destinations.

Don’t you get the feeling that last fall was just a test run by the oil companies? They took advantage of the situation created by Katrina to see what they could get away with as far as gas prices were concerned. Gas prices hovered in the $3 to $4 range for a month or so, and guess what? People kept buying it because they had to. Now, those prices don’t seem so outrageous because we’ve already faced them. The winter time lull was just temporary. Now that Big Oil knows we’ll keep paying, they can charge what they want to because they know they can get away with it.

Actually, the fact is that, apart from the world unrest that’s been blamed for the price jumps, Big Oil has chosen this time to voluntarily undertake a change in how they produce and blend gasoline. Not to get too technical, but MTBE is an additive that oil refineries had been using in their gasolines. Now, all of the refineries – all of them – just coincidentally decided, at the same time, to voluntarily stop using MTBE in favor of ethanol. MTBE has been linked to groundwater pollution; ethanol has not. Now, Congress has not mandated this change, nor is there any reason to make the change. But, in order to use ethanol, you have to have ethanol, and guess what, some reports suggest that there is not enough ethanol to go around.

Now, regardless of whether that fact is true or not, the mere suggestion that there’s not enough ethanol to go around is enough to spur unrest in the powers that trade in commodities like oil. Throw a little fear into the law of supply and demand – like there might not be enough supply – and you get to where we are now. If folks believe that there’s not enough ethanol to mix with the gasoline, there won’t be enough gasoline. Speculators will then drive the price of oil up, and we all pay. And you can trace that all back to Big Oil because it elected to make the change to ethanol, it elected to do so at this most opportune time (for Big Oil), and it elected to do it without ensuring that there was enough ethanol to meet the need. (By the way, the ethanol producers say it’s not their fault and that there is plenty of ethanol, as you can see here.)

Oh, one more thing about ethanol, which adds to the problem of ensuring that there’s enough to go around. Ethanol is generally not transported via pipeline. Why? Well, the primary reason is that ethanol absorbs waters and impurities that can be find in standard pipelines. See, water and rust particles exist in pipelines generally used to transport gasoline. Gasoline traveling the pipeline by itself won’t ordinarily pick up the water and the particles in it because of the chemical composition of the gasoline. However, when you blend gasoline and ethanol, the chemical reaction of the blend creates a “scouring” action within the pipeline that can pick up the water and particles in the water, thus creating dirty fuel that will reduce engine performance. Betcha didn’t know that, did you? But you know who did? Big Oil. (I mean, if I can find it out in 10 minutes on the internet, I’m guessing Big Oil might have had an inkling, don’t you think?) This is a fascinating little piece about the problems in transporting ethanol blends, in case you’re interested.

What does all that mean? Well, before you transport ethanol blended fuel, you’ve either got to clean the pipeline, or transport by tanker truck. And guess what? Each method takes time, and if it takes a day or two longer than expected, the result is: no fuel to certain areas. That’s one of the reasons you’re hearing about spot shortages in places here and there. They’ve got to transport the new blend of gasoline – the blend that no one made Big Oil undertake – to places that used to receive MTBE blends. Human nature being what it is, once word of some spot shortages occur, people panic, and panic buying occurs, either in the commodity markets, or in your local gas station.

I’m still thrashing about for something meaningful and effective that I could do to resolve this situation, or expose it for the sham it is, but I got nothing. That’s a very frustrating feeling, because I like to believe that the good guys can win battles like this. But things like the internet “boycotts” suggested by some good-hearted but unrealistic folks are only a blip on the radar. The reality is, we’ve all got to drive, and after a one- or two-day boycott, we’ve got to start buying gas again.

I figure the controls have to come from the top and, much as I hate to call for government intervention, perhaps some sort of temporary federally mandated cap on prices is in order (especially since the feds certainly aren’t pushing for any other meaningful resolution or alternative energy sources). We certainly can’t trust Big Oil to police itself, and there aren’t any other realistic alternatives that I can see. But I’m always open to suggestion.

Walt Disney World: Day Seven -- Homeward Bound

2006-04-11T13:50:00.000-04:00

Friday finally was upon us, and with it, the realization that we had no days left on our Park Hopper Passes. Bummer. But, I guess we were ready to go home. Even though we could have stayed longer, it felt as if it was time to go.

We did have one more Disney stop to make, though. We had to pick up a few last minute things in Downtown Disney. We wanted a few small things for family and friends, and we also wanted some t-shirts and . . .well, stuff. . . for ourselves.

I’d been debating about a Grumpy Football Jersey I’d seen in the Team Mickey store (which is a sporting goods store that blends Mickey and ESPN in a very interesting mix of clothing and accessories). It really was a sharp Jersey – but I’m still frugal to a fault. I finally decided that I couldn’t justify the $59 price tag for a jersey I knew would hang in the closet for 99% of the time. However, I did find a hooded Grumpy sweatshirt at the Disney store for about $5 less, that I could justify because I wear this kind of sweatshirt all of the time. (I know – I’m a little crazy on the topic of spending, but it’s just the way I am.)

Anyway, after about an hour, we made our final purchases and checked out. Sweatshirts, cups, hats, t-shirts, and other assorted things. Yeah, we're definitely tourists! Back at the car, we had no problem integrating everything into our bags. It was then off to Thrifty to return our car.

The return was absolutely seamless, as was the trip back to the airport. Even at the airport, things went smoothly, although the JetBlue counters were far busier on this Friday afternoon than they had been on the Saturday morning when we’d left the week before.

We had no difficulty checking both of the rifles Jake had purchased. We’d asked for a big box when we got the first one in the Magic Kingdom, and both rifles Jake got fit into the one box. The airline then taped it up, tagged it, and checked it through, and I’m happy to say they arrived in one piece and continue to be used today.

Everything else went smoothly as well. Baggage claim, no problem. I’d called for the van from the off-site parking while still on the plane and, even though we had about a 15 minute wait, they came and got us and took us back to the off-site facility, where I paid our tab while Sue and Jake got into our warmed-up-and-ready-to-go car. (And how sweet that was on a cold January evening!)

Overall, Disney World is a wonderful vacation that I recommend whole-heartedly. I’ve tried to sprinkle tips and ideas throughout the experiences I detail in each of the days I wrote about, but to sum up briefly, here’s a couple tips that are invaluable:

1) Travel during Disney’s low season. Ideally, go between Thanksgiving and the week before Christmas, or from about January 5 through February 10 (leaving out Martin Luther King, Jr. Day weekend). The lines are generally short, the hotel and airfare prices are down, and you can often get same-day reservations, especially at lunch, at some of the busiest restaraunts.

2) Use the Fast Pass option to minimize wait times. Even during the low season, you’ll still have an occasional line (like on Soarin’ or Everest). The Fast Pass gives you the option to do other things, and the shorter line is usually significantly shorter.

3) Take advantage of the Disney Photo Pass, and get the $99 CD to get some good quality pictures. It’s a good investment.

4) Buying your park passes online from Disney saves you money. They’ll mail the tickets to you in plenty of time for the trip. The Park Hopper option is worth the money, especially if you like to jump around, as we do. You don’t need it, but it’s nice to have.

5) Don't overplan. By that, I mean, leave things a little loose, like meals and park arrival time, so that you don't put too much pressure on yourself. If you feel compelled to get to the park the moment they open the gates, and to a lunch reservation, and to a dinner reservation, and to the closing show by a specific time every single day, you'll be putting pressure on yourself that may spoil your trip. Enjoy! Take your time! It's a fun place! Savor it! The only time critical things are the Kilimanjaro Safari ride (if you want to see the animals, you have to ride it either early or late) and the end-of-day shows at Epcot, MGM, and Magic Kingdom. Other than that, have fun!

Thanks for taking the time to read this, and all of the other pages. Your comments here, and on every page, are welcome, and I’ll be happy to respond to any questions as well.

Have fun, and get yourself to Orlando!

Walt Disney World: Day Six -- Giving the Park-Hopper Option a Work-Out

2006-04-11T13:08:00.000-04:00

Last Day. I couldn’t help but sigh as I woke up on Thursday. Sure, we still had a full day at the World. But it was the last one. Still, I was very excited as we approached MGM, even if it was for the last time this trip.

As I mentioned, on Tuesday, the Disney reservations folks had re-scheduled our lunch at the Sci-Fi Drive-In for Thursday, so we figured we’d start the day at MGM, eat lunch, then head over to Epcot to hit the Pavilions in the World Showcase that we’d missed. After that, I had noticed that they were doing the Spectro-Magic parade on Thursday evenings at the Magic Kingdom at 7:00, followed by the fireworks at 8:00. It sounded like a good itinerary to me!

First things first at MGM. Sue and I wanted to do the Rock ‘n’ Roller coaster one more time, so we headed down Sunset once again. As we walked, Sue and I gently raised the prospect of – perhaps – trying the Tower of Terror together, with Jake. Jake kept telling us that he didn’t “think so,” but I could tell that, inside, he was trying to talk himself into it. So, as we walked through the line at the Coaster, we said he could do the exact same thing at the Tower: walk through the line, and then, if he changed his mind, bail out at the end. We also drew some comparison between the Tower and a similar – though far smaller – dropping ride he’d tried on the Boardwalk in Point Pleasant. By the time Sue and I got through the coaster again, Jake was about three-quarters convinced that he would at least do the line for the Tower.

Well, the Coaster was tremendous – again. It is such a great ride! We could have done it a few more times, and would have, if Jake was interested in riding it with us. But we didn’t like making him wait, so after the ride, we wandered in the general direction of the Tower. And – lo and behold – Jake said he’d do the line with us. So in we went.

As I mentioned before, they do a great job setting the ride up, and make it especially eerie for a ten-year-old who’s still not convinced he should be doing this. Jake was like a frayed nerve ending, all jittery and jumpy by the time we got to the “basement” of the hotel, where they load the ride, and I could see that he was torn. He really wanted to try the Tower – and he also wanted to run screaming from the place – all at the same time.

The “basement” of the hotel has some very real-looking boilers chugging away near the freight elevators, where the cars in which you ride are located. There is definitely an ominous feeling in the basement as you wind your way through. To his credit, Jake was very brave. We got to the loading area for our car, and Jake was just about ready to ask to step out, but something kept him in line, and we boarded together. (I should point out that Sue was not really looking forward to this ride either, but she was doing it so that Jake would do it. She was not at all sure she wanted any part of the “dropping and falling” thing. But she didn’t even bat an eye as we walked through the line.)

We had seats in the back row, and as we listened to the instructions and belted ourselves in, Jake finally cracked. “I think I want to change my mind,” he said. Sue and I looked at each other, then at him, and said, “Sorry buddy, but it’s too late now.” He gritted his teeth and settled in, clamping his hand on my forearm.

We went through the build up, as the elevator raised up through the floors. Then, at the top, as the windows open, and the car drops, I heard Sue scream “This is AWESOME!” and I felt Jake’s grip tighten on my arm. My stomach finally caught up with the rest of my body, and I looked down at Jake, his entire face squeezed shut at the thrill, and the fear, and the fun, and it really was awesome!

We finally came to rest, and Sue and I couldn’t have been more proud. Seriously. This was a huge thing for Jake and he really overcame his fear by riding a ride he really, really, really didn’t want to ride. It was good for him, and we were so glad that he’d done it. As his reward, he got a Tower of Terror t-shirt, which he still wears proudly to school about twice a month.

After recovering from the Tower, we wandered up and down the streets, visiting some shops, and taking in some of the sights that are unique to MGM. For instance, we got a great shot of Jake standing in San Francisco.

We also got a shot of me, making like Gene Kelly.

And we got Sue and Jake standing on a New York-ish street corner. (Check out the store name!)

It was a great morning at MGM, capped by a very tasty lunch at the Sci Fi. If you haven’t been there, make sure that you go. While you can request table service (and you should if you want to face your dining companions), most of the fun comes from sitting in a mock up of a 1950s sedan, pulled in at a drive in theater. Everyone faces the screen, where you can see trailers from a couple dozen “B” and “C” movies that you’ve probably never heard of while you order and eat your food. Mixed in with the trailers are those famous “Intermission” clips that anyone over 40 used to see at the drive in between reels. I actually remembered having seen some of those from my drive in days as a kid.

The food itself is good; plentiful, basic, and well prepared. No, it’s not gourmet by any stretch – but it’s precisely what you expect, and it’s not unreasonably priced, considering where you are and all. The Sci Fi Drive-In is well worth a stop.

After lunch, we knew the time had come to say good-bye to MGM. We wanted to get to Epcot, both to visit the pavilions we’d missed, but also so that we could get our photo CD. (This is the CD of all of the photos that the Disney photographers took of us at various locations during the day. Check out my explanation of this tip on Day Two: Magic Kingdom, if you missed it.)

When we got to Epcot (at about 3:00, and we parked right in row 2!), we walked right up to the Kodak Photo Kiosk, on the left side of the big golf ball. They were very nice, and very accommodating and, as I mentioned, it’s well worth your while to get your Disney Photo Pass photos done here. We then headed out to hit some things we’d missed.

Things like “Honey, I Shrunk the Audience,” which is the 3D movie for Epcot. As I’ve mentioned a couple of times elsewhere, the best 3D movie in Walt Disney World is Mickey’s Philharmagic, in the Magic Kingdom. I’d say this one is the worst. Oh, don’t get me wrong, it’s not horrible. But after seeing the other three, there was nothing new here. On top of that, it felt dated and tired to me. If you have to skip one 3D movie, this is the one to skip. (My gut tells me that this movie may not be long for the World, but I’m just speculating here.)

We then took the path around the World Showcase Lagoon, starting in Canada. We visited each of the Pavilions in turn, mostly just to check them out, but also, to help Jake complete a collection he’d started towards the end of Wednesday. He’d discovered that they have “pressed penny” machines all over Disney World. (The “pressed penny” machine takes your penny – along with two of your quarters – feeds the penny into a press and imprints a design of some sort by flattening the penny with a “die” bearing that imprint. You’ve probably seen them at various tourist attractions and rest stops around the country.)

Well, as you might expect, Disney’s pressed penny machines are more than just pressed penny machines. Each machine imprints only certain images on your pressed penny. For instance, the machine in the train station in the Animal Kingdom has one set of designs, while other machines have others. Each of the world pavilions in Epcot has its own unique machine, with unique, country-specific designs in each machine. Somewhere along the line, Jake decided he liked these pressed pennies, so we began looking for machines so he could collect them. It was actually kind of fun looking for the machines. We not only got to explore all the nooks and crannies of the various pavilions, but we got Jake some unique – and inexpensive – souvenirs from each country. (Not surprisingly, they carry pressed penny collection books in the gift shops – just so you know.)

Anyway, not only did we hit Morocco, France, England, Canada, and Japan, which we’d skipped before, but we went back and hit the other pavilions so that we could collect pennies. (By the way, if you’re collecting the pennies, you won’t find a penny presser in either China or Japan, for reasons that we never learned. However, the penny presser with the Japan theme is in the gift shop in Showcase Plaza, and the China penny presser is over in the International Gateway (which we never got to)). As we cruised through, we heard a Beatles sound-alike band wrapping up a live show in England, picked up some neat things in Japan, and just had a great time strolling around the world on our last afternoon at Epcot.

We spent about two hours strolling, until about six o’clock. We knew that we should leave about then if we wanted to catch the SpectroMagic parade at 7:00. So, we reluctantly took our last look around as we trudged towards the exit. We’d had such a good time, and we were all sad to go, but we still had more to see.

We hopped into the car and headed back towards the Magic Kingdom. I was actually very happy that we were finishing where we’d started this trip. The Magic Kingdom had been so much fun on the first day, I wanted to catch the spirit of the place one more time before we left. I also really wanted to see the fireworks one more time.

We were able to get parking right up near the transportation center, then hopped the monorail into the park once again. We hit Main Street USA at about 6:45 and found room to stand right in front of Tony’s (where we’d taken our first picture of Jake on the trip!) We met a nice young family and chatted while we waited for the parade to start.

The parade itself was very cool. It was the first time I’d seen it, and it is truly amazing how many different ways they light things up. (I know that lighting things up creatively doesn’t sound very impressive, but it is. You have to see it to get it.) I will concede, however, that the parade is a wee bit long. I could have done with about three fewer floats. But otherwise, I was glad we went.

We next did a little shopping along Main Street, something we hadn’t done on Sunday. We took the time to explore the wide variety of Mickified things, which seems endless. Jake wound up getting a neat bobblehead doll of Mickey in a 1930s era football uniform for his dresser. We also looked at, but finally rejected, about 400 different Disney World hats and t-shirts as we worked our way up Main Street towards Cinderella’s Castle and the fireworks. (We were looking for the “perfect” shirt and hat.)

We finally reached the end of the shops, and settled in for the fireworks, just before 8:00 p.m. The show was once again spectacular, only this time, either I blinked and missed her, or there was no Tinkerbell flying into the trees. (Maybe they only do that on weekends?)

At the end of the fireworks, we strolled slowly back down Main Street, taking in the sights and the sounds for one last time. We talked about how special the whole trip was, and what our favorite things had been, and we made sure to notice all of the details of the shops, and the people, and the characters, as we strolled out.

As we passed underneath the train station, towards the gate, I thought I heard Mickey’s voice from above and behind us somewhere. We turned around and there he was: Mickey was standing on the platform above us, saying thank you to everyone for coming, and waving goodbye. It was a really nice touch to our last day.

From here, we headed back to the car. In all the rushing around, we hadn’t taken time to eat dinner yet. As we climbed into the car, we debated about the possibilities – back to Epcot and a shot at something late there? One of the local chains? There was a Buffalo Wild Wings near the hotel. But we finally decided that we were just too beat to stay out any longer, so we settled on the McDonald’s drive-thru near the hotel. We bought some combo meals, headed back to the hotel, and chowed down on some fast food as we unwound. Perhaps it wasn’t the most traditional of final Disney meals, but it was exactly what we needed after five very full days in the park.

Walt Disney World: Day Five -- Animal Kingdom

2006-04-08T18:08:00.000-04:00

Kilimanjaro Safaris. Every book I’d read, and every person we met, said that you’ve got to do the Safari ride first thing in the morning because the animals tend to go into hiding later in the day. (They’re apparently smart enough to avoid the midday heat in Florida.) And the Safari ride was the entire point of Animal Kingdom (at least for us). So, the Safari was our primary goal for Wednesday morning.

Our early evening Tuesday made it easy to get going on Wednesday, and we were at the Animal Kingdom parking lot by 8:30. They opened the gates right around then (about a half-hour early), but we couldn't get right in because I was having ticket problems. The electronic ticket reader wasn’t reading my plastic ticket. Sue and Jake got in no problem, but the machine kept rejecting my ticket. After two or three tries, the Cast Member on the gate sent me over to Guest Relations to sort out what was wrong.

Now, we’d had a pretty smooth trip up to that point, but I found myself getting agitated anyway. The one morning where we actually wanted to be in the park right at 9:00, and that’s the morning I have ticket problems. But, to their credit, the folks in Guest Relations were very helpful, very friendly and, most importantly, very efficient, all of which served to quell my agitation. The gentleman behind the counter scanned my ticket and the computer had no problem with it. He said the main computer was reading it, and it showed that I had two more days on it. He did advise that if I had any other problems with it, I should get a replacement from Guest Relations. He cleared me in less than five minutes, so we were off towards Africa and the Safari.

We got through the Oasis area, just inside the gates, and crossed the first major bridge. Right in front of us, we saw the Tree of Life, the iconic center of the Animal Kingdom park. It is quite impressive (more on that later).

As usual, Disney had the early entry under complete (but gentle) control. Just before Discovery Island, where the Tree is located, they had everyone blocked off by Cast Members and ropes (because the park had not yet “officially” opened). So, we milled about for a bit. At precisely 8:55, a Jeep rolled out, with Minnie, Goofy and Pluto, all dressed in jungle khakis, aboard. They greeted us, wished us a “wild” day in the park, and then finally let us in.

We strode briskly along the path toward Africa and, although we were moving quickly, I couldn’t help but notice the detail with which the Disney folks had recreated what an African town looks like (or at least what is what we would expect it should look like). There were representatives from various African tribes, performing traditional African dances and music, along the streets and in the building. The buildings themselves couldn’t look more authentic, and the detail is amazing. As spot-on as the pavilions are in the World Showcase at Epcot, Disney’s rendition of Africa is Epcot's equal.

We found our way to the Safari and had no more than a five minute wait to get into a land rover and venture across Disney’s African savannah. It is an amazing ride, actually. It’s not like any safari park you’ve ever been to. You’re as close to on-top-of the animals as you can be this side of the Atlantic.

Oh, sure, you’ve got to deal with a kind of hokey “chase-the-poachers” back-story while on the ride, which you really don’t need. With such amazing animals to view, the thrill in seeing them is very real. You don’t need to manufacture thrills by chasing imaginary poachers. But that’s just me.

The ride itself is about 15 minutes, and you really do see everything: elephants, lions, impalas, giraffes, hippos; you name it, you’ll probably see it. It was a great ride and, if you’re interested in wildlife like this at all, you don’t want to miss this one.

Equally wonderful is the Pangani Forest Trail, which is a walking trail that you can catch right after the Safari ride. This walking tour is along protected paths (that don’t appear protected at all) that wind through the “jungle. You don’t actually run the risk of being mauled as you stroll along, but the feeling of the trail is open and close to the animals. And you do see some amazing animals, the coolest of which are the troops of gorillas. If you take your time and linger by the windows, you’ll see the gorillas wandering around, congregating, playing, and traveling over the hills.

In addition, there are also some amazing birds, some meercats, and an area where you are supposed to be able to see hippos (although I didn’t see any here). The key here is spending the time to look around for the animals you want to see. Sure you can zip through this area, but you’ll miss a lot if you do. The Pangani is worth a nice, leisurely visit.

Not so Rafiki’s Planet Watch, at least in my opinion. There’s nothing really wrong with it, but it’s not terribly exciting. In addition, it’s difficult to get to because the only way to Planet Watch is the Wildlife Express train that runs from the end of the Pangani Trail and connects to the Planet Watch area. You can’t get to it or leave it any other way, so if you want to leave, you’ve stuck until the next train. In addition, depending on how many people are there, you could be in for a very long wait. Don’t get me wrong; there’s a cute little petting zoo, but there’s nothing in the petting zoo that you wouldn’t find in any city zoo in the country. There’s some information about conservation, and animals, and their habitats. There is also a presentation by some of the Cast Members stationed here expressly to work with the animals. However, unless you (or your kids) are really into the animals, I wouldn’t recommend Planet Watch, or its train ride. It’s just too much of a hassle to get into and out of the Planet Watch area to take the time to do it.

When we finally got “back” to Africa, we headed down to Camp Minnie-Mickey. This area is one of two sections of the Animal Kingdom that I don’t really get. (The other is DinoLand USA, which I’ll get to in a minute.) I don’t get them because they seem as if they’ve been shoe-horned into the Animal Kingdom as filler, rather than as part of the overall theme. For instance, Camp Minnie-Mickey is described in the Disney Guide as an “Adirondack Mountain Retreat” (as in "summer camp"). But there’s really nothing here, except a show pavilion, and several small character areas where you can meet and greet whichever characters show up. But animal stuff? In the Adirondacks? They could have called it the Animal Kingdom show area, because that’s really what they use it for. But I guess someone thought that an Adirondack Retreat fit the theme.

Anyway, we headed over towards Camp Minnie-Mickey to see the Festival of the Lion King. Before we got there, though, we crossed the bridge between Africa and Discovery Island, where we caught a spectacular view of Expedition Everest. When we visited, Everest was still a week away from its “soft open.” But at least we saw the mountain. I’ve heard that the ride is wonderful. If the ride is half as amazing as the view of the mountain, it’s gotta be great!

As for the Festival of the Lion King, it’s a fun show, and especially so for the younger kids in your group. It is, of course, based on the music from the Lion King, and the actors, and dancers, and characters are all energetic and engaging. It was a lot of fun to watch, and the kids won’t be bored. (The other show in Camp Minnie-Mickey is Pocahontas and Her Forest Friends, which we didn’t see. This seemed themed for much younger kids, which is why we skipped it.) Overall, the Festival is a good experience, and worth your time.

After the Festival, it was time for lunch, so we headed towards the Rainforest Café, where we had 1:00 p.m. reservations. Now, as I’m sure you know, the Rainforest is a national chain that is not associated with Disney. Before I got to the Rainforest, I thought that it was a natural match with the Animal Kingdom. But going to the Rainforest right out of Disney is like going from the sublime to the ridiculous. Now, we all know we’re not really visiting Africa, or Asia, when we visit the Animal Kingdom, but the Disney folks are such masters of their craft that they make it seem so real, you can actually find yourself believing (if only a little bit) that you’re actually in Africa. The Rainforest Café – not so much. It’s cheesy, artificial, and a vivid exercise in trying too hard. Disney is subtle and earnest. The Rainforest is like an out-of-tune brass band. Disney Cast Members are friendly and dedicated. Rainforest workers are simply employees.

In addition, while the food at the Rainforest is good, it's way too plentiful. By that, I mean that the portions are humongous – Cheesecake Factory humongous. This is actually a detriment, and left me with bad feelings about the place, for a number of reasons. We had no idea how big their portions were, so we ordered appetizers and meals. The waitress could have said that you won’t need both (which happens in many places), but she didn’t do that. Instead, she advised us to order a sampler platter so we could try all of the appetizers in addition to our meals. That was completely unnecessary and, as a result, we had a lot of leftovers that simply went to waste because we had no place to put them. Even worse, we were over-stuffed for our afternoon, which meant for an uncomfortable couple of hours of trying to walk off the effects of our meal.

Anyway, the meal was okay, but we left feeling bloated and sleepy. As a result, we wandered over to the Tree of Life primarily so we could find a place to sit and digest. We wound up heading into the Tree, where they show “It’s Tough to be a Bug,” the 3D movie at the Animal Kingdom. This is a pretty good movie, too, and I place it as the second best movie at Disney World. But it doesn’t come close to Mickey’s Philharmagic, which is head-and-shoulder better than the other three 3D movies combined. But Bug is good, fun, entertaining, and with a few cool surprises, so make sure you sit up and pay attention!

Also, the Tree itself is an amazing structure. On your way in, and on your way out, make sure you study the Tree carefully. You’ll see a wide variety of animals carved into the trunk of the tree, all the way up the tree to the top. It’s really amazing to see. This Tree is a prime example of the workmanship and craftsmanship of the Disney Imagineers, and I recommend savoring it.

From the Tree, we wandered along the road bordering the Discovery River, towards Asia. Mount Everest was a nice little landmark, and we were able to get a relatively close up view of the Mountain as we walked.

The walk along the Discovery River was nice, too, because we had the chance to see the different style between Disney’s Asia and Disney’s Africa. As always, Disney’s attention to detail is remarkable. It truly felt as if we were walking through somewhere in Southeast Asia, with every detail, right down to the bicycles parked in front of the faux-train station, being absolutely perfect.

We were not, however, as impressed with Asia as we’d been with Africa. It may have been a combination of still being over-stuffed from lunch. Maybe it was the heat, because the temperature did begin to climb into the low seventies that day. Maybe we were just tired of animals. But we didn’t like Asia all that much.

Oh, there were some nice attractions, don’t get me wrong. We did the Maharaja Jungle Trek, which is another protected walking tour, and was pretty impressive. We saw tigers up close and personal, and more fruit bats than I ever knew existed in the world. There were more exotic birds, and some of those Kimono dragons, too. But about half-way through, we were kind of animal-ed out.

We didn’t do the Kali River Rapids. Although it was getting warmer, it was still only about 72 degrees, and with night coming early in January, we didn’t want to be walking around in damp clothes for the next few hours, and from all indications, you do get wet on the River Rapids. Oh, it looks like fun, but, just like Splash Mountain, we just didn’t feel like getting wet. As a result, after the Jungle Trek, and without the Rapids, there’s not a heckuva lot more to do in Asia. (Of course, now with Everest open, there’s a very BIG reason to visit Asia, but even considering that, there’s not a lot.)

The only thing we had left on our map was DinoLand, USA. This is the other part of the park that I just don’t get. The guide map trumpets it as a celebration of our “fascination with dinosaurs.” But the truth is, it reminds me of every kitschy road-side attraction and stretch of the boardwalk in Point Pleasant, New Jersey, that I’ve ever been to. There are game booths (that are not free) and food stands (also not free) and the classic carnival games (from basketball shooting to water gun races, also not free). Unlike most of Disney World, this section of the park has a definite been-there-done-that feel to it.

Like everywhere else, though, there were some things that were fun, despite the well-worn feeling of the whole area. The Tarzan Rocks Show sounded good, but we learned after we arrived that it had completed its last performance the Saturday before we got there. Bad timing on our part, because the show sounded pretty good. (Still haven’t figured out why it would be in DinoLand, but that’s another question for another day.)

The Primeval Whirl is a neat little roller coaster, very much like the Mouse you find on many Boardwalks and in many State Fairs around the country (that mini roller coaster, with four-person cars on a two-story tall track). The twist is that the cars actually rotate on an axis as they travel around the track. Unfortunately for us, in our overstuffed states, we didn’t want to take a chance on a whirling, spinning, uppy-down type of ride. So, we had to pass. But if you like coasters, it looks like a fun one.

We did ride the DINOSAUR ride, which is one of the traditional Disney-esque conveyance-on-a-track-through-a-dark-space rides. The twist on this one is that you’re in a pretty realistic seeming Land Rover, you move along at a pretty good clip, and the dinosaurs are kinda scary-ish. It’s a nice little ride, which must get busy at times because it’s set up for the fast pass. (We didn’t need it, though. Our wait was five minutes.)

There are a couple other carnival rides, which you’ve seen before, and a play area called the boneyard, which is, essentially, a dinosaur graveyard – for the kids. (This is another weird idea that I don’t quite get). The bottom line here is that DinoLand is a well-worn concept, that, surprisingly, falls well below Disney’s standards. If you feel pressed for time, in my opinion, this is the one section of all of the parks that you can skip without feeling as if you missed anything.

After completing our visit to DinoLand, we wanted to head back to Africa, because we’d seen some souvenirs we wanted to buy. However, we had to hustle, because it was 4:00 pm, and the Animal Kingdom closes at 5:00.

We would have made it in plenty of time, if not for Mickey’s Jammin’ Jungle Parade, which started promptly at – you guessed it – 4:00 p.m. We were able to get to Africa. However, we couldn’t cross the street to get into the shop we wanted to visit. (I know – I asked if we could sneak through a gap in the parade. Apparently, cutting through the parade practice frowned upon by the powers that be. Who knew?)

Anyway, we did discover that if you want to see the Parade, you don’t have to grab seats on Discovery Island, or anywhere else, because the parade loops around and ends where it started. So if you wait until after the parade starts, and clears out of Africa, you’ll have your choice of seats, either by the Tusker House, or the Dawa Bar, or the Kusafiri Coffee shop, at about 4:20 to 4:30. At about that time, the Parade comes right back through Africa before it breaks up. We got some great close up photos (all taken by Jake!), and it was actually a nice way to finish our stay at Animal Kingdom. Well, that, and shopping.

The shopping was kinda neat, if you like the African motif. (We do.) They have some nice things in the shops in Africa and (here’s another tip) they are less expensive than those at the little Outpost in Epcot that’s between Germany and China.

From here, with the park beginning to close down, we wandered towards the exit. On the way out, we found Baloo, from Jungle Book, signing autographs and posing for pictures. Jake was more than happy to add Baloo to his book.

All in all, it was an enjoyable day at Animal Kingdom. However, much as we liked the park, I can honestly tell you that, if you are at Disney World and can only see three parks, this is the one to skip. It’s nice and all, and there are some special moments here as well as some amazing things to see. BUT: in my opinion, you can skip it if you’re pressed for time. Now, keep in mind – I’m writing this without having experienced either the River Rapids ride, or the new Everest ride. If you’re a ride-a-holic, and have to hit all the big rides, you obviously have to come to Animal Kingdom now, especially in light of Everest. But, if the rides aren’t the be-all-and-end-all for you, and you’re heart’s not set on seeing the animals, the Animal Kingdom is skipable.

After finishing the Kingdom, it was only 5:30. We decided to head back to the hotel for a little break before returning to Epcot to catch the Illuminations show. Because we didn’t have dinner reservations, we also decided to grab a quick dinner at Sunshine Seasons, in The Land. Our thought was to combine dinner with another ride on Soarin’ before settling in for Illuminations, which is exactly what we did.

We arrived at Epcot at about 7:15 and headed for the Land. The wait for Soarin’ was over 90 minutes, so we got Fast Passes, which gave us a window between 8:15 and 9:00. (Well, we tried to get Fast Passes. Sue and Jake got theirs, but my ticket started acting up again. I’d gotten into Epcot with no problem, but the Fast Pass machine wouldn’t read it. Fortunately, the Cast Member on duty gave me a Fast Pass before shutting down the machine for the night.) We thus had an hour before we could ride. We used that hour to enjoy a leisurely meal at Sunshine Seasons.

The food at Seasons was adequate, although a bit pricey for the type and quality. It’s cafeteria fare, which was generally simple but largely satisfying. We lingered over our food for a while as we waited for our Fast Pass time and just enjoyed the fact that we were hanging out in Disney World. It was a very pleasant meal.

At 8:15, we hit the Fast Pass line (with the wait in the regular line still being 90 minutes). After a five minute wait, we were on the ride once again. It was just as great the third time!

We then sauntered out to the World Showcase Lagoon and squeezed in along the fence just before Canada. We staked out a position between a couple of families stationed along the fence just before you get to Canada and waited for the show.

Illuminations itself is an amazing show, and the choreography of lights, lasers, and explosions is very impressive. Words cannot adequately describe the show; "amazing" barely scratches the surface. A lot of folks were saying that this was their third time at Illuminations on this trip because they loved the show so much. I enjoyed it too, and it is exceptionally well done. However, I wouldn’t rank it above Fantasmic at MGM, or the fireworks at the Magic Kingdom. Illuminations comes in third in my rankings – a strong third, but third nonetheless.

This day also showed us the true benefit of the Hopper option on our admission tickets. We were able to have a full day at Animal Kingdom, take a break, and then dine and enjoy a couple of hours at Epcot. It was a nice day overall.

Speaking of the admission tickets, after the Illuminations show, on the way out of Epcot, I saw that there was no line at Guest Services. I figured that, because we were going to be doing a lot of hopping on our last day, I’d best get my hinky admission ticket squared away.

The folks in guest services were extremely helpful. They replaced my little plastic card with a cardboard ticket like those you get at the ticket booths on the day of admission. The only unfortunate part (for me) was that I was unable to keep my little plastic ticket as a memento. Disney’s accounting folks needed it to justify the swap. So, with a sigh, I gave up my plastic card for an easy-to-use ticket for the next day.

We left the park that night, happily tired, and grateful that we still had one more day left at Disney World. We were looking forward to the next day, when we planned on hopping all over to do things we wanted to do again, and try a few things we missed.

Walt Disney World: Day Four -- MGM Studios

2006-03-20T17:24:00.000-05:00

No alarms for Tuesday. We decided to sleep in and make it an easy day. As it turns out, we were up and out by 9:45 anyway, but we didn’t put any pressure on ourselves to get out by a particular time, and without that pressure (self-imposed or not), our morning seemed far more stress free.

We rolled up to MGM at about 10:00. Once again, there was plenty of parking, and we had no trouble grabbing a tram to the gate. The forecast for Tuesday was for 60 degrees, with the possibility of showers, but the day looked bright and clear as we entered the park.

The park seemed far different to me from the time I was there in 1992. I didn’t remember Mickey’s magician’s hat being so prominent as the focal point in the center of the park. And, of course, the Tower of Terror, looming off to the right, was totally new to me. We were all very eager to get into the park!

The Lights! Motors! Action! Stunt Show was our target attraction today – we’d heard so many absolutely wonderful things about the show, so we didn’t want to miss it. According to the schedule, the first show was at 10:45, so we had about 30 minutes to get there. We walked past Star Tours on the way to the stunt show, and with both Jake and me being huge Star Wars fans, we decided to fill the thirty minutes with a quick trip to the moons of Endor.

Star Wars fan or not, this simulator type ride still holds up and is very enjoyable all these years after it was first introduced. The ride is very well done, and seems very realistic. It takes some of the best scenes from the original three movies, and some new footage, and puts you in the middle of the picture. It’s a very enjoyable experience, and it really impressed Jake. We wound up riding it a total of four times during our visits to MGM, and each time was a lot of fun. (Seat Tip: As usual, seats in the middle are better, so try not to be first in line as they load the ride, if you can help it. Also, seats in the back of the 40-person cabin give you a better experience than seats up front.)

From here, after ushering Jake through the Star Wars shop with promises of a return later in the day, we hustled up to the Stunt Show. We got there just at 10:45, and it was packed. However, we managed to get great seats for the show, about three rows up on the right hand side. The show itself is nothing short of amazing. It’s cars. It’s motorcycles. It’s guns. It’s explosions. It's fire. It’s stunts. It’s guys falling off of buildings. It’s a lot of action and a lot of fun and it’s something that you simply don’t want to miss. This show is great!

After the Stunt Show, there were only two other things we definitely wanted to do at the park – well, three if you count the Tower of Terror, although I was the only one of us who really wanted to do the Tower. Sue and I didn’t want to miss the Rock n’ Roller Coaster, and none of us wanted to miss Fantasmic, the laser light show at the end of the day. Apart from those things, we were just going to play it by ear, and fit in what we fit in. MGM is small enough so that, on an uncrowded day, you can pretty much wander around and do things as you happen upon them. That’s exactly what we did.

We cruised over to the Rock n’ Roller Coaster first. To get there, of course, you have to walk along MGM’s version of Sunset Boulevard, which is kinda cool. There are great shops, with movie and studio themes (there's one dedicated solely to villains), and great props all over, from vintage cars to classic store fronts. It’s really a neat experience walking down a Hollywood street from yesteryear.

Of course, looming at the end of Sunset is the Tower of Terror. It’s quite an impressive sight, to be sure. And the screams that float down from the tower add a certain ambiance to the area at the end of the block. But more on all that later.

As we turned left at the end of Sunset, towards the coaster, Sue and I were both excited, but Jake was a bit nervous. He wasn’t sure that we meant it when we said that we were not going to make him ride the coaster, and he kept saying, “You’re sure I don’t have to ride it, right?” Of course, we had no intention of making him ride the coaster; we did, however, want to give him every opportunity to try it. But he was having no part of it. “It’s got loop-dee-loops!” which was all of the explanation we really needed.

The set up for the coaster is great. You enter a giant record company studio, and you see exhibits of all of the “stars” for the company as you walk through. You ultimately make your way into an observation area for a “live” recording seesion, where you see Aerosmith just before they head out to a show. It’s exceptionally well done, and your exit from the studio to your limo-coaster is way cool.

Jake was able to go along for the whole pre-ride tour because there’s an exit from the ride right before you enter the loading area for the coaster. (The exit takes you right into the gift shop, right by the exit from the ride, so older kids -- and the more faint-hearted family members -- who don’t want to ride can wait right there for you.) Meanwhile, you can get in line and start filling in the seats for the limo. You can request front or back seat, so don’t be shy: Ask the Cast Member for the seat you want, and they'll direct you to that section of the loading area to wait in (at least they do during the low season; I suspect they try to keep the line moving faster when it's busier). If you decide to wait for front seats (and you should, if you can), the line takes a little longer, but it’s worth it. As coaster aficionado’s know, front seats, back seats, and middle seats all give you a different kind of ride, and some rides are better front-seat rides while others are better back-seat rides. The best ride on the Rock n’ Roller Coaster is front seat – no doubt and without question, so if you’ve got the time and the inclination, get yourself a front seat and enjoy.

The ride itself is amazing. Apart from the fact that you’ve got some great Aerosmith tunes blasting in your head as you settle in, the ride is fantastic. 0 to 60 in 2.8 seconds. Jake’s “loop-dee-loop.” Corkscrew. Fantastic artwork. And a great finish. (Okay, truth be told, it could be a tad longer. But, that’s my complaint with most coasters – too short.) Overall, this is one great ride, and well worth the wait. (To compare, in my opinion, this is far more worthy of a lengthy wait than Mission: Space. The Coaster is worth whatever it takes to get in. Space, to me, is a ride to ride if you can get in without wasting a lot of time waiting. But that’s just me.) Oh, one more thing. They take a picture of you as you launch (and there’s no other word to describe your departure). You can buy a copy of your picture in the gift shop at the end of the ride, and here’s your tip: try hard to keep your eyes open if you want a good picture!

As we left the Coaster and its gift shop, I asked, casually, if anyone wanted to ride the Tower of Terror. I wasn’t surprised when my request was politely, but hastily, turned down. “But don’t let us stop you,” Sue said. “We’ll wait right here for you.”

I couldn’t pass up the chance to ride the Tower because I’ve heard so much about it over the years. I’ve ridden Free Fall, at Six Flags Great Adventure, which is thrilling in and of itself. But that’s a simple take-you-up-and-drop-you-down ride. I knew the Tower would be special, and it was.

First of all, the decor in the hotel in spot-on. It’s as if you’ve stepped back into a Hollywood hotel, circa 1940, that hasn’t been touched in more than 60 years. Then, there’s a perfect back-story, a la The Twilight Zone, with Rod Serling and the whole shebang. Then, there’s the build-up as they take you up the tower. I don’t want to spoil it, but suffice it to say that it’s not a simple straight-up-and-straight-down ride. It’s up, and down, and up again, and down again. It’s dark, it’s light. The windows in the tower open, and close. It is a thrill-ride-and-a-half, another must-do ride, and it’s well worth the wait. Fast Pass it, or wait for it, but do it. It’s scary, thrilling, exciting, exhilarating – all of these, and more. Do it. You’ll be glad you did.

Sue and Jake were waiting patiently, and I couldn’t wipe the silly grin off my face as I walked up to them. They both knew from my expression what I thought about the ride. I invited them to go, but I didn’t push it on them when they politely refused. But I figured I’d work on them later to see if I could convince them.

The skies were starting to get overcast as we strolled back down Sunset. We decided to try the Great Movie Ride, which was kind of fun. Lots of clips of classic movies in the pre-show, and some fun displays and events during the ride itself. It’s a fun little attraction, great for the movie buff.

By the time we got done with the ride, we discovered that we’d missed one of the rain showers forecast for the day. Rain ponchos and umbrellas had sprung up everywhere, but we were nice and dry, thanks to the Movie Ride. This is one of the little facts of life about a Florida vacation. Some time, some where, you’re going to get rain.

The rain didn’t bother us, though, as we headed off to the Indiana Jones Stunt Show. I remembered this show from my visit in ‘92 and, at the time, it was an amazing show, so I was really looking forward to it. But you know what? Over the years, and especially after having seen the Lights! Motors! Action! Show earlier in the day, the Indiana Jones show feels slow and pretty outdated. There was far more talk and set-up than I remember, and far less action. It also didn’t help that the rain made them cancel that portion of the show involving the attack on the plane, so we got a shortened version of the show (or at least what I remember of the show). It’s still a good show, with stunts and explosions and all. But you can get by with skipping this show, if you want to. If you do want to see it, I would suggest that you go to this show before you do the Lights! Motors! Action! Show. That way, you get the flavor of Indiana Jones, followed by the non-stop action of Lights! Motor! Action!. Doing it the other way makes Indy feel like a let down.

We took a break for lunch next, and this is where our plans had to change. I had originally reserved a table at the Sci Fi Drive-In. However, the day before, while we were strolling through Epcot, I’d gotten a call on my cell phone from Disney. Seems they’d had some plumbing problem (the details of which I really didn’t want to know), which forced them to cancel all reservations for Tuesday. They did give us another reservation for lunch on Thursday, but that left us to our own devices for Tuesday. We wound up grabbing some burgers at the Back Lot Express, which were actually pretty good. The lesson is: don’t fret if you don’t have reservations for every meal. The counter service is pretty darn good, and, in addition, the freedom of eating on the fly made the day seem easier.

After lunch, we planned on taking in “Who Wants to be a Millionaire,” which is a live version of the TV game show, but without Regis or Meredith. On our way down Mickey Avenue towards the studio, we saw one of those little trailers you’d expect to find some Hollywood star in, and who did we see? DONALD! It was Donald Duck! Serendipity! One of the “tough gets” of characters, and there he was! Things work out best when you don’t plan them! Jake grabbed a spot in line, and Donald was wonderfully friendly and nice. We got several pictures with Donald along with his autograph, of course.

Basking in the glow of the newly added signature, we continued on to the Millionaire set. It’s actually pretty neat to walk into the studio. If you’ve ever seen the show, the studio is an exact replica of the TV set. What’s more, every member of the audience has the chance to play for a shot at the “hot seat.” There are buttons on the back of the seat in front of you so that you, too, can play the fastest finger game. However, I discovered that there is a down side to this: with a couple hundred people in the studio, including kids of all ages, it’s entirely possible that someone can randomly rap out the correct sequence of letters more quickly than you can come up with the actual answer to the fastest finger question. So, although it took me only 4 seconds to come up with the answers C-A-B-D, about three other people in the audience had already rapped out C-A-B-D on their keypads in about 2.5 seconds. As a result, the winner was a nine-year old girl, who got to play the game with her mother. (When the studio host asked, the girl said that she’d just randomly pushed buttons as fast as she could, which is how she won. I mention this only because you should know: don’t go in expecting to have a realistic shot at getting into the hot seat. Getting on-stage is simply a crap shoot and, most likely, you’ll just be along for the ride.)

Anyway, the game play in the studio is identical to the TV show, with life lines (although, instead of a friend, you call a random stranger on the streets at MGM), poll the audience, and the 50-50. And, instead of playing for money, you play for Disney character pins, with a Disney cruise as the ultimate prize. Of course, it’s as hard in the studio as it is on TV to get the grand prize, and the girl wound up taking home 10 Disney pins. Also, it appears that they only set aside time for one contestant, so if you decide to do the Millionaire show, plan on enjoying the show, but don’t plan on being a contestant. It’s a lot of fun to watch, and it’s a fun show, so I would recommend making time to check it out. But don’t go planning to play the game, because it’s likely that you won’t.

We next took the Backlot Tour, which I also recommend for a little taste of what it’s like behind the scenes. There’s a little special effects show at the beginning of the tour, for which they take volunteers from the audience. It looks like a lot of fun, but there is a great deal of water involved, so keep that in mind if you decide to step up. After the special effects, the line for the tram ride part of the tour winds through a warehouse with all sorts of neat little props, costumes, and the like. Waiting in the line is almost as interesting as the tram ride itself as you see items that could have been in any number of movies – and probably were!

The backlot itself is also pretty cool, with some behind the scenes looks at the Lights! Motor! Action! Show and a ride through Disaster Canyon. Grab a seat on the left side of the tram, if you can, for the best view of the canyon.

We did skip a few things at MGM. We didn’t do the Beauty and the Beast show, or the Voyage of the Little Mermaid, or One Man’s Dream (although Jake really wanted to see what Walt Disney was all about). We also skipped the Magic of Disney Animation, and the Character Parade through the park as well. We did check out the Honey, I Shrunk the Kids Movie Set, where Jake got to run around through the giant hose, grass, and insects. We also saw the Muppet 3-D movie, which was good, but not nearly as good as Mickey’s PhilharMagic over at the Magic Kingdom. (Unless you’re a muppet nut, or unless you really need to sit down for a few minutes, you can probably skip this movie. If you stay for it, the same “don’t be first in line if you want the best seats” rule applies.)

By this time, it was nearing 6:00 p.m. The only thing left to do was Fantasmic, the end-of-the-day show at MGM that we’d heard was wonderful, so we didn’t want to miss it.

We’d heard that if you wanted to get seats for Fantasmic, you had to plan on getting to the show about an hour before start time. But it was such a beautiful night, and we’d had such good luck with all of the lines, we decided against sitting on the bleachers for an hour. Instead, we headed back to the Rock ‘n’ Roller coaster, where we once again tried to convince Jake that he should try it – to no avail. But we did get the chance to ride the coaster again, which was a nice bonus. This time, we rode in the very last seat, and here’s your tip from that: Don’t. In my experience, the last seat is a decent although different ride from the front seat. However, I didn’t like the last seat at all on the Rock ‘n’ Roller coaster. It seemed too “draggy,” if that makes sense. But, we did get to ride it again, and it was still a very fun, very exciting ride.

After the Rock ‘n’ Roller coaster, we took a leisurely stroll to MGM’s version of the Hollywood Hills Amphitheater. We were fortunate because, in January, we didn’t really have to fight the crowds and we didn’t really have to worry about getting to our seats an hour before the show. I can definitely see this place filling up quickly during the high season, though, so plan your trip accordingly. By the way, you can make dinner reservations at some of the restaurants at MGM that also include preferred seating at Fantasmic. You should explore this option as you’re planning your trip. But if you’re going in the low season, you don’t have to worry about seating so much – we strolled in at about 6:45 for a 7:00 show and found three seats together, about half-way down, without any problem. Of course, your results may vary.

As for the show itself, this is another must-see. It’s a classic Disney good-vs-evil tale, with some of Disney’s best music, a laser-light shows combined with a water show, and some really unique special effects. It is well worth your time, so make sure you make time for it.

After the show, plan on spending a LOT of time getting out of the Amphitheater. As good as the show is, that’s how poorly designed this facility is. There are at least ten sections of bleachers, but only main exit and entrance. Disney is usually very good with its shows, and rides, and the entrances and exits, but the Amphitheater is an exception. They pack a LOT of people in for the show, which is great. But the aisles all funnel towards a bottle neck before they exit and it is painfully (and inexplicably) slow going as you leave. We talked to one of the cast members as we were waiting to exit, and he told us that it takes between 20 and 25 minutes just to get out of the amphitheater at the end of the show. That’s a little crazy to me.

We finally did make it out of the Amphitheater and were able to wander down Sunset Boulevard under the night sky. It was really nice, actually, with all of the marquees lit, and the neon signs flashing.

It was about 7:45 by now, and MGM was closing for the night. We had plenty of time to get over to Epcot, if we wanted to, to catch Illuminations. But we hadn’t eaten, and we really were tired, so we decided to grab dinner away from Disney (I know!) and then call it a night. We knew we would have the next night to do Epcot's Illuminations.

We wound up eating at a Chevy’s mexican restaurant in the Crossroads Shopping Center, across from our hotel. We’re very familiar with Chevy’s, and dinner was actually very good. (Plus, the homemade tortilla chips put the Tostitos chips they used in the San Angel to shame.) We had a nice, leisurely dinner, and then retired to the room for the night. We had The Animal Kingdom scheduled for the next day, and from everything we’d read, we knew we wanted to do the safari ride first thing, because the animals tended to go into hiding as the day grew warmer. So, with images of dancing gorillas in our heads, we settled in for our next-to-last night in Orlando.

Walt Disney World: Day Three -- Epcot

2006-03-11T01:01:00.000-05:00

We actually had an uneventful morning on Monday. Having learned my lesson the day before, I set the alarm clock in the room, and it went off at 6:45. I got myself going, and then got the family going and, as a result, we were at Epcot by 9:10 a.m.

I had learned from my reading (and watching the Disney Information Channel on the hotel TV) that the new ride/attraction, Soarin’ was the number one attraction. Soarin’ was imported from Disneyland in honor of its 50th anniversary and, as the Number One Attraction, I knew that we should make that the first thing on our list of things to do at Epcot.

Soarin’ is located over in the Land pavilion and, after a brisk walk through security and the ticket gates, we were on-line in Soarin’ by 9:20. We only had a ten-minute wait, so we were thrilled.

Let me tell you, it’s an amazing ride. It’s part IMAX movie, part hang-glider, and 100% fun. You do get lifted up in the air for the ride, but don’t let it freak you out. You don’t really go anywhere – but let me tell you, it certainly feels like you are hang-gliding over California. You feel the breeze, you smell the trees, and you feel yourself move. It’s so real, I instinctively lifted my feet as we swooped over the ocean because I thought I was going to get my shoes wet! (By the way, for those hunting for Hidden Mickeys, watch closely – you’ll see one during the ride, if you're alert.) Soarin’ is amazing, and really worth the wait. (Seat Tip: There aren’t really any bad seats, but in Row 1, you won’t have any feet hanging from above you, as you do in Rows 2 and 3. It’s not really terribly distracting, but I did notice it, so I’m just saying....)

After we finished, we wanted to do it again, but by this time, the wait was already up to thirty minutes. Hello, Fast Pass. We got a time for about an hour later, so wandered upstairs to the Circle of Life movie. It’s very informative – and kinda dry. But it did serve the educational purposes we needed for Jake to complete one of his assignments for school, so it was worthwhile. For instance, in the waiting area outside, we learned that cars were the hope of the future in the late 1800s because folks figured they would help decrease the horse-droppings problems that were plaguing society at the time. The movie itself, though, in all candor, is kind of a yawner for younger kids, so keep that in mind.

From here, it was over to the Living Sea. The must-see attraction over here is Turtle Talk, with Crush (that’s the turtle from Finding Nemo). This is a neat little interactive show that will delight your kids and really amaze you as well. We’re still trying to figure out exactly how it works. Simply put, Crush talks to you, reacts to you, and engages members of the audience in conversation. You have to see it to appreciate it, and you should definitely see it.

The massive aquarium in the Living Sea is also incredibly impressive. You can watch schools of fish, and rays, and a wide variety of sea critters. There are also lots of informative displays all throughout here, so if you’re into the denizens of the deep, this is the place for you.

We strolled back over to Soarin’ for our second ride. Thank goodness for the Fast Pass. The wait was over an hour when we got back to the ride, but in the Fast Pass line, we waited for less than five minutes. The ride was just as thrilling the second time around.

By now, it was lunch time, and we’d reserved lunch over at the San Angel Inn, in Mexico. (Yes, I know. It’s technically the Mexico Pavilion. But to me, it was Mexico, so that’s what I call it.) Inside the temple, it appears that you’ve stepped into a courtyard in Mexico on a star-lit night, and the effect is truly realistic. There’s a little ride that passes through here (The River of Time, which traces the history of Mexico) and you can see the little boats passing by as you eat your meal at a table near the “river.” The effect is really neat, and we had a wonderful, mostly authentic, Mexican meal that was delicious. I say “mostly” authentic because I did notice that they were using bagged Tositos chips, instead of freshly made chips as in some other Mexican restaurants we’ve visited. Not that the chips were bad – but you can tell the difference (and I saw the bags as I passed by the kitchen). Other than that, though, the food was wonderful. Afterwards, we wandered through the little shops and stalls in the “courtyard.”

Once outside, we visited the little jewelry stand, where Sue found some beautiful sterling silver rings at very reasonable prices. For about $20, you can have your name, or initials, carved into a silver ring in about 20 minutes. It’s a neat little souvenir.

After lunch, which we finished at about 1:30, we had a bit of a dilemma. We had 6:30 dinner reservations in England, so we had about five hours. We were also stuffed from lunch, and we weren’t at all sure how much we would want to eat by 6:30. This highlights the primary problem we faced with having booked two Disney meals in the same day. You wind up planning your activities around meal time, which kind of stinks, because you’re always watching the clock. Also, you don’t want to eat too much at lunch for fear of ruining dinner. But, if you have a wonderful luncheon meal, you sure want to indulge, right? Thus, the dilemma.

We decided to hit as many countries as we could until about 4:00. Then, we would start to work our way to the front of Epcot again to visit Innoventions and Mission: Space before dinner. (I was the only one remotely interested in Space, by the way – we’d heard a lot of horror stories about how sick people became on the ride, and how scary it was, so Sue and Jake were already opting out while at the same time insisting that I go so that I could report back. [That’s part of the on-going mission of the family -- to find a ride that I won’t go on. So far, they haven’t found one!])

Anyway, after lunch, we headed for Norway, where we wanted to ride in the Viking Boat. That was a neat little ride, actually. (Note, though, that if you’ve got little kids, there are some dark, kid un-friendly, semi-scary moments during the trip.) We did elect to skip the film about Norway after the boat ride. I know, I know. But we made up for it when we visited China next. There, we watched the film (which is the only entertainment in China). The film is quite amazing, and China itself is beautiful. The movie is one of those 360 degree films, where the screens are all around you, and the movie is shown on 8 screens, all with a different scene, shot from a first-person perspective. It’s really impressive.

Inside the pavilion, there’s a display about the new Disneyland they’re building in Hong Kong. We, of course, had to get a picture.

From China, we skipped past Germany and hustled over to Italy for one of the afternoon street shows. (The times for the entertainment is listed in your daily guide, which you should make sure you get when you enter the park.) The World Showcase has a wide variety of street performers and entertainers, and its both a nice rest break, and an entertaining show, if you catch the performers in one of the countries.

We watched the World Showcase Performers put on a rousing version of Romeo and Edna (one of Shakespeare’s lesser works). They did a great job of putting on an entertaining show, involving the audience, and having a good time. After that, we paused to enjoy a little champagne and chocolate from the little wine shop in Italy while we enjoyed the afternoon sun.

From there, we started to make our way towards the American Pavilion, when we happened upon a couple of characters: Mr. Smee, from Peter Pan, and one of Cinderella’s mice. Then, suddenly, from the little pathway between Italy and America, we caught site of the mother-lode of characters. We saw Chip and Dale! And farther back – Pluto! And, Oh. My. God! Mickey AND Minnie! Together! Jake was freaking out! He got autographs from Chip and Dale, and Pluto, before grabbing a spot in the Mickey and Minnie line. Oh, but it was a long line. We’d learned that the characters don’t stay out all that long, and I could hear the clock ticking as people did their meet-and-greet with Mickey and Minnie, and adjusted themselves, and readjusted, and snapped, and reset for pictures. All too soon, the Cast Member with them said, “Mickey and Minnie will be back, but they’re going to have to take a break in five minutes.”

Five minutes? Well, that should have been plenty of time. But the family of five in front of us had to shuffle, and adjust, and pose, and re-shuffle, and hug, and then pose some more. The Cast Member said, “We’re going to have to leave soon,” and my wife piped up sweetly, “But it’s onlyl been two minutes! We have three minutes left!” The Cast Member, who was very nice, grinned, and acknowledged, “Okay. Three minutes.” Meanwhile, the family of five was STILL trying to get just the right picture. Yes, I know it’s Mickey, and I know you want your picture, but there was a line of about a dozen folks waiting, and they were completely oblivious to that fact. But we stayed calm and, with one minute to go (we made sure to time it!), we hustled Jake into position with first Mickey, then Minnie. He got his pictures and his autographs, and we were done in thirty seconds, which left plenty of time for the folks behind us to get their pictures, too. Whew!

As Jake enjoyed his autographs, the couple that had been behind is line thanked us for making it possible for them to get their autographs and pictures. We exchanged stories about our character hunts, and we learned that Donald was one of the toughest to get. As we thought about it, we realized that we hadn’t seen Donald yet at all, anywhere. So, of course, our goal for the rest of the trip was to find Donald.

By now, it was time to work our way up towards Mission:Space. I tried to talk Jake and Sue into joining me, but no go. Instead, they busied themselves exploring the area around the mission while I walked in. (You can see that Jake had his hands full!)

There was absolutely no line for the ride – the wait was less than five minutes. But here’s another line tip. They have a Fast Pass line, and a regular line, and also a line for those “flying” solo. DO NOT take the solo line. Here’s why: Each “capsule” seats four. If they have a couple, or a group of three going together, they take a person from the solo line to fill in. Since I was solo, they told me to go in the solo line, which I did. However, the Cast Member up at the front of the line had absolutely no idea what she was doing. With no one – NO ONE – waiting in the regular line, or the fast pass line, she didn’t start filling capsules with the first four solos in the line. Instead, she waited to get groups of two or three, and then would pull one or two solos from the solo line, resulting in about a ten minute wait. Yes, yes, I know – with a ten minute wait, I shouldn’t be complaining. But it’s the principle, dang it!

Anyway, the ride itself is pretty good, though I wouldn’t classify it as great. In the waiting area, you’re given a role – commander, engineer, etc. Then, you’re led to the capsule. The first thing you see is an air-sick bag, displayed prominently on the dash board before you. From what I was told, these bags actually get a workout on a regular basis, although I didn’t anticipate any such need on my part. Still, a pouch full of air-sick bags can be somewhat intimidating.

As you enter the capsule, you take the seat that corresponds to the “role” you were assigned. During your mission, each person has certain buttons they’re supposed to push during the trip, at certain times, for the mission to be a success. (The button pushing, while fun, is not required, so you needn’t worry about crashing your capsule.) You get a pre-flight briefing (from mission commander Gary Sinise, who's one of my favorite actors), and then, you’re off.

The simulated launch is really amazing. The view through your screen, plus the sound, plus the motion, helps make the feeling of lift-off very realistic. It’s pretty impressive, as is the rest of the mission. Overall, it’s an enjoyable ride, and I’d do it again, but I certainly wouldn’t waste a lot of time waiting in line. Fast Pass it, to make the wait tolerable. (Riding Tip: I understand that this ride is based on a NASA-style centrifuge. The secret to avoiding any motion sickness is to keep your head back against the head rest and continue looking straight ahead. That way, you’re less likely to lose your equilibrium.)

From Mission: Space, we spent some time in Innoventions. We were surprised how empty it was. Jake got to try some virtual bowling, and some virtual baseball, without worrying about people waiting behind him. We also toured the “house of the future,” which was a fairly colossal waste of time (but worked its way into Jake’s science project for school!) and also saw some of the testing devices used on appliances by the Underwriters Laboratory. (*Yawn!*) Okay, it was somewhat interesting, but only just.

As the dinner hour rolled around, we headed off towards England. Unfortunately, dinner was a bit of a disappointment for us. The menu was severely limited for our tastes, and the food itself was not particularly well-prepared. I was kinda sorry that we’d scheduled the afternoon around what turned out to be a very sub-par dinner.

As we waited for the check, we discussed whether we had the energy to wait for Illuminations, which was scheduled for 9:00 p.m. (almost two hours away). Looking at the schedules, we saw that MGM, which we were visiting the next day, closed at 7:00 p.m., which would leave us plenty of time to scoot over to Epcot afterwards to watch Illuminations. Given our level of fatigue (between the Magic Kingdom and Epcot, there’s a LOT of walking involved), we decided to call it an early night, and head back to the hotel. After all, it was our vacation – why make ourselves miserable with exhaustion?

As we headed out, we paused in a couple of shops and did some hat shopping. We stopped at the lighted sidewalks, and the dancing fountains. And, because I’d promised Jake, we finished with the ride in the Golf Ball (the Spaceship Earth attraction). With absolutely no wait at 7:30 p.m., it was an easy way to finish the day.

Walt Disney World: Day Two -- The Magic Kingdom

2006-03-03T23:12:00.000-05:00

Naturally, because I didn’t bother to set the alarm clock in the room, I didn’t properly set my phone alarm. And, of course, because I wanted to get up by 7, I slept through until 7:40. But you know what? It was vacation, and as much as I wanted to get to the park early, I wanted us to have an enjoyable vacation. So, I shrugged it off. We got ourselves moving, got our comfortable shoes on, and headed down to breakfast.

The hotel had a nice little breakfast buffet. However, unlike some of the hotels in and around Disney World, the Best Western charges for the buffet. In addition, the Best Western also employs the somewhat wacky age designations that Disney uses in its ticket sales, because prices vary for the buffet, depending on the child. Once again, 10 year olds are presumed to eat like adults, so get charged the adult price. Of course, if you’re in a position where you’ve befriended your waiter or waitress, he or she might not charge your 10 year old the adult price for the buffet. Not that that actually happened, because I wouldn’t want anyone to get in trouble. I’m just posing a hypothetical, that’s all. But, hypothetically, it always pays to be friendly and polite.

Anyway, we were on the road to the Magic Kingdom by 9:00. We could have taken the hotel’s shuttle, which ran on the half-hour. But we were just as happy that we didn’t have to rush to catch a bus, and we didn’t have to worry about having to wait thirty minutes for the next bus. We liked the sense of controlling our own schedule.

We got the the Magic Kingdom parking lot, parked (in Pluto 18 – always remember where you parked the car!) and were headed towards the transportation center by 9:15.

The transportation center is where you get to choose your means of access to the Magic Kingdom – monorail or ferry. The monorail (one of Walt’s dream-methods of conveyance) leaves the Center, cuts through the Contemporary (which is pretty cool to see) and arrives at the entrance to the park. The ferry cuts across the Seven Seas Lagoon, one of Disney’s waterways, and gives you a nice view of the Polynesian and the Grand Floridian. Either way gets you to the same place, and each way is enjoyable, if for no other reason than you’re heading towards the Magic Kingdom.

We picked the monorail for our first trip in, and it was a blast. There is something unique about riding a “train” through the center of a hotel, where you can see the guests eating, shopping, and hanging out below you. We pulled up at the station and, finally, headed in.

It was wonderful. Jake’s eyes were wide with anticipation, but no wider than mine, and each one of us had that “happiest-place-on-earth” grin on our faces.

We approached the entrance gates and met the first major change created by the 9/11 attacks: a bag check, which is an unfortunate, albeit necessary, addition to the Disney experience. Once we cleared that, however, we were able to use our prepaid, super cool admission cards, confirmed our fingerprints, and headed in.

Main Street, USA was as wonderful as I remembered. The view of Cinderella’s Castle from Main Street was equally thrilling. It was great to be back!

The first thing we saw was Goofy -- in the flesh (so to speak) -- signing autographs, and meeting and greeting the kids. Jake grabbed his autograph book and grabbed a spot in line. Unfortunately, Goofy had been out there for a while by the time we got to him, so he was ready to take a break. The Cast Member assured us that Goofy would be back in just a few minutes, but Jake was not in a mood to wait with all of the Magic Kingdom waiting for him. So, we just watched Goofy hop and skip towards Tony’s Town Square Restaurant in that Goofy way of his. This simple scene brought us one of our enduring memories of the whole trip.

As Goofy skipped along, a little kid about 5 or 6 years old broke free from his mom and ran behind Goofy, trying to hop and skip along with him. Unfortunately, because the kid was so short, and was running just behind Goofy, Goofy didn’t see him. As a result, when Goofy made a sharp skip-hop to his left just as the kid made a little skip-hop to his right, Goofy’s foot and the kid’s legs became entangled and down goes Little Kid. Fortunately, the child was fine, and Goofy was fine, and the Cast Member escorting Goofy made an appropriate fuss over the child. And us: we were left with our first memory of the Magic Kingdom being that of Goofy drop-kicking a child across Main Street, USA.

We did get a nice picture of Jake sitting next to the Goofy statue in front of Tony’s.

This is the first of many, many photos we took in the Magic Kingdom.

Which brings me to the Disney Photo Pass. After we took our first couple of pictures, one of the Disney photographers approached us. These photographers provide a nice little service, so let me digress for a bit of detail. Disney has really perfected the digital photography thing. As a result, they have bunches of "official" photographers stationed in various key areas throughout the parks. The first time you’re approached, the photographer will hand you a little plastic credit-card type pass, with a bar code on it. He or she will then scan the bar code into a hand-held device and you’re registered. Then, every time you have a Disney photographer take your picture, you hand them your card, they scan it, and your picture is saved to their master computer. You can then order prints of your favorite pictures.

This is a great thing for a number of reasons. First, you’ve got a professional photographer, with professional equipment, taking your picture at the best locations in the park – Cinderella’s Castle; the giant golf ball at Epcot; the Tree of Life in the Animal Kingdom, and so on. Second, your whole family gets to be in the picture, so the photographer is not left out. Third, and this is the best part, instead of just getting one or two prints of a favorite picture here and there, Disney has this great option available to you, which they don’t trumpet, but which they readily talk about if you ask. For $99 (which is not that much at all, considering that you pay between $20 and $30 for each print), you can purchase a CD with all of the pictures taken by Disney Photographers at all of the parks. Not only that, but Disney provides you with the necessary waivers so that you can take the disc to your local Walgreen (or wherever) and print out your own prints there without the usual hassle you’d ordinarily get for printing out “professional” photos. So, no matter how many photos they take (we took over 50; we were told of another party, which had been at Disney for a month, having over 400 pictures taken), you can get them ALL for $99. It’s a great deal, and I heartily recommend that you take advantage of it. But note: you can only get all of your pictures at either the photo center at Epcot, or at one of the resort hotels (I believe it's the Grand Floridian, but Epcot's worked fine for us.) If you go to the photo center at any of the other parks, you only get the photos taken there that day. Take the extra trip to Epcot to get all of your pictures.

Anyway, we met our first Disney photographer outside the character breakfast at the Crystal Palace buffet. We got a couple of great shots there, before we headed off to Adventureland.

Now, we only had a loose plan of attack for each of the parks. I know that some folks have carefully scripted battle plans, but we just wanted to enjoy the days. There were certain things that I knew we wanted to do, but we weren’t wedded to doing them in any particular order. We planned on hitting specific things, in a relatively logical sequence, so as to make the most of our time in the park. I figured going clockwise from Adventureland made the most sense, so that’s what we did.

Before we got too far, we ran into Rafiki just past the entrance to Adventureland. With only two other kids in line, Rafiki became our first official character. Jake grabbed his autograph book and got in line. It was great to see him so excited about such a simple thing; he’s at that perfect age for Disney – young enough to enjoy the simple pleasure of meeting the characters, old enough to carry the memories with him for the rest of his life, but not too old to think he’s too big for it all. (Of course, if he’s anything like me, he’ll never think he’s too big for it!)

After Rafiki, it was off to the Swiss Family Treehouse. Even though Jake never saw the movie (I actually remember seeing the movie – at a drive-in! – when I was about Jake’s age), he was nevertheless impressed with the Treehouse, and how it was set up. It really is a pretty neat thing to wander through, and we enjoyed it as our first stop.

From there, it was off to the Jungle Cruise. It’s a fun ride, mostly because it’s so corny. You’ve got Disney-fied “exhibits” along the river trail and an amusing running commentary by the boat’s captain. If you like corn-ball humor and silly fun, the Cruise is worth the wait.

The same is true for the Pirates of the Carribbean, although there’s far less humor and far more exhibits here. It’s hard to believe that the popular movie was spun off from this ride because the only thing they have in common is pirates. (I understand that they’re going to update the ride with references to Captain Jack Sparrow and the other folks from the movie, but, at this writing, that’s only a rumor.) However, even without Captain Jack, the ride is pretty neat. It’s not a “thrill” ride in the same vein as a roller coaster, but it is thrilling to ride along the river in the dark (especially with a kid who doesn’t know what to expect), and to watch the pirates do their pillaging, and listen to the cannons roar and have the water splash around your boat. This is another “classic” Disney ride that’s worth the wait.

Pirates now empties out into a gift shop, so after this ride (and most others these days), we had to convince Jake that the time for shopping would be later, that we didn’t want to have to carry things around all day, that he might see something he liked better later on – all you parents know the drill. He was pretty good about it too, although it was very difficult for him once he saw the pirate pistols on the rack. Jake loves his toy-gun collection, so the unique pirate pistols were an immediate draw. (We eventually wound up with one of those, and more.) However, with most of the day still ahead of us, he understood that no one wanted to be carrying weaponry around as we navigated the park.

Our next stop was a monumental one for Jake. Big Thunder Mountain. Roller Coaster. And it was his first.

It took some convincing; he really, really wanted to do it, but he was also really, really nervous about doing it because he didn’t know what to expect. His primary concern was: “It doesn’t have any loop-de-loops, does it?” When we explained to him that any ride that has only a lap-bar, and not an over-the-head shoulder bar, most likely does not go upside down, he was somewhat more willing to entertain the notion of actually riding the coaster. He did, and he enjoyed it, although he wasn’t quite sure that he wanted to do it again. Still, it’s a wonderful memory for me, explaining to him the thrill of the ride, and sharing with him my own memories of my first roller coaster ride (I was thirteen and rode a rickety old coaster at the now defunct Bertrand’s Island in New Jersey). For Jake, he can always say that his first “real” coaster ride was Big Thunder Mountain in Disney World.

After Big Thunder Mountain, we debated about whether to ride Splash Mountain. It wasn’t the fear factor at play in that one. It was the water factor. Although it was 85 degrees that day, none of us really wanted to get soaked at the bottom of the flume ride, so we ultimately decided against Splash Mountain. Instead, we wandered over to The Haunted Mansion. (We stopped briefly at the Shootin’ Arcade. With a ten-year old boy, you almost have to! It’s actually a fun little diversion and gives the parents a few minutes to sit while the kids pick off vultures, cacti and train cars with electronic bullets.)

The Mansion is yet another ride that inspired a movie (one of the few Disney movies I haven’t actually seen, but from what I hear, I didn’t miss much). This ride is in the same family as the Pirates of the Caribbean in that it’s more about atmosphere and mood than it is about actual speed and thrills. It’s good for spooky chills, and, if you’ve got a child with a vivid imagination, it works wonders. One of the neat little facts about this ride is that it’s the only one in the Magic Kingdom where the Cast Members who work it do not smile. At all. Ever. It’s a subtle but effective little feature.

From the Mansion, we went to the Hall of Presidents. I remembered two things about this exhibition from my previous trips, both of which I wanted Sue and Jake to experience. The first is the vision of Abraham Lincoln standing up and addressing the audience (yes, Disney makes that happen). The second is the full array of all of the presidents standing, or sitting, before you. When they first revealed the presidents, Sue let out a gasp and whispered, “My God!” Disney makes the display quite impressive. Even though it’s a bit slow for the kids, the Hall of Presidents definitely gives you a sense of history, and a sense of pride, in this country, and, for me, it’s an experience worth undertaking.

It was about 1:00 pm when we got done with the presidents. With 4:45 dinner reservations in Cinderella’s castle, we didn’t really want to eat a full lunch, and we also wanted make sure we got the twisty-turny rides out of the way before dinner. So, we decided to alter our clockwise rotation a little bit, and headed directly over to Space Mountain, in Tomorrow Land. We also figured that this would be our best chance of convincing Jake to ride Space Mountain. Fresh on the heels of Thunder Mountain, we thought his adrenaline would still be pumping enough to make getting him on the ride an easy task.

As we approached Space Mountain, I wasn’t yet sure how the lines were going to be. We’d had about a 20 minute wait on the Jungle Cruise and Thunder Mountain, but only about 10 minutes for the Pirates, and 5 minutes for the Mansion. (Yes, this is the beauty of traveling in the off season.) As a result, we hadn’t had any opportunity to use Disney’s Fast Pass.

For those who don’t know, the Fast Pass is Disney’s take on a new practice that many parks use to speed folks through the lines. Here’s how the Fast Pass works, in a nutshell. At any Fast Pass ride or attraction (not all of them are – your daily schedule for the park lists which rides are Fast Pass rides, a list that can vary from day to day), you take your admission ticket and slide it into the Fast Pass machine. The machine then returns your ticket and also spits out a stub with a pre-determined period of time on it (for example, from 1 pm to 2 pm) during which you can return to the ride and wait in a significantly shorter line. For instance, if you show up as Space Mountain and you see that there’s a 40 minute wait (most rides post a wait time showing how long it’ll take you to get into the ride), you can opt for the Fast Pass. You get your Fast Pass ticket and come back during the time window stated on the ticket. When you get back, you’ll find that the Fast Pass line is significantly shorter than the regular line.

There is a tipping point in whether or not to actually get a Fast Pass. Based on my limited experiences during the off season, I found that it made sense to get a Fast Pass only if the wait time was more than 20 minutes. This is because the Fast Pass usually spits out a time that is about 20 minutes – or longer – down the road. So, if you have to kill twenty minutes waiting for your Fast Pass time, you might just as well wait in the line for the ride. (That also helps you resist the temptation of spending money at the food stands or the gift shops while you’re waiting for your Fast Pass window.) However, if the wait time for the ride is 20 minutes or more, it makes sense to get the Fast Pass, because the longest I waited in a fast pass line was 10 minutes. (This time may be longer in the high season, by the way. However, over in Epcot, we got Fast Passes for Soarin’ when the wait time was 60 minutes. We took our dinner break and came back during our window and waited ten minutes in the Fast Pass line. The main line still had a 60 minute wait, so it was well worth it to Fast Pass the line.)

The Fast Pass is a wonderful innovation, and far too few people take advantage of it. (This fact is actually a good thing for those of us who want to take advantage of it!) We walked past literally hundreds of people waiting in the “regular” line as we Fast Passed past them. With so much to see and do, the Fast Pass helps you get it all in while still giving you the chance to ride the rides you want to ride. Don’t hesitate to take advantage of the Fast Pass when you get the chance to.

Meanwhile, back at Space Mountain. There was only a 10 minute wait, so we hustled right in. Of course, we had to convince Jake that this was a good idea every step of the way, which wasn’t easy. Fresh off of Thunder Mountain, he was starting to get that nervous feeling back in his stomach. “I don’t know, Dad. I’m not sure.” But we just kept pumping him up: “It’ll be fine, it’ll be fun. You’ll love it, it’s in the dark, you won’t see anything.”

As we approached the capsules, I realized that I’d forgotten that this was a single-file ride. You don’t sit side-by-side, but one-after-the-other, which is kind of neat. In addition, it’s three people to a capsule, so it was nice for us, with Jake in the middle. As we got launched into the mountain, all I could hear, in addition to Sue’s screams of exhilaration, was Jake yelling, “What did I get myself into?” over and over again. It was pretty funny.

As we disembarked from our capsules, we kept pressing Jake for how he felt. He finally grudgingly admitted that he’d actually enjoyed the ride. We didn’t know how much, however, until we got outside. We were hanging around by the entrance to the ride as we discussed our next stop when a lady came up and asked us if we’d like to use their Fast Passes for the ride because they’d decided not to go. When we asked Jake if he wanted to do it again, he said “Yes!” without hesitation. So, we did Space Mountain back-to-back, and Jake was in his glory.

We next went over to the Tomorrowland Indy Speedway. I had not intended on stopping there because I didn’t think Jake would be interested. See, although Speedway looks like a go-kart type track, it’s really not. You drive Indy-type, gas-powered cars along a roadway, but each car is on a track-type path from which you cannot stray and top speed is about 10 mph. I thought that Jake would be much more interested in a go-kart he could drive anywhere on the track but I had forgotten the attraction to a 10-year old of actually being behind the wheel of your own car, even if the car is confined to a track. The prospect of driving a mini-Indy car (even in the limited way permitted by the Speedway cars) was something Jake was really looking forward to, so we each grabbed an Indy car and did the Speedway. It was actually a lot of fun, and we all had a good time.

It was from the Speedway track that I saw the next ride we tried. I saw what looked like another roller coaster from the Speedway, but I couldn’t figure out what coaster track I was looking at. As it turns out, I’d caught a glimpse of The Barnstormer at Goofy’s Wiseacre Farm, which is in Mickey’s Toontown Fair. Because Jake is 10, I hadn’t looked into visiting the Toontown Fair because I thought that Jake might think himself too old. I was right about that, because he was a bit reluctant to wander into the Fair, but I urged him on, explaining that I found another coaster that looked pretty neat.

The Barnstormer is a short little coaster. It lasted maybe 60 seconds, and is clearly designed for kids, but it was a fun ride nonetheless. A nice little hill, a couple of nice twists, and some great Disney imagery along the way make for a neat little ride.

For older coaster aficionados, it’s probably not worth more than a ten minute wait. But for breaking in a coaster novice, like Jake, it’s worth at least twice that because it’s pretty harmless but still exciting. We enjoyed this ride, too.

From here, we hit the Mad Tea Party, which is the traditional “spinning cups” ride you see at most amusement parks and fairs. There’s something exciting about spinning your family ‘round and ‘round that continues to make this ride popular, and we always hit a version of this spinny ride whenever we can. We actually hit this ride at the same time as the character parade on Sunday, so there was virtually no line. (We had already decided that we probably weren’t going to any character parades unless we were so exhausted we needed to rest. Taking a tip from Frommers’, we figured the lines at the rides would be far shorter during the parade – and they were.)

We had a quick snack to tide us over to dinner before heading over to It’s a Small World. Yes, we did it. I think you almost have to. And yes, it’s still way-too-cute, and yet strangely appealing. And yes, we were all singing the song during quiet moments for the rest of the trip. But the visit to the Kingdom wouldn’t have seemed complete without doing the ride. By the way, as you set sail, make sure you look at the command bridge that spans the water way. The folks who monitor the boats coming and going were laughing and waving and making a big deal about our departure; they really were having a good time, which was kinda nice to see.

From here, we went to see Mickey’s PhilharMagic. This is, by far, one of the best 3D movies I’ve ever seen, and you should not miss it. (There’s a 3D movie in each park, but this one is the absolute best and if you have to pick one, this is the one.) You enter through a nicely designed classic theater entrance, select your new-style 3D glasses from a tray just before you get to the theater doors, and then wait just outside. Here’s an important tip for this, and all, theater shows: DO NOT BE THE FIRST IN LINE to get in the theater. Once inside, you have to move all the way across the theater and fill in seats from the end, through the center, and then to the other end. If there is any kind of crowd whatsoever, you will be stuck on one-side of the theater for the show, rather than in the middle. To me, the middle seats are the best, so as you enter the theater, hang back a little and pick a row that is already starting to fill up with people. That way, you have a better shot at those center seats.

I won’t spoil the show for you. Suffice it to say that the 3D images of some favorite characters, and some favorite scenes, together with some of Disney’s best music, makes for a very enjoyable show. I heard many kids excitedly gasp out the names of familiar faces as they appeared on the screen. The film itself, which is about 10 minutes long, is great right up to the last moment. I cannot imagine anyone who wouldn’t enjoy this show. I know we did, because we saw it twice!

By the time we got done with our second viewing, it was time for our 4:45 dinner reservation, so we headed over to the castle. Not having dined in the Castle before, we didn’t know quite what to expect, but we dutifully arrived about 15 minutes early, just to be safe. As a result, we experienced the benefit of an early arrival for an early dinner reservation. The cast members took us right in. Unbeknownst to us, we were not going to be escorted right to our table. Instead, we were introduced to Cinderella herself! What’s more, it was just us and Cinderella. No line. No waiting. We had her all to ourselves!

Cinderella was absolutely beautiful. She carried herself with the elegance you would expect from a real princess, and she focused her attention on Jake, who (much to his surprise) was delighted at the attention he received from the beautiful princess. She happily signed his autograph book, chatted with him, and posed for pictures with us all. She was very sweet and very personable, and she made us all feel as if we’d actually met a princess.

Which brings me to another tip if you want to spend a little extra time with Cinderella. I would definitely recommend an early dinner reservation at the Castle. We had a good five minutes of uninterrupted time with her before the next family arrived. In contrast, by the time we left after dinner at about 6:00 p.m., the line for Cinderella was at least 10 deep. While I’m sure they were all treated very nicely, I doubt very much that they each received the personal attention that Jake did simply because so many folks were waiting for the princess by 6:00. (Of course, it may be different during the high season, but even then, I’m guessing most people won’t be eating dinner at 4:45, which will make your lines shorter.)

The dinner itself was actually better than I expected. The food was really tasty and very well prepared. I had a pork loin dinner that was delicious. The service is attentive and friendly, and we were addressed as “My lord,” or “My lady,” which is a nice little touch. Our server was more than happy to accommodate our requests, from additional condiments to pictures of us at the table. It was a wonderful experience, and well worth repeating. However, I do understand that the dining plan has now changed, so everything is now on a fixed price basis. Still, the experience of being in the Castle is well worth it, and I would definitely recommend it.

The dinner break refreshed us, so we decided to wander around and do some of the shopping we had promised Jake while we waited for the fireworks show, which was scheduled for 8:00 p.m. That brings me to a tip that I found particularly useful when it came to shopping for souvenirs. I know that, with kids, there are many different ways to allocate money during vacation trips. This is the method we used, which was most effective for us. We knew that we’d be at the parks for five days, so we gave Jake $100 when we arrived ($20 a day) and told him that he could use it to buy whatever he wanted on the trip, but that once it was gone, he would get nothing more. When we left for the park each morning, he would ask me to bring some (not all) of his money, and I carried it for him. If he wanted something, we would take it out of his stash for the day. This worked great because Jake became far more selective with his shopping. He would ask us our opinions about what to buy, but when the choice and the money was ultimately his, he became very particular. He also wound up bringing almost $50 of the $100 we gave him home with him.

Jake selected a pirate gun and a revolutionary war era rifle as some mementos of his trip. We also wandered past the stocks in Liberty Square, visited the Christmas shop nearby, and had some silhouettes done as well. We had some time, so we wandered back over to Tomorrowland. We already knew that Buzz Lightyear’s Space Ranger Spin was closed for refurbishment, but we were going to try The Timekeeper ride and Stitch’s Great Escape. We found Timekeeper closed (I’ve heard that it’s closed for good, too), but we did hit Stitch’s Great Escape. This “ride” was different, and kind of fun. It’s not really a “ride” as much as it is an “experience,” and it was actually quite entertaining. There’s a somewhat lengthy backstory involving training as an intergalactic corrections officer of sorts, and the capture of Stitch, who is apparently a very frightening critter to have in custody. Once again, I don’t want to give anything away, so I’ll just say that there are some wonderful sensory effects in this ride and if you sit back in your seat and take it all in, you will be pleasantly surprised.

After Stitch, there was nothing left that we wanted to do at Magic Kingdom that day except watch the fireworks. Well, okay. Let’s be honest; after a full day at the park, there was nothing else we had the energy to do but sit on a curb along Main Street and wait for the fireworks. We hadn’t wanted to wait in the 40-minute line for Peter Pan’s flight; we’d skipped Splash Mountain on purpose; we’d decided to skip the Railroad around the park, and we hadn’t wanted to ride most of the traditional amusement park rides, like the carousel and Aladdin’s Magic Carpets. So, all in all, by the time the fireworks rolled around, we’d had a jam-packed day of fun and were happy to be waiting for the show.

And what a show. Do not miss the fireworks at the Magic Kingdom. You may believe that you’ve seen fireworks before but, unless you’ve seen the Macy’s Fireworks on the Fourth of July in New York City, you’ve never seen fireworks like those in the Magic Kingdom. And when the fireworks form the backdrop to Cinderalla’s Castle, and it’s ever-changing colors, it is an experience that cannot be duplicated, or rivaled, by any similarly themed show anywhere in the world.

Take them in. Absorb them. Enjoy them. And don’t blink, or you’ll miss Tinkerbell, who actually flies from the top of the Castle to the trees below. It’s an amazing experience.

After the fireworks, we made our way to the docks, where we took a ferry back to the transportation center, then grabbed a tram to the car. We made our way back to the hotel (watch for the cops if you’re driving yourself. It’s a 35 mph speed limit here, and they apparently love to catch the tourists leaving the parks at the end of the day). We dropped Jake’s arsenal in the room before retiring to the bar for a nightcap and a few minutes to unwind. (Jake, ever the energetic one, ran off to the arcade room next to the restaurant where he played video games to wind down.) Finally, we headed up to the room, where we collapsed into our beds so that we could recharge and be ready for a day at Epcot.

Walt Disney World: Day One -- A Disney Appetizer

2006-02-16T23:43:00.000-05:00

Day One

It’s Christmas Eve, and you’re eight years old. Remember that feeling? The anticipation of what was just hours away. The anxious, nervous, fidgety tingling that coursed through your body as you waited for ole St. Nick and his bag of toys. That desire to fall asleep early, to make tomorrow come more quickly, coupled with the complete inability to keep your eyes shut for more than a minute or two, because you’re just too excited. That’s what traveling does for me.

The night before a trip, I’m practically giddy with the anticipation of going somewhere. This trip, I had that same feeling, but with the volume turned way up. I was so excited about going back to Disney World that I could barely stand myself. I was so looking forward to sharing the World with my wife and youngest son!

I’d packed in a fog, trying to anticipate what I’d need – shorts and long pants; sweat shirts and t-shirts; three pairs of shoes; two bathing suits, just in case. I helped Jake pack that same kind of assortment, hoping to have something for every contingency. Then, I tumbled into bed and, after waiting for Mr. Sandman to whack me in the head with his bag-o-sand, I finally fell asleep.

We dropped off the car at AviStar and were shuttled to Terminal A at Newark, from which JetBlue flies. Check in at JetBlue was quick, painless, and efficient. We could have simply scanned the bar code we received in our confirmation email on any of the JetBlue kiosks in the terminal. However, with our three big suitcases, we elected to check in at the counter. This process couldn’t have been more simple. In and out, with plenty of time for a big airport cafeteria breakfast before our 11:30 flight.

Actually, it took us more time to clear security than it did to check in, but in this day and age, that’s really no surprise. The surprise we did encounter was the new “sniffer” machine they’ve installed at Newark. You step into this booth that looks like a standard metal detector that’s pumped up on steroids. A little arm pops up in front of you, and then your surrounded by a loud popping, bursting sound as you blasted with puffs of air, much like that glaucoma test the eye doctor runs on you. Somehow or other, the machine sniffs the puffs of air for hints of any explosive devices. Hey, if it works, I’m all for it.

We finally cleared security and worked our way toward the gates. As we did, my wife and I saw the bar near the entrance to the jetways. Naturally, we had to stop in but, unfortunately, the bartender wasn’t in for pre-noon, pre-flight drinks. So, we toasted the beginning of our trip with water and diet soda as we took up seats near the gate.

Flying JetBlue was absolutely wonderful. Smooth, efficient, and timely boarding, in standard back-to-front style. The plane was full, but everyone was on-board and seated early, and we pushed away from the gate about 10 minutes early.

The plane itself was very nice, too. There’s no first class on JetBlue; all the seats are the same – leather seats, with a video monitor in the headrest in front of you, and plenty of leg room. The planes are nice and clean; the flight attendants are actually attentive, and the flight was completely uneventful. You can’t ask for more, now, can you?

JetBlue is actually a fine way to travel. It reminds me of the days of PeopleExpress, back in the 80s, when you could travel almost anywhere in the country for about $100 roundtrip. JetBlue, though, is a bit more luxurious, with beverage service, but no meals, and video in the back of each headrest. That’s enough to keep everyone entertained on the flight. In addition, the folks traveling JetBlue seem to have an awareness of the fact that getting on the plane = getting off the ground. The plane was boarded and everyone in their seats early, so we got to leave early.
That was a nice little bonus.

JetBlue also does something that not too many airlines still do – they use both the front and the back doors of the plane to get folks off. That’s another nice little treat. We arrived early and got off the plane quickly. That made for a very nice trip down.

Our arrival in Florida couldn’t have been better. We arrived early, to sunny skies. Baggage claim went smoothly, transport by courtesy van to the Thrifty location off site was easy (despite the lady with the seventeen suitcases who insisted that she and her luggage absolutely had to be off the shuttle before anyone else).

The Thrifty folks were very nice, too. Our car was ready for us, but when Jake mentioned the possibility of upgrading to a “cooler” car, they found a nice, new Dodge Charger on the lot, and gave us a discount on the upgrade price. (By the way, the Dodge Charger – looks okay, but not particularly impressive to drive. But that’s just me.)

Anyway, we touched down at about 2:15, had our car by 2:45, and were on the road towards Disney by 3:00.

As we drove down the Bee Line towards I-4, I basked in the glow of the Florida sun. Sue and Jake looked at all of the Billboards to various attractions on the way, and we headed towards the Best Western.

The hotel was pretty easy to find, thanks to the directions I pulled from the website. Parking was okay, though hardly convenient, and there was no one to help us with our bags, but we’re all accomplished travelers, with wheels on our suitcases, so that was not a particularly big deal. However, if you’re looking for that kind of assistance, I suspect that the Best Western Lake Buena Vista is not the best choice.

We arrived at about 3:30, and with check-in time at 3:00, our room was ready and waiting for us. As suggested in my Frommer’s guide, when I reserved the room, I had requested a room above the 8th floor, and with a Disney view. The hotel gave us a 14th floor room, but put us on the opposite side of the hotel from Disney. When I asked if we had a Disney view, the clerk told me that Disney views are $10 extra.

Now, I’m naturally a haggler, so I was tempted to negotiate a Disney-view room with the guy. I mean, in mid-January, in a half-empty hotel, they’re going to give me a hard time about an extra $10? I probably could have prevailed on the guy to give us the proverbial room with a view, but I wasn’t too terribly concerned about it. I figured we’d see enough Disney during the day, without the additional view. Plus, in the back of my head, I wanted Jake’s first views of Disney to be those he saw as we first drove up. So, I didn’t sweat the view too much. Here's Jake, not sweating the view either:

I don’t believe that it would have taken too much effort to get the clerk (or the manager) to throw in the view for nothing. But, as it turns out, our view of the front of the hotel allowed us to peep in on the local police as they set their speed trap along Hotel Plaza Boulevard. We saw them pull a number of folks into the hotel parking lot during the evening hours. It was like our own personal version of Cops.

Anyway, we finally got settled at around 4:00 and decided to head to Downtown Disney. For those who don’t know, Downtown Disney is an area on Disney property that is separate and apart from the theme parks and the water parks. There are a number of shops, restaurants, stores, and attractions down there, including Cirque du Soleil, Disney Quest, and Pleasure Island. Cirque runs regular shows (at about $90 per ticket). Disney Quest is an immense, five-story arcade/virtual entertainment center (more on that later). Pleasure Island is, essentially, the “club area” for the young adults doing Disney. They have themed clubs there for disco-era songs, 80s-sounds, and various other themes. But I’m jumping ahead.

We decided to drive to Downtown. I figured that this would be a great way to start our visit to Disney World and, because we only had five-day passes, we didn’t want to waste a pass on a half-day at a park. I also knew, from all that I’d read, that there was going to be plenty of Disney stuff at Downtown, including Disney Quest, which I knew Jake really wanted to do. I figured that the first night would be the best time to try to squeeze that in and, as it turns out, doing Downtown Disney is a great way to whet your appetite for Disney if you don’t want to try to get to the parks on the first day. In Downtown, we didn't feel as if we missed out on something and actually had a great time doing Disney stuff. Visiting Downtown Disney on the first afternoon and evening is a great way to get the vacation started.

As it turns out, Downtown was only about a half-mile from the hotel, so we could have walked. However, by the end of the evening, we were glad to have our own car to get back to the hotel.

I’d never done Downtown Disney before, and it was really amazing to me to see the wide variety of Disney-themed shops and other businesses, including a Ghirardelli chocolate store and a Lego store. My favorite shop was the Team Mickey shop, where Disney meets ESPN. All things Disney are united in sports-themed merchandise, so you can buy, for instance, a hockey jersey with fictional team names on the front, and character names on the back. (My favorite was the Grumpy football jersey, with the number 7 on it. I just couldn’t bring myself to spend the $50.00 on a jersey that I might wear once or twice a year. I wound up with a hooded Grumpy sweatshirt instead.)

We decided to try to find something interesting to eat in Downtown, which we knew was going to be no problem. However, as we wandered past the Rainforest Café (which we decided to skip because we already had lunch reservations for Wednesday at the Rainforest Café in the Animal Kingdom), we noticed a boat launch area were they appeared to be renting various types of boats – from two-person peddle-boats to 18 foot “speed” boats (speed being a relative term, given the size of the Disney lake upon which the boat launch area was located). Hungry as we were, we didn’t want to pass up the opportunity of cruising through Disney World.

We got to the rental window at about 4:35. Although they were set to close at 5:00, they agreed to rent us a boat for 30 minutes. (This time was extended by the guy on the dock, who told us we didn’t have to be back until 5:20, which, by the time we left, gave us an extra 10 minutes on the water. Hey, I’m happy to take those little bonuses any time I can get them.) However, as we rented the boat, we learned of one of the little inconsistencies at Disney World that could drive you a little crazy, if you let it.

As I mentioned above, when selling you admission tickets for the park, Disney considers 10 year olds to be adults. However, when renting a boat to you to cruise the waters off Disney World, 12 year olds are considered to be adults. We were, of course, honest about Jake’s age when they asked us – and were advised that he was too young to operate a boat. Figures.

We settled on an 18 foot fishing/speed-type boat and, after a quick course in manuervering (which amounted to “Push the lever forward to accelerate, pull it back to slow down, and steer it just like a car,"), we set sail, with Captain Dave at the helm:

It was actually a very enjoyable experience. We got to cruise past Downtown Disney, saw all of the restaurants and shops from the water, sailed past one of the golf courses, cruised along the water behind some of the Disney Vacation Clubs homes, and got to watch the sun set behind the Old Key West resort. It was a really fun time, and one I’d highly recommend. Plus, at about $30 for the half-hour, it’s not a bad value (considering Disney prices and all).

After forty minutes on the “high seas,” we were starving. As it turns out, our little cruise showed us a couple of places that looked really appealing for a meal. We considered going to Bongos, the Cuban restaurant in which Gloria Estefan has a piece of the action. But we had also seen the House of Blues, a place that both Sue and I had always considered going. We decided on the House of Blues for many reasons, the most important of which was that it was the closest one to the boat dock on the West Side of Downtown. (We took the ferry to the West Side after returning our boat.)

The HoB was a lot of fun. We were there too early to see any of the live entertainment they have there, but the atmosphere was still festive and light, our drinks were delightfully cool and refreshing, and we found the food to be delicious, and a great value. I ordered “The Elwood,” which is a tangy, spicy chicken sandwich that I found particularly satisfying. I definitely recommend the HoB as a nearby alternative to all of the Disney fare. (At this writing, they also offer a Sunday Brunch at the HoB, with live entertainment. I’m going to make it a point to check that out the next time we’re in Orlando on a Sunday morning.)

As we left the restaurant after dinner, we saw Disney Quest right across the way. Aside from the giant neon lights and the modernistic mouse ears logo on the outside of the building, the structure in which Disney Quest is located is fairly nondescript. If it weren’t for the fact that it’s located in Downtown Disney, you wouldn’t give the building a second look. (Contrast this to the highly stylized architecture of the Planet Hollywood building, or the giant pineapple outside the Bongos restaurant.)

I knew before hand that Disney Quest was not going to be cheap. After we first heard about the area where you can design your own roller coaster, and then ride it in a simulator, I knew that it would cost a couple of bucks just to get in the door. As it turns out, at the just-increased 2006 prices, it was $35 each (including our 10-year-old adult who was too young to pilot a motor boat). However, having spent many a night on various boardwalks along the Jersey shore, $105 for a nights’ entertainment was not without precedent. So, we bought our admission tickets and headed in.

Trying to describe a five-story building full of a variety of arcade, virtual reality, and simulator games, combined with amusement park rides, is not easy. Suffice it to say that, if you’re into games of almost any kind, you’ll find it in Disney Quest. They have almost every arcade game from the 70s and 80s someplace in the building. They have a coaster design area, where you can design a roller coaster on a computer, and then they strap you into a simulator, which then takes you on a virtual reality depiction of your design. The wait here on a busy Saturday night in the off season was about 20 minutes, but it was well worth it.

In addition, there is a rafting simulator, a space-rescue simulator, and a set of odd bumper-cars with a Buzz Lightyear theme. As to this latter ride, Jake and I found it to be highly frustrating. It’s a two-person ride. You’re in a capsule-like vehicle, and you drive over large, rubber balls that roll into the capsule and that the co-pilot is supposed to load into the cannon and then aim at other vehicles. As near as we could figure (and there is virtually no explanation about this ride before you get on), if you hit another vehicle, you render that vehicle useless to the operator for a brief period of time because, once hit, the vehicle spins out of control and the co-pilot cannot use the cannon until the spinning stops. In addition to this little quirk, the vehicles are incredibly difficult to steer, difficult to load and fire, and the crazy spinning seems to go on forever. I don’t mind spinning as a general rule; however, the whole ride makes no sense and is impossible to enjoy. Even with no line, I’m not sure it’s worth doing this ride.

Contrast that with the Mighty Ducks pinball simulator. The best way to describe this “ride” is to have you try to picture yourself as one of the metal balls in an old-fashioned pinball machine. You take your place on a “stand” on the playing floor and you look up at a giant screen above you, which shows the pinball “field” and your “ball,” along with the balls of the other players in the game (up to a dozen or so). When you’re told to start, you twist, swivel, lean, and jump on your stand in an effort to roll your ball around the screen above so that you can collide with the point-scoring targets on the screen above. After what feels like a full-scale cardio workout at the gym, the Disney Cast Member calls “Time!” and the player with the highest total (based on the number and variety of targets hit) is the winner. It was actually a lot of fun.

We spent about three hours at Disney Quest and had a wonderful time. At about 9:30, we were eventually able to drag Jake out so that we could make our way back to the hotel. Before doing so, we did order what we thought would be a quick dessert at the Cheesecake Factory annex that serves up the sweets and coffees in Disney quest. Of course, if you know anything about the Cheesecake Factory, you know that they do not practice portion control. As a result, the brownie sundae we received would have been enough dessert for 6, not three. We muddled through as best we could, but the three of us couldn’t finish this overstuffed sweet-treat. It was good, but way to much food.

We walked it off strolling through Downtown Disney after we left. It is actually quite an impressive site, all decked out in lights, with a variety of people, and things to see and do around every corner. Jake got to sit on a Harley outside one shop:

We also limbo-ed under a balloon rope as we cut through Pleasure Island, and we strolled through the Lego store on the way back to the car. All in all, Downtown Disney was a thoroughly enjoyable way to spend the first afternoon and evening in Orlando.

When we got back to the hotel, we headed upstairs to get ready for The Big Day – our first full day in Disney World. We knew the Magic Kingdom opened at 9:00 a.m. and we wanted to be there relatively close to opening time. I figured I’d wake up about 7:00 am anyway, but set the alarm on my phone just to be safe. We then drifted off to sleep, with visions of Mickey dancing in our heads.

Walt Disney World -- Prologue and Planning

2006-02-16T19:26:00.000-05:00

The Prologue

I love Disney. Disney movies. Disney characters. And, of course, Disney World.

Now, I never went to Disney World as a kid. We were a “two-weeks-at-the-beach” kind of family when I was growing up (which was fine, because I happen to love the beach). But we never went to Disney World.

For me, Disney World was a distant fantasy place. Oh, I’d heard about it on TV when it first opened, and, when I was younger, I’d heard tales of a different kind of amusement park called “EPCOT.” But, as a child, I never actually got to go to Disney World.

I first made it to Disney World in 1985, when I was in my twenties. Even as a young adult, I was captivated. What a wonderful place! In ‘85, there was only the Magic Kingdom and Epcot, but they were both amazing places to visit. They were everything I ever imagined the World to be, from seeing characters I grew up with, to riding rides I’d always heard about (like the then-amazing “Space Mountain”), to walking among palm trees on a sunny Florida day in February (an experience that a kid from the northeast had never had before). Even “It’s a Small World” was thrilling for me because I actually had hazy memories of riding on the earliest version of it at the 1964 World’s Fair in New York City. The World Showcase at Epcot was equally amazing to me. Never having traveled before, the tastes of the world I experienced there gave me a Disney-fied glimpse of what the Rest of the World looked like.

One of the things I remember most about that first trip is the music. There was always music playing – soft, subtle, unobtrusive, and happy. Visiting Disney World let me live life with a soundtrack, which I found to be a thoroughly enjoyable experience. My first trip to Disney World left me with the desire to return as often as I could.

It took almost seven years, but in late 1991, I finally made it back. There were three parks by then, with the opening of the Disney-MGM Studios. The Magic Kingdom and Epcot were still fun and fresh, but the movie aficionado in me absolutely loved MGM. From the Indiana Jones stunt show, to Star Tours, to the backlot tour, I was totally enthralled. I knew that I’d been away from Disney World too long, and I planned then and there to make Disney World a regular part of my life.

Well, as John Lennon so aptly put it, life is what happens when you’re making other plans. My other plans – thankfully – gave way to my life (which worked out just fine, thank you very much). In the 14+ years since my 1991 trip to Disney, we traveled as a family to a variety of places, from South America to the Caribbean, to Europe. But I always wanted to get back to Disney World, and I wanted to share it with my wife and my youngest (our oldest now believing himself to be past Disney – I’m still working on helping him understand that you’re NEVER too old for Disney, but that’s another story).

My wife had done Disney before we were married, but she’d done it during Christmas week – time of the 90-minute-wait (on a good day) for Space Mountain. Me, I’m a guide book hound, and I’ve only ever done Disney during the low season. I always figured that if I was going to go, I really wanted to enjoy it, and based on my experiences, you really do enjoy Disney World during the low season.

My wife was not looking forward to the prospect of returning to Disney World only to face hours of lines for minimal return. It took some effort, but I finally was able to convince the missus that it would be a totally different experience in the off season. She finally acquiesced, and I gleefully began the planning process.

The Planning

I started planning the trip in May 2005. I wanted to involve our 10 year old, Jake, both because I knew he’d enjoy being involved, and because I wanted us to be able to enjoy Disney World together, before he thought himself too cool to do it. So, after we received the vacation planning kit that I ordered from Disney World, we sat and watched the DVD together. We both started getting almost giddy with excitement just watching the places to stay, the things to do, and the foods to eat. Every place looked great. Jake loved the All Star resorts, of course, but we also really liked the look of the Animal Kingdom Lodge, and Port Orleans (which had added appeal after the Katrina disaster).

We ultimately decided on going in the fourth week of January. My plan was to avoid any holiday breaks, including Martin Luther King Day (which is actually blacked out at some hotels in the area, and, at others, hotel room prices are marked up significantly for that weekend.)

I figured a seven-day, six-night stay would be long enough. I thought that five days would be enough to do all four parks that Disney now operates in Orlando (with the Animal Kingdom being brand new to me), and using the fifth day to hop around and re-do things we’d enjoyed, or catch things we’d missed.

To make our week-long trip work, we planned on taking Jake out of school for that week. About two weeks before our trip, we advised his teacher of the plan, volunteered Jake to do a report on Epcot for the class and to keep a journal for English class. We also asked for his homework ahead of time so that we could get a jump on it. The teacher was very cooperative (although Jake was not at all thrilled about the idea of actually “working” while on vacation. It took some convincing for him to understand the benefit of the trade-off we’d negotiated.) By the way, if you’re considering going, I would heartily recommend this plan. You get to avoid the crowds and enjoy the parks with a minimum of hassles. But if you take the kids out of school, make sure to put yourself in the teacher’s good graces before hand.

As you might expect, the details of my research regarding the plans for our trip could stretch on for many pages more, but I won’t do that to you. Suffice it to say that I’m very, very thorough when it comes to weighing options and evaluating choices, and I was no less so with this trip. I wanted it to be as close to perfect as I could make it, so I compared travel packages, looked at on-site hotels versus off-site hotels, and priced rental cars, airfares, and meal packages. I’ll try to summarize as best I can, so that you may be able to benefit from my experiences.

The Disney packages are very nice, but they do get pricey. However, if money is no object (or you have your heart set on staying in a Disney hotel), I’d recommend the Disney packages without reservation, because Disney does things exceedingly well. (Of course, this is coming from someone who has not yet stayed at an official Disney hotel. I’m just going by what I’ve read and seen.) Disney’s facilities are nice, and bonuses like character breakfasts are a definite plus. In addition, there is the added benefit of the Magic Hours plan they have for Disney resort guests. During the low season, Disney keeps at least one park open for an extra couple of hours after the official “closing” time, but only for guests of official Disney resorts (during the high season, they may keep all parks open for extra hours. You’ll want to check that if you’re traveling then.) For the extra hours, you pick up wrist bands at various locations in the park during the day so that they don’t toss you out on your proverbial ear at closing time. So, if you want to maximize your time in the park, the extra hours are a nice way to do so. For us, though, we found that if we started early (at park opening), we were pretty much done by closing time and didn’t really need – or want – extra hours.

If you’re going to stay in a Disney hotel, I’d consider the Moderate resorts, like Port Orleans, over the Inexpensive resorts. Now, I haven’t stayed in either, but everything I’ve read suggests that you’ll be more comfortable, have more room, and have more dining options, staying in the moderate resorts. Of course, if your kids have their hearts set on staying in one of the All Star resorts, you won’t have a horrible time. With three cool pools, a food court, and neat looking things (like giant TVs and gargantuan foosball players), you’ll be just fine. It’s a matter of personal choice.

By the way, no matter which Disney resort you stay in, don’t make the mistake of believing that you’re going to be “right next door” to the parks. To be sure, some of the hotels (the Animal Kingdom Resort and The Contemporary, for instance) are right next to one park. But no matter where you stay, you’re going to need some kind of transportation – Disney’s or your own – to get from one park to the next, because it is literally miles between them. In fact, some non-Disney hotels are actually geographically closer to some of the parks than the Disney resorts are – but they are in another world as far as ambiance is concerned.

For us, after pricing things out, I finally booked us into the Best Western Lake Buena Vista, which is a Disney Good Neighbor hotel, on Disney property, but not a Disney owned resort. It’s “official,” in that you get some – but not all – of the benefits of staying at a Disney resort.

Based on information in my Frommer’s guide (which I swear by), I visited the Best Western website and booked directly through it. With the AAA discount, we saved $20 a night and got a room on the fourteenth floor for $90 a night. (When we got to the hotel, they wanted to charge us $10 more for a view of Disney World itself. I probably could have haggled for the room-with-the-view for free, but decided against it. But I’m jumping ahead.)

As for airfare, I love Expedia and Travelocity, but the discount airlines like JetBlue and Southwest don’t list their fares with them. Because I knew that JetBlue flies direct from Newark (which is nearest to us) to Orlando, I priced it out. Depending on what time we left, we could get a fare for as low as $69 each way for each of us. Because we were supposed to be on vacation, I didn’t want to drag us out of bed for the $69 fare on the 8:00 a.m. flight. It was worth an extra sixty bucks to take the 11:30 flight, which cost us $89 each outbound. We did get $69 fares on the way back, so all in all, our air fare, with taxes and fees, came in at about $500.

As I mentioned, I knew we would need transportation, and the question of a rental car was really a non-issue for us. We didn’t want to rely on buses or vans. If we are ready to go, we want to go. We don’t like to be at the mercy of a bus or van that might break down, or be delayed, or be too full, if we don’t have to be. Plus, if we wanted to leave the hotel and head out for a non-Disney meal, we wanted to have that option. So, just as I did for the hotel, I searched the travel sites for general ideas of the price range I was looking at, but then booked directly through the website of the agency I settled on, which was Thrifty. Thrifty is one of the cheaper sites, and one with which I was familiar. We reserved a nice, mid-size car for about $170 bucks for the week. (Once we arrived, we actually upgraded to a new Charger, which Dodge just put on the road. They had some available, it stood out from the standard Taurus-type car they were going to give us – and it looked cool!)

If you’re going to rent a car, your best prices will be with the Thrifty/Alamo/Budget companies. Hertz and Avis are good, but why pay about $100 or more per week for the same car? Unless you’ve got some special deal with Hertz or Avis, go with the less expensive guys.

So, air fare – check. Rental car – check. Hotel – check. Oh, yeah. Admission tickets. Almost forgot.

Disney World isn’t cheap. Parking in January 2006 was $9.00 per day, and that was about the best bargain of the day. (Of course, having paid $15.00 to park at Giants Stadium to watch the Jets try to play football, the $9.00 is fairly reasonable given the entertainment you actually receive.)

As for admission to the parks themselves, Disney has a seemingly endless variety of tickets, combos, options, and plans. There are “hopper” options, and “Plus Passes.” You can buy annual passes, and Florida residents get additional discounts. There are meal plans, and length of stay options and lifetime options and . . . well, you get the idea. One day tickets (at 2005 prices) were about $55 each for adults and about $44 each for kids. By the way, just so you know, in Disney World, ten year olds are considered adults. (Disney’s nice and all, but they’ve got a theme park to run, you know.) As an example, a five-day hopper ticket was $269 for adults and $216 for kids. (More on the hopper option below.)

We ordered our admission tickets on-line, at the official Disney Ticket page. Yes, I know; you can get additional discounts from other sites, but I know that Disney is a stickler for the security of its tickets, so for me, it wasn’t worth risking having my tickets rejected. (Disney employs what appears to be a finger-print-type technology to match your pass to you, which prevents you from re-selling unused days left on your ticket to other people. When you enter the park, you slide your ticket in the machine, then put your fingers into a slot in the machine. If they match, the machine kicks your ticket out to you, and you’re admitted. If not, it’s a trip to Customer Relations. But I’m jumping ahead again.)

Anyway, I did get a discount (about 5%) ordering on-line from Disney. In addition, I received hard-plastic, credit-card like passes with magnetic strips, not just little cardboard tickets like those you get at the ticket windows. Those are nice little keepsakes to have at the end of the trip, by the way.

We decided on five-day hopper passes. The hopper option allows you to “hop” from one park to another (and to another, if you’d like) in the same day. Without the hopper option, you’re limited to one park per day. I knew that we’d likely want to hop once or twice during the stay, so I just went with the hopper option.

I also elected not to worry about working any of the water parks into this trip. Disney World has two incredible water parks, in addition to the theme parks. Typhoon Lagoon and Blizzard Beach both have amazing looking water-park rides, including the tallest water slide in the world at Blizzard Beach. However, with so much to see and do at the four main parks, and given the vagaries of the weather in Florida in January, I decided to save the water parks for another visit.

Anyway, we bought five-day hoppers, but decided not to extend them. (Without the extension, the tickets expire fourteen days after the first use – meaning that you have two weeks to use your five days. If you purchase the extension option, you can use three days now, and two days in five years. It all depends on how soon you expect to use your days – and if you want to spend the extra money. (See, I told you it was complicated!))

Another tip – monitor the AllEars Net website for deals and discounts, and subscribe to the AllEars Net newsletter. They are invaluable for information and details. Through my various sources on the web, including AllEars Net, I learned on December 29, 2005 that ticket prices for the World were due to increase on January 1, 2006. Needless to say, that news ended my procrastination immediately. We got our tickets for use in 2006 at the 2005 on-line prices. It was a nice little deal.

With admission tickets purchased, that was about all we needed to go – except for one more little detail: getting to the airport. As you might have guessed, I’ve got one more tip for your trip regarding getting to the airport. Do a Google search of off-site parking near your airport. I know that AviStar has facilities near a number of major airports. Rather than park in the long term lot at Newark, I parked at an AviStar facility nearby. It’s a valet facility, with a secure lot and a free shuttle to the terminal. You simply drive up to the facility, get your ticket, leave your car, and they take you to the terminal. On your return, you call them from the terminal, they come and get you and, by the time you get to the facility and pay for your parking your car is started, warming up, and ready to go. You just pay your bill and leave. For $80, we parked for a week in a secure lot in Newark and spent far less than we would have for a taxi or car service. Not a bad deal at all.

Well, enough prologue. On to the trip.

Walt Disney World -- The Preview

2006-02-16T17:51:00.000-05:00

My wife, youngest son, and I recently came back from an often-postponed, week-long trip to Disney World, one of my favorite places to vacation in the world. As you can see elsewhere on this blog (and for those who know me), we do enjoy travel, and we've done a lot, both as a family, and with my wife and me as a couple.

As I've gotten older, I've wanted to see more and more places, and I enjoy doing so immensely. We've traveled to South America, to the Caribbean, to Europe, and to the Southern U.S. However, I've always loved Disney and have wanted to go back since my last trip in the early '90s.

We finally did so last month, and we had a blast. But I discovered something as I was planning our trip. There are a lot of folks out there who love all things Disney, and especially Disney World. I took some comfort in that discovery, because I thought I was the only crazy one. But there are web-sites, newsletters, travel agencies, groups and clubs all devoted to Disney, and I discovered that there is an abiding interest in both Disney World itself, and peoples' experiences there. For instance, Deb's Unoffficial Disney World Information Guide (aka AllEars Net) is an invaluable resource, and fun place to visit. Dis is another great resource, with discussion boards, reviews, and so on. From my visits there, I found some helpful, informative, and interesting blogs and other sites, like this one and this one.

Anyway, I thought that I'd throw my two-cents worth into the mix and write up our trip, from the planning to the doing. I figured what I learned might help other folks plan and enjoy and, for those like me, there's no such thing as too much information.

Of course, as anyone who's read this blog already knows, I'm the kind of guy who you ask what time it is and I tell you how to make a watch. As a result, my trip journal has grown and grown into a multi-page dissertation about planning and taking a trip to Disney World. Because I tend to go on (and on, and on) about things, I've decided to break the journal up into pieces, and post them separately. That way, you can pick and choose what you'd like to read and review. So, I'll start posting pieces, and you get cracking on that reading. Just like Disney World itself, there's a lot of ground to cover here!

Internet reviews

2006-02-16T17:38:00.000-05:00

I had to laugh as I was surfing for a restaurant review for a particular place near Times Square in New York. I happened upon a place called Tuscan Square, which is right near where we're going to be. Naturally, I wanted to see what previous patrons had to say.

In one review, we see:

Stay away from Tuscan Square

"Very bad time at Tuscan Square:
1. Restaurant lost our reservations
2. Kitchen did not offer same dishes listed on the internet
3. Kitchen did not even offer special that we were told about 10 minutes prior
4. We were told that we should order soon because the kitchen was closing, it was 8:30pm!!!"

In the very next review, we find:

Delicious!

"We love going to tuscan Square for dinner regularly. The food is to die for! You can tell that everything is very fresh and homemade. The restaurant is beautiful, right down to the plates! I especially love the front room, with the ceiling painted like the sky and the huge chandelier. Service is very professional."

I suppose that I'm easily amused, but I love this kind of thing. Two different people; same restaurant; and two totally different takes on the place. Further proof that one man's meat....

To be fair, the reviews are posted roughly two years apart, so there may be a basis for the difference (new chef; change of ownership). Thankfully for my purposes, the majority of reviewers found Tuscan Square to be a nice place to eat, regardless of when they ate there, so it may be worth giving the place a try. Still, those nasty reviews do give one pause, don't they?

Playoff Football

2006-01-15T22:43:00.000-05:00

It's one of my favorite times of year on the sports calendar. NFL Football. Playoff time. Love it!

Now, I'm not going to waste a lot of time analyzying games, and digging into stats. That's not what I do; there's plenty of folks around for that. This is just my take on my favorite games this weekend.

New England v. Denver

I didn't have a rooting interest for either team here. Although I would have preferred a Patriot win, I like both teams and am not disappointed to see the Broncos move on. However, I've been hearing many of the sports talking heads raving about how the better team won, and how the Broncos dominated the Patriots. The way I see it, the talking heads must have been watching a different game. Anyone who knows anything about football saw a Patriot team march up and down the field against the Broncos almost at will. The Bronco defense simply could not stop the Pats. To me, that's not Bronco domination.

To be sure, the Patriots made at least four critical mistakes, with each leading to Bronco points. But that also left the Bronco offense in a position of not having to do anything to "earn" its points. Two one-yard drives for touchdowns does not a dominating offense make.

And, by the way, that pass interference call at the end of the first half that set up the first Bronco one-yard "drive?" Let's be honest. First, both guys were going for the ball, which ordinarily negates pass interference. Second, the ball was uncatchable, which again, negates pass interference. To be sure, bad calls are part of the game, and I'm not blaming the refs for the Pats loss. However, the fact that the refs blew that call tends to undermine the claim that the Broncos were "dominating" the Pats, because the fact is that, before that call, the Broncos were not moving the ball at all.

A second call of questionable validity was the fumble on the interception return. After Bailey returned the ball 100+ yards, Watson knocked him out of bounds, jarring the ball loose. I saw all the different angles on this play and, from where I sat, it looked to me as if the ball was fumbled through the endzone. (There was no ref with a good look at the play, but the initial reaction of the Patriot receiver trailing the play was to give the touchback sign, rather than to hang his head in frustration. That suggests to me "touchback," not fumble out of bounds.) That being the case, it should have been Patriots the ball at the 20. Instead, the Broncos got the ball at the one, and scored on the next play. 14 points, on two one-yard drives, based on arguably questionable calls. That's not domination, folks.

I'm not saying the Broncos didn't deserve to win. They did. They scored more points, and took complete advantage of every opportunity they were given. But to claim that they "dominated" the game, or to assert that they were the "better team," is to ignore reality. The Broncos won because they played a better overall game and therefore deserved to win. I don't accept, though, that they were the better team, and I suspect that they will have their hands full with the Steelers.

Which brings us to:

Pittsburgh v. Indianapolis

My rooting interest in this game was for the Colts, but only because my youngest is a big Colts fan. Otherwise, I'm not too upset to see Pittsburgh win this game, because I like and respect Bill Cowher, their couch, immensely.

My take on this game is that you could almost feel the fates working towards a Colts win. When Manning was sacked at his own 2, I thought the game was over. When the Steelers handed off to Bettis on the next play, I was sure the game was over. When I saw that ball pop out of Bettis's hands, my immediate thought was to The Fumble, back in 1987, when Brown's running back Ernest Byner left the ball on the Denver 2, costing the Browns a trip to the Super Bowl. When I saw Harper gather up the ball on the run and take off, I thought the stars had suddenly aligned and the Colts were going to win.

But give Roethlisberger all the credit in the world. Just like the Patriot tight end, Watson, refused to give up on the play in Denver, Big Ben refused to let Harper score. Somehow, Big Ben stayed with Harper, twisted, turned, and dived at him, and tripped him up with a show-string tackle.

Even then, the Colts weren't done. A couple passes down the middle, and they were in great shape. But then, on third-and-two, someone had brain lock. I don't know if it was Colts head coach Tony Dungey or Peyton Manning, who calls a lot of his own plays, but someone dropped the ball here. With two timeouts left, and two yards to go for a first, why take a chance on a forty-three yard field goal? (As a Jets fan, I know from last year that 43 yard field goals against the Steelers in the playoffs don't work.) But seriously, at that point in the game, you call a draw to James to get the first down because everyone is expecting pass. By doing that, you get better field position, you move closer for your kicker, and you give yourself at least three more chances to win the game in regulation before calling in the kicker. After all, 25 seconds is an eternity with one time out left.

Instead, the Colts call a 15 yard post pattern that Manning completely overthrows. The rest, as they say, is history.

I could jump on the kicker, but that kind of thing happens. Believe me, I know. But even with the blown play calling at the end, what a tremendous game!

Next week: my gut tells me to take the Steelers, and the Panthers. Two road teams, two teams without first round byes. That would be a sweet Super Bowl.

But that's just me talking. Take it for what it's worth, and enjoy the games next week-end.

Is Brokeback Mountain a Hit? Or is the media trying to make it one?

2005-12-30T01:06:00.000-05:00

First of all, I couldn't care less if you want to watch Brokeback Mountain, just as I couldn't care less if you want to watch King Kong, or Cheaper by the Dozen 2, or any other movie out there. But it seems that someone really wants Brokeback Mountain to be considered a "hit." Consider this blurb from the AP wire service:

The Ang Lee film [Brokeback Mountain], which follows the 20-year forbidden romance between two roughneck ranch hands, earned $13,599 per theater, compared with $9,305 for weekend winner "King Kong" and $8,225 for "The Chronicles of Narnia: The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe."

This blurb is under the headline: 'Brokeback' a Box Office Success So Far

Well, the headline is strong, and the statistic of amount-per-screen is certainly interesting. However, does that statistic really tell us how successful the movie is? Truth be told, it tells me absolutely nothing about how much the movie has actually made, in total, or how many people have actually seen it. Check the entire story out for yourself. You won't find this information anywhere. Oh, sure. There's lot's of information about creating a "buzz" and getting people "interested" in the movie, but the movie's been out for about a month now, and this story about how "successful" the movie is doesn't mention how much it's made.

Now, consider this top ten list from last week:

1. "King Kong," $31.4 million.

2. "The Chronicles of Narnia: The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe," $30.1 million.

3. "Fun With Dick and Jane," $23.5 million.

4. "Cheaper by the Dozen 2," $14.8 million.

5. "The Family Stone," $10.9 million.

6. "Memoirs of a Geisha," $10.2 million.

7. "The Ringer," $8.4 million.

8. "Rumor Has It," $7.5 million.

9. "Wolf Creek," $5.9 million.

10. "Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire," $5.7 million.

I'm not seeing Brokeback Mountain in there, are you? If Brokeback is so successful, why is it not appearing in the top ten, after having been released for less than three weeks?

In fact, if you look at the daily box office chart, while Brokeback is in the top 15, it's only made a little more than 9.3 million in 20 days. To be sure, that's in 217 theaters, but doesn't that limited release suggest a limited appeal? (And, to compare, Munich has been out only 6 days (in a little more than 500 theaters) and has earned 8.3 million bucks.)

The point is this: I don't care what movie you go see. But I believe that it's horribly manipulative for the Hollywood powers-that-be to try to turn the movie into something that it's not, and that's a film with mass audience appeal.

I know that the Hollywood elite really want us to go see this movie. I've heard it suggested that this campaign by Hollywood is to help further the "normalization" of homosexual relationships, but I don't accept that premise at all. I believe that the majority in this country is far more accepting, far more tolerant, and far more understanding of the reality of homosexuality without having to create fear that we're being "coerced" to attend a movie about it. I do believe, however, that the campaign to make "Brokeback" a hit (or at least claim that it is one) is an example of a certain segment of the Hollywood intelligentsia wanting to be on board with a movie that's a "big hit" and that is "important" because it is making a "statement" that everyone should hear.

Let's be real. No matter how well the movie is made, no matter how touching the love story is, no matter how big the "statement" is, "Brokeback" has no mass appeal. I don't think that that's a bad thing, or a good thing. It's just a fact of life -- a gay cowboy story is simply not a big draw for the majority of people, regardless of how talented the actors in the movie are, or how gifted the director may be, or how "important" the message is.

I believe that a majority of the people understand that two men can fall in love, and have a long lasting and deeply felt, loving relationship. I just don't believe that we all must see a movie about it, anymore than I believe that we must see a movie about an elementary school student participating in a spelling bee, or a biography about a country-western legend (which, by the way, has earned close to a hundred million bucks).

"Brokeback Mountain" is a high-concept movie, with limited appeal, that tells a sweet story and carries a strong message. It is, however, a niche movie, and even with all the help in the world, the Hollywood powers-that-be ain't gonna move that mountain into the mainstream. I wish they wouldn't try, because their efforts are as strained as they are misguided, and they serve to detract from the movie itself.

Autumn Renovations

2005-12-14T23:50:00.000-05:00

Time sure flies when life swirls on around you. This fall, the projects at home have simply sucked up most of the available time I had to do things -- like keep the blog updated. (I did manage to get a few things posted at askalawyer.blogspot.com for those with a yearning for hearing about other peoples’ legal problems).

Home improvement projects were the order of the day around the house this fall, and, when we take on a project, we don’t take on one; we multi-task, project-wise. Here’s the “to-do” list: we finished our basement, and, at the same time, moved my oldest son out (to his first apartment!), then moved my youngest into the now empty bigger bedroom, and then converted the now-empty smaller bedroom into an upstairs office. Of course, these simple phrases don’t do justice to the mammoth undertakings that each one of those projects is. “Finishing the basement” includes the sub-task of emptying the basement, which leads to sub-sub-tasks, like: (a) getting rid of the junk that we’ve accumulated over the years, (b) having the eternal debate with the missus about why some of the things she considers “junk” is really “valuable-stuff-you-should-save-because-
you-might-need-it-down-the-road,” and (c) purchasing storage bins within which to put the things we will continue to save.

This last sub-sub-task leads to the task of finding a place to temporarily store this stuff while we rip out the half-walls left by the guy, two owners ago, who started to finish the basement but then never did. The problem, of course, is that the guy who half-finished the basement decades ago did a fairly poor job of doing so, which necessitated the rip-out. This, of course, leads to the sub-sub-sub task of making arrangements to dispose of the stuff you’re pulling out before you put new stuff in.

Oh, and did I forget to mention that, before we could start any of it, we had to replace the furnace? After all, if your 15 year old furnace needs about $1500 of repair for the new "heating season" (we used to call it "winter," by the way), and you’re going to finish the basement anyway, you might as well buy and install a new furnace, and then finish the basement around it. This avoids the possibility of damaging your new basement walls in three years when you have to replace the furnace after the $1500 repairs give out.

Of course, installing new furnaces isn’t like installing a new refrigerator. There’s a chimney, and soot, and rusty water, and corroded pipes, and a host of other incredibly dirty, dust-creating things that, upon your return home at the end of the day, require intensive top-to-bottom scrubbing of the house. (That soot does get everywhere.)

You can see where my free time went these past few months.

Oh, the tales I’ve got as a result of these renovations. There was the Saturday in mid-October when I drove a shower stall all around North Jersey. See, the fininshing of the basement included a remodel of the bathroom. I was told that a uni-body shower stall (which is one, giant piece of whatever they make shower stalls out of) was a better bet than one of the kits you can get, which is essential three plastic panels, nailed to the two-by-fours, screwed and caulked together, and voila: shower stall. So, I head off to Home Depot, my youngest in tow (for moral support), and find a shower stall. It was nice looking, perfectly square, and designed to fit into the 32 inch opening in the corner of the bathroom. With the help of a couple of guys at Home Depot, I got the thing up on the roof of my father-in-law’s truck, tied it down, and headed home.

On the way, I was feeling pretty confident. I had my 32" shower stall, I’d measured my door openings into the bathroom, and along the hall, and in the bathroom and knew that the uni-body stall would fit. I was in the process of calling Dave, my very handy neighbor, to help me unload the shower stall, when I paused. It had suddenly occurred to me that I had not measured any of the entry doors into the house from outside. Sure, I could get the shower stall down the stairs, down the hall and into the bathroom. However, it had not occurred to me to see if I could actually get the shower stall into the house.

I’m sure you can predict the rest. I have 30 inch doors in my house. Front door. Back door. Bilco door into the basement. All 30 inches. Geometry had never been my long suit, but I was fairly confident that there was no way that I could twist, turn, or manipulate a 32 inch square shower stall through a 30 inch wide door. So, the shower stall and I returned to Home Depot, where I swapped it out for -- a three-piece shower stall kit. At least the uni-body had a day out.

Then there was the PODS adventure. Have you heard of them? PODS is an organization that rents you storage pods, either for storing stuff on your property, or for packing your stuff up and moving it to another location. It’s a great idea for folks like us, who just need a place on a temporary basis to store some stuff.

The POD itself is, essentially, a container similar to that on the back of an 18-wheeler. The POD people deliver the pod to your home, off-load it from the back of the truck, and leave it in your back yard, or on your driveway, or wherever you’ve got room for it. You fill the POD with your stuff and then either leave it there until you’re done storing, or call the POD people, who will send a truck and move the POD to wherever it is you need it moved.

It’s a great concept, and we thought we had the perfect solution to our temporary storage dilemma. However, the best laid plans....

I’d called PODS to arrange for the delivery of a POD. Their web site walks you through what you need to do, and how much room you need, and how much clearance you have to have, something like 12 by 12 by 16 feet for the large pod. I measured the area where I wanted the POD, filled out the on-line form, scheduled a delivery for Saturday morning, and waited.

On a rainy Saturday morning, the POD truck arrived at about 8:00 a.m. I knew there was trouble when the POD driver looked at my driveway and shook his head. I ran out to face the problem head-on.

“Oh, man, I’m not sure this is going to get up the driveway,” said the driver.

I was puzzled, because it was obvious that the POD itself would fit in my driveway.

“Why not? Just back the truck up and roll the POD off,” I told him.

The driver shook his head again. “No, man. That’s not how it works.”

I had – mistakenly – believed that they just backed the truck up and rolled the POD off the back, kinda like a dump truck. In hind sight, I can see how that wouldn’t work if you were packing a POD for moving. Imagine having everything packed neatly in the POD, and then having to drag it up the back of the truck, on an incline. That wouldn’t work so well.

What PODS has is a contraption that resembles a four-legged spider, which stands itself up off of the truck. The crawler then straddles the back of the truck, and the driver attaches the POD by chain to the crawler (which is about 15 feet tall). The crawler then lifts the POD straight up in the air, keeping it level, and lifts it off the truck. The driver than directs the crawler, by remote control, to wherever the POD is supposed to go, and then lowers it down.

The problem at my house was this. The crawler needs a twelve foot wide path to get the POD from the truck to the place where you're going to put the POD. That, I didn't have. I had a big enough spot for the POD itself, but the pathway leading up to it was only about 9 or ten feet wide. My driveway is very narrow at the end, with a 3 foot high retaining wall on one side, and a four step staircase, leading to a walkway, on the other. There was no way that the crawler could fit up the driveway, because it wouldn’t be able to navigate the stairs.

Oh, the driver was game. “Well, I’ll give it a try,” he said as he got the remote control for the crawler going. And he did get the crawler up on the first step – with the POD swaying back and forth like a swing in the storm, and the front leg of the crawler tilting closer and closer towards my neighbor’s house. I politely declined the driver’s generous offer to continue to his effort to scale the stairs and told him to take his POD and go home.

We eventually secured a spot at the local self-serve storage facility and, two days and about 57 trips later, we had the basement’s contents in storage.

It was all well worth it, by the way, despite the time involved. The basement looks incredible, the office looks great, and we’ve just got to get a second coat of paint on the big bedroom to finish the remodel up there. The result has been great, but lawdy, lawdy, it does take time.

So is there a "separation of church and state," or not?

2005-11-08T23:37:00.000-05:00

You know, every once in a while, I get into a heated exchange about religion, and government, and politics (usually with my wife, but this time, it was my mother). With dear old mom, I tend to go "old school" on her -- by writing a letter. Yeah, a real, pen-to-paper letter (or, in the 21st Century, fingers-to-keyboard-to-printer letter, but you get the point). Here's my latest missive on that "hot button" issue of religion and the first amendment, as argued with me mum.

This will follow-up on our telephone call the other night about the infamous phrase “separation of church and state.” We’ve discussed it in brief already, but I’m going to give you a few more things to chew on.

Perhaps the most significant point to be made on this issue is this: Each of the following statements is true: (1) All of the current interpretations of the First Amendment are correct, and (2) None of the current interpretations of the First Amendment are correct. It all depends on what you are trying to establish because there are no “right” answers in interpreting the constitution. This is because of the way the document was designed, and because of the nature of a democracy.

For instance, if you believe in a right to privacy, you cannot rely on the Constitution because it does not exist there. If you believe that you should be protected from governmental interference in the private dealings of your day to day life, then you have to accept that the constitution is a living document, subject to interpretation, from which certain rights that are not specifically spelled out can nevertheless be inferred. You cannot rely on the plain language of the constitution for the right to privacy because it’s not in there. The right to privacy only exists because the constitution has been interpreted to provide it.

Regarding the language “separation of church and state,” it is actually irrelevant to a discussion of the meaning of the First Amendment that this particular phrase had its genesis in a letter by Jefferson to a group of Baptist clergymen in 1802, assuring them that the Congregationalists Church would not become the state-sponsored religion of the United States. (As I’m sure you know, Jefferson was pointing out that the First Amendment guaranteed that there would be no establishment of any one denomination over another.)

The phrase “separation of church and state” has been co-opted by both the right and the left to stand for whatever it is that the respective sides want it to mean. On the extreme left, it means that nothing remotely religious can be associated with anything remotely governmental. On the extreme right, the phrase is a hot button topic used to show that the extreme left is misinterpreting the constitution. The reality is that the truth lies in the middle because the plain language of the First Amendment clearly contemplates that the government and religion were to operate in separate realms.

The plain language of First Amendment provides, in relevant part:

"Congress shall make no law respecting an establishment of religion, or prohibiting the free exercise thereof; . . . "

As I’m sure you know, these clauses are usually broken down into “the Establishment clause” and “the Free Exercise clause.” The Establishment clause is the one that always gets misinterpreted to service the needs of the parties invoking it, but the language of the clause is clear: Congress cannot, by law, establish a national religion.

The plain meaning of this language simply means that Congress cannot tell people who to worship, what to worship, when to worship, or how to worship -- in other words, separating Congress from any involvement in the peoples’ choice of religion. This, by definition, is a separation of “church” from “state,” because it was designed to ensure that Congress couldn’t involve itself with the peoples’ choice of religion.

James Madison said that the First Amendment was prompted because "The people feared one sect might obtain a preeminence, or two combine together, and establish a religion to which they would compel others to conform." The obvious point of the amendment was thus to avoid the religious wars and religious tyrannies that had plagued Europe for centuries before the 1700s. The Founding Fathers wanted to make sure that no specific church or creed had authority over the government -- thus, a “separation” between them.

The fact that the phrase “separation of church and state” has taken on connotations over the years inconsistent with this interpretation doesn’t change the original intent of the clause. I submit that it cannot be reasonably disputed that the intent of the First Amendment was and remains to expressly prohibit Congress from establishing any religion as the national religion. Towards that end, any law that attempts to establish one or more religions as predominant over another can be seen as violative of the First Amendment.

That, of course, doesn’t mean that religion has no place in politics. In fact, quite the contrary is true. If you research the issue, you will see that the politicians of the day, including George Washington, all accepted that religion, as a concept, was an important aspect of any politician. However, even accepting all of their statements does not change the fact that the First Amendment still prohibits Congress from establishing a national religion. You can be as religious as you want, and be a politician. You can even advocate one religion over another, if you really want to (although how that will impact your political career is a separate issue). However, you cannot pass a law about establishing one, or two, or even a dozen religions as the national religion of the United States.

The problem is that people and groups on the extreme right take their argument one step too far. One of the arguments goes that the “separation” was only intended to be one-way, claiming that it was not the intention of the Constitution to separate the government from Christianity and its principles. The claim is that the purpose of the Establishment clause was to protect the church from the state, but not the State from the Church. Unfortunately, there is no support for this argument anywhere in the Constitution. (In fact, the Constitution itself mentions religion only once. In Article VI, paragraph 3, the Constitution provides that state and federal office holders "shall be bound by Oath or Affirmation, to support this Constitution; but no religious test shall ever be required as qualification to any office or public trust under the United States." The purpose of this paragraph it to permit any individual to hold office, regardless of their religion. There is no other reference to religion anywhere in the Constitution.)

The fact is that advocating that the Constitution did not contemplate separating Christianity from government ignores the plain language of the First Amendment. There should be no law establishing any religion. If you want to elect Christians, Jews or Muslims to Congress, the people are free to do so, but not one of those religions can, by law, be decreed as being “better than” or a “guiding principle” more than the other. The fact that the politicians in the 1700s were primarily Christian does not change the fact that, in 2005, the Constitution still protects all of the religions, sects and creeds out there.

The Establishment clause has, of course, grown long tentacles over the years. It’s the classic “slippery slope” argument. You could justify a ban on federal funding for Catholic schools because a law providing federal funding to Catholic schools would suggest a law tending to establish Catholicism as the national church because the Catholic school is getting money that other religious schools are not getting. In all honesty, such a ban is not too much of a stretch under the Establishment clause. Of course, you really have to stretch the Establishment clause almost to the breaking point to make the clause apply to a Nativity scene, or the Ten Commandments on a stone in the courthouse, because putting up a Christmas display, or engraving the Ten Commandments on a stone in the courthouse, hardly involves the passage of a law. But none of these extreme interpretations of the Establishment clause changes the original intent of the clause, which clearly was to ensure that Congress (and under the Fourteenth amendment, the States) did not get involved in the business of passing laws -- any laws -- establishing any one, or any twelve, religions as the national religion.

The “free exercise” clause is equally easy to interpret, on its face. Congress cannot pass any law that interferes with an individual’s right to freely exercise his or her religion. Of course, the difficulty arises when people create “religions” as an excuse to engage in behavior that would otherwise be considered illegal. For instance, the mere fact that I assert a religious belief in my divine right to drive while intoxicated doesn’t mean that I’m actually free to exercise that purported belief. That’s why God invented lawyers, and why there are volumes upon volumes of books devoted to constitutional law.

The point is this: the First Amendment was intended to ensure that there was no legal connection between religion and government, and that government could not interfere with the free exercise of religious beliefs. To be sure, there is nothing about the amendment that requires that religion and religious backgrounds can have no impact on government. Obviously, the religion of a religious person will have an impact on his or her decision making. However, it is equally apparent that the law does prohibit a religious person from passing a law that establishes his or her religion as the State religion, or as one supported by the State to the exclusion of others. That, by definition, requires a separation between church and state, despite any misgivings that phraseology might engender.

There. That’s all I’ve got to say on the issue, at least for now. If nothing else, I’m sure it will inspire you to explain to me how misguided I am!

***

And that's the end of that missive. Feel free, if you're of a mind to, to join my mother in explaining to me how misguided you believe me to be.

“Can you read that back to me?”

2005-09-29T00:24:00.000-04:00

Some of the funniest slips of the tongue, mistatements, and outright mistakes, happen in open court, or during a deposition of a witness, when a lawyer is either unprepared, or trying to get too cute when questioning a witness. I’ve collected excerpts from transcripts over the years that, if nothing else, are just enough to give even the greatest litigator a reason to pause. Here are just a few.

Q. Do you remember everything that happened that night?

A. No, I don’t remember at all.

Q. What part don’t you remember about what happened that night?

*****

Q. You say this woman shot her husband with his pistol at close range.

A. Yes, sir, that’s right.

Q. Any powder marks on his body?

A. Yes, sir, that’s why she shot him.

*****

Q. What is your date of birth?

A. October 1910.

Q. Do you remember the day?

A. No, but I’ve been told about it.

*****

Q. You told her what before the surgery?

A. I said we could probably save the toes, but I don’t know about the foot.

*****

Q. Did the perpetrator have facial hair?

A. Yes. Eyebrows.

*****

Q. Have you ever been accused of taking anything from your employer that you were not entitled to?

A. Do you mean other than my paycheck?

*****

Q. Did you blow your horn or anything?

A. After the accident?

Q. Before the accident.

A. Sure. I played for ten years. I even went to school for it.

Flag on the Play: 15 Yards for Roughing the Language

2005-09-28T23:17:00.000-04:00

I’m feeling particularly irritable today, so its time for a bit of a rant.

As you might guess from the mere fact that I have this blog, I love to write. I like words and I enjoy turning a phrase. I also love to read a well-crafted story, or a well-written blog. I have a few blogs that I particularly enjoy simply because of the way they are written. One of my favorite websites -- Television Without Pity -- combines my appreciation for people who write with wit, intellect, and humor with reviews of some of the more interesting television shows out there.

But this isn’t about that. This is about those among us who butcher the language in ways that are particularly grating. Here are some of the abuses of language that simply set my teeth on edge. This list is by no means exclusive. These are just the instances that hit me today. I’m sure I’ll add more.

“Supposably.” This one rears its ugly head time and time again. I put this one first because it was recently thrust upon the nation in the current edition of the reality show, Survivor. The use of this non-word is bad enough in day-to-day dealings. But to give it a national platform on broadcast TV? My teeth hurt just hearing it. People: the word is “supposedly.” It’s an adverb. It’s used to describe how something was “supposedly done,” or what someone “supposedly believed,” as a way to indicate that something may not actually be the case.

“Irregardless.” I know, I know. This one has gained acceptance over the years (which is my growing fear for “supposably,” by the way). But just because everyone uses it doesn’t make it right. The word you’re looking for is “regardless.” If you want to be creative, try “irrespective.” But regardless of the fact that irrespective is the word folks should probably use, they insist on saying “irregardless,” without any regard to the consequences of their continued misuse of the language.

“Its” versus “it’s.” When the dog is going to visit its mother, it does so without the apostrophe. When it is too hot outside for the dog, it’s too hot outside. The first is the possessive (which is what screws people up, because when Joe is going to visit Joe’s mother, he takes the apostrophe with him). The second is a contraction of it + is, where you always need your apostrophe. It’s really not that hard, folks.

“Confidant.” This is not about a non-word; it is about a mispronunciation, and this is directed more at the news media types. It’s bad enough that someone mispronounces a word. However, the news media should know better than to broadcast an interview with someone who refers to the crime victim’s friend as a “con-FI-dent,” with a long “i” sound and the accent on the middle syllable. The person you entrust your secrets to is a “CON-fuh-dahnt.”

“Epitome.” Another mispronunciation, thankfully not in wide use, but it’s stuck with me since I first heard William Shatner asked if the role of Captain Kirk was the “EH-pih-tome” of his career. Shatner paused, acknowledged that it was, and then, without missing a beat, said that it was also the “eh-PIH-tuh-me” of his career as well. The comment was lost on the interviewer. My suggestion: either look up the word first, or use an alternate -- like “embodiment” or even “perfect example.”

“Accessory.” Yet another mispronunciation that, unfortunately, is increasingly insinuating itself into the language, thanks to commercials on television. I first encountered this mispronunciation years ago when someone I was working with attempted to do a voice-over for a radio commercial by describing a sale on “assessories.” I had to break out the dictionary to show that the store was actually selling “ack-SESS-uh-reez,” and even then I was met with resistance. However, sales on “assessories” are now becoming the new hot thing. I know, because I’ve heard about them in TV commercials for a variety of local and national department stores. Here’s the problem. An assessor makes assessments, as in the case of the tax assessor. The assessor may do things in an assessorial way, and I expect that the assessor may use his assessing accessories when working. But, until someone creates an assessory (perhaps where an assessor might be trained), there are no such things.

“Valentime’s Day.” It is not a time for valens. It is a day named after Saint Valentine. We don’t receive valentimes on this day. We receive valentines. Think “fork,” as in “tines on a,” and you’ll be alright.

I’ll be adding to this list, I’m sure. These are the ones that tick me off today. Please feel free to add your own.

Finally, just to lighten things up a bit, here are some colorfully mixed metaphors that have made me laugh:

“People are dying like hotcakes.”

“He’s a little green behind the ears.”

“She took to it like a duck out of water.”

“We’ll burn that bridge when we come to it.”

“Life isn’t always a bowl of chili.”

And, perhaps my favorite:

“Our relief pitching was damned good, great,” said manager Whitey Herzog, who violated a sacred cow for the second time in a week and got away with it. (Now doesn’t that present an interesting mental picture?)

An Open Response to Michael Moore's Letter Regarding George Bush

2005-09-13T19:02:00.000-04:00

My wife forwarded to me an email sent out by Michael Moore containing his latest complaints about the President. For those who haven't seen it, I will attach it here as a comment. After having read it, I felt compelled to respond. Here is what I sent to Mr. Moore.

Dear Mr. Moore,

I just received your open letter to “All Who Voted for George W. Bush,” and I find it to be very interesting -- though far from objective -- reading. I do not object to the content of the letter, despite the fact that I am a registered Republican and despite the fact that I do, generally, support the President and, more importantly, the Presidency.

I do, however, object to the fact that you paint with such a wide brush and with such broad strokes that you color everyone whom you deem to be “the enemy” with the same shade of ugly. Not everyone who is a Republican, or who is a Bush supporter, is evil, heartless or intellectually challenged, despite the conclusions upon which your letter appears to be premised.

I will be happy to engage you in an intelligent discussion of ideas if you believe that you can put aside your self-affixed labels of Democrat/liberal/fill-in-your-choice-of-left-wing-buzz-words-here. I am not, however, willing to engage in an exchange of ad hominem attacks.

That’s the problem with political debate in this country these days. Too many people instantly pigeon-hole “Republicans” in one slot and “Democrats” in another. The fact is that those pigeon-holes do not come close to describing the people who actually call themselves Republicans and Democrats.

At the risk of stating the obvious, Republicans, just like Democrats, are human beings. I mention this only because your incessant attacks on Republicans seem bent on dehumanizing them. But Republicans and conservatives, just like Democrats and liberals, have families, feelings, and beliefs. They also have ideas and opinions that they are convinced are true. Their beliefs and ideas may differ from yours, but that doesn’t mean that they are wrong and you are right. It just means that their opinions are different from yours.

With that in mind, I want to address the questions and concerns you raise in your letter. Before I do so, however, let me give you a little background about me so that you can, perhaps, understand my frame of reference.

I am a Republican. I am also pro-choice. Were I to run for office, I would run on the Republican ticket but would also fight to remove the plank in the Republican platform that advocates abolishing a woman’s right to choose.

I believe in God, and in Jesus, but I don’t believe in forcing my beliefs down other people’s throats. I subscribe to George Carlin’s philosophy that religion is like a lift in your shoe. You should use it if it makes you feel better, but you shouldn’t try to nail your lifts to the natives’ feet.

I favor stem cell research and I back Federal funding of appropriate projects in this area. I also believe that the Federal government should spend more on AIDS research and less on building highways in the wilderness.

I believe in the right to bear arms, but I also believe in gun control. If I want to own a Luger, I should be able to do so. However, I should also be required to have appropriate safety devices on that gun and I should be required to have a license and to pass an annual test in its use and handling. I should not, however, be free to own an AK-47 simply because I want one.

I believe in a human being’s ability to make a better life for himself or herself without having to rely on the government for a handout. I also accept the fact that there are instances and circumstances in which the government should step in and help those who cannot help themselves. The government -- both state and Federal -- must be in a position to provide such things as unemployment benefits, disability benefits, and health care benefits for those who need them.

I also believe that certain programs, such as unemployment benefits, must have conditions and time limits on them such that those who receive the benefits are nevertheless encouraged to get off the public dole. There is no honor in collecting unemployment benefits. I do not believe that it is the government’s role to pay those who simply do not want to work (and, let’s be honest -- there are people out there who fit this description. In your heart of hearts, you certainly must realize that there are actually some people who collect government benefits because they don’t want to work. I know, because I’ve met them. I’m not saying it’s the majority of people; I’m just pointing out that there are some people who actually do believe this.)

I supported the invasion of Afghanistan in October 2001 because it was the appropriate response to what happened to this country on September 11, 2001. I was initially non-committal on the subsequent invasion of Iraq because, even with the intelligence that the administration claimed to have at the time, I was skeptical about the notion that Iraq posed an active and immediate threat to the United States. Nevertheless, once the troops went in, I was behind them because there should never be a repeat in this country of what happened to our soldiers who served in Viet Nam.

Was it the right thing to send the troops into Iraq? At the time, I was willing to give the President the benefit of the doubt. However, I believed at the time (and still believe) that a better use of the troops we sent into Iraq would have been to put them all on the ground in Afghanistan in order to capture bin Laden in an attempt to behead the al Qaeda monster once and for all. Now, I am convinced that going into Iraq was, and has been, an exercise in futility and a waste of time and resources.

That, however, does not change my support for Bush, because I am not convinced that Gore would have been the right man for the job after September 11, and I do not believe that Kerry had any exit strategy that would clean up the mess in Iraq. (As an aside, had Kerry actually posed a viable exit strategy for Iraq, it might have won him the election.) Yes, I do acknowledge that Iraq is a mess and that we should be out of there as soon as possible, especially in light of recent events in this country. I cannot support continuing to spend millions of dollars to rebuild Iraq when that money would be better spent rebuilding the Gulf Coast.

With all that being said, let’s get to your letter. You raise legitimate concerns about Michael Brown, the FEMA director (who has already resigned). But let’s not pretend (as you seem to do) that Brown was the first political hack appointed to a position based more on who he knew than what he knew. Brown is only one of many such appointees in this administration. And let’s be candid: Clinton did it. Bush I, Reagan, Carter, Ford, Nixon, Johnson, Kennedy, Eisenhower, Truman, Roosevelt -- they all did it too. These political appointments are rewards for folks who helped, in one way or another, get the President elected and, 99 times out of 100, these appointments simply fly under the radar because they are “business-as-usual.”

Were it not for Katrina, Brown’s appointment would have flown under the radar as well, just as most of the political appointments that came before it did. It’s a disgrace that such appointments happen. It’s also a fact of life that this is the way our system works. If you have a solution to this particular problem that would cover all political appointments by either party, I would be happy to hear it.

You raise concerns about Michael Chertoff, alleging that he has “little experience in national security.” The problem with your complaint is that there is no way to assess the appropriate experience level for the Director of Homeland Security. Where does one gain experience in dealing with terror cells and preparing for and thwarting an endless variety of threats to our borders? As you well know, the Department of Homeland Security is less than four years old. It would seem to me that the best qualifications for the Director of this nascent department would be intelligence, an ability to think on one’s feet, and a willingness and ability to adapt to an ever-changing environment. Chertoff, a former US Attorney and judge, would seem to have these qualities. I would, however, be happy to hear what you believe are the necessary qualifications for the Director.

You claim that we are “the laughing stock of the world[.]” I am curious as to your source for this claim. My wife works for an international company and, while there is some curiosity on the part of her colleagues from overseas about the choices this country makes, I do not get the impression that the United States is seen as a “laughing stock” by anyone.

The danger of your use of the inflammatory phrase “laughing stock” (apart from the fact that it has no factual support), is that those who accept your word at face value will believe it to be gospel. It is one thing to make a point and support it with facts. It is entirely different to make a statement, claim it is a fact, and invite people to rely on it without supporting the statement with any evidence of its truth. It is your kind of “argument” that has reduced the political discourse in this country to the war of unsubstantiated sound bites it has become.

You attack the President and McCain and “their rich pals” for “stuffing themselves with cake” when the hurricane hit. I’m not sure what your point in this particular attack is, except as a fairly weak attempt to analogize the President to Marie Antoinette. I absolutely agree that the President should have been far more responsive. I’ll direct you to my own blog for my thoughts on this, and I’d like you to notice the difference between your complaints and mine. I actually propose workable solutions that could have, and should have, been employed. You do nothing but rail against the President without posing a single answer to the problems of which you complain. Surely you are familiar with the old adage that it is better to light a single candle than to curse the darkness.

You complain about “horrible poverty,” a poor education system and a lack of health care benefits for millions, yet you fail to present a single suggestion to help remedy the situation or to pose a single solution to any problem. Worse, you disingenously attempt to pin the blame for all of these problems on Bush when you surely know that there is no causal relationship between Bush in the White House and the existence of the problems you highlight. Certainly you realize that much of the problem with our education system lies at the feet of the local boards of education, many of which believe that something as basic as memorizing the multiplication tables is no longer necessary and that phonetic spelling is an acceptable alternative to learning the rules of the English language.

In addition, poverty and the problems with our health care system have existed in this country for decades. Don’t forget that during President Clinton’s first two years in office, with a Democratic controlled Congress, poverty did not end and the health care crisis worsened. In fact, the biggest change resulting from Clinton’s first two year’s in office was the return of a Republican majority to both the House and the Senate. Volumes have been written on why this happened, but the point is this -- poverty continued to exist and the health care system continued to deteriorate despite the presence of a person whom I am sure you would consider a “good man” in the White House. While it would be nice if the President could wave a wand to cure all of our social ills, we both know that solutions to these problems are far beyond the ability of any one man, or one woman, to solve on his or her own.

I don’t pretend to have solutions to all of these problems. However, I also don’t pretend that the cause of all of these problems is “Democrats” or some other target at which I may wish to spew bile. Demonizing the President does not solve them, nor does assessing blame without posing solutions.

You ask if I “really feel safe.” My answer is: “yes.” I feel safe, albeit not because of any particular thing that the President has or has not done. I feel safe because of the fact that we, as a people, are more fully aware now that there are active and very real threats to us out there, and that those threats know no border. Knowledge is, after all, power. I also feel safer because I believe that the government is aware of those threats and is better prepared -- although far from fully prepared -- to deal with them.

Does Katrina show that we are unprepared for such threats? Not at all. Katrina shows that the administration dropped the ball when it came to preparing for and responding to a natural disaster the likes of which had never before been seen in this country. It is a horrible tragedy that the disaster occurred at all, and it is shameful that the Federal government (as well as the state and local governments) obviously botched the response. The Federal government’s painfully slow response, however, is not an indictment of this country’s overall level of preparedness to face threats from beyond its borders, or of its ability to right itself and recover from a disaster.

Is George W. Bush the greatest president we’ve ever had? Not even close. Let’s just say he’s among the twenty-two presidents that make the top twenty possible. But, given the choices we’ve had over the past two elections, I’m glad that he was the president on September 11, 2001 (the seven-minute delay notwithstanding) because I believe that the initial response and focus of this country in the wake of those attacks was correct and appropriate, and he was the architect and voice of that initial response.

You claim that Bush was not “up for the job.” I’m not certain that any person would have been up for the job that confronted the Presidency after September 11, 2001. While I part ways with the President on many things, given the choices we had, I cannot say that I would rather have anyone else in the White House, either on September 11, 2001 or today.

You say in your letter that you “have an idea” on how to fix things. I look forward to hearing it.

Very truly yours,

David P. Kendall

Message to the President: You need to do something.

2005-09-02T07:24:00.000-04:00

The President needs to do something in Lousiana.

Anything.

There’s no reason not to.

And there’s plenty of things he can do. We have the power, the resources, and the ability to help our fellow citizens out, and we should do so. After all, if we can put 100,000 boots on the ground in Iraq, there’s no reason why we can’t put at least 10,000 boots on the ground in New Orleans.

And no, I’m not suggesting we invade New Orleans. Let’s not get crazy here; I’m not advocating that we conduct a military coup in order to overthrow the Mayor’s administration and take over the city.

But we have resources available that can be used on a moment’s notice in hot spots around the world. Is there any hotter spot, from a purely American standpoint, than New Orleans and the Gulf Coast?

The Marines have always been the President’s 911 force. In case of emergency, the President calls the Marines, and they go in and put out the fires. That call should have been made no later than Monday night. The Marines have ready response units that can deploy in 12 hours or less. Had that call been made, the first Marines could have been on the ground Tuesday morning.

Imagine Marines on the ground by sunrise Tuesday. They could have been building pontoon bridges to get people in and out. They could have started bringing supplies into and out of New Orleans -- things like water, food, and even something as mundane as porta-potties.

The Marines could have landed amphibious units within hours to help maintain order. (Again, I’m not advocating usurping civilian authority in favor of military control. But this was -- and remains -- a unique situation that continues to spiral out of control.) The Marines could have been patrolling the streets -- strictly in a “support-the-police” kind of way -- helping them round up the thugs and looters who are taking pot shots at the authorities and stealing those all-important televisions and digital cameras.

I know that many of the prisons and jails in the area have been emptied due to flooding. However, I hear there’s a prison down in Guantanamo Bay that’s been receiving some use lately. The Marines could have loaded up a C-130 transport plane with some prisoners to hold them at Gitmo -- just temporarily, of course. They could have made a drop of a plane-load at Gitmo and been back for another pick-up in less time than it takes to process a prisoner in the local precinct house.

People are still without homes and without shelters in the streets and on the overpasses around New Orleans. Even now, the Marines could erect a tent city or two and use jeeps, humvees, transport trucks, and whatever other vehicles they have, to bring people to safety. Of course no one wants to live in a tent city for any length of time. But I’m thinking that would beat living on a freeway overpass, at least for the short term.

The Army could be brought it with some MASH units to administer to the folks who need aid, and the Navy, which, last I heard, still has a boat or two, could pull a couple of ships out of service -- even if they pull them out of mothballs -- just to have some more temporary lodging. New Orleans is, after all, a port. I figure there’s a place to park a ship or two.

I’m not saying it would be easy. But we managed to get to Baghdad in 72 hours, through hostile territory, 10,000 miles away. I’m thinking we could have gotten to New Orleans in less time, and would have received a far warmer response.

I can hear the naysayers now. “Once we start bringing the military in, aren’t we blurring the lines between our democratic, civilian-controlled government and a dictatorship?” “Don’t we run a risk by letting one man have too much control over too much power, letting him just send the troops in whenever he wants?” “There’s no constitutional provision for this. How can we allow it?” Please.

I’m not suggesting that we shred the constitution. But there’s no disaster handbook that anyone can go to for instructions on how to handle this kind of thing. Katrina is a once-in-a-lifetime event. It created a unique situation that required an inspired and -- most importantly -- a rapid response. September 11th was horrendous and terrifying, but the breadth and the scope of the devastation on that day did not approach what happened -- and is ongoing -- in Louisiana, Mississippi, and Alabama. These people -- these Americans -- need help, protection, and assurances from their Government.

Once order is restored, and our people at least have some sort of protection and some semblance of a return to normalcy, we can have the troops stand down. But in the meantime, we should be helping our own people at least as much as we’re out there trying to help others.

Scenes From a Disaster Give Us a Reason to Help

2005-09-01T22:46:00.000-04:00

A family of four, carrying everything they own in three bags and a shopping cart, leaves a shelter in favor of the streets because they don’t feel safe in the shelter.

Dozens of people camped out on a freeway overpass on I-10 because it was the highest point around. One woman, nine months pregnant, is feeling labor pains. Another woman points to a body on the highway below and explains that it was someone who jumped from the overpass because his despair was so overwhelming. A third shows us her mother, suffering from Alzheimers’, who has no idea what’s going on, or where she is.

Looters ransacking stores. They’re taking food, water, and juice. Inexplicably, they’re also taking televisions, electronics and guns -- and smiling for the cameras as they do it.

State and federal officials attempt to evacuate the Superdome, and they are greeted with gunfire.

Hundreds of adults (just like you and me) going into Day Three without having had access to a bathroom -- or any running water of any kind -- for over 72 hours.

Parents have to re-use disposable diapers for their babies because they have no clean ones to use.

People are advised that certain areas of the city aren’t safe because the city emptied its jails when the flood waters started to rise, so there’s no telling who you might run into, or what they might try to do.

A TV reporter is told by police not to open a bottle of water because he might attract the wrong kind of attention.

Dead bodies float by, in places that were once streets.

Officials speculate that there may still be a significant increase in the death toll, but they cannot yet tell because too many houses, apartments and buildings remain completely submerged. They worry publicly about what they may find in the attics of those buildings.

People are talking seriously about abandoning a city. Not some old silver-mining town in the plains of the southwest that dried up shortly after the silver ran out. No, this is a full-blown City in the United States of America that has simply ceased to be, and that some experts say may never be again.

The devastation is total. The misery is only just beginning. But I cannot believe that New Orleans will not be back, or that we -- as a country, and as a people -- will not overcome this disaster. Even now, people from all over the United States are mobilizing, ready to bring with them to the Crescent City food, drink, generators, supplies, and their skills in searching, rescuing, and rebuilding. Millions of dollars are pouring in to the Red Cross to aid the victims. Sites like Stormaid.com have been designed to funnel money directly to where it is needed most, so that those of us who are in a position to do so can help those of us who need it.

We are resilient in this country. We do not give up. We get up, we dust ourselves off, and we get going again. Let’s not forget that, after 9/11, they were predicting that it would take years to clear Ground Zero, and that life would not be the same for a long, long time. But hot-dog carts and street vendors plied their wares on the street within weeks of the disaster, the site of the World Trade Center was cleared in months, not years, and the entire area is now the subject of the usual squabbling amoung warring political factions, each with its own agenda, and none of which actually remember the feelings, or heed the wishes, of the families who lost so many that day.

Katrina will never be forgotten, and neither will the disaster area she left behind. But we, as a nation, will help our fellow citizens overcome the destruction she brought because that’s what we do. Houston has volunteered the Astrodome as a temporary home for the displaced thousands from New Orleans. Why? Because it’s what we do. Within a thirty minute span, people in the New York metropolitan area donated over three million dollars (that’s a rate of $100,000 a minute) to a local telethon that was raising money to aid the Red Cross in its rescue efforts. Why? Because it’s what we do.

It is so incredibly sad to see what folks are going through in New Orleans, in Biloxi, and all along the Gulf Coast. But the disaster is not a cue to throw up our hands and surrender to the fates. It just means that we, as a nation, have to roll up our collective sleeves and pitch in to help each other get through yet another one. It’s a big one, to be sure. But we can do it. We’ve done it before, and we’ll do it again because we take that word “United” pretty damn seriously.

I’m doing what I can to help. I hope you will too.

Red Cross: 1-800-HELP-NOW, or www.redcross.org.

www.stormaid.com

Gouging

2005-09-01T00:02:00.000-04:00

A sign of the times:

Gouging: That’s the nicest word I can come up with when talking about what the gasoline stations are doing to us now. Robbery works, too. “License to steal” is nicely descriptive. “Thieving weasels” has a nice ring to it. However you describe it, what’s happening is just not right.

Now, don’t go off on the “we’ve got to wean ourselves from our dependence on foreign oil” tangent, and don’t get all “electric powered cars” on me, either. I don’t disagree with any of that, in a big picture kind of way. But that’s not what this rant is about.

This is about me leaving my house at 8:20 this morning with mid-grade gas costing $2.59 a gallon, and coming home at lunch with the same gas costing $3.21 a gallon. And it wasn’t just one station. It was across the board, a 60 to 75 cent per gallon increase, at almost every station I passed. The one station that was still below three bucks a gallon was changing their prices as I sat there getting the last of their $2.75 a gallon petrol.

That’s ridiculous. We all know there’s no justification for that kind of jump. Even with Katrina, any purported effects could not possible have reached the pumps in less than 48 hours. I know that there’s been a disruption of service – I get that. But the gulf provides no more than 25% (some say as little as 7%) of the oil used by the US. Even if the entire gulf shuts down, does that justify this spike in a single afternoon? And even with the loss of the Port of New Orleans as a delivery point, does that mean that no gas is getting through anymore? I don’t think so. (And don’t get me started on the fact that, as I understand it, OPEC produces a barrel of oil for roughly 4 bucks each. Where is this 70 dollar price coming from, if not from pure speculation?)

What we have here is a systematic case of price gouging -- pure and simple. Sure, everyone talks about the “razor thin” profit margins of gas station owners, and how they’ve got to account for every increase in oil prices. But what basis is there for a 60 cent per gallon bump in the span of four hours? Is it to offset a projected future cost? Is it a jump out of fear? Even with nine refineries going off-line (which is the last number I heard) how does that result in a 60 cent increase in a single afternoon? More importantly, even if all of these things happen, how is it that every single gas station around, owned by several different oil companies and numerous independent franchisees, all felt the need, on exactly the same day and at roughly the same time, to increase gas prices by more than 20% per gallon? (Cue the “X-Files” conspiracy music, please). (I should note that, to there credit, out of the dozens of gas stations around us, one Hess station and one Mobile station had not raised their prices above the $3.00 per gallon mark as of 6:00 p.m. EDT. Let’s see how long that lasts.)

The worst part is that there’s absolutely nothing you can do about it. Nothing. You can’t boycott one station, because they’re all doing it You can’t pull out your steam-powered car because -- oh yeah, no one makes them. Most of us can’t bike the double-digit mileage to our offices (and in 90 degree heat with 90 percent humidity, who’d want to?). We’re stuck, and it aggravates the hell out of me.

What to do? I wish I knew. I work in an office of four, and we all come from four different directions, so car-pooling is not feasible. I travel to various locations for my work, so I’ve got to drive. (I’d consider a horse, but I’m not certain where I’d hook my EZ pass.)

Seriously, I blame the oil companies, and I blame the gas station owners. But you know what? Someone else shares the blame as well. The media. Yes, the media is always an easy target. However, I have very clear recollections of the media trumpeting -- over and over, in multiple reports -- how Katrina may impact oil production in the gulf. May. Not will. May.

No one knows exactly what happened to oil production in the gulf yet. No matter. "May" equals "will" in this world of ours. Oil futures jump. Speculators speculate. People panic. And it now costs me $40 to get half-a-tank of gas.

Born Before 1987? Then You Are...Old

2005-08-30T23:59:00.000-04:00

I pulled last year's version of the following off of Netscape in 2004 (it's posted elsewhere in this blog) and, for some reason, it really strikes me. So, here's this year's Old Timer's List, for the class of 2009 to appreciate. (With thanks to Netscape)

Every year Beloit College in Beloit, Wisconsin publishes what it calls "The Mindset List"--fun facts and figures about the incoming crop of freshmen so professors will be able to relate to their new students. Beloit says the list is a reminder that the world view of today's new college students is significantly different from the intellectual framework of those students who entered only a few years earlier. Put another way, it's a reminder that you are getting on in years.

Most of today's college freshmen were born in 1987, which means Starbucks, souped-up car stereos, telephone voice mail systems and Bill Gates have always been a part of their lives. Formal dress is quaint. Aretha Franklin, Kermit the Frog and Jimmy Carter are all old-timers. They've never been tossed in the back of a station wagon with a bunch of friends and told to keep the noise down, walked in the woods without fearing Lyme disease or ever tried to eat all 28 ice cream flavors at Howard Johnson's.

Beloit College Mindset List for the Class of 2009:

1. Andy Warhol, Liberace, Jackie Gleason and Lee Marvin have always been dead.
2. They don't remember when "cut and paste" involved scissors.
3. Heart-lung transplants have always been possible.
4. Wayne Gretzky never played for Edmonton.
5. Boston has been working on "The Big Dig" all their lives.
6. With little need to practice, most of them do not know how to tie a tie.
7. Pay-per-view television has always been an option.
8. They never had the fun of being thrown into the back of a station wagon with six others.
9. Iran and Iraq have never been at war with each other.
10. They are more familiar with Greg Gumbel than with Bryant Gumbel.
11. Philip Morris has always owned Kraft Foods.
12. Al-Qaeda has always existed with Osama bin Laden at its head.
13. They learned to count with Lotus 1-2-3.
14. Car stereos have always rivaled home component systems.
15. Jimmy Swaggart and Jim Bakker have never preached on television.
16. Voice mail has always been available.
17. "Whatever" is not part of a question but an expression of sullen rebuke.
18. The federal budget has always been more than a trillion dollars.
19. Condoms have always been advertised on television.
20. They may have fallen asleep playing with their Gameboys in the crib.
21. They have always had the right to burn the flag.
22. For daily caffeine emergencies, Starbucks has always been around the corner.
23. Ferdinand Marcos has never been in charge of the Philippines.
24. Money put in their savings account the year they were born earned almost 7 percent interest.
25. Bill Gates has always been worth at least a billion dollars.
26. Dirty dancing has always been acceptable.
27. Southern fried chicken, prepared with a blend of 11 herbs and spices, has always been available in China.
28. Michael Jackson has always been bad, and greed has always been good.
29. The Starship Enterprise has always looked dated.
30. Pixar has always existed.
31. There has never been a "fairness doctrine" at the FCC.
32. Judicial appointments routinely have been "Borked."
33. Aretha Franklin has always been in the Rock 'n' Roll Hall of Fame.
34. There have always been zebra mussels in the Great Lakes.
35. Police have always been able to search garbage without a search warrant.
36. It has always been possible to walk from England to mainland Europe on dry land.
37. They have grown up in a single superpower world.
38. They missed the oat bran diet craze.
39. American Motors has never existed.
40. Scientists have always been able to see supernovas.
41. Les Miserables has always been on stage.
42. Halogen lights have always been available at home, with a warning.
43. "Baby M" may be a classmate, and contracts with surrogate mothers have always been legal.
44. RU486, the "morning after pill," has always been on the market.
45. There has always been a pyramid in front of the Louvre in Paris.
46. British Airways has always been privately owned.
47. Irradiated food has always been available but controversial.
48. Snowboarding has always been a popular winter pastime.
49. Libraries have always been the best centers for computer technology and access to good software.
50. Biosphere 2 has always been trying to create a revolution in the life sciences.
51. The Hubble Telescope has always been focused on new frontiers.
52. Researchers have always been looking for stem cells.
53. They do not remember "a kinder and gentler nation."
54. They never saw the shuttle Challenger fly.
55. The TV networks have always had cable partners.
56. Airports have always had upscale shops and restaurants.
57. Black Americans have always been known as African-Americans.
58. They never saw Pat Sajak or Arsenio Hall host a late night television show.
59. Matt Groening has always had a Life in Hell.
60. Salman Rushdie has always been watching over his shoulder.
61. Digital cameras have always existed.
62. Tom Landry never coached the Cowboys.
63. Time Life and Warner Communications have always been joined.
64. CNBC has always been on the air.
65. The Field of Dreams has always been drawing people to Iowa.
66. They never saw a Howard Johnson's with 28 ice cream flavors.
67. Reindeer at Christmas have always distinguished between secular and religious decorations.
68. Entertainment Weekly has always been on the newsstand.
69. Lyme disease has always been a ticking concern in the woods.
70. Jimmy Carter has always been an elder statesman.
71. Miss Piggy and Kermit have always dwelt in Disneyland.
72. "America's Funniest Home Videos" has always been on television.
73. Their nervous new parents heard C. Everett Koop proclaim nicotine as addictive as heroin.
74. Lever has always been looking for 2000 parts to clean.
75. They have always been challenged to distinguish between news and entertainment on cable TV.

This list always fascinates me, because all of this -- and I mean all of it -- seems as if it was just yesterday.

Any additions? Anyone?

Parrotheads Invade Philadelphia

2005-08-30T00:23:00.000-04:00

I bet you can’t guess what these three musical acts have in common:

Bruce Springsteen and the E Street Band.

The Rolling Stones.

Jimmy Buffett and the Coral Reefer Band.

Give up? Each can sell out an outdoor stadium concert venue in minutes.

Jimmy Buffett? Yeah. Jimmy Buffett. And we’re not talking some 8,000 seat indoor arena. We’re talking the new Citizens Bank Park in Philadelphia, with a seating capacity of over 46,000 people for a ball game. Jimmy Buffett filled it. Twice. In three days.

I’ve been a fan of Jimmy’s for as long as I can remember. I heard and enjoyed Margaritaville when it was brand new (long before I knew what a margarita was). However, I never really realized how big a draw he was on the road until it hit me that, year after year, I’d never been able to get tickets to any of this shows. As a fan for almost thirty years, I was surprised when it struck me this past spring that I’d never had the chance to actually see Jimmy in person. I discovered that my inability to get tickets is because Buffett, probably more than any musical act today, has a fan base that is rabidly loyal and single-minded in its desire to be part of the experience that is a Jimmy Buffett concert. (Think “The Grateful Dead” with a beach motif and you’ve got the Jimmy Buffett fan base.)

I have heard the tales. Buffett concerts are more than concerts; they’re events that are part concert, part carnival, part vaudeville show, and part bachelor party. The liquor flows freely, the partying starts early, and the music puts you in a vacation state of mind no matter what time of year it is.

Having gone to college in Ohio, my knowledge of Buffett-ology grew as a result of the counter-intuitive love-affair between Jimmy and Cincinnati. Somewhere along the way, the city of Cincinnati adopted Jimmy as its own, and Mr. Buffett has always returned that love. His concerts in Cincy sell out in minutes. (I always suspected that the connection had something to do with the fact that I-75 connects Ohio directly with Florida and, ultimately, to the Keys). I’d heard that the term “parrothead” was actually coined in Cincinnati. (According to some, “parrothead” describes the look of the hair on your head the morning after a night of heavy drinking, smoking, and partying at a Buffett concert.)

But I didn’t need any of that background to appreciate Jimmy. Songs like the aforementioned Margaritaville, Changes in Attitudes, and Volcano all put me in a laid-back, low key, vacation frame of mind that I always strive for, (and, let’s be honest, long for) every day. That’s the appeal of Jimmy Buffett. There’s always been something about him that evokes visions of the beach, and sitting on a hammock strung between two palm trees, nursing a frozen concoction while watching the sun bake all of the tourists scattered on the sand around you.

But actually getting Jimmy Buffett tickets has proven to be quite a challenge over the years. I only ever found out about tickets long after they went on sale, and thus long after the venue was sold out. (Buffett tickets have been known to sell out in as little as 16 minutes.) This year, though, I was determined to get tickets somehow.

Thank goodness for the Internet. With about a gajillion brokers, plus e-bay, I had a lot of options available to me. As I’ve mentioned elsewhere, I’m persistent to a fault. As a result, after a determined search, I was able to narrow the brokers down to a select few with decent tickets at decent prices. I wound up paying $125 for $88 tickets, which gave me two seats on the field, about 150 feet from the stage. (Here’s a little tip, by the way: it pays to shop around, because other brokers were selling seats in the same section and the same row for $200.)

Jimmy was playing two dates in Philly, a Thursday and a Saturday. I chose Saturday so that we could make a day of it, which was well worth it. We headed down to Philly with reservations for an early dinner in a little Italian restaurant in South Philly. (Absolutely wonderful place, by the way. L’Angolos. Check it out if you can, on the corner of 15th and Porter. I know, I know -- not exactly a Buffett kind of place. But, at the risk of being blasphemous, man does not live by cheeseburgers alone.)

After dinner, we drove down to the stadium and marveled at the thousands of people, and the hundreds of tailgating parties, scattered around. As we walked through the parking lot, our senses were overloaded: men in every pattern of Hawaiian shirt imaginable; women (and men) in grass hula skirts and parrothead hats; tiki bars; wading pools; skateboard ramps; flowered leis every where you looked; pirate hats; sailors’ caps; blenders full of margaritas and other boat drinks. At the stadium, signs for Corona beer and Margaritaville Tequila banners were everywhere, and the tequila company had sponsored stands all around, to give you just a taste. Unlike some other concerts I’ve attended, a feeling of good will permeated the crowd outside the stadium and carried over to the stadium itself. Everyone was having a wonderful time, and it felt good just to be there.

Jimmy himself puts on an extraordinary show. His personality, which is charming, laid back, and real, easily projected itself throughout the stadium. He stepped out on stage at 8:15, wearing a Philadelphia Cheesesteak T-Shirt, peach-colored shorts, and no shoes. As he walked out, 40,000 people jumped up cheering. As I looked all around me, I could see five decks of people just going nuts, and the vibe on the field was intense. I can’t begin to imagine what it felt like for him, who was, after all, the object of everyone’s affection that night.

I didn’t keep track of the set list. A Buffett concert really isn’t about that. Everything he played was familiar and fun and made you feel good. He did some of the stuff from his latest album, License to Chill. He did some of his older stuff: Fruitcakes, and Grapefruit, Juicy Fruit. He did some other people’s stuff: Brown Eyed Girl and Southern Cross (which, quite frankly, should be a Jimmy Buffett song). He showed video clips of his life, and his travels. He also showed plenty of footage of “Adults Acting Like Children” (as he termed it appreciatively), taken in the parking lot before the show, as background visuals to his songs. He had a guest appearance from the Phillie Phanatic, the baseball team’s mascot, who helped the Coral Reefer dancers with some numbers, and also brought out some of the toppings for the temporarily renamed “Cheesesteak in Paradise” song. It was all fast-paced, feel-good, fun stuff.

He took a fifteen-minute break after about an hour and twenty minutes and came back with a ten-minute video tribute to the late, great Johnny Carson. He reminisced about his first appearance on The Tonight Show back in the day, how much being on Johnny’s show meant to him, and how it influenced his life and his career. He then started the second half of the concert with what he told us was one of Johnny’s favorite songs, which he could never play on the air: Why Don’t We Get Drunk. From there, he did another hour and ten minutes, which he concluded with Fins.

Fins, for the uninitiated, is a song about a girl who travels from Cincinnati to Florida, and then the Caribbean, looking for life (and presumably love) while surrounded by “sharks that swim on the land.” (Unfortunately, my little summary is woefully inadequate to capture even one-one-hundredth of the free spirit and good feelings of that song.) To cue the song, Jimmy clapped both hands together over his head, fingers extended, so that it would look like a make-shift shark fin over his head. In unanimous response, 40,000+ people clapped their hands over their heads, forming their own fins, and with the lyric, “Fins to the left, fins to right,” the crowd moved in unison, dancing with the song. Buffett himself couldn’t help but appreciate the sight, as he commented to us all, “You can’t believe how funny that looks from up here!” I looked around, and watched five decks full of people point their fins to the left, then to the right, as a giant, air-filled, remote controlled shark hovered over the crowd. It was simply amazing.

Jimmy then proceeded to do two encores. After the first, I was watching him on the big-screen monitor and, off-mike, I could read his lips as he said to his backstage producer: “This is awesome!” That moment sums up Jimmy Buffett. He truly enjoys what he does. He really revels in it, and it shows. At one point in the show, he commented about how he loves his summer job -- meaning, of course, the fact that he gets to do what he does for a living. It is obvious that we all love to share it with him, and he with us. Jimmy knows what he’s got, and he understands and appreciates his fans. His albums don’t ever disappoint, and his concert was the epitome of what he stands for.

His last encore consisted of a Buffettized version of the Springsteen classic, Glory Days. This selection was perfect, not so much for what the song was about, but because it showed that Jimmy was aware that, in Philadelphia (no more than an hour away from Asbury Park), his fans would appreciate the fact that he was paying tribute to The Boss in The Boss’s backyard. Just as Jimmy had recognized moments before, it was awesome.

Katrina

2005-08-30T00:10:00.000-04:00

This name will join Andrew and Camille as names that send a chill down the spine of anyone who lives along the gulf coast of this country. My heart and my prayers go out to all of the folks in Katrina’s path, especially those friends of mine who did nothing but happen to have a home in a place that Mother Nature has determined is due for a cleansing.

In 1969, I remember that we were vacationing in upstate New York when the storms that were the remnants of Camille swept through the Lake Champlain region, flooding the boat dock of the house in which we were staying and confining us to the two-bedroom cabin for the better part of three of the seven days we had away from home. I remember Andrew and its winds and rain bearing down on my in-laws, who lived in Port Charlotte, Florida at the time. I remember monitoring the path of the storm, staying in contact with them, and thinking that it was time for them to remove themselves from the hurricane belt and relocate to a place a bit safer, a bit dryer, and a bit closer to us.

Now, Katrina threatens hundreds of thousands of people, some of whom I know and all of whom I wish I could assist in one way or another, beyond saying a simple prayer. I always wish there was more that I could do when I hear of the situations that some folks face through no fault of their own.

It never ceases to amaze me how, with all of our technology, and our abilities to harness nature, we nevertheless still encounter things that are so far beyond our control that our very existence is rendered superfluous. Despite all that mankind has learned and all that it has created, all it takes is a healthy dose of wind and rain to bring the machinery of society to a screeching halt, rendering it utterly useless, like so much deadwood washed up on the beach. From airplanes and cars to generators and sump pumps, all the way down to cell phone chargers, all that man has created is completely useless under a foot of water. It does give one a sense of perspective, doesn’t it?

A Fine Week In Paradise

2005-08-25T23:32:00.000-04:00

We just got back from an absolutely wonderful vacation on St. Thomas in the U.S. Virgin Islands. What a great trip! St. Thomas is a beautiful island, and the beaches and the water are just amazing. It has places that are just perfect for doing absolutely nothing at all but sitting on the beach and watching the clear, blue water. It also has great shopping, many great places to eat, plenty of water sports to choose from, and dozens of places to go for day-trips. Oh, I’m sure you’ve heard that there are places there that are not perfect, and some places you don’t want to go at night. But let’s be honest: that’s true about many vacation spots (Jamaica and Mexico spring to mind) as well as most big cities. As with any place you go, you just have to use a little common sense. The bottom line is that if you’re looking for a fun, relaxing place to visit that also gives you the option to enjoy a variety of activities, St. Thomas should be on your short list of destinations.

First off, St. Thomas is not all that expensive a vacation destination (depending, of course, on what you’re used to and from where you’re traveling). For instance, renting a beach house on the Jersey Shore for a week can cost you between $1500 to $2500 per week (at the low end of the scale). North Carolina rentals were starting at about $1500 per week, and required an eight hour car trip. For that price, you get a pretty basic, pretty empty, typical rental-type property that, with any sort of luck, is within spitting distance of the beach. Amenities are often slim to none. (One such bare-bones rental on the Jersey Shore ran $1,600 per week and included nothing but a roof over your head, air conditioners in the windows, and mattresses upon which you could put the sheets and blankets you brought from home.)

In contrast, in St. Thomas, for $2200 for a week, we rented a fully-furnished, fully-equipped villa. It was air-conditioned, had its own 10' by 20' swimming pool, included linens, towels, 3 bathrooms with showers, beach chairs, snorkel gear, rafts, and, most importantly, a fully stocked kitchen that included an ice maker in the fridge and the all important blender for making the requisite frozen rum drinks that you absolutely must drink while on the island. (It’s the law, you know.)

The reality is that a trip to the Caribbean is not that much more expensive than a trip to the Jersey Shore, or the Outer Banks (at least from the Northeast). The main differences between a vacation on the Jersey Shore and on the Carribean shore is in getting there. For St. Thomas, you’ve got to plan for airfare and a rental car. The first is obviously necessary because it is a bit of a swim to St. Thomas. I highly recommend the latter so that you can get around and explore. (Driving in St. Thomas is quite the adventure all by itself. But I’ll get back to that.) If you search carefully, save your money, plan ahead and book far enough in advance, you can get decent rates for both.

(By the way, it is far cheaper to travel to the Virgin Islands in the summer if you want to cut costs. Sure it’s hot. But its summer, and if you’re going to the beach anyway, it’ll be hot everywhere -- Jersey Shore, the Outer Banks, Florida, wherever. The advantage it that, while you’re paying in-season summer rates on the mainland, the rates in the Virgin Islands (both St. Thomas and St. Croix, where we stayed last year), are discounted because summer is their slow season. (Traveling to the Virgin Islands in the winter is what the rich folks do -- which is why we travel in the summer.))

About airfare. I’m a pretty persistent cuss, so I searched all of the travel sites and then went back and searched all of the airline sites as well. Then I did it again, which brings me to my Travel Tip Number One: Don’t rely on just one search or one service. Search, search again, and then come back the next day and search again. Start looking at least 60 (and maybe 90) days in advance. Also, always check the airlines that aren’t listed on the travel sites (like JetBlue and Southwest), just in case. (JetBlue, for instance, currently has roundtrip travel from JFK to Orlando (our next vacation destination) for $180 per person, roundtrip (depending on day and flight). That’s about $120 cheaper per person than any other airline.

For St. Thomas, the best price I got, by far, was directly from American Airlines. American had a direct flight from JFK to St. Thomas. Granted, for us Joisey-ites, flying from JFK is a bit more of a hassel than flying out of Newark, but we were saving over $100 per person going out of JFK, plus, we eliminated a two-hour layover in San Juan. Putting all of that into the mix, JFK was no longer quite such a hassle for our group of six (the missus and me, our youngest, our oldest and his girlfriend, and “Aunt” Joanne).

(One more note on airfares. We added my oldest son and his girlfriend to our trip about two weeks after we originally booked our flights. The original fare was about $425 per person. Two weeks later, tickets on the same plane had jumped over $30 per person. Then, about three weeks before we left, “Aunt” Joanne was considering adding her niece, but the fare had jumped again -- to $588.00 per person! This leads us to Travel Tip Number Two: price and compare, do it again, but then book it so you can lock in a good fare.)

Anyway, we wound up buying our e-tickets directly through the American Airlines’ website. (Personally, I’m not a big fan of American or the service on that airline, but they did get us there and back at a reasonable rate, so I was able to deal.) This brings us to Travel Tip Number Three: don’t forget to bring your e-tickets to the airport and keep them handy. When you do, you can use them for curb-side check in, if its available. It’s quicker than waiting in the lines at the counter.

Our departure day finally arrived. Given our 8:00 a.m. flight, we used our savings on the airfare to book a car to take us to the airport (with our friend Nancy picking us up in her extra-large, Sam’s-Club-economy-size SUV on our return). We got to JFK at about 6:00 a.m, were checked in and at the gate by 6:20 and, with our direct flight into St. Thomas, were drinking rum runners in the Cyril E. King Airport in St. Thomas by 12:15 p.m.

Before I go on, I would be remiss if I didn’t acknowledge that there is a down side to traveling to the Caribbean in the summer. It’s a little thing they call “hurricane season” in the tropics. (Yeah, I know. There’s always a catch.). You should keep in mind when you travel to the Caribbean that July and August are the beginning of the hurricane season. Now, in the past, we’ve had no storm problems when we’ve traveled by the last week of July. This year, we pushed our summer vacation to the first week of August, and sure enough, we were monitoring Hurricane Irene develop in the Atlantic during the latter part of the week (Irene missed the Islands anyway, and meandered off into the mid-Atantic). But, you should be aware. If you’re a worrier, Travel Tip Number Four is: buy trip insurance to cover last minute changes of plans.

Back at Cyril King airport, with our rum drinks in hand, we were waiting near the car rental counter for our contact from the villa rental agency. Yes, you read that correctly. The rental agency provided us with a contact person to lead us to our villa. That sounds very nice, until you understand precisely why the provide a contact person. It turns out that the roads on St. Thomas are so winding and narrow, and actual street signs and house numbers are so few and far between, that the company meets you at the airport and escorts you to your house to make sure you find it -- the first time. There isn’t a second escorted tour to the house, so we paid very close attention to the route as we followed our guide, Jeff.

Our rental agency was McLaughlin Anderson, and I cannot recommend them highly enough. They have rental properties all over the Caribbean and, if you are at all interested in getting a taste of a rental home on the islands, check out their website: www.mclaughlinanderson.com. They are good at what they do, they are very helpful and accommodating, and the different places they offer look positively amazing.

Anyway, after securing our minivan at the airport (and with six, squeezing all of us, plus a week’s worth of luggage, into anything less than a minivan was just not going to happen), good old Jeff from McLaughlin Anderson escorted us from the airport, through Charlotte Amalie (the capital city) and along the mountainous roads of St. Thomas to our villa on the northern side of the island.

About the roads. My grandmother had a saying about the country roads near my parents’ house where I grew up: “These roads are so crooked, they’d break a snake’s back.” The roads in St. Thomas made those roads look as pin-straight as Interstate 70 through Kansas. For instance, Route 35, out of Charlotte Amalie, has two separate 180 degree hair-pin turns going up the side of the mountain and one more going down the other side. Combine those turns with roads that are just barely wide enough to let two cars pass each other, add a few open-air-taxi drivers who are always hustling their oversize vehicles up and down the hills, and mix in the fact that people drive on the left side of the road, and you’ve got quite the driving adventure.

Nevertheless, we bravely forged ahead. We followed Jeff out of the airport and, after a 30 minute jaunt up one side of the mountain that is St. Thomas and down the other, we arrived at our villa.

I’ve got to tell you -- it was a little slice of paradise. Crosswinds -- the name of our villa -- is built on the side of a cliff and overlooks the Carribean Sea. This is the view from our deck:

The house was fully air-conditioned. (This is important, by the way, if you don’t want to rely on the trade winds to keep you cool. Some villas have no air conditioning at all, some have only the bedrooms with air-conditioning, and some are fully air-conditioned. If you’re thinking about renting your own villa (which I recommend), make sure you check before you commit, because it does get hot during the day.)

To get to the house, we parked in the drive along the side of the road. We then opened the gate that led into what I can only describe as a tropical rainforest. There were palm trees, and hanging vines, and assorted tropical floral and fauna all around us (we saw lizards, iguanas, and hermit crabs scurrying up and down the slope nearby). Just inside the gate was a wooden landing, with a staircase leading down to the house (58 steps down, by the way). It looked truly exotic and almost surreal when we first saw the house below us. (I should mention that exotic and surreal are not so much at the top of my list when lugging 6 suitcases and 6 carry-ons in the tropical heat. But I digress.)

The house itself was absolutely beautiful. Entering the front door was like stepping into one of those pictures of a vacation home you see in a travel magazine and wonder what it’s like to visit. Only, we were really in this one.

The main living room was huge, with glass sliding doors straight ahead, looking out over the sapphire blue sea. The scent of . . . something . . . flowery and green and fresh filled the air as we toured the house. There was a huge dining area, decks all around, overlooking the sea, and vaulted ceilings inside with tropical ceiling fans spinning lazily above our heads. The house had three bedrooms, including a detached guest cottage (about two-thirds of the way down the stairs, with its own kitchen and bathroom). Outside the glass sliders, down a dozen stairs, there was the beautiful pool with beach chairs and tables on the deck around it. The three bathrooms in the main house included one with an al fresco shower.

The house was wired with four cable televisions, which was truly a god-send with the mix of folks, and their eclectic tastes, we had traveling together. There was a Bose sound system, with a set of speakers hooked up by the pool, together with a selection of music (including some laid back steel drum music that we played almost all day long). There were DVD players, and VCRs, and a variety of movies. There were board games and books. The kitchen was fully equipped (including, as mentioned, the all important blender), as was the laundry room. We also had once-a-week maid service and a manual, provided by the agency, with the phone number for the agency’s concierge service, and contact numbers for water sports, restaurants, and a variety of other services, many of which would travel directly to the villa to accommodate our schedule.

Now, I don’t care what kind of place you book for your vacation: you don’t get this kind of stuff at any hotel or resort or rental property that I’ve ever been to, at least not at this price. Heck, I used to be happy if our beach rental didn’t require a good hosing down before we moved in.

We were all thrilled that we had the luxury of stretching out and napping on the couch, or the beach chairs, or a raft in the pool, and then blending our own pina coladas, taking them down to our own deck with our own private view of the sea, and drinking them all day (or all night) long. I loved the prospect of our outdoor shower, where I eventually wound up watching hermit crabs scrambling up the rocks as I showered. This villa was a travel destination all its own.

The convenience of the villa rental, in addition to how nice it was, was that we had our own kitchen and barbecue grill. This gave us an added element of freedom because we weren’t confined to the hours of operation of some on-site restaurant at a hotel. We weren’t subject to exorbitant snack-bar prices, and we didn’t have to pay sky-high room-service costs. We were free to buy what we wanted for snacks and meals and were able to eat them when we wanted. We didn’t hesitate to take advantage. After we got settled, we shopped and stocked the fridge with rum, cold cuts, burgers, chicken, eggs, bread, some rum, fruit, muffins, hot dogs, chips, snacks, and a little rum. Did I mention we also got some rum? (Hey, with no duty on Cruzan rum (which is made in St. Croix), we absolutely had to take advantage of the prices, didn’t we?)

Anyway, with our full kitchen, we were able to have a leisurely breakfast each day, grill some burgers, dogs and chicken for lunch, make sandwiches for snacks, and keep our sodas, water and mixers nicely chilled. Plus, we were able to save our pennies for some pretty nice dinners.

Yes, yes. I know. There’s a whole school of thought that says that, while on vacation, you shouldn’t be cooking, or cleaning dishes, or mixing your own drinks, or worrying about your towels, or exerting yourself in any way more than necessary to order your next drink from the bar. For those who think that way, obviously a villa is not the choice for you. But if you’d like to move into a place and experience it, and control your own destiny with respect to where to go, what to do, when to eat, and where to relax, a villa rental is the way to go.

Anyway, I cannot say enough good things about our place. And sitting in a lounge chair on the deck around the pool, rum runner in hand, calypso music playing in the background, and the sound of the waves crashing on the rocks below, I could not have asked for a better vacation spot.

We probably would have been content spending the week at the house. We really did want for nothing, with the pool right there and everything we needed at our finger tips. But we figured we’d better see what St. Thomas had to offer, so after we unpacked, we ventured out to Red Hook, on the eastern end of the island.

The trip to Red Hook, like trips to anywhere on St. Thomas, certainly got the adrenaline pumping. The cars on St. Thomas are standard US cars, with the steering wheel on the left. However, they drive on the left, as the British do. So, you’ve got to recite a little mantra as you’re driving: keep your shoulder on the shoulder. The temptation to drift over to the right lane is strong -- not that the roads are wide enough that you could actually consider them as having “lanes,” per se. You can, however, inch over to one side of the road to allow on-coming traffic to pass -- you just have to remember to inch to your left, not your right.

The rental car agency provided us with a nice map of the island, with most of the major roads identified. They have such maps all over, too -- in This Week In St. Thomas, a weekly publication put out by the island to advertise the week’s coming events (and many of the local merchants and service-providers as well). You can also get maps in any number of pamphlets and publications you can find in most stores.

The maps, however, don’t really help with detours, as we discovered when we tried to take Route 42 from our house to Red Hook. We came upon a large “Road Closed” sign, with a detour arrow pointing into some residential neighborhood that was in a direction that seemed to be directly opposite the way we were trying to go. Now, being from Jersey, which is also known as the “Land of the Unmarked Detour,” I was more than a little concerned about my chances of navigating the detour through an unknown and unmapped neighborhood. However, as we paused at the detour sign, a local in a small 4 x 4 pulled up and asked where we were going.

“Red Hook,” I volunteered.

“Follow me!” yelled our samaritan, and off he went.

With no other options, I followed close behind. As I did, I noticed something I’d not seen since my days of living in the midwest -- they had actually marked the route of the detour with signs and arrows pointing in the direction that you had to take to get around the construction work. (I made sure to get photos to send to the New Jersey Department of Transportation.)

As we emerged from the residential neighborhood, our samaritan pointed towards Red Hook and then took off in the opposite direction. We waved our thanks, and followed the road into town.

Red Hook is a bustling little community with stores, restaurants, and businesses all over. It is not, however, a pretty place. It’s hectic and semi-industrialized, with car and truck traffic everywhere. That’s because this is where you can catch the ferry to St. John (the third US Virgin Island). From Red Hook, you can take either a car-and-truck ferry, or you can park your car and take a passenger ferry. Because this is the shortest ferry route to St. John, there is a lot of truck traffic onto the ferry boat. In addition, many, many people park their cars along the road into Red Hook in order to take the passenger ferry to St. John to visit the beaches there. In fact, as we drove in, we saw cars parked on both sides of the road for at least a mile before we got to the ferry dock. As you might expect, this parking situation narrowed the roadway even more than it already was. But, because I was becoming more adept (or at least more confident) at maneuvering through the obstacles that make driving on St. Thomas so interesting, we simply plunged ahead.

Since it was late afternoon, we were able to find parking in the lot next to one of the strip malls. As we parked, we actually ran into Jeff, the fellow who guided us to our villa. He was absolutely shocked (happily so) to see that we were not only on the road so soon after our arrival, but that we’d actually made it to Red Hook from the villa. We asked him what place he recommended for a quick bite to eat, and he pointed us to Duffy’s Love Shack.

Duffy’s is a parking lot bar. Yeah, exactly: it’s a bar set up in the parking lot. It’s not really in building, actually. It’s a roof, with a bar, kitchen area, and tables underneath the roof, all in a parking lot next to a strip mall. We learned that this was Duffy’s second location on St. Thomas; the owners rebuilt in Red Hook after the original St. Thomas location in Charlotte Amalie was wiped out by a hurricane a few years back. (There’s also a Duffy’s on St. John as well). We figure the parking lot motif was adopted to minimize the loss in the event of another direct hit from a hurricane.

While it doesn’t look like much from the parking lot, Duffy’s is actually a very nice place. The people there were very friendly and the list of frozen concoctions at the bar was quite impressive. Plus, Duffy’s apparently has cornered the market on island-themed glassware because they have a speciality glass for almost every drink on the menu. If you order the drink, you get to keep the glass. So, I had my Pirate’s Pain Killer in a skull-shaped mug (that now sits proudly on my desk, holding pens and reminding me of the Carribbean sun). My youngest got a glass of Sprite in a parrot-shaped glass, and my oldest got some blend of liquors in a tall glass emblazoned with a blond in a bikini.

The drinks were delicious, icy cold, and a perfect taste the islands. The food was good, too, with a mix of typical pub-type fare (burgers, wings, and the like) together with island-inspired meals, like clams and conch fritters. Kinda looks like we were having a good time, doesn't it?

The food was all tasty, well-prepared, and we ate well and drank heartily before grabbing our torches and heading back to camp.

Upon our return, my youngest and I suited up and hit the pool. (Hey, I was surprised he lasted as long as he did before throwing himself in the water!) We then chilled that evening, baking some snacks in the oven and hanging out in the living room, enjoying the fact that we were sitting in the middle of a tropical forest, experiencing a little piece of paradise.

Before turning in that night, after everyone else had fallen asleep, I stood on the deck, just enjoying the sound and the scent of the sea. In the distance, I could see a thunderstorm approaching across the water. That was truly an amazing sight, watching the jagged bolts of lightning flash down from the sky as the storm approached us across the sea. No Hollywood special effect could ever capture the sheer immensity or breathtaking mystery of a thunderstorm on the ocean. Watching the clouds roil, seeing the lightning strike, listening to the thunder roll, and smelling the rain approach is a sensory experience that is unique and powerful. Listening to the rain pound on the roof of the house as the storm passed by was the perfect way to close out our first day.

We spent most of the next day -- which was beautiful, bright, sunny and hot -- just hanging around by the pool. However, we knew that one of the world’s prettiest beaches (according to the tour books) was only minutes away. So, that afternoon, we loaded up our beach chairs and towels and headed for Magens Bay.

The books weren’t lying. The beach was amazing. Powdery sand; crystal clear water; palm trees by the shore, offering shade; the sun setting over the bay. It was glorious. We walked into the water and, as we looked down, we could see schools of tiny fish flitting around. Around us, we saw green mountain vistas in every direction, and a variety of boats anchored here and there across the water. It was a magnificent sight. This is our view of Magen's Bay:

The serene beach setting was completely relaxing and, for me, just sitting there and soaking it in was enough to complete my day. There were, however, plenty of options for activities, had I been of a mind to partake. Rafts and windsurfers were available for rental, as were kayaks and snorkeling gear. They also had beach chairs and umbrellas, but we had our villa-supplied chairs, so didn’t need to rent. Besides, because it was the end of the day, the shops (which are right on the beach) were beginning to close down. We were content to enjoy our own chairs, and our own rafts, and finish out the day in the beautiful blue waters of Magens Bay.

That night, which was Monday, we were looking for a nice place to eat. However, we discovered one of the downsides of vacationing in the low season -- some places are closed for the summer, and others take Monday’s off. I consulted my Frommer’s guide as well as the book left by the agency and finally found a place that was both open and recommended -- Hook, Line and Sinker.

There’s not much to say about this place, except that it lead to the creation of Travel Tip Number Five, which can be summed up in two words: climate controlled. When traveling in the Carribean, especially in the summer, these two words should be your watch words. After a long hot day in the sun, your restaurant should be climate controlled. (There are exceptions for those open air restaurants right on the beach, where you can catch a breeze of the ocean, but generally, “climate controlled” is a very important concept.)

Hook, Line and Sinker is not climate controlled. Even though it sits right on the harbor in Frenchtown (which is next to Charlotte Amalie), where you might expect a breeze off the water, the place was hot as blazes. Combine that with very slow drink service (sweating bullets while waiting for a glass of ice water does not put one in a fine frame of mind for dining), and food that was disappointing, and you have a not-very-fun meal experience.

We shook it off, though, and on our return to the house, made plans for the next day. We planned on visiting Coral World, which is right next to Coki Beach, on the northeast corner of St. Thomas. Coral World is an aquarium/nature preserve-type area. The owner built what can only be described as an underwater “tower” the base of which sits on the floor of the sea, about 15' below the surface, and has windows all around that look out on the coral reefs. You can see all of the fish and other sea creatures swimming around, and you get views of hundreds of different kinds of fish that you otherwise would only ever see in the movies or on tv. Schools and schools of a wide variety of fish swim by the windows, which is really something to see if you’ve never had the opportunity.

Coral World also has an activity that is a cross between snorkeling and diving. Do you remember those old movies in which the undersea diver put on the big heavy suit and the helmet that looked like an inverted fish-bowl, with the air-hose coming out of the top? Well, Coral World has perfected a helmet like that that people can simply put on, while wearing only their bathing suits, and then walk across the sea bottom (using weighted shoes, of course) in order to walk among the fishes. They have a marked trail along the reef, under the water, that the guests can walk along. We were all looking forward to doing it. However, as luck would have it, the compressor system was apparently under repair and the activity was not open while we were there. We had to make due with a little snack under the trees, sharing company with the dozens of iguanas that populate the place.

The iguanas are quite interesting. Ranging in size from two to three feet long, they no longer have any fear of the people who visit Coral World. They live on the grounds and have free rein to roam wherever they want, and roam they do. They stand in pathways, making the more timid choose alternate routes around them. They walk right up to the tables in the food court area, looking for scraps. If you clatter a chair on the concrete in an effort to frighten one off, he will cast you an almost disdainful look, as if to say, “Yeah, buddy? If I was three feet longer, we’d see who was clattering chairs around here.” It was more than a little nerve wracking to have a three-foot long iguana standing about three feet from my chair, waiting for me to drop some crumbs for him.

We eventually saw all there was to see and Coral World, and headed down the road about a hundred feet to Coki Beach. It is smaller than Magens Bay, though the water is just as clear. The main difference was the snorkeling at Coki. Given the proximity to the reef, there is an abundance of fish in the water -- literally hundreds of them -- that all swim within an arm’s length. The rainbow of colors, and the wide variety of fish, is something that I’d never seen before in person. Seeing a fish swimming before you that you’ve only ever seen before in a book or an aquarium was enough to bring a child-like sense of wonder to a jaded suburbanite.

This, by the way, is why I travel. Moments like these -- the colorful fish swimming between my legs, the iguanas watching me eat, the thunderstorm from the night before rolling across the ocean -- all freshen your perspective on life and help you appreciate the preciousness of what you’ve been given, and who you share it with. You don’t see things like this or experience the thrill of a new discovery every day; you’ve got to get out there and try new things and go new places. Our first two days at St. Thomas were filled with moments of wonder and new discoveries.

We enjoyed Coki for a couple of hours before deciding to leave to get ready for dinner. It wasn’t, of course, a unanimous decision. Once our youngest gets into the water, it is very difficult to pry him out. We did eventually manage to drag him to shore and back to the van for the adventurous trek back to the house.

As we drove back, we passed (for the third time) a sign for a restaurant called The Old Stone Farmhouse. It wasn’t listed in the Frommers’ guide I had, but we’d seen the advertisements in one of the local advertising magazines, and it was mentioned on the Island Guide television channel as well. When we got back to the house, I looked up the ad again and saw the two all-important words: climate controlled. I immediately called them up and booked us reservations.

The Old Stone Farmhouse became our favorite restaurant. It’s in a 250-year old stone plantation house (St. Thomas used to have many sugar plantations) that’s been entirely renovated and converted inside. It has beautiful hardwood floors, candle-lit tables, and muted colors that impart a sense of elegance as you enter. Even better, it was pleasantly cool after a day on the beach.

As you walk in, you enter through a full bar, which serves both frozen island drinks and traditional cocktails. My wife said her cosmopolitan was among the best she’s ever had, and my margarita (on the rocks, not frozen, with salt, thank you) was nicely tart and refreshing.

We learned that the chef studied under Emeril. He had some very interesting selections on the menu that, while limited in number, were varied in style, taste and substance. There was an array of appetizers, from mussels to sushi. They had some unbelievable entrees as well, including a filet mignon dish, a rum roasted duck, a chicken dish, and a tilapia that was exquisitely prepared and one of the best pieces of fish I’ve ever tasted. In addition, for some of the less adventurous eaters in our group, the chef was willing to prepare the filet and the chicken without any of the seasonings or sauces he ordinarily served them with. This was particularly helpful for our youngest, who loved his “plain” roasted chicken and potatoes.

We were also advised of the chef’s “tasting menu,” which was a dinner that could consist of 4, 5, or 6 courses (at the diner’s option). You could advise the chef of your likes, dislikes, and allergies, and he would prepare a surprise dish for the table for each course, from appetizer to dessert. The four-course menu started at $55 per person. (Yes, it was just a bit more expensive than eating at Duffy’s.) You also had the option of adding a wine to each course of the tasting menu. The chef would match a particular wine to each course for an additional $30 per person. We were tempted, but because our tastes are all over the board (and because the whole table had to participate), we decided not to try the tasting menu. We did see a table of four enjoying several colorful-looking courses of food. (Our hostess was sworn to secrecy as to the contents of any particular course, which only added to the air of mystery.)

The food we did order was scrumptious. Our youngest gobbled up all of the shrimp in the appetizer that he and I split, so I’m assuming it was quite tasty. The chicken received rave reviews, as did the filet and, as I mentioned, my fish was outrageous. The atmosphere was pleasant and relaxed. The service was impeccable. I’ve got to say that this was one of the nicest restaurants I’ve ever been to, with some of the best food I’ve ever enjoyed in my life. This dinner was another of those memorable “moments” that you treasure for always. We decided then and there that we would return to the Farmhouse for our last dinner in St. Thomas.

The next day was kick-back-and-relax day. The missus and Aunt Joanne had scheduled massages for 1:00 p.m., with the masseuse traveling to the villa with her table and other equipment. I’m not a big massage person, so I was content to catch up with the crazies on the Jerry Springer show and hang out in the pool with the kids. We grilled up some food around lunch time and, while the massages were on-going and our youngest was practicing his cannon-balls, I took our oldest and his girlfriend into Charlotte Amalie so they could shop.

The shopping area is right along the waterfront and consists of over 500 stores and shops that carry everything from jewelry to liquor to t-shirts to electronics to paperweights. There’s also an open-air vendor area (like a flea market) where folks set up tables of . . . anything, actually, from hand-carved walking sticks to typical touristy t-shirts. I dropped the two of them off with plans to pick them up at about 4:00, after the massages were done. We had figured we could pick them up and get in an hour of speed shopping before the shops closed up at 5:00.

As I dropped them off, I discovered what it is that keeps the businesses booming in Charlotte Amalie. Cruise ship passengers. As I was driving drove down the mountain towards town, I had seen a huge cruise ship over at the docks in Havensight. The schedule of cruise ships is posted each week in This Week in St. Thomas, and when the ships are in, the streets are particularly congested and the stores are quite crowded, with “specials” being offered to passengers of the particular ship or ships that happen to be docked at the time.

The downtown shopping area is really quite a spectacle, with people scurrying from shop to shop, dodging the ubiquitous cab-drivers (who ask everyone they pass whether they need a cab), and lugging duty-free liquor with them as they try to complete their tour of stores before they have to return to their ship. (This, by the way, is why I’m not a big fan of cruising. We took a cruise once, years ago, without realizing that, when they say you’re going to the Bahamas, you’ve actually got about 8 hours on the island but then you’ve got to be back on board the ship. For me, I’d rather be IN the Bahamas rather than just stopping by.)

From our subsequent conversations with some of the cruise ship passengers, we learned that they had about 10 hours to experience St. Thomas. To me, the cruise-ship version of a visit to St. Thomas was like one of those Detours on the show The Amazing Race. You know the one, with Phil Keoghan voicing over: “A Detour is a choice between two tasks, each with its own pros and cons. In “Shop”, you get to experience the central shopping district in Charlotte Amalie, with all of the amazing values and duty-free shopping you could ever hope for. In “Swim,” you take a local open-air cab to the nearby Magens Bay beach, where you can experience the crystal clear waters of the Carribbean. Neither task is physically demanding, but you won’t have time to do both.” I don’t know about you, but I don’t know how people do that. We were in St. Thomas for a week and barely scratched the surface of things to see and do. Barn-storming an island like that is just not my cup of tea.

Anyway, the scene downtown is truly something to behold. The buildings are all two- to three-stories tall, and are strung along both sides of Main Street for about a mile. They also extend about two blocks off of Main Street to the left and right as well. Main Street itself is one way, and is just wide enough for one car to pass. Streets and alleys (some only wide enough for pedestrians) intersect Main at various points, with intersecting alleyways connecting those streets and alleys to form a veritable maze of shops, stores, bars and restaurants. Sprinkle in hundreds of people trying to find their best deal and dozens of cabs and cars wending their way through the crowds, and you’ve got downtown Charlotte Amalie on cruise ship day.

After I dropped the kids off and headed back up the mountain, I figured that I had a few minutes before the second massage back at the house would be complete. I decided to do a little exploring. In one of my guide books, I’d read that Hull Bay beach, which was further west along the northern edge of the island than was Magens Bay, had surf that was large enough for surfing competitions. I’m a big fan of surf, and I was actually entertaining the idea of taking a surfing lesson or two (something I’ve always wanted to do). So, I headed off in the general direction of Hull Bay.

I’d thought the roads were challenging between Charlotte Amalie and Magens Bay. Those roads were nothing compared to the roads to Hull Bay. I hadn’t thought that it was possible, but these roads were even more winding, more hilly and more narrow.

Hull Bay, it turns out, is a small little beach at the end of a road off Route 38. There’s a little open-air restaurant and bar, along with a rental shack. However, there wasn’t a ripple on the water, and not a wave for as far as I could see. So much for my dreams of hanging ten.

Upon my return to the villa, everyone was in the final stages of preparing for speed shopping downtown. I changed out of my bathing suit, grabbed my sneakers, and we headed back over the mountain. We spent the next hour or so shopping and exploring and eventually hooked up with the kids by the gazebo in the park. They had purchased some hand-carved wooden items, including bowls and walking sticks. They’d purchased so much that the craftsman had thrown in a colorful little . . . um . . . fertility idol, which consisted of a naked man, carved out of wood, holding a wooden barrel around him. The barrel is removable and, when you remove it, the naked man . . . um . . . springs to attention. They decided it probably wasn’t a good idea for them to keep the fertility guy, so, of course, we have it now, displayed in our bedroom. We’re hoping that its effect doesn’t extend beyond the borders of St. Thomas.

As we lugged our purchases back to the van, we happened to pass The Green House, a pub-type restaurant right along the water. Unlike the Hook Line and Sinker, this place actually caught the breeze off the harbor. We decided to stay there for dinner, despite the fact that it wasn’t “climate controlled.” (It didn’t hurt that we arrived during happy hour, during which the special was two-for-one frozen drinks. Sometimes, two-for-one frozen drinks trumps climate controlled.)

The food was actually quite good. Of course, it wasn’t on the scale of The Old Stone Farmhouse, but for satisfying fare along the lines of Duffy’s, Bennigans, and TGIFridays, we were quite pleased with The Green House. (The Green House also trumpets the fact that it was survived nine hurricanes. This fact is commemorated on their rum runner glass, of which I am now a proud owner. I’m such a tourist sometimes.)

Back at the villa, we decided to stage our own water olympics in the pool as our evening’s entertainment. We took a boogie board from the store room near the pool and floated it on the water. The object was to jump from the deck to the boogie board and ride it as long as you could. Our numerous attempts at surfing across the pool resulted in uproarious laughter and, fortunately, no cracked skulls. The evening’s second event was a game of pool volley ball, during which my wife and I discovered that we are officially “old people.” We know this because my oldest’s girlfriend gleefully divided the teams into the “young people” and the “old people.” Happily, we fogeys were able to prevail. Of course, our victory resulted, in part, from my oldest’s inability to balance in an inner-tube and spike a beach ball at the same time without ingesting large quantities of pool water. After rescuing our young rocket scientist from the grasp of the killer inner tube, we retired to the comforts of our respective beds in order to rest up for our trip to St. John, which we had planned for the next day.

Well, some of us were resting up for the trip. Our oldest and his girlfriend elected to stay behind. I’m sure that decision was due, in part, to the fact that the girlfriend tends to get a little motion sick, so a ferry trip across the sea was not high on her short list of fun things to do. I’m also sure that part of it was due to the fact that they were getting the use of the whole house -- and the pool -- and the al fresco showers -- all to themselves, and all day long. (Hey, wouldn’t you want that opportunity as well? I was trying to figure out how to pull that one off with my wife!)

We wanted to go to St. John for a number of reasons. First, it is supposed to be the prettiest of the three US Virgin Islands. (Most of it is, in fact, a protected national park). It’s supposed to be very friendly and very laid back as well. On top of that, the shopping was supposed to be very good, too (at least as good as St. Thomas). Finally, we’ve been listening to the country singer, Kenny Chesney, for a couple of years now. He has a home on St. John, and sings of Cinnamon Bay, which is off St. John, and mentions hanging with the locals at the Quite Mon pub in one of his songs. So, naturally, we had to check that out as well.

We were up and out the door by 9:15 a.m. The ferries leave from Red Hook every hour on the hour, so we figured we had plenty of time. We got to Red Hook at about 9:45, but, as I mentioned earlier, parking near the docks is a problem.

We decided to try the fenced lot just opposite the ferry dock. After maneuvering through the field of cars scattered across the hillside, and contemplating trying to get the minivan up a hill that would give a mountain goat pause, I reluctantly headed toward the exit, resigned to the fact that we’d have to park a mile away, down the street. However, before we exited, the guy managing the lot waved me over and pointed to a narrow little spot behind his shack, between a car and a stand of palm fronds. Looking at the space in the low-lying area, I could see mud all around, and I knew it was going to be messy. I got everyone out of the car and told the guy to lead on. He pulled his truck out (which had been blocking the entrance to this area) and, somehow or other, I shoe-horned the minivan into the spot. I was able to just get my door open, avoided most of the mud puddles, and handed the guy a five dollar bill for the parking fee. We got to the dock with five minutes to spare.

Of course, it wasn’t going to be that easy. I had my drivers’ license with me, as did Aunt Joanne. However, my wife was traveling light that day and had not brought her purse. As a result, she had no id (nor did our youngest). This, we learned, was a no-no.

There was a security guard checking ID’s at the dock. My wife explained that she hadn’t brought her ID or passport. “Oh, that’s a very bad practice,” the security guard chastised. We apologized, and I showed my id as I handed over the tickets for the three of us and explained that we were a family traveling together. The guard was still reluctant to let my wife on board and also casually stated that she might not be able to get back without her ID. I asked if she would definitely be barred from coming back, and the guard gave me a semi-shrug as she continued to check our tickets. I finally told her, “Alright, just give me all of the tickets back, because if she’ll have trouble getting back, we’ll just go get her ID.” At this point, the guard changed her tone and said, “No, no. She’ll be alright. She should just travel with her ID.” She then waved us through.

I guess this whole episode shouldn’t have surprised me in this age of heightened security, but it hadn’t occurred to either of us that an ID was necessary to go from one US Virgin Island to another. To me, it was like needing your ID to take the ferry from New Jersey to Manhattan. Don’t get me wrong: I do understand the point. However, I’m not sure what the security guard was trying to accomplish. I don’t have a problem if you bar us from the ferry because we don’t have proper identification. I don’t have a problem if you let us on after hearing our explanation. I do, however, have a problem with little mind-games, veiled threats and power plays, like “It’s a bad practice to travel without ID,” and “Well, you might not get back even if I let you go.” On top of that, they didn’t even check IDs on the return trip, so what was the point of that little scare tactic, really?

Anyway, before I go off on a rant, back to the ferry. The trip to St. John was nice, smooth, fast and completely uneventful. There are some wonderful views of the various islands, and the sea breeze was invigorating. I could have spent the whole day on the sea, let me tell you.

As we approached St. John, we could see the difference. St. Thomas is very developed and is fairly well populated. St. John, even on the Cruz Bay side where we were docking, is greener, cleaner, and less congested. Of course, there were the ever-present open-air taxis offering rides and tours, but we were planning on hitting the shops and finding the Quiet Mon Pub, all within walking distance, so we passed on the rides.

As a side note, all of the guide books say that Trunk Bay Beach, on St. John, is a must-see on the island. One book even states that going to St. John and not visiting Trunk Bay Beach is like visiting Paris and skipping the Eiffel Tower. In fact, many of the folks on the ferry were wearing their bathing suits and carrying beach towels, so apparently a number of people do take the ferry and then a cab to the beach. If you’re more of a beach-goer and less of a shopper, you might consider doing the same.

For us, though, we elected to skip the Eiffel Tower and headed off to Mongoose Junction, which is a mini-plaza filled with a variety of shops, from leather goods to clothing stores. Among the things we found was the St. John’s version of the classic “hook bracelet,” which is an island tradition. According to local lore, the hook bracelet was designed to take the place of a fisherman’s wedding ring. As I understand it, the theory is that a ring can get caught on netting, or in lines, but the hook bracelet, because of its design, will simply unhook if it’s snagged. The hook also is worn in a way that determines whether your heart is available, or if it is taken. (I know. This works against the “wedding ring” theory, but I’m just reporting here.) If the hook faces up the arm, towards your heart, it’s taken. If the hook faces out, down the arm, your heart is available.

We discovered the hook bracelets last year, on St. Croix. There, the Cruzans have their own unique take on the classic “hook” closure (that in the traditional bracelet resembles a mini-horseshoe.) The St. Thomas version has the classic hook. St. Croix’s version is closed by a “cruzan knot,” which is spun from gold or silver and is placed through the hole on the other end to close the bracelet. The St. John’s version of the hook closure replaces the traditional hook with a hook that resembles a cross between a fish hook and the letter “j”. (This design is my personal favorite.) From our wanderings, it appears that the traditional hook bracelet is available on each island but, as far as we were able to determine, the St. Croix and St. John variations are unique to their respective islands. We checked the jewelry stores and the merchants’ markets on the street and it appears that, to get the St. Croix and St. John variations, you’ve got to visit each island. (Unless you want to cheat, and shop for them on the internet.)

Having finished our shopping, we started asking around about the Quiet Mon. Not surprisingly, we weren’t the first to ask about the pub, and were were directed right to it. It turns out that the Quiet Mon is a little six-stool bar, situated upstairs adjacent to Woody’s Seafood Saloon.

It was really a cool little spot, with pictures of a wide variety of celebrities and athletes adorning the walls. According to one local, in addition to Kenny Chesney and his new wife, Renee Zellwigger, Tom Selleck and Alan Alda are among the celebrities who’ve recently enjoyed the local color at The Quiet Mon.

It’s got a very limited menu, consisting mainly of hot dogs and chips, as well as about a half-dozen beers on tap. There’s also a corner that’s a cyber-cafe, where you can access the internet, and several tables for just hanging out. It was all very comfortable, very low key, very friendly, and exactly the kind of place you’d expect to find a famous celebrity in the wee hours, when he or she might be able to get a moment’s peace. The Quiet Mon was one of my favorite stops.

From there, we had a quick lunch at The Lemon Inn, and then headed back to the ferry dock for our return trip. As I mentioned, we boarded for the return trip without incident, and were back at the villa before 5:00.

On the way, we decided to check out one of the restaurants we had considered trying -- a place called the Banana Tree, which was in the Bluebird’s Castle Hotel, on Bluebird’s Hill (which is not to be confused with Blackbeard’s Hill, only a half-mile away). The hotel itself was kind of drab and dreary, but the restaurant seemed kind of nice. Only -- no climate control. We debated whether to try it, but it seemed rather pleasant out, and there was a breath of air up on the hill, so we decided to come back for dinner. It was not a great decision.

Upon our return for dinner, whatever breeze had existed was gone. It was hot, humid, and oppressively hot. Once again, drink service was slow (though not as bad as the Hook Line and Sinker had been). On top of that, some of the specials they had printed up were no longer available, a fact not revealed to us until after we’d ordered them. To top it all off, we were regaled with the performance of Larry Lounge Singer throughout the meal.

Do you remember Saturday Night Live from the late 1970s, when Bill Murray first started and did his parody of a lounge singer’s act, singing the Theme from Star Wars. This guy made Bill Murray look good. Imagine the cheesiest vocals you can, performed with a little Casio keyboard and a rhythm box, with the emphasis on all the wrong syllables and the tones off just a hair. This guy was worse than that.

I wish I could tell you more about the singer, or the meal, or the restaurant, but somehow the details of that evening have been mercifully erased from my memory by some instinctive, self-preservation mechanism. Candidly, I do not remember what I ate, what Larry sang, or how long dinner took. I do know that the drive down, on empty stomachs along the curvy roads, with everyone loaded up with their best cologne, followed by sitting in the sweat box that was our dinner table, left my wife so queasy she couldn’t even order a meal, and left my youngest so nauseous that he lost his dinner when we returned to the house. Thursday night turned out to be an early night at the villa.

All that was forgotten in the dawn of the following day. I started that morning -- our last full morning on the island -- as I had done each day; with a cup of coffee on the deck, watching the sun climb into the sky and listening to the surf pound the rocks below. Our plans for the day were simple -- return to Coki Beach for jet skiing, snorkeling and swimming. My oldest and his girlfriend, along with Aunt Joanne, wanted to go jet skiing, and my youngest (who’s too young to drive his own jet ski) wanted to snorkel. So, off we went.

The three of them got jet skis together and tore off across the bay. Aunt Joanne was in her glory, having always wanted to try jet skiing. She and the kids looked like they were having a blast as they sped off. Having been jet skiing a couple of times, I know that it is a lot of fun. However, this day I was planning on sitting on the beach, floating in the water, and watching the fish swim by with my wife and youngest son.

Towards that end, we walked across the road to the beach and rustled up some lounge chairs and umbrellas to complement our beach chairs and rafts. We also discovered that they sell extra-large dog biscuits at one of the stands, which you can use to feed the fish. The biscuits stay relatively hard in water, making it easy for the fish to grab hold of without the biscuits turning into a pile of mushy gunk in your hands.

My youngest was thrilled. He grabbed two biscuits and headed off for the reef. For the next two hours, all I saw was his butt and his snorkel sticking out of the water. The rest of him was below the surface, feeding the fish. I ventured out after a while and saw that he was engulfed in a giant school of fish of all shapes and sizes. It was amazing to watch; he had the patience to simply hang there in the water, breathing through his snorkel while extending a piece of biscuit towards the fish. The fish swam right up to him and nibbled pieces out of his hand. I’d never seen anything like it. I’d also never seen him hold so still for so long in all of his life. But he wanted to make sure all of the fish got some, and he knew that if he moved around too much, they wouldn’t come near him. So he hung there and patiently fed the fish, and watched them swim around.

Our jet skiing trio joined us after a bit, and we spent the day lounging in the sun, munching on snacks from the snack bar, feeding the fish, and passing the time with some of the folks from that day’s cruise ship, who’d found their way by taxi from the dock in Charlotte Amalie to Coki Beach. They had to leave for their ship by 3:30. We, on the other hand, got to close the place down as the sun slowly sank from the sky, and our afternoon complement of frozen pain killers was slowly exhausted.

We finally, reluctantly, left the beach so that we could make our reservation at the Farmhouse. It was tough to leave, knowing that it was our last time in the Caribbean this year. But the good times do have to come to an end at some point, and our vacation was now officially winding down.

Going to the Farmhouse that night was almost like going home. Although the wait staff was entirely different this night, they treated us like family, and we had another wonderful meal. We even met the chef when we were done, and thanked him profusely for the fine food he prepared. I watched him work the room as he left our table; he was acquainted with several folks there that night. I can understand why; with the quality of dishes he prepared, I would most definitely be a regular at the Farmhouse.

On our return to the villa, we made it a point not to pack. I guess that was our way of extending the vacation through the end of the last full day.

The next morning -- another beautiful one -- we began the packing process, and the trek up the 58 steps with the luggage, for our journey back to the real world. One of our last tasks was gassing up the minivan before we returned it. When I’d picked it up, I’d been given the choice of pre-paying $65.00 for a full tank, or filling it myself before I’d returned. Not yet used to gas that costs almost three bucks a gallon, I’d scoffed at the $65 price and decided to gamble that we’d be able to come in well under that by the end of the week. However, the morning we left, the best price I found was $2.94 a gallon (!!). At that price, the gas pump was making a lot of noise and not pumping very much gas at all. As the numbers rolled past $40 into the $50 range, I began feeling as if I was playing some kind of warped slot machine. “No sixty-five,” I found myself muttering. “No sixty-five.” I watched and waited, and watched some more as the numbers finally stopped flickering -- at $63.00. We had a winner!

As you might expect, the process of checking in for the return flight was madness. The walking sticks the kids had bought at the flea market did not fit in any luggage, so they were wrapped in a bicycle bag, taped up tighter than skin to a grape and stowed in the cargo hold. The security screening was ridiculously slow and painfully haphazard; they waved our youngest through without either parent, and then made both of us stand and wait, leaving a ten-year old in the limbo land between screened and unscreened passengers. Somehow, I was waved through with a glance from one guard while the guard next to mine, despite the fact that we were all obviously traveling together, insisted on opening my wife’s suitcase. I mean, I’m all about the security procedures -- believe me, I’m a white-knuckle flier as it is, so anything to make the process safer is fine with me. But there is a difference between common-sense security procedures and arbitrary, indiscriminate chaos.

But I don’t need to go into that for now. Suffice it to say that our time on the island was worth all of the hassles we faced on the way in and on the way back. If you’re looking to relax, kick back, and experience a place, you’ve got to seriously consider a villa rental, and St. Thomas is as good a place to start as any. It’s close, it’s not too expensive, it’s pretty darn safe, and it’s a lot of fun. I highly recommend it.

The Zoloft Made Me Do It

2005-08-20T23:47:00.000-04:00

Every once in a while, one of those true crime stories pops up on 48 Hours, or 20/20, or Dateline, that catches my eye.

Tonight we had the story of Chris Pittman, a 12 year old who was living with his grandparents in Chester, South Carolina in 2001. After a disagreement with his grandfather in church, he goes home with them and, as they sleep, shoots them in the bed of their newly built home.

As you can tell from the title of this rant, the defense was "The Zoloft Made Him Do It." Rather than rant about litigators taking cases to make names for themselves, or about taking a high profile criminal case with a sympathetic defendant for free so as to pave the way for a soon-to-follow civil class action case, let's just look at the facts here, which will illustrate precisely why the wheels of justice grind eternally slow....

By the age of 12, poor Chris's mother has abandoned him once, come back into his life unexpectedly for a period of months, and then abandons him a second time. Meanwhile, his father is in the process of finishing up his third divorce. When Chris is living with him, he uses the belt, the paddle, and various psychological techniques to discipline him. Chris, who had lived with his paternal grandparents in South Carolina for a time several years before, is so depressed at the prospect of continuing to live with his father, that he threatens suicide. This results in a prescription for an anti-depressant (Paxil) and a move back to South Carolina, where his prescription is changed to Zoloft.

Now, I'm gonna go out on a limb here, and take a wild guess that, even before the Paxil and the Zoloft, Chris might have had a couple of demons he was battling -- fear of abandonement, perhaps some sort of attachment deficit disorder, some sort of fear of intimacy, an absolute aversion to discipline and authority. (Don't mind me; I'm just spit ballin' here.)

Anyway, at some point after his return to his paternal grandparents, he has the dispute and blows them away. The defense comes in and says, "Poor kid. All that Zoloft caused him to think murderous thoughts." Nevermind that, at worst, Zoloft has caused suicidal thoughts in a very rare minority of people (and suicide is just a wee bit different from murder), and nevermind that there are no other documented cases of Zoloft driving someone to murder. Let's just throw it up there and see what happens.

If that was all there was, maybe you can make the argument work enough to hook one juror (that's all you need for an acquittal) into believing that maybe the kid wasn't responsible for his actions, and maybe the drugs put him over the edge. But that's not all the evidence there was. Check this out.

After he blew his grandparents away, he then set the house on fire. Not just a little fire, like throwing a match into a pile of newspapers. No, he used accelerants, and candles, and started the fire in various places in the house. He then stole their SUV and took off, hiding out in the woods. When found, he then told a tale about a 6 foot, 2 inch black man who murdered his grandparents and kidnapped him. When he ultimately confessed (that same day) to the killings, the two detectives who interviewed him described him as clear-headed, lucid, and well-aware of what he'd done. He also said they deserved it.

Now, let's just pause for a moment. Before I tell you what the verdict was, with that kind of evidence, even with a twelve year old defendant, what would you have ruled?

I predicted "Guilty."

The jury agreed with me.

The kid's doing thirty years.

I won't lose any sleep over that.

As a couple of side notes:

His maternal grandmother (notably, NOT his father) took care of him while he was out on bail during trial. Knowing what this kid did to the paternal grandparents, I'm not sure I would have taken that particular leap of faith.

His older sister believes that his three years in juvenile detention, together with the fact that he'd have to live with the knowledge that he'd killed his grandparents, was punishment enough. She has all the makings of a great defense attorney. Had he killed his parents, instead of his grandparents, she would have begged for mercy because the poor child was now an orphan.

Somehow, despite it all, justice prevailed. Even pissed-off twelve-year-olds don't get to kill their grandparents without repercussions of some kind.

You actually can get slimmer in six

2005-06-28T23:07:00.000-04:00

Every winter, I go through the same thing. I begin indulging a bit too freely in the goodies and libations that come with Thanksgiving, and Christmas, and New Year’s. Unfortunately, I’ve also begun extending my indulgences so that I include the candies and chocolates that come with Valentines and Easter baskets as well. As a result, when Spring rolls around, I invariably notice that even my “heavy” suits (the ones I wear after I’ve indulged a bit too much for a bit too long) begin to feel snug. When I tipped the scale at 207 pounds last spring (2004), which was the first time I’d been that heavy in over twenty years, I knew it was time to act.

But what to do? I’ve been a runner for twenty years now, but after two decades and countless miles, I’ve been finding it difficult to push myself hard enough to trim off the pounds very quickly. I’ve also done my “Ah-nuld” circuit on free weights in the basement, but I have to confess - I find weight-lifting a bit too tedious for my taste. I had a gym membership for a year a while back, but, if I’m going to work out, I like to roll out of bed and get right into my workout. With the gym, I always had the sense I had to make an appointment.

I’ve also been a good dieter over the years, but as I’ve gotten older, dieting is harder. I’ve plateaued on Atkins (having eaten enough cows for a small herd) and I’ve also veg’ed out on salads and low-fat treats (using the word “treats” in its broadest sense). But I was burned out on diets, tired of running, dreaded lifting weights, and needed something new.

Enter Debbie Siebers. I “met” her watching infomercials one early Sunday morning. Sure, I’ve seen all the gizmos, gadgets and programs, and I usually dismiss them. But I was desperate for something different, and something about Debbie and her “Slim in 6” program caught my attention.

Yeah, yeah, I know. Infomercial workout programs? Don’t those rank right up there with the “6 Second Ab” machine, and “Popeil’s Pocket Fisherman”? That’s what I thought, but there was something about the pictures of the folks on the infomercial -- both men and women -- that appeared genuine, and not the air-brushed, carefully lighted, trick photos that so many other companies use in their “before” and “after” shots.

On top of that, Debbie Siebers actually seemed sincere. She was not obnoxiously perky as so many of the infomercial types are. Even better, her six-week program came with a six-week money back guarantee. So I figured: how could I lose? I went on-line and ordered “Slim in 6.” (I did, however, decline the various attempts to get me to buy “supplements” and “resistance bands” to go with my program, figuring my own vitamins and free weights would be an adequate substitute.)

What follows is a summary of my experiences on the “Slim in 6” program and my own opinions about it. Bottom line: the program works, but you’ve got to stick to it. Now, I’m not trying to be a shill for the program. I just figured that, if you are anything like me, you’d like to hear about the experiences of someone who is not being compensated to tell you about them.

THE PROGRAM

I got my “Slim in 6” package on a Wednesday. They recommended doing the program six days a week for six weeks, so I planned on starting the following Monday, giving myself Sundays off. In the meantime, I reviewed the materials they included with my package.

They sent me a log book, a computer cd so that I could join an on-line support group, a diet plan, and an instruction book. I set aside all but the last -- I just wanted to know how to do the program. I’d handle my own diet and support, thanks.

The manual recommended using the two DVDs containing the program in sequence, starting with the “Start It Up” program for two days, then going to the “Ramp It Up” program. This was supposed to take me to the end of Week Two. For weeks Four through Six, I would finish with the “Burn It Up” program.

I wanted to get a sneak-peak of what I was in for, so I popped in the first DVD and watched the first few minutes of the “Start It Up” program. I noticed two running clocks on the bottom of the screen, one for the total time left in the workout, and one for the particular segment of the workout (legs, abs, etc.) that you were doing at the moment. Pretty smart.

I was happy to see that Debbie continued to be upbeat and personable without being irritating. I also thought it somewhat inspired to include two “ordinary” people -- a man and a woman -- and not two pumped-up, trimmed-out, aerobics-instructor types as Debbie’s “assistants.” Apparently, both of these folks had used “Slim in 6,” achieved “amazing results” and were invited to participate in the video as Debbie’s assistants.

As to the program itself, my initial impression was that it was rather ordinary. I didn’t find anything exceptional or compelling about the exercises as I fast-skipped through the various segments of the first 24 minute workout. In fact, the workout appeared to be a variety of rather routine aerobics class moves.

I skipped to the “Ramp It Up” program, which was a 47 minute workout, and fast-skipped through what looked like more of the same. The “Burn It Up” program, which is a 59 minute workout, also looked fairly routine. With a shrug and a sigh, I closed up my DVD case and put it away until Monday. I had promised myself that I was going to do this thing for six weeks, and I was bound and determined to do so. Plus, I always had that money-back guarantee in my back pocket. I was ready to see what Debbie could do for me.

Day 1

I start the DVD. Debbie welcomes me with some words of encouragement before jumping into her warm-up sequence. I notice that her warm-up moves, while appearing rather standard, actually do get my heart beating. In pretty short order, I’m feeling warmed-up and ready to go, and we begin a series of cardio-type moves, combined with some leg exercises, some standing crunches, some floor crunches, and some push-ups for the upper body.

As the workout moves along, I notice that Debbie’s low-key but enthusiastic delivery actually makes the program seem easier than it is. She’s eager, but not annoying, in her persistant encouragement to do the crunches, kick those legs out, and stretch those back muscles. She even makes completing a “plia” ballet move (feet apart, toes pointed to opposite walls, then squat) seem both easy and effective.

About 15 minutes in, I realize that sweat is actually pouring off of me. I’m surprised, because there is nothing particularly strenuous about any one thing I’m doing. But the consistent sequencing of activities, together with Debbie’s pleasant delivery, her moderate pace, and the fact that the two ordinary folks in the background seem able to do the workout with ease, all combine to make the “Start It Up” program go quickly and relatively easily. By the end of the workout, I have worked up a good sweat, learned to plia, and am feeling as if I’ve actually accomplished something.

Day 2

I repeat “Start It Up,” just like the book says, and again I feel as if I’ve actually worked out. I even do the plia moves without stumbling or feeling like an idiot, which in and of itself is quite a feat for me. I actually find myself looking forward to starting “Ramp It Up” on Day 3.

Day 3

I start “Ramp It Up” and right away, I notice something different. The pace is just a bit faster than the “Start It Up” program. The difference is ever so slight, but it’s pretty clear to me that Ms. Siebers and her assistants (two different ordinary folks for this program) are warming up more quickly, and doing the leg work, the back work, and the ab-work at a slightly faster pace. I begin thinking that I’m in for a long 47 minutes.

As I hit the floor for the ab work (which I discover is far more intense than it looks), I feel my stomach is actually quite sore from the first two days of the program. I find that I can’t complete the number of oblique crunches and double crunches that Debbie gently but firmly insists that I do. Oh sure, she’s very pleasant in encouraging me to try “alternate” moves, but what amazes me is that I can’t keep up with what appears to be a relatively straightforward and easy work-out program. I can’t keep up with all of her ab work, or the leg work, or the push-ups. Damn! This ain’t easy!

I look up at the TV and there’s Greg, one of Debbie’s assistants, merrily cranking out push-up after push-up. I grit my teeth and press on, taking some small satisfaction in the fact that at least they’re all sweating as much as I am. But the thing that surprises me most is that I actually find myself looking forward to the next day because I am determined to keep up with smilin’ Greg, Tracey and Debbie.

Day 4

Today’s not going to be the day I keep up. Here’s a tip -- don’t try to “Ramp It Up” on five hours’ sleep. When the alarm went off, I was definitely not in the mood to face Ms. Perky or smilin’ Greg. Plus, after they plia’d me half to death the day before, my knees were barking. I discover that knees take a different kind of pounding in a 47 minute work-out than they do in a three mile run.

Still, I had a personal commitment to honor. So I rolled out of bed, grabbed my shorts and shoes, stretched for a couple minutes, then popped in Debbie and her crew. I got through the work out pretty well, despite my fatigue, until the leg-and-butt work segment. I start doing the leg-kick thing she does at the thirty-five minute mark and -- yow! Apparently, we hit some muscles on Day 3 that I hadn’t used in quite some time. Debbie happily chirps, “Eight more,” and I realize that there is no possible way I can get my leg up eight more times -- it’s flopping around like a carp on a hook. Oh, I try, but it’s a pretty pathetic attempt to squeeze out eight more leg kicks, and I have to stop at five.

As I try to keep my leg up, I watch smilin’ Greg just keep cranking out the leg kicks, and then the leg lifts, and then every other stinking move, and I have to tell you -- there’s a certain motivating factor in seeing him do that. Good old smilin’ Greg is not some sculpted, ‘roid-driven body builder. He’s a regular-looking guy, pretty much just like me, who’s just going along with the program. There’s something in the back of my head that says, “If this guy can do it, I know that I can.”

I fight my way to the end of Day 4, squeezing off as many leg lifts and crunches as I can muster before collapsing in a heap.

Day 5

On Day 5, my knees actually feel better, despite the pounding. Encouraged, I get ready for my third day through “Ramp It Up.”

After only three days of Ramping it Up, I was keeping up better, at least until the leg/ab sequence at the end. I found myself muttering various expletives through gritted teeth as Debbie exuberates, “Keep those legs straight up in the air!” while I struggle to complete my umpteenth raised-leg oblique crunch.

The last six minutes of “Ramp It Up” is a cool down/stretching/yoga compilation of moves. Despite all the “good feelings” that everyone attributes to yoga-think, I just don’t have the patience for a series of “exalted warrior” stretches. On Day 5, I decide to just skip the whole “cool down” phase and see what happens.

Day 6

By Day 6, I was actually keeping up with almost every exercise. To be sure, when it was time for the bicycle kicks during the last two minutes, I was barely able to complete one for every three. But I was actually able to do one for every three, which was significant.

Week 2

Since this week was devoted to ramping it up, I decided to focus solely on keeping up with the routines, step for step, kick for kick, and crunch for crunch. By the end of each workout, the sweat was pouring off of me like it was coming from a faucet and my abs and legs were burning. But, little by little, I was getting closer to keeping up with all of the routines. By the end of the week, I had to admit that I had impressed myself because I remembered how I felt on the first day of ramping it up. I was keeping up, and feeling good doing it. I was almost looking forward to the next phase.

Week 3, Day 1

Time to start to “Burn It Up.” The pace here is quicker still. Debbie and her pals started with a rapidly-paced 4 minute warm-up routine, followed by a long set of cardio-squats, a long set of exercises targetting the waist, then some lunges, then a repeat of the waist routine, then another routine for the legs.

By this time, I had two weeks of practice under my belt, so the moves were familiar and I was able to complete the routines almost effortlessly. However, Debbie does throw in a couple of curve balls as we’re flying through the routines: front-back kicks, double knee pulls, and traveling pliés are all moves I have to learn on the fly, at a fairly quick pace. The end result is that the work-out was actually pretty intense. Debbie explains it perfectly about 10 minutes in: “We call this Burn It Up for a reason!”

The entire program consists of about thirty-two minutes of aerobic/cardio activity at a pretty good clip, after which is about 10 minutes of repetitive light-weight work for the arms and shoulders, followed by 10 minutes targeting the butt, hamstrings, and then abs. There are added moves in all segments, filling out the 53 minute workout, after which is another six minute “yoga-think” stretch/cool-down phase. I just skipped it. Six extra minutes in the shower seems a better way to spend that time.

As before, for me, the killer segments were the ones targeting the butt and abs, which Debbie gets to at about the forty minute mark. Believe me, after forty minutes, the last thing I wanted to do was the leg and butt work and, as before, I was unable to do all of the routines, what with the additional reps and longer sequences. By the end of the workout, my fatigue was genuine and I was drenched with sweat.

At the end of the work-out, I decided to take a few minutes to actually check my progress after two weeks of “slimming.” I looked at my reflection in the mirror and actually saw the vaguest hint of some definition in my stomach. THIS was a very big deal given my ever increasing middle-aged spread. I was actually excited at the first signs of a two-pack! (Hey, I’ll take what I can get!)

The real test came at the scale. My weight on day one of week three: 203. I was happy to take it, because four pounds was four pounds, especially considering the fact that I did not significantly modify my eating habits all that much. The work-outs were demanding, but the progress was genuine.

Remainder of Week 3

These “Burn It Up” workouts were intense. After the first 32 minutes and the end of the cardio jumping around, I found myself totally sucking wind. I determined to focus on keeping up and perfecting form, and I found myself getting better at both. By the last day of Week 3, although I didn’t keep up with every single rep, I no longer needed a break at any point. That, to me, was an achievement all by itself.

Week 4

My weight at the start of Week 4 was a surprising 200 pounds. I say “surprising” because I dropped seven pounds in three weeks without making any significant changes in my eating habits (well, except for eliminating the two or three beers I’d usually have on the weekend. I’ve learned over the years that alcohol is the bane of weight loss.) But the reality is that all I’d done was follow the exercise routine to the letter, and it was working.

As I continued the Burn It Up routine in Week 4, I slowly but surely found myself better able to keep up with the routine to the end. When necessary, I slowed down a bit, but I finished the 53-minute exercise part of the program without a break.

Even in my second week of “Burn It Up,” it was not easy to keep up. But I actually found myself concentrating on -- and feeling a difference in -- the different muscle groups as I completed the circuit of standing oblique crunches, side crunches, and double-knee pulls, all of which worked out my abs pretty well.

By the end of Week 4, I noticed several things. Relying solely on the exercises, my waist felt trimmer and my pants fit better. More surpising to me was the definition I began to see in my biceps and chest. The numerous light-weight reps in the program helped me trim down and define my muscles without bulking up. Don’t get me wrong -- I wasn’t getting “cut” by any stretch of the imagination. That’s not the point of the program. I was, however, noticing a little less jiggle in that belly o’ mine.

Weeks 5 & 6

The last two weeks of the work-out schedule highlighted both the best and the worst of the program. The best part was that, with continued repetition, I was able to keep up better and better each day, I felt and saw my muscles developing over the final two weeks, and I definitely lost weight and added definition. However, on the minus side, I did find myself tiring of the identical workout every single day. By the end of Week 6, I found myself getting a little twitchy at the repetitiveness.

However, that being said, I was actually quite satisfied at the work-outs I was getting. I found myself kicking through the leg routines no problem and reeling off 16 oblique crunches in a row for each side while focusing on form.

Because I did not alter my diet all that much during the six-week period, I was not surprised that the program didn’t make my gut disappear. However, I was not at all disappointed in the results. During the six weeks I dedicated to the workout program, I still enjoyed a few margaritas and a few desserts while I was I dropping 10 pounds. My 36 inch waist pants went from exceptionally tight to comfortable. I added muscle tone to my arms, chest, butt and belly without making any significant changes in my eating habits. I suspect that, had I gone into a full-blown salad/low-fat/low-carb diet (which is what the program recommends to maximize your weight loss), I would have dropped significantly more weight than I did.

EVALUATION

If you’re looking for a different kind of work-out, I can recommend this program whole-heartedly, despite the stigma that some of these infomercial-type programs bear. However, there are a couple of points that you’ve got to keep in mind when you try it.

First, even with the “Start It Up” program, you are not going to just pop the DVD in and glide through the work-out. Just like any new exercise program, there is a learning curve. It is going to take a little effort and concentration on your part to get the moves down and keep up with the music (the DVD lets you turn off the music and just keep up with Debbie, if you’d rather. My preference is to have the music on.) The first program is a 24 minute cardio workout, with some ab- and leg-work incorporated into the routine. It’s not grueling, but it’s not like riding a stationary bike while watching television. You have to put in the time, the sweat, and the dedication to make it through even this easiest segment.

Second, even though the workouts appear fairly routine, expect to struggle early to keep up. The informercials tend to soft-cell these work-outs, but the fact is that you are actually exercising. This is a good thing, by the way, but it is exercise and it will take some effort. For me, even in Week 3, my first week of Burn It Up, I was sucking wind at the end of the workouts. There is definitely a conditioning curve. But don’t be put off -- even if you’re not in A-1 condition, you can ease your way into the program by taking a couple of extra days with “Start It Up” and then pacing yourself through the workouts that follow. You will find yourself catching on and keeping up more quickly than you expected.

However, that brings me to the third point, which is the fact that watching the exact same workout, with the exact same words of encouragement at precisely the same spot every single day may makes you feel as if you’re living in the movie Groundhog Day. If you add a few extra days to the workout, I suspect that the feeling will intensify. However, if you can keep in mind that there is an end in sight, namely, the last day of the sixth week, you can make it through.

This, of course, brings me to the final concern. There is a last day. Ordinarily, you can keep your work-out regimen going by changing sequences, changing days, mixing in the elliptical machine, running on the treadmill, or doing some roadwork outside. With the Slim in Six DVDs, it’s either that routine, or no routine.

I got to the end of Week Six and had no where to go. Sure, I repeated the workouts, and sprinkled in some runs and some free weights. But once the program was done, so was my incentive to keep doing it.

All that being said, however, the advantages of having a pleasant personal trainer at my disposal in my own home made the program worthwhile -- at least to jump start a weight-loss and fitness program. For six weeks, if you want to drop a few pounds in a relative hurry, and you like to roll out of bed and into a workout, there’s nothing easier than popping a DVD into the machine when it’s convenient for you. In addition, if you’re like me and you feel a bit awkward doing pliés and double-knee pulls in a room full of people, nothing beats cranking through this workout in the privacy of your own home. All you need is some space in front of your TV and a little self-discipline.

Most importantly, the program actually works, as long as you commit to it. I can tell you that you can make a significant difference in your body, firm yourself up, improve your endurance, and trim that gut in six weeks, if you really want to.

FOLLOW-UP

Six months after I finished the Slim In Six program, Christmas 2004 was upon me, and so were the cookies, the cakes, the egg nog, the rum punch, the candy canes and the mulled cider. Then came New Year’s Eve, and the champagne, and cheese trays, and sliced pepperoni and.....well, you get the picture. My weight didn’t get back up to 207, but it got close.

I’ve delayed this spring’s annual weight-loss ritual by playing in a men’s basketball league (which also works to shed the pounds, by the way). However, I know I’ve got to do something again, and much as I like Debbie Siebers, I’m just not in the mood for six weeks of Debbie right now.

I’ve discovered, however, that Beachbody.com, the marketers of Slim In Six, have reduced the price of another program they’ve got: Tony Horton’s Power 90. They not only reduced the price (20 bucks for the DVD, which includes the postage and handling) but have also added the idea underlying the old video- and record-club memberships. They promise to send another work-out every few weeks, which I figure will help break up the Groundhog Day effect. So, I’m getting ready to try to keep up with actor-cum-personal-trainer Tony Horton. Hey, it can’t hurt, right? I’ll keep you posted.