Archives for 2009

Mar 08 2009

Tucson Roller Derby

Tonight it was Furious Truckstop Waitresses against Vice Squad, and once I heard about it, I knew we absolutely had to be there. Roller derby … right here in Tucson? It’s an icon of American pop culture, right up there with drive-in movie theaters. I never thought I’d have a chance to see it live.

Problem was, Eleanor had memories of fierce hair-pulling antics and epithets screamed from the one roller derby she attended in Boston many years ago. She didn’t want to go, and wouldn’t let Emma go. So I dragged Adam and Susan, who are visiting in their Airstream motorhome, across Tucson to the place by the interstate where Tucson’s bravest babes battle in an oval track.

It turned out to more of a family event than reprise of “pro wrestling” or The Jerry Springer Show. Tucson Roller Derby is popular and fun. The rinkside was packed. The parking lot around the building was packed. We had to park two lots away. Sure, the rollergirls are colorful with tattoos and bruises, but they are also real people, not invented characters from the mind of a TV producer. They consider themselves athletes and do this for fun and exercise, not money or glory.

I wish the lighting had been better, or that I had a big honkin’ fast lens for sports. This was serious fun to watch and photograph. The crowd was almost as colorful as the rollergirls, and the halftime band were punk rockers called “The Fisters.” The announcers were a riot. So it was worth documenting. It was definitely worth the $8.50 for an advance ticket at Bookman’s.

Going to something like this helps break down the barriers that get between people. Here are a bunch of people who look nothing like me, do things that I don’t do, listen to (and play) music that I don’t, and take risks that I wouldn’t. It doesn’t matter, because in the end we’re all people enjoying a good time together. We share values. (I was watching the girls hugging each other at the end of the game, talking to each other, and signing autographs for the little kids.) We’re not divided by arbitrary lines (political, racial, economic, social, religious, etc.)

I like people who know how to get out in the world and have a good time. And now that I know Tucson Roller Derby is not a freak show, and that it’s less violent than most of what’s on TV lately (including football), I wouldn’t hesitate to bring my daughter along to see the fun. She could benefit from the role model of real women competing on the athletic field for fun.

Sadly, the Furious Truckstop Waitresses (FTW) got pummeled by the Vice Squad last night. Both teams had some strong players, but it was a lopsided score at the end, 185 to 33. I think with a little work FTW could come back in a big way. But it will be a while before I see that. They won’t be playing again until April 18. Next game is Iron Curtain vs. Copper Queens, on March 28.

More Tucson Roller Derby photos

Mar 02 2009

Thoughts from Room 1210

It’s 5 a.m. and I’m on the 12th floor of a Crowne Plaza hotel looking out the window. Down below in the parking lot I can see a white pick-up camper. It showed up just after sunset last night. The owners are fairly bold to spend the night in the parking lot of this hotel, especially when there are numerous open parking lots nearby and the hotel lot is quite small. Perhaps they are connected to the hotel in some capacity, because when walking by earlier I could see that they had strung an electric cord to an open socket on the nearby lamp post, too. Either that, or they have cajones the size of bowling balls.

Although I am ensconced in the plush trappings of the hotel, and it is cold outside, I still find myself looking down on the camper with a little wistfulness. The truck camper says something to me about the freedom of roaming around and staying where you want. I imagine that the occupants are on a big road trip, and I remember how it feels to pull up in a strange town and find a place to park for the night. It’s fun and frightening. I want to do it again soon.

When we came “off the road” from full-time Airstream travel last October, I didn’t think it would turn out like this. I have been traveling quite a bit lately, and much of it has been in the conventional venues of airplanes and hotels. I really envisioned months in our house, slowly and luxuriously exploring the nooks and crannies of Tucson, and occasionally slipping away for weekends with friends in the Airstream. Instead I have been flying around hunting for business and trying to survive a tough business climate for magazine publishers.

There is rarely anything memorable about modern air travel, except when awful things happen, which is probably why most people regard it as an experience simply to be endured. The only really good thing I can recall about my most recent 10 flight segments was the singing Flight Attendant on Southwest Airlines:

We love you
You love us
We’re much faster than the bus
We hope you enjoyed our hospitality
Marry one of us and fly for free

I’m already married, so if I had a choice I’d rather be traveling in the Airstream. But business happens at high speed sometimes, and then you fly the Airbus 319 (or the Boeing 737, or the Canadair RJ700, or whatever they’re flying that day). I’m on a two-day quick trip right now, and later this month I may have another one. It would be hard to complete these missions in the Airstream, especially with winter weather. Rapid travel is what I must do to survive, so that’s what I’m doing. I can take solace in the fact that the Airstream will be there for me later.

A peculiar aspect of jet travel is how quickly the scenery and climate change. Yesterday we were hiking in the Santa Catalina mountains, up the steep Ventana Canyon trail. We stopped about two miles up the trail and looked back on the rugged canyons, studded with saguaro cactus and palo verde, with the city of Tucson spread out below. It was breezy and in the 80s, and the springtime pollen was blowing around, which made us cough a little. We had lunch under a mesquite tree, and I thought, “24 hours from now, this will all seem like a far-off memory.” And now, here in a northern city with patches of snow on the damp, muddy ground, it does.

When we had the Airstream, that sort of change rarely happened. At 60 MPH, you can pass through a lot of terrain in a day, but the evolution of climates and landscapes happens at a speed you can easily absorb. The most dramatic change we ever had in a day was leaving Death Valley and driving up to Mammoth Lakes CA. Death Valley was heading for 116 degrees, but that evening we camped in a green pine forest with snow all around us. When your environment changes that rapidly, it’s nice to have familiar surroundings. When you don’t even have that (as in a hotel), it is much harder to stay on an even keel …

… which explains why I’m up at 5 a.m. I don’t sleep as well in hotels as I do in one of the two beds I know (the house and the Airstream). The Crowne Plaza has a wonderfully comfortable bed and even a handy little “Sleep Advantage” CD with soothing sounds. The booklet that comes with the CD lists ten “Sleep Tips,” most of which I usually observe naturally, but nonetheless here I am wide awake far too early, on what promises to be a very busy day.

Still, early mornings like this are an opportunity. I can get a jump on the day, writing a little, editing a little, and thinking without the slightest chance of interruption. It’s a chance to re-think priorities and consider options. Lots of people wake up this early every day and just get on with their routine, but since it’s a rare thing for me, it’s always bonus time. You’ve got to take the bonus time when you get it.

And the flip side of the rapid change in scenery is that it will all change back again in 24 hours. Tucson is getting warmer — the way I like it — and my daughter is getting taller, and my wife is expecting me with open arms, which are all things I can look forward to embracing. If I can’t travel with all the things that I love, at least I can get back to them soon enough.

Feb 24 2009

Tidbits

I’m back from the Florida State Rally. It was a good trip, primarily because I was able to visit Floridian friends who I haven’t seen in many months. As the weekend approached, more friends showed up. Most of the people I hang with have jobs or businesses of their own, and so they took advantage of the new weekend rate offered by the rally to come for just a couple of nights.

One person who dropped in was Forrest Bone, organizer of the Tin Can Tourists. Their vintage rally is this week, in nearby Bradenton FL, and it’s always a fun event. We used to go in years past with our 1968 Airstream Caravel, but I haven’t been able to make it lately. I’m seriously considering whether we can get over to Florida next year to attend that. (Speaking of vintage rallies, we have 20 trailers signed up for the Vintage Trailer Jam 2009, with 5 – 1/2 months to go. Looks like we’ll have a full house in Saratoga Springs, NY.)

I made a new friend as well, an author from the United Kingdom who happens to be a fan of Airstreams, and who happened to be visiting Florida. She came up for a few hours to tour the Vintage Open House on Saturday, and then we browsed the new Airstream display.

Our friends Wendimere (“The Health Chic“) and Bill came by late Friday night to spend the weekend and deliver a seminar on Saturday. Wendimere did an interesting seminar on “cleansing” while I was on display as a human prop. My job was to sit at the front of the room with my feet in a salt water bath. At the end of the seminar everyone got to admire the gunk in the water.

On Thursday Brett and I also presented a seminar, entitled “So You Want To Be A Blogger?” which was well received. On Saturday we ran a double booth at the flea market and sold aluminum tumblers, shirts, hats, back issues, subscriptions, books, stickers, and giant “Airstream” slippers. The slippers were a huge hit. We sold our inventory and took orders for several more pairs. From a commercial viewpoint, I was pleasantly surprised to do fairly well. People still buy stuff, even in a down economy.

It is not well-known, but in Sarasota there is an Amish community, and they have restaurants. We celebrated our successful day by skipping the rally dinner and going to Yoder’s. Good move — it was a seriously good meal at a very reasonable price. Three of us ate for $38. I love the cinnamon apple butter that’s on every table. I ate nothing all day except a little cottage cheese, in preparation for what I knew would be a huge dinner. I wasn’t disappointed. I wish we had a place like that in Tucson.

Sunday is traditionally a day when everyone clears out of the rally grounds, but since we were all facing the prospect of work on Monday, no one in our circle was eager to rush home. Brett fired up his Cobb grill and roasted his marinated salmon steaks, scrambled about a dozen eggs, and set out the toaster with Ezekiel Bread and English muffins. Bill & Wendimere, David & Becky, Brett & Lori, and I (odd man out) hung out by the motorhome and had a very lively brunch for about an hour while we watched the Airstreams depart. This turned out to be the most fun we had during the entire rally, so I expect it may become an annual event.
I was probably exceptionally lucky in that my flights both to and from Tampa were uneventful. But I discovered a new twist on airline flying: Bathroom Bingo. These days there’s a new regulation that prohibits passengers from forming a line for the forward bathroom during flight. I got up to use the aft bathroom midway through our five-hour flight to Las Vegas, and found myself in a line of four women at the back. After 10 minutes of waiting (and the line didn’t seem to be moving), someone said, “Hey, the front bathroom is available,” and pointed to the indicator light. I scuttled up to the front of the cabin to find the someone in the front of the aircraft beat me to it.

Since I wasn’t allowed to stand up there and wait, I was sent to the back again. But of course, an opportunistic aft-plane passenger had joined the line, so the wait was longer. At this point, some seated passengers were chuckling at my trips back-and-forth, and a few people even made comments as I went by, which made the whole episode much more amusing (for them). Once again the front bathroom opened up, and about the time I reached the fifth row a first-row passenger casually stood up and snagged it. I was beginning to think the passengers up front were toying with me.

The man in the fifth row where I was standing was observing all of this. He said, “I think you’ve got a shot here.” So I stood in contravention of TSA regulations next to his seat for a few minutes, and eventually — BINGO! — I scored a chance at the coveted front bathroom. A few minutes after I returned to my seat, there was an announcement from a flight attendant reminding all of us to please not stand up front waiting for the bathroom. “I don’t make these rules,” she explained. No, somebody on the ground, who didn’t just drink a large bottle of tea, did.

After all the conversation and seminars from The Health Chic, I’ve been paying a bit more attention to what I ate. Upon arrival in Las Vegas I had a two-hour layover and a serious appetite. Unfortunately, I’d made the critical mistake of not bringing my own lunch. “Eating healthy” and “airport food” are not concepts that mesh well.

I thought of calling Wendimere and asking, “OK, what’s the least bad thing I can buy here to eat?” but eventually I chose a “Wolfgang Puck” turkey remoulade sandwich on my own. Then I read the Nutrition Facts label. 730 calories. Total fat 42g, 65% of Recommended Daily Value (DV). 25% of the DV for saturated fats. I’ve been trying to watch my saturated fats, so that bummed me out. It also had a whopping 1900 mg of sodium (79% of DV). I ate half of it and then emailed Wendimere for a consult. She wrote back, “Airport food is always a challenge, you did pretty good. I try to always have a few protein bars in my bag when I travel. Sushi is usually my first choice, which I think you can get in Vegas.” I think she’s got a business there, providing consultations to people on the go.

Well, often the best part of any trip is coming home, and in this case it was. I haven’t really had the experience of coming back to a home base after a week and re-joining my family. There was Emma in her white karate uniform and Eleanor in some new clothes she bought while I was gone, and the house looking like a home instead of a project. Our Qwest DSL was up and running so I’ve even got my parents available on Skype video calls now. And later this week we’re expecting more friends to arrive. It’s been a good week and the next one looks to be good, too.

Feb 18 2009

Florida State Rally

The Florida State Rally is a little bit special for me, perhaps because it was the first place that I publicly announced I was going to start an Airstream magazine, back in 2004. At that time we were spending the winter in central Florida, and took our 1968 Airstream Caravel over to Sarasota to visit this event, the 2nd largest of all Airstream rallies. I met a few people at that event who became good friends, one of whom is Brett.

And so, last fall when airfares dropped I booked a cheap ticket from Tucson to Tampa so that I could revisit this rally. It’s the fourth time I’ve attended it, and it is almost exactly the same each time. That sameness drives off many people who are bored with it, but my interest in the rally isn’t the presentations or the dinner, but the opportunity to see a lot of Airstream folks who are leaders in the community. And you can’t really complain about Sarasota in February …

Tuesday I got up in the dry desert darkness at 4:30 a.m., caught a flight at 7 a.m., and by late afternoon Eastern Time I was driving over Tampa’s Sunshine Skyway with the windows rolled down, smelling the sea breeze blowing in from the Gulf of Mexico.

I love Florida. It’s full of good memories, and good friends. All I have to do is smell that curious tangy air (a mixture of salt water, humidity, and decay) and I’m transported back to all the great times we’ve spent in Florida. I like driving by the little waterways and lakes scattered all over. I like finding bits of “old Florida” along the roadside, remnants of campy tourist attractions and little shacks selling green boiled peanuts.

There’s a sense of things growing incessantly here, life just constantly bursting out of dampness, with flowering bushes and sandy grass and creepy-crawlies everywhere. You get the sense that if Florida was closed for a couple of years, the living things would take over and by the time Florida re-opened there’d be nothing left of civilization but a few moss-covered heaps. All of that and more came back the moment I rolled down the window and started on my way from Tampa down to Sarasota.

So now I am installed in Brett’s motorhome at the rally, and all the people I’ve expected to see are here. Colin & Suzanne are here (with Malcolm), Hunt & Sue, Mel & Glenda, Herb & Sidra, and many others from the Vintage Airstream Club. More friends will arrive this weekend. The folks from A&W are here doing embroidery as always, and I’ve given them my camera bag to be customized with the Airstream Life logo. Steve Ruth of P&S Trailers is here, and we talked about him polishing and clearcoating my Caravel this May at his shop up in Ohio. There are lots of other folks whose names I have forgotten over the years, but who wave to me and ask how Airstream Life is doing, or ask about Eleanor and Emma. (Inevitably people look disappointed to hear that I flew to the rally without Eleanor and Emma. For years I’ve known that they are the big attraction wherever we go. I’ve learned to live with that fact that people regard me as essentially a transportation service for them.)

My primary tasks here are to take photos for future magazine articles and help Brett with advertising sales. But there’s plenty of time to socialize and explore Sarasota, too. The Florida State Rally is what you make of it, and so I usually design it to my specifications by organizing or joining ad hoc parties or outings, rather than attending the formal program. But last night they had the Opening Ceremonies, which are a tradition full of pomp & circumstance, and I got caught up in it. I went just to take a few photos but then couldn’t leave because of the constant sequence of rituals: an Invocation/prayer, the Canadian National Anthem, the American National Anthem, the Pledge of Allegiance, acknowledgements of all the various officers of the club, etc. Walking out in the middle might have been construed as disrespectful, so I was forced to stay until the general announcements, about 30 minutes later.

Having survived that, I am probably done with the official schedule. Today’s official schedule included these items: choir practice, line dancing, beginning Joker (a card game), arts & crafts, bridge, and several vendor seminars. Our actual schedule included breakfast in the motorhome, some general conversation, and then a few hours of work at the laptops, with the balmy Florida breeze blowing through the windows. If I have to go to work, this is the best way I can think of to do it. Our afternoon was spent talking to the vendors, browsing the new Airstreams, photographing a refurbished vintage trailer interior, and grocery shopping at some gourmet store in town.

Of course, every day at 4 p.m. there’s the time-honored tradition of Happy Hour. Every Airstream rally has it. The vintage section usually has the most lively one, and that’s where I usually go, but little Happy Hours pop up all over the place under various awnings. Tonight’s theme at the vintage area was “the most memorable experience you’ve had Airstreaming (that you can talk about).” Mostly people talked about various interesting disasters they’ve had on the road. Being owners of trailers between 25 and 50 years old, sometimes it’s hard to stop with just one disaster story.

I’ll be here through Sunday, so there will be more reports from Sarasota this week. Let me know if there’s something in particular you’d like me to check out.

Feb 14 2009

Cox doesn’t want me

We’ve been using cellular Internet for about four years now. With upgrades to the cellular networks, it has gradually become a very good option for most people who travel a lot. In fact, Verizon’s service here in Tucson is so good that we have been using it as our home Internet between trips in the Airstream.

But it’s not very fast. It’s adequate. For big file downloads, I usually seek out a nearby wifi hotspot. (With a soft chair, a hot chai and a muffin, it’s no sacrifice at all to go to Panera Bread, or Bookman’s.)

Now that we are in the house more than we are in the Airstream, it seems inevitable that I would get some sort of wired Internet service, either cable or DSL. Frankly, with cellular there were some tasks that took forever, such as uploading photos and using secure websites. With cable or DSL I can get much faster speeds, and that increases my efficiency at work.

So I checked the local deals and decided to go for Cox Communications‘ cable Internet offering. And then, in a stunning episode of customer disservice, I was abruptly reminded of why I haven’t patronized cable companies since 1995.

It always ticks me off when companies ask for a Social Security number, when they don’t really need it. Cox claimed it was required so they could run a credit check and “verify my identity,” which is a load of hooey. I quote the Social Security Administration below:

If a business or other enterprise asks you for your number, you can refuse to give it. However, that may mean doing without the purchase or service for which your number was requested. For example, utility companies and other services ask for a Social Security number, but do not need it [emphasis mine]; they can do a credit check or identify the person in their records by alternative means.

I submitted my Social Security number (SSN) with reluctance, thinking at the time that I didn’t like the implication that they use credit scores to determine whether they should take a deposit from me. My credit is fine but I am very troubled in general by the trend toward using credit scores to determine things like car insurance rates. And I really hate the way SSNs, which are a prime asset to identity thieves, are demanded by almost everyone these days. If you have a choice between handing out a credit card number or your SSN, give ’em the credit card number every time. You can always get a new one, and your liability is strictly limited by law — both of which are not true of the SSN.

The day after I sent in my order via Cox‘s website, I received a lengthy email with lots of information I didn’t need. About halfway down was the piece I was looking for, my anticipated installation date. It was marked “TBD.” Huh.

At the very bottom of the form letter was a paragraph that said:

Comments
An initial deposit payment of $50.00 is required to schedule your installation. Please note that the charges for the Cox modem must be paid before we can schedule your installation.
Sincerely,
Your Cox Customer Care Team

But nowhere in the email was a hint of how to pay the $50 … or why. No phone number at all. If they wanted me to pay, wouldn’t you think they’d tell me how?

I went to the website, found the phone number, and promptly was sent into the 7th level of Hell, known in business circles as “the Voice Response Unit.” (In English, that means an idiotic talking computer.)

My usual response to VRUs is to keep hitting zero until they give up and hand me over to a real person. This system was apparently well-defended against that tactic, so I punched 3 for “Billing” and asked what was going on. “They can’t verify your social security number,” said the woman at Cox.

“What does that mean?” I asked.

“I don’t know,” she said. “I’ve never seen that before.”

“So now what?” I asked, dreading the answer that I knew would come.

“I’ll transfer you.”

Well, that began a game of “hot potato” as various Cox representatives tossed me to the next person. The third, or perhaps fourth, person had me go through the process of “verifying information,” so they got it all again: name, address, social security number, secret Cox PIN #, service address, billing address, etc. And he told me …. (drum roll please) …

“We can’t verify your social security number.”

Perhaps getting a little testy at this point, I said in a chilly tone, “I know that. What does it mean?”

He babbled something circular which amounted to saying that they couldn’t because they couldn’t, and said I would need to go to a Cox office and show my Social Security card “so we can verify your identity.”

Let me tell you, it was a mighty temptation to tell him that I was pretty sure that I had an identity, and a blue piece of non-secure paper issued in 1963 would prove absolutely nothing about it. Instead, I told him the unvarnished truth. I haven’t seen my Social Security card since I was about 12 years old, and yet in the intervening time I’ve managed to purchase homes, pay taxes, create corporations, obtain a US Passport, and even get cell phones without it.

But that is not good enough for Cox Communications. Without showing a Social Security card and two other forms of ID, I would not be permitted to have cable service. I was not worthy.

I gave the guy one more chance, asking if they would accept alternate forms of ID in lieu of my long-lost Social Security card. No dice. I was, potentially, an unidentifiable person to Cox, despite being a US citizen with a valid Passport, driver’s license, and a very good credit rating. So, I said, “I guess this means we can’t do business,” and the guy agreed, and he canceled my order.

It amazes me. I know that most of the customers probably don’t encounter this issue, but still I can’t believe that Cox would drive potential customers away over such a ridiculous, bureaucratic, petty requirement.

The story has a happy ending. Soon after Cox found me unsuitable to be a customer, I called Qwest to get DSL Internet. I didn’t get a VRU, I didn’t get transferred, and my order was placed in a few minutes despite the fact that I have never done business with Qwest before. My modem will arrive on Wednesday, and I didn’t get asked for a deposit. I even pushed my luck by calling the next day to clarify a few questions, and got prompt, courteous, and intelligent answers. So even before I turn on the new Qwest broadband Internet service, I’m a happy customer.

(But they still asked for my SSN. We’ll have to work on that.)