On Serendipitous Discovery: How United Airlines Customer Hostility brought me into the Vancouver Art Gallery (again)

It's no secret that I loved -- and greatly miss -- the customer focused nature of Continental Airlines and loathe the open hostility that "pre merger" United Airlines (pmUA) employees openly display towards their customers, particularly at Chicago's O'Hell...er...O'Hare ("ex-Cons", on the other hand are still a pleasure to encounter -- when you can find them).

Such utter incompetence on the part of United Airlines staff in Chicago last year (before the two maintenance-related emergency landings, and three days of a four day trip to Richmond without my luggage among other complete service failures) lead me to miss a connection on my way back home to Cleveland.

Arriving at our connecting gate at precisely the same moment -- coming from a different flight, but also missing the connection due to causes within United's control -- was an artist.

While we were waiting for United to figure out how to get us both to Cleveland we chatted, and I started with my typical "What brings you to Cleveland?" The answer surprised me -- she was an artist heading to Cleveland because her work was on display at both the Cleveland Museum of Art and MoCA Cleveland. It turned out I was chatting with Janet Cardiff, and her work on display at CMA was Forty Part Motet, one of the most unique and stirring installations I've encountered, and certainly one you would have to hear to understand.

This brings me to today -- I'm back in Vancouver for the week, mixing business with pleasure and spent the day wandering around downtown. Without question I love this city on nearly the same level as I love London* -- both cities have a vibe that I don't pick up in the states --  and I hadn't planned in visiting the Vancouver Art Gallery again on this trip.

But fate intervened. My wanderings through downtown I walked past the entrance to the Art Gallery and I decided to head in. Thanks to having my CMA Donor card on me, the visit was free (excluding the hundred bucks I managed to spend in the gift shop). And the next few hours just kind of slipped by.

The lower floors, occupied by the Douglas Coupland everywhere is anywhere is anything is everything (closing today) had  pieces that piqued my interest -- including a Lego suburbia -- on a whole it failed to really move me... But as I moved up the building I found myself immersed in an entire floor of Janet Cardiff and George Bures Miller's work via the exhibition Lost in the Memory Palace.

The below video does a far better job of explaining the exhibition than I ever could -- but it's worth noting that I was particularly captivating that the Experiment in F# Minor -- where the shadows of attendees trigger musical sounds -- in effect "playing the table". I was completely transfixed by the Opera for a Small Room -- a twenty minute looped presentation where (for the first time in as far as my recollection will allow me) I stood in the same place for the entire twenty minute loop without feeling the urge to move on.

The Killing Machine was a somewhat horrifying piece that I found to be one of the more thought provoking of my recent encounters -- revolving more or less on capital punishment -- and amplified by the fact that it takes a conscious act on the part of the viewer (pushing the "big red  button") to start the machine.


Lincoln

[*- However it is seeming extraordinarily unlikely I will have a work-related reason to visit London. If anyone knows anyone that needs Crestron programming done in the UK... hit me up ;)]

Strange looks in New York

So I'm spending the weekend in Manhattan after a couple days of training in New Jersey -- and I met a couple friends for dinner and drinks.

Unfortunately, thanks to the Port Authority and NJTransit, the usually easy AirTrain-to-NJTransit connection has been screwed up beyond all recognition and it took close to two and a half hours to get from EWR (aka Newark Airport) to New York Penn Station.

My original plan was to drop my bags at the hotel and then proceed to the designated drinking location -- however being already an hour late and waiting for a downtown C train that didn't seem to exist, I bit the bullet and both me and my luggage made it uptown (well... W. 72nd)

However, in that process my cell phone died -- containing both the name of the place we were meeting (decided just an hour or so before) as well as my firends contact info.

You wouldn't beleive the number of strange looks you get when you're on a subway with a USB cord sticking out of a bag and plugged into a phone. But using my laptop (in said bag) to charge my phone worked well enough for me to get a "I'm on my way" text out and then get me pointed in the right direction.

/sigh

May and June are turning into those "continuous travel" months where I don't have the time to stop and enjoy the smells.

I'm tired now...

Lincoln

Lincoln and Rachel in London: Day 5

Rachel and I on an Escalator; Reflection from window at Tate Modern

As our week in London comes to an end I think Rachel and I are starting to loose steam, but we're still enjoying every minute of our time here--save perhaps our feet. It's also worth noting that -- according to Rachel, at least -- I have been randomly breaking out in a variety of accents, including Scottish, Irish, and a few "unidentifiable muddles".

One of the works that attracted my attention: Untitled 1-5 by Dan Flavin

This morning we headed in a new direction and started the day with a visit to Tate Modern. While I'm typically fond of modern and contemporary art (while Rachel prefers the classics -- it's true opposites attract) there were only two or three pieces I found even moderately compelling and none that I was profoundly attracted to -- as I told Rachel on the way out "tis better have visited and not liked, than to have not visited at all"

Nothing to See Here: Through a construction portal at Tate Modern -- and my general feeling after a visit. 

After descending from  the heights of the Tate we walked along the River Thames, passing Shakespeare's Globe, a modern recreation of the historic theater a few hundred meters from the historic site, and continued until stumbling into the "Gourmet Burger Kitchen" on Clink Street.

Tower Bridge (and a small football [soccer] game in the foreground)

The burger was mediocre -- perfectly edible but nothing like the one we sampled from the Volunteer earlier in the week -- but the street was more interesting: As it turns out the street lent it's name to the popular euphemism "in the clink" after a infamous prison on the street until the late 1700s.

Continuing on the cobblestone street of Clink, we arrived at the modern London Bridge (not the one in Arizona), surfacing for a moment to view our ultimate goal: The Tower Bridge. We continued in that direction stopping in the More London complex to take a few pictures, before ultimately arriving at the London's iconic bridge. We walked across the bridge to cross that off our list (I've now walked the length of the Golden Gate, Mackinac, and Tower bridges), passed the Tower of London and made our way out of the neighborhood.

Tower Bridge

(I should note that at one point we along our walks today we found a warning advising of a "Humped Pelican Crossing" -- neither Rachel nor I had the foggiest clue what that was, but no large fishing birds were seen crossing the road. Further research indicates that that may simply be a pedestrian crossing with speed bumps.

Say what?

Leaving that neighborhood, we moved to Covent Garden where Rachel picked up an assortment of tea for herself and coworkers at Tea Palace, crossing the beautiful shopping area and visiting the London Transport Museum, where 15 GBP per person gives you an overview of the history of London Transport. While I didn't get the impression it was as comprehensive as the New York Transit Museum, it was nevertheless worth the visit.

Leaving the transport museum we had time to return to the hotel and freshen up before heading out to our anniversary dinner (our actual third anniversary is tomorrow, however travel considerations made tonight the more sensible choice. Rachel planned dinner and it was a delicious steak and martini at the bar of Le Point de la Tour (unknown at the time, but the same restaurant that Tony Blair and Bill Clinton were dining at when their motorcade was separated due to the opening of Tower Bridge)

We're now back at the DoubleTree for the evening; tomorrow we shall check out from this hotel and after our last full day in London board Heathrow Express to the Hilton Heathrow Terminal 4 in preparation for a morning return to Cleveland.

Lincoln

Lincoln and Rachel In London: Day 4

No photos for this post, I could say because I didn't catch anything particularly remarkable (really nothing that there aren't already thousands of photos of on the web) but, honestly, the main reason is it's nearly 11pm here in London and the internet has slowed to a crawl -- so I don't have the patience to wait for them to upload. I may append photos at

After our late night, we got off to a slightly later start this morning, first heading to the British Museum -- the British equivalent of the Library of Congress, and home to the Magna Carta, original music scores from countless well known Composers, and an impressive 6-story cube of books originally collected by a king. I think Rachel went over the edge a few times, but I nearly lost her to excitement when we visited the Conservation Center's display -- for a bibliophile who also studied conservation and book binding, I think we found her nirvana.

Whilst waiting for our bus to our next destination it occurred to me that I have now spent more tine in the capitol of the United Kingdom than I have in the capitol of my own country [My entire experience with Washington DC consists of driving to the city from Richmond, circling for 45 minutes trying to find somewhere to park, before throwing up my arms in exasperation and driving back to Richmond].

Our next stop -- after a quick pub lunch where Rachel finally got her Fish and Chips -- was the British Musuem, home to an impressive collection. While comparatively little of the collection actually appears to come from within the United Kingdom, it does house quite a collection of world treasures including the Rosetta Stone (and a modern facsimile visitors are invited to touch) as well as a impressive collection from the Greek Parthenon. Of all things, I found the gallery on Money most interesting.

Departing the British Museum, we stopped by Foyles flagship on Charing Cross -- while it is said to be the world's largest bookstore, I didn't get the impression that it was nearly as large, or that it held nearly as many books as Powell's "City of Books" in Portland.

We returned to the hotel for a bit to rest and freshen up for our evening activity -- hearing the London Philharmonic Orchestra play in Southbank Centre's Royal Festival Hall, Rachel's anniversary gift to us. While I was not in the mindset to produce my usual commentary on the piece -- and being wholly unfamiliar with the hall (but not the two headliners -- conductor David Zinman and pianist Emanuel Ax are no strangers to me via the Cleveland Orchestra, and I was pround to see both referenced Cleveland in their program biographies) it would not be well based. The program included Mozart's Symphony No. 38 ("Prague"), Strauss's Burleske (Emanuel Ax, piano), J.S. Bach's Piano Concerto No. 1 In D minor, and Strauss's Tod und Verklarung.

It was a lovely evening of musing (save for someone's personal attack alarm stopping the performance near the beginning of the last piece) but the hall sounded a bit more 'woody' and burnished by comparison to what I am used to at home in Severance Hall.

Most remarkable, however, is the singing elevator -- erm, lift -- in Southbank Centre. In a near chant, while ascending levels, the voices ascend octaves and do the reverse while descending -- and singing the floor numbers along the way. It really made Rachel and I laugh -- fourtunately, you too can experience it: Someone has posted this video on YouTube, and the lift has its own Twitter account.

Lincoln

Lincoln and Rachel in London: Day 3

This morning started a bit early -- because for today we were headed outside of London.

First, we stopped at a Barclays Bank branch where, thanks to my Bank of America account and the Global ATM Alliance, I could pick up a few pounds free from surcharges -- the withdrawal posted to my account at exactly the current exchange rate, no more or less. From there we backtracked to Pimlico to catch a ride on the Victoria line of the Tube to London Euston Station. At London Euston we collected tickets for a National Rail (London Midland) train calling at, among other stations Bletchley. With some miraculous timing, there was a train on the platform ready to depart as we came running up.

The half hour on the train passed quickly on a remarkably smooth ride through England's verdant countryside outside of London we arrived at Benchley. Alighting the train and working our way out of the small station we needed no help and maybe a few hundred yards of waking to locate our destination: Blecthley Park.

Bletchley Park was the home to the World War II-era codebrekaers working day and night to decipher the text of the German Enigma machines -- and also of particular note Alan Turing. As a technology professional I found it absolutely engaging, and Rachel was particularly captivated as she's found cryptography, and the Enigma in particular interesting.

A corner of the property also includes the National Museum of Computing; while the entire museum was not open, the galleries featuring a rebuilt Colossus, claimed to be the worlds first computer (though ENIAC was publicly known first, apparently Colossus had been computing in secrecy for a period of time before that.

Both institutions websites, or even better a personal visit, can do a much better job than this summary -- and regardless it is well worth the visit (for less than 40 GBP total fort the both of us, including train tickets).

Retracing our steps, we returned to the hotel just long enough to freshen up -- and drop off our book shop purchases -- before heading out to meet a friend and his wife for a pint at an authentic (non-tourist-ridden) pub across London. We elected to take the bus and -- well, Bus+:London Traffic+Rush Hour makes for a somewhat terrifying experience. But we made it to our destination, the Jerusalem Tavern.

The conversation and ale were both good (and I am not an ale drinker), and nearly three and a half hours later, we called it a night, while being walked by our hosts in the direction of an Underground station making for the comparatively easy ride on the Circle line to Westminster station and a quick half-mile walk back to our hotel.

Curiously we noticed this apology prominently posted in one of the stations: I think it's fantastic, but I can virtually guarantee in 2014 you would never see it on any American mass transit system:

We plan on getting a later start tomorrow.

Lincoln (and Rachel) In London: The First 24 Hours

Rachel and I are celebrating our third anniversary at the end of this week (and getting a leg up on my 30th birthday, two months from this Friday past). To celebrate, we're taking what is arguably one of my first "Real" vacations -- No family commitments, no work excuses* -- purely pleasure in motivation. It's also the first time I've left the continent of North America.

London has been at or near the top of my "Intentional Destinations" list for as long as I've had such a list -- often swapping spaces with Sidney for top billing -- and we finally bit the bullet and booked our week in London.

Cleveland to Chicago

We departed Cleveland late Friday evening for a quick connection in Chicago for a nonstop flight to London's Heathrow airport -- departing Chicago at 10pm local time (11pm Eastern) and arriving in London just after 11am Saturday morning. Thanks to my Gold elite status with United Airlines, Rachel and I secured Exit Row seats (with ample legroom) -- the next best thing to one of the "Lay Flat" seats in BusinessFirst or United Global First -- curiously, my reservation indicated we were booked in the latter cabin, but neither of us were prepared to shell out the extra $3600 for an upgrade.

Arriving at Heathrow, we proceeded through Customs and Immigration with surprising speed -- aside from a long queue, the actual process took less than a minute. After collecting our luggage and selecting the "Nothing the Declare" exit we were officially on British soil. A quick an efficient Heathrow Express ride to Paddington Station and then a "traditional" black taxi delivered us to our hotel at about 12:30 Saturday. With Check In not until 3pm, we stored our luggage and set out on foot for an exploration of our neighborhood.

Tate Britain: 500 Years of British Art 

And it seems that I have selected the right neighborhood -- our hotel is the DoubleTree by Hilton London Westminster at 30 John Islip Street, near Tate Britain (not to be confused with Tate Modern), the Vauxhall Bridge, and not many steps from the Thames. Setting out after dropping our luggage, we literally stumbled across Tate Britain and took a tour through several hundred years of British Art -- including large holdings of the works of John Singer Sargent [a favorite of Rachel] and JMW Turner [I'm fond of his The Burning of the Houses of Lords and Commons, 16 October 1834, in the collection of the Cleveland Museum of Art (1942.647)]

Traditional London Phone Box

Upon departing the Tate, we sat for a few minutes and decided to hunt for food. Wandering down Millbank we stumbled into a bright pub, where after some confusion on our part about the process of things (the correct answer: you order at the bar; food is delivered to the table) we had an adequate lunch.

Big Ben, The Houses of Parliament and The London Eye, 

Following lunch we decided that we should acquire Oyster Cards (the payment method for mass transit in greater London) and made our way across Vauxhall bridge where I initially waited in the wrong line before being politely directed to the ticket vending machines in the adjacent Underground station. Again the process was fairly quick and painless. Now safe to make our way back to the hotel, we retrieved our room key -- and I shocked Rachel by asking the clerk "where are the lifts?" (not thinking about the word I had chosen.)

The room is nicely appointed -- not large by any stretch of the imagination (particularly the bathroom) but comfortably laid out and more than sufficient for a stay where we do not plan on spending much time in the room. Flopping on the bead we both crashed, and were essentially dead to the world until about 9.30 this morning.

Getting started, we headed out behind the hotel and discovered how truly wonderful our location is: About a half-mile, more or less down the street, we stumbled upon the Houses of Parliament and Big Ben before dipping into the Westminster Underground station headed toward Baker Street. Surfacing at Baker Street we visited the Sherlock Holmes Museum, the London Beatles Store, and then sat at the Volunteer Pub for what will go down in history as one of the most delicious cheeseburgers either Rachel or I have ever consumed, with tasty chips -- er, pardon me, fries.

The National Art Library, The V&A. Rachel Lusting. 

Moving on we walked from Baker Street through Hyde Park, admiring the swans and paddle boats with the ultimate destination being the Victoria And Albert Museum,  known colloquially as "The V&A". Like, it seems, many other British museums (and, of course, The Cleveland Museum of Art) admission to The V&A is without charge -- though a donation is suggested. Aside from admiring the expansive collection of art, Rachel, an admitted bibliophile currently employed by two academic libraries, was found lusting after the collection of the National Art Library through locked doors.

After exhausting ourselves with the collection we left The V&A and walked back toward Hyde Park, hugging the periphery this time rather than cutting through the middle, and discovering Royal Albert Hall and passing Kensington Palace (with an abortive attempt to purchase ice cream) we laid on the lawn of Hyde Park for a bit before hopping back on the Underground to attempt to stop by a Tesco to stock the hotel mini fridge.

The Tesco our mobile phones pointed us at having been shut (one major difference from The States: opening hours for many businesses on Sundays are severely curtailed. Wandering away the general direction of our hotel, though, we found a wonderful desert shop and Rachel and I enjoyed ice cream and sherbet before discovering a Sainsbury's (open till 23:00) where we found not only Coke but Dr. Pepper (Rachel's vice) and Mountain Dew (my vice). And we began the trek back to our hotel -- as it turns out my instinct was about 20 degrees off, but again, mobile phone GPS to the rescue.

Residential Street, London

Along the way, though, it was a delightfully beautiful and quiet combination of neighborhood streets to stroll and enjoy the dusk hours. And walk past Burberry's headquarters (Rachel loves but does not own their jackets).  And we find ourselves back at the hotel with sore feet but feeling very accomplished for the day.

If you're a Friend of Rachel on Facebook, you can find the full-resolution versions of the pictures here -- and quite a few more -- in our London album.

Lincoln



*- Arguably, this is my favorite way to vacation as it takes the stress of actually choosing a destination out of the equation and someone else pays for the airline ticket, leaving incremental food and lodging as the only expenses. I've seen New York, San Francisco, Vancouver (Canada), Portland, Minneapolis, and more via the "Workcation" method. I would gladly acquire clients in other countries (and have been hoping to serve someone in Europe for quite a while)

Dear United Airlines: Please Stop Trying to Kill me. Thank You.

Hey United.

It's me. Lincoln. You may know me as the passenger who spent a bit more than $15,000* with you in 2013, and another $6,000 or so for the first quarter of 2014 on high-yield, full fare tickets. I'm also the guy that believes you've** attempted to kill him at least twice in the past two months with a third "near miss".

Please stop; I rather like living.

I keep meaning to write a letter -- and in fact, have several drafts written -- but I haven't sent it because I keep hoping that I'll have ONE trip pass without incident and I can go "eh, just a fluke" and forget about this. But United's operational reliability keeps getting worse. 

The first incident, United 3466 in November was a bit of excitement when the aircraft abruptly slammed back to the ground after becoming airborne -- that one was announced as a "computer issue" but later I learned it was an air speed sensor failure. That's not something important, is it? Our crew didn't need to know the aircraft's speed for safe flight, did they? And of course one would believe that this kind of critical sensor may be confirmed operational before passengers are boarded, much less hurtling down a runway, right? And it's not unreasonable to expect a supervisor be available after an aircraft is deplaned with a bunch of whip-lashed passengers... oh, apparently, it is.

Then we get to United 3890 -- this time the first week of January. It's not really reassuring when the captain announces "Ladies and gentlemen, in about 10 minutes we will be landing normally, however..." especially when that "however" includes the phrases "no brakes" "bumpy landing" and "lost hydraulic system pressure" and after landing the announcement "do not evacuate" is made. While sitting on an aircraft, on the runway and surrounded by emergency vehicles precious little information was forthcoming -- and it was a little disturbing to hear "Mommy, what's that fireman doing to the wing" from a young child several rows behind me. After we were towed from the runway to the gate -- unable to get there under our own power, and escorted by Aircraft Rescue and Fire Fighting vehicles -- once again, no apologies were offered, no nor was a supervisory representative available.

Though less immediately life-threatening, United 821 earlier this week -- which apparently blew an engine gasket and was leaking fuel "at an unacceptable rate" -- but this wasn't discovered until the aircraft had been fully boarded (and later tests after an unsuccessful repair attempt filled the cabin with the wonderfully pungent and offensive aroma of unburned Jet A fuel). That flight was deplaned and ultimately cancelled. It should be noted that UA821 was the first flight of the day for that aircraft, so I'm somewhat baffled that the fuel issue was not discovered or mitigated prior to passenger boarding. In this case, at least, the excellent (and former Continental) agents and supervisory staff acted quickly to mitigate the inconvenience -- and shuttled me onto a flight departing just a few minutes later.

Those three incidents alone are making me (and no doubt my friends and loved ones) question if the new United has a vendetta against me -- or just inadequate maintenance oversight. I trust you can understand my concern.

But when United isn't dealing with major maintenance/safety issues you're flinging me around space with little regard to aircraft condition or this thing we refer to as a "schedule" -- with dirty aircarft and broken amenities (inflight WiFi would be awesome -- if it worked on more than 25% of the aircraft that have been equipped).

Since the beginning of October 2013, I've flown 34 discreet flights -- virtually all of them have been delayed; in many cases delayed more than an hour. While cancellations and delays are understandable when the weather is poor -- they aren't really explainable on days with beautiful weather nationwide.

But some of United's other recent greatest hits include.

A dog running loose in the cabin: Need I say more?

Loosing An Aircraft: Yep. At Charlotte, a flight was delayed because the employees couldn't locate the airplane. It had supposedly been towed to the gate from an overnight maintenance check. But clearly there was no aircraft at the gate. Not really sure how you misplace an airplane, but you did it.

Loosing my luggage for 3 days of a 4 day trip: I showed up but my luggage didn't. I was promised it would be on the first flight of the next day. Nothing. And agents at the baggage service office told me that no one had been able to get through to the Baggage Resolution Center for three days -- but only the baggage resolution center can authorize reimbursement for expenses. Yeah. I'm eating the cost for clothing for the 2nd (and 3rd) days of a meeting on top of a $1200 ticket. (A supervisor ultimately authorized the expenses, but I'm not hopeful I'll see a reimbursement anytime soon)

Blaming Me for United's Poor Planning: Oh, you missed your connection because we didn't have anyone to drive the jetway for 20 minutes? Well, that's the FAA's fault because we don't control the jetways (unadulterated BS) and its [my] fault for not having a longer connection (even though it was offered, sold, and booked by United and exceeded United's published minimum connection time).

I could go on -- and honestly, I'm wondering why I continue giving United my business. I guess I'm just honestly hoping it gets better. I long for the days of Continental Airlines -- courteous, helpful staff, a "do right by the flyer" attitude, excellent on time completion rates, clean, modern, and comfortable aircraft. And I can't think of the last time my luggage failed to arrive promptly. I was hopeful that with Continental policies, senior management, and systems migrating to the old United. Sadly that seems to not be the case.

Rachel and I have a trip to London to celebrate our 3rd anniversary booked on United in March. I am hopeful but not expectant that it will be without incident.

/Sigh.

Lincoln
(Of course, the above is entirely my own opinion and impression, and does not proport to be the opinion of my employer, or anyone else.)
* - Roughly 40 cents per flown mile. Based on United's latest Form 8K filed with the SEC, it appears the average is about 13 cents per mile
** - Including flights operated by United and under United's direction as United Express.

The Cleveland Museum of Art: A mess is spilling over

Ok, so I don't know that I have much to add to the "discussion" on the topic but I do need to vent a bit, especially with the 'facts' as they seem to be unfolding.

From the rather abrupt resignation of the museum's former director for "personal" reasons it was clear something was up, and it was disingenuous of the museum board to even half-heartedly attempt to cover it up. In fact, knowing some of the players in the story something didn't really feel "right" starting near the end of March and certainly after the unfortunate demise of one of the key players in this unfolding saga.

I am more than a bit, erm, pissed at the moment. Of the three Directors of the Cleveland Museum of Art that I've known since moving to Cleveland, David Franklin was the first that I respected -- and the first that I sense respected all patrons more or less equally. Of course, that respect has evaporated.

Timothy Rub was, during the tenure that coincided with my living in Cleveland was uninspiring and not particularly charismatic in my experience -- at museum events I definitely got the sense that he wasn't interested in acknowledging, much less talking to a patron unless he or she brought a significant amount of money to the table. He seemed absolutely ambivalent about engagement, particularly engagement in "my" demographic. I was not sad to see him leave for Philadelphia.

Deborah Gribbon, as interim director following Tim Rub's departure likewise didn't really inspire -- but as an interim director, staying the course and not making any radical departures from the norm during their term is expected -- in effect, serving as a trustee for the next director.

David Franklin, however, was very approachable and engaging including helping to champion both research and writing among curatorial staff and a number of innovative projects like Gallery One and Column and Stripe -- an organization working on engagement for 'my' demographic and brought to fruition in no small part through the efforts of the other key player in this drama.

When the resignation was announced, thus, I was disappointed -- we finally had a director that I wanted to see stick around for a while, and while I had my suspicions that something was amiss, I couldn't imagine it was this significant.

So I hope that the next director will share many of the same positive qualities that I perceived of Mr. Franklin while having much better discretion. Though it seems many are eager to blame the underlying relationship issue entirely on the man, it takes two to tango. Enough said.

What has me even more pissed off is how incredibly poorly (and dare I say unethically) The Plain Dealer has handled this story -- failing to disclose the conflict of interest posed by having their publisher on the board in the original story, naming the (deceased) other party to the "scandal", and dragging her family into it without adding any value to the story, and just plain idiotic soundbytes from the museum's board. Add to that, the way some museum staff have been approached for comment strikes me as just a little creepy. It's like reading a mashup of the worst parts of Fox News and MSNBC combined.

Anyway... I hope that the museum's search for a new director yields an engaging, passionate, individual quickly who can see the museum through it's impending centennial and ensure the museum's reputation as a world-class center for art and research is restored and strengthened. I am eager to see the museum put this unfortunate episode (or rather mini-series) behind it.

Lincoln
(Revised October 25th to add clarity)

A Week In the Life of SkyWest Ship 707 (Or: I'm not Dead Yet)

Ok, so this has been a particularly blog-free month: Not only because the Cleveland Orchestra is on hiatus until the beginning of July but also because I'm at the tail end of one of my longest stretches of "On the Road" in my career:

The month started with a week in Northern California; I came back to a day in the office before heading to the Mayo Clinic in Minnesota, I came back from Minnesota for the weekend and to take care of a local client at the beginning of this week before heading back to the state of 10,000 lakes for a different project at Mayo.

One of the things I enjoy doing is tracking my flights via a website called Flight Memory* (the public version of my Flight Memory can be found at http://my.flightmemory.com/lincolnjkc). In addition to tracking origin and destination, Flight Memory is also handy for tracking specific aircraft -- for example, I've ridden on ExpressJet (Continental/United Express) ship N11121 as well as Continental/United 737-800 ship N12238 and 757-300 ship N74856 three times each -- the latter, coincidentally, flew me home on the same red-eye LAX-CLE flight 3 Christmases in a row.

Another eighteen (yes, 18!) aircraft I've had the pleasure of riding twice.

SkyWest CRJ-700 ship #707 (N707SK) is the latest addition to that list of 18, but in a freak coincidence it happened to fly the CLE-ORD (Cleveland/Hopkins International Airport to Chicago/O'Hare) portion of both of Cleveland to Minneapolis trips (CLE-ORD-MSP) -- both flown as flight UA5169, and I was in first class seat 2A on both of those flights.

So I thought it would be interesting to see where Ship 707 spent the time between flying me to O'Hare the first time on Tuesday, June 11th and the second time on Wednesday, June 19th.

So... After dropping me off in Chicago it went South to San Antoino, TX (SAT), before making it West to United's San Francisco (SFO) hub and bouncing up and down the West Coast. It left the West Coast for Houston Intercontinental (IAH) via Dallas/Fort Worth (DFW) and then bounced around the Midwest, before deciding it would like the Denver (DEN) better, bouncing around between DEN and IAH for a few days, it headed back West (Go West, Young Airplane, Go West!) and then went East, hitting Washington/Dulles (IAD) via SAT, then leaving the country for the first time, hitting Toronto (YVR), then ORD, back to Cleveland, and the second time it would fly me from Cleveland to Chicago in the week.

For the actual routings...
June 11th: CLE-ORD-SAT-SFO-SAN-SFO
June 12th: SFO-PHX-SFO-EUG-SFO-SEA-LAX-DFW
June 13th: DFW-IAH-OKC-IAH-DAL-IAH-CLE-DEN-ASE
June 14th: ASE-DEN-PHX-LAX-DFW-ORD-SLC
June 15th: SLC-DEN-ASE-DEN-CLE-ORD-ASE
June 16th: ASE-ORD-MSP-ORD-SLC
June 17th: SLC-SFO-SNA-SFO-LAS-LAX-SMF-LAX-AUS
June 18th: AUS-SFO-SAT-IAD-YYZ-ORD-CLE-ORD

In that time, there were 51 unique flights, totaling 32,892 nautical miles of flight time-- in 7 days.

Or for the map:
OR for more detail, (including a larger map) here's the routing at Great Circle Mapper: Here
Lincoln
* - The information for FlightMemory is extremely accurate (all flights represented with times to the minute) for my professional carrer since roughly 2005. Before 2005 only one flight per route is represented. So for example, I flew from SAN to FAT countless times as a youth, yet I only have one of those entered.

Doug Katz's Katz Club Diner Misses the Mark

When I first moved into my home the infamous Diner Cars on Lee road sat vacant. A few years ago Clyde's Bistro and Barroom [see my post here] -- owned by the eponymous Clyde Mart. It was generally excellent, and Mr. Mart was a fantastic host but closed after a bit more than a year. Immediately succeeding was Favor Bistro -- a concept that Rachel and I tried once (unknowingly -- the sign outside was still of Clyde's) and "never again" (Service was less than stellar, the menu was questionable, and, well I'm a picky eater and to sum it up... alligator was on the menu). Favor deservedly closed after a short run and the space has stood vacant since.

Thus when I learned that restaurateur Doug Katz was taking over the space -- and planning a return to the diner concept I was excited and looking forward to once again having an Americanesque food establishment a short walk down the street from my house. Rachel suggested dining for my birthday about two weeks ago, but they had not yet opened.

Opening date having passed, tonight Rachel and I walked over figuring that we'd try Mr. Katz's new endeavor. The short version: The staff was friendly and competent, the food was reasonably good, but the concept execution was beyond disappointing.

Reservationless, we were met with a 30 minute wait (estimated at 15-20), but with nowhere to really lean, much less sit in the foyer (there was precisely one chair available) to pass the time it felt much longer.

Having been seated, Rachel and I both decided to order sodas -- Diet Coke for her, Coke for me. Under the heading of "Soda Fountain" on the menu, imagine our surprise when a glass bottle of (real sugar) Coke and a can of Diet Coke were brought to our table--decidedly not Fountain, and considering that I'm not a fan of "real sugar" Coke [it tends to give me headaches] had there been any warning I may have tried something else. Imagine our surprise when Rachel's request for a refill on her beverage brought with it an unannounced doubling of the price on the check (really $2.00 per 12oz can? Hotel vending machines don't even stick it to you that badly and they aren't making margin on food). I'm honestly not sure which I'm more surprised by -- that it's labeled as a soda fountain but its not soa from a fountain, or the pricing structure.

Walking back to my place after, Rachel and I discussed the evening and the best conclusion we can come to was a "sit-down restaurant" wrapped in a "diner" theme, with above-market pricing, and adequate food -- but food the didin't deserve the pricing.

Service speed was also severely disappointing -- for a "diner" a 20+ minute wait for food (after the 30+ seating time) is not what either of us expected, and at least one other table was becoming visibly agitated.

I had the "Creamy Mac and Cheese", covered in breading, and served in a mini crock it was good -- but the portion size didn't create value for the menu price. More troubling, Rachel tried the "Diner Cheeseburger and Paprika Onions" -- found under the category of "Sandwiches" with the notation "All sandwiches served with choice of fries or chips and Dr. Katz's pickle".

Well -- the food Rachel was actually served was good ("nice bun, good fries") but tiny ("it looks like a single slider" both of us commented nearly simultaneously). More notable, however, was what Rachel wasn't served:  Both "Dr. Katz's Pickle" and the Paprika Onions explicitly specified on the menu were absent without leave or explanation. Also missing were any semblance of other burger staples -- like tomato, onion (paprika or otherwise) or even lettuce: Essentially a thin 3" diameter patty with American cheese, ketchup, and a bun. Period. For $11. Fundamentally the same thing -- with faster service -- can be found at Wendy's for about $4 including the drink.

The service wasn't worth the price or the wait, the food wasn't worth the price or the wait, and the ambience [including an obnoxiously loud table behind us, seemingly related to Mr. Katz] certainly wasn't worth either.

Maybe Rachel and I will try again in a few weeks but given the premium pricing on mediocre execution, it will probably be a while.

Lincoln

What a down-and-up week / I'm In Canada!

So this last week has been somewhere between "less than great" and "completely s****y", but this week is promising.

Starting last Wednesday -- or maybe Tuesday evening if you want to be picky -- I came down with one of the nastier bugs I've had in the past decade (I think it ranks #2)...while I was in a hotel in Columbus. Being sick is miserable. Being sick on the road is worse. Being sick on the road and having to drive yourself three hours home doesn't help things either. I have a feeling the effects of whatever I had were magnified by my stress lately (snowed under with work + lots of looming travel + not sleeping well + grandfather's health + ...) until I reached a breaking point.

I think I'm still suffering with some of the tailing ends of that bug -- but at least I can stand up and generally function in public without feeling light headed. But while lying in bed on Friday -- semicoherent and Rachel nursing me -- I got a call from my mom. Not a good sign. My grandfather -- the same grandfather I visited last week to celebrate his 86th birthday and because he wasn't doing very well -- passed after a 7 year battle with cancer. I can't say it was surprising (The Wikipedia article calls out median survival as 3-4 years or 5-7 years "with advanced treatments" and it was really tough to see him last week) but it was still not the news I was hoping for.

Anyway, on Saturday thought feeling a smidge better, in the interest of my health and the health of those around me I unfortunately had to wave off both  a CIM student recital that had sounded very interesting and the Cleveland Orchestra's Saturday evening performance -- not an easy decision but in hindsight not regretted at all.

This morning I woke up and -- with Rachel serving as escort -- made it to the airport shortly after 7 am. I've flown "enough" (~255 times based on my FlightMemory.com data*) but this was my first time using my passport, or leaving the country so for some reason I found myself exceptionally nervous.

The reward, though, was an International Premier Access boarding pass for a "premium" cabin (for some reason the same seat on a domestic flight is called "First Class" yet on an international flight it becomes "Business Class") -- thus granting access to the hallowed halls of the United Club (formerly Red Carpet Club or President's Club) at no charge. I've been curious about the clubs, but always too cheap to pony up on my own and too guilt-ridden to expense it to the company.

But clearing security in Cleveland I didn't feel like I had enough time to make it to the club, enjoy, and get back to the gate in time for my flight. The flight from Cleveland to Denver was uneventful, and on arriving in Denver -- since I had to walk past the club to get to my connecting gate, I figured "What the heck".

Oh, what a glorious space -- free food, plenty of comfortable seating, and almost frighteningly quiet. Plus free WiFi. I almost talked myself into the $475/year fee before I had to leave to board the flight to Canada.

If you really want to -- click for larger.

Arriving in Canada was a weird experience -- off the plane and on to beautiful glass-enclosed jetways (which are prohibited by a particularly irrational fire safety law in the US) and into a never ending segregated corridor, before dropping in the immigration lobby. I will say, that while the walk seemed interminable it was pleasant -- including some almost natural-history-museum-seeming settings (This video captures the experience fairy well -- including the sound effects in the hall)

As we snaked back and forth, back and forth through a line that would make Disneyland proud I was nervous -- my first experience with Customs & Immigration, with a "Business and Pleasure" answer, and a coworker who answered the "Business" question incorrectly and wound up denied entry and on Canada's Terrorist Watch List.

I approached the window "Business or Pleasure" he asked while scanning the declaration form that we had been given on the aircraft -- "Both" I answered.

"Can you elaborate on the nature of your business?". Ah crap. But I did, and he stamped my card and said to have a nice day. After an interminable wait for my luggage, I walked to the "green" exit (as I wasn't above any of my duty free allowances) handed the office the same form, who took it without even looking and I walked past... and into free Canadian air.

It was a little anti-climatic. From there I picked up my rental car from Hertz (somehow a Toyota Crayola turned into a Jeep SUV, but I won't complain) and used the GPS feature on my phone to find my way to my fist ("Pleasure") hotel for this trip...

"In 600 meters, turn right..."

WTF? How far is that? Ok I know Canadians (and the rest of the civilized world) use metric -- and I got used to matching speed limit signs to the speedometer, even if it's  a foreign language. But I can't believe my own phone would betray me and suddenly start spouting off distances that I don't fluently comprehend. By the time I had done the mental conversion to a distance my brain could cope with it was time to turn.

In any event I made it to the hotel, and as I conclude this post I'm about ready to crawl under the covers and spend my first night outside of the United States. My first night after 10,576 consecutive nights in the US. I suppose it's about time -- and just in the nick of time to do it before my 29th birthday. And in honor of my wanderlust grandfather.

My grandfather inspecting my travel map last week.
"One traveler to another" he said.

Lincoln
*- It's "extremely accurate" (date, time, flight number, and specific aircraft and seat) for flights since 2005ish, "very accurate" (at least date and flight number) for flights since 2000ish, and "a general representation" for all flights before -- not all of my early flights are logged

Sometimes the little thins make a huge difference

I've had a rough week -- beyond being stressed by the volume of work that needs to be accomplished in a frighteningly short amount of time, and more importantly, my Grandfather in Northern Michigan is not doing so well.

For as long as I can remember he's been physically and intellectually strong, and with an engineer's mind we share a lot in common, including a love of travel (he prefers to drive; I prefer to fly), even after a multiple myeloma diagnosis a few years ago he was still in relatively good condition. But over the past few months his condition has deteriorated alarmingly.

My mother flew out from Portland to visit him this weekend and I took Friday to make the 7-hour/450-mile drive up to see both my mom and my grandfather; it was tough to see him so incapacitated. And even tougher to leave -- but it was necessary as I need to be in Columbus (where I am now) for a project Monday morning.

While my grandfather would have no problems with it, putting in another 470 miles and 7 hours to get from Michigan to Columbus in two days is a little more than my ideal tolerance for driving, and combined with an emotionally draining few days...well... There were more than a few times I thought about just pulling off the road and taking a nap.

But I made it to the hotel -- the Hampton Inn Columbus/Dublin -- and checked in. I've stayed at this property before -- most recently about two months ago -- but I didn't recognize the gentleman behind the counter. As he checked me in he mentioned "Stephanie said to say Hi."

That lifted my spirits a little -- as a mid-grade road warrior I tend to feel like I fall into obscurity on the road. Despite the scripted, almost robotic, greetings that are doled out as part of the "standard" Hilton HHonors Gold greeting, I don't get the sense of human-to-human connection.

I remember Stephanie well from my last visit -- actually her genuine hospitality is probably 90% of the reason I came back to this property rather than "shopping around" a bit. I also remember asking the "crazy question" about the keycards.

(Aside) You see: Hampton Inn has, for as long as I've been a "road warrior", issued a unique keycard for each state ("Welcome To ________"). The first Hampton I visit in each state, I keep one of the key cards -- working towards my unwritten goal of "Collecting all 50". I was somewhat alarmed on my last visit to note that instead of the "Welcome to Ohio" keycard, there was a new card advertising USA Today. Not because I needed an Ohio card, but rather because I was looking forward to adding Arizona to my collection with my first trip to that state. Aside from graciously answering my question and offering to find an Ohio card if I needed one, I had largely forgotten the specific question.

But as I trundled up to my room, I noticed a piece of paper in with my key card. On it, the hand-written note:

"Hey! Welcome back! So apparently the keys you had last time were a promo. I believe we are all going back to the state keys. See you tomorrow! Stephanie"

It sounds a little goofy, but I have to say it instantly buoyed my spirits -- rather than being a faceless reservation number or a nameless person wandering the halls of a global corporation I felt like I was truly someone's guest, not to mention that I was tremendously impressed that despite the number of travelers seen on any given day she remembered both me and my question from my last visit -- almost exactly two months ago.

It was a simple -- but extremely nice -- end to a very long weekend.

Lincoln

Checking in from Phoenix, Dinner in LA

I'm sitting out the Cleveland Orchestra concerts of this weekend -- partially because I'm not a fan of Mitsuko Uchida, but more importantly, because I just got back from a week on the road.

Sunday evening saw me flying to Phoenix via Houston -- where due to weather everything went a little crooked (the net result was both my inbound flight and my connection were delayed; for a little while there was talk of possibly diverting to Amarillo due to low fuel).   Being Easter, I checked in to the hotel three hours later than expected and sans the In-N-Out that I had been craving.

Monday morning I awoke to this glorious sunrise view from my hotel bed. (The tranquil feeling was soon dismissed by the sounds of lawnmowers on the golf course, immediately followed by the golf starter on a booming public address system, but c'est la vie... I would have had to have actually gained consciousness sooner than later anyway)


Room 5011 - Embassy Suites Phoenix/Scottsdale

Although my first time in Phoenix and my first visit to this particular campus, I was actually visiting one of my favorite clients. (For better or worse, I think I'm now one of the few people who has actually visited all three of their primary sites -- Rochester, Minnesota; Jacksonville, Florida; Phoenix/Scottsdale Arizona). The sign at the entrance to campus leaves no doubt that I was in the right place:

Guess who? Guess where?
Note the cactus in the background. They were everywhere.

Easing things a bit, my primary contact at this campus is actually a recent transferee from Rochester with whom I had worked on some projects up there. The days were full, but not particularly stressful and the whether was spectacular for the week I was in town -- only starting to get really warm towards the end of the week.

Unfortunately long days and a 3-hour time difference didn't leave much room during the week for sight-seeing, but as the project wound down, I had a little bit of time to sneak in a visit to Frank Lloyd Wright's Taliesin West campus.

Taliesin West was Frank Lloyd Wright's winter home and still serves as the winter home of the Frank Lloyd Wright School of Architecture and the headquarters of the FLW Foundation. The tour, at $32 is a little steep, but a requirement to see the site.

Don, our guide, was particularly relaxed but covered a ton of information about the history of the property (starting with the fact that it was purchased for $12.50 an acre) and the architecture of the site, making this one more enjoyable than many of the "school tour/hit you over the head" guides I've had in the past. As a result the 90-minute tour flew by.

While I took many pictures on the tour, none of them really adequately encompass the entire setting (you really need to be there). Though I thought these two, taken from essentially the same location, provide an interesting contrast:

Some of the never-ending maintenance required on the studio building

Raw Desert!

At the conclusion of the tour, Don asked how many people had been to Falling Water. Of the 30 or so in the room, I was the only one who raised his hand [Rachel and I visited just over a year ago]. Don impressed the importance of visiting that site, and mentioned that it was with the much-needed money from that commission that Frank Lloyd Wright purchased a few hundred acres of land in the desert... for $12.50 an acre. Talk about bringing it full-circle.

Leaving Taliesin West I checked into my second hotel for this trip -- my theory was that it would be closer to the airport. In reality, I'm not sure that that was true or that it mattered. On the road leading to the hotel, though I found a warning sign that I can't say I've seen before, and I actually walked about a half mile back to take a picture of it...

Alas, no horses -- wild or otherwise -- were seen on this trip, but with the view, it was easy to imagine encountering wildlife

The next day it was time to head home. When I booked the trip, one of my options was a long connection in Los Angeles. Given that my dad lives about half an hour from LAX I called and asked if he was going to be in town and wanted to meet for dinner. Score.

Having only had In-N-Out five times over the course of five days it was still an option, but also having also been curious about the restaurant in the Theme Building on site at LAX, and with Mary being not a huge In-N-Out fan, that route was chosen instead.

While the food and service were somewhat less than thrilling, Encounter -- the aforementioned restaurant -- offers an amazing view of the activity at LAX, particularly, as it seems, at sunset.

Dinner and margarita finished, my dad and Mary walked me back to Terminal 6 where I passed through security for the second time that day, and boarded my red-eye flight back to Cleveland.

Lincoln

You've Been Voted off the iPod

It is perfectly understandable if, after reading this Blog you've come to the conclusion that I only listen to classical.

You would however be incorrect.

See, while I love listening to Classical live for the atmosphere in the room -- the connection between anywhere from a single performer through a quartet or sextet up to a full hundred-member strong orchestra, when it's not live--in other words, in my car or at my desk--I actually prefer almost everything except classical. (On the other hand, it's been a long time since I've attended, much less enjoyed a non-classical concert, because the sound engineers tend to be rather deaf and think that "more bass" makes it sound better).

As a result my iPod is a carefully curated collection of 5,200 songs, 1114 albums, 781 artists, and 86 distinct genres. (If you're wondering about running time, according to iTunes that's just under 14 days if played end to end).

Song titles range from A-Hole (Bowling for Soup) and Aaj Ki Raat (Performed by Sonu Nigam, Mzhalxmi Iyer and Alisha Chinai from the Slumdog Millionaire Soundtrack) to Zombie Me (No More Kings) and Zopf: Giles Farnaby's Dream (Penguin Cafe Orchestra). Numbers range from #1 (Nelly) to '92 Subaru (Fountains of Wayne) and 96,000 from the In the Heights original cast recording.

Each new entry to my iPod is carefully evaluated and earns a star rating from one to five stars. And a series of interlinked Smart Playlists helps to ensure that songs are rotated to avoid musical burnout. When a song is no longer "new", a song I've given the coveted five-star rating to may show up as often as once every two to three weeks, where a song that I've assigned the dreaded one-star rating to may only be heard, on average once every two years.

I am however, a cruel curator: Songs are regularly promoted or demoted on my whim, without leave for appeal or curatorial oversight.

When I received my first iPod, Christmas of 2004, it had a 20GB hard drive. And at the time I thought there's no way I'm ever going to fill this up. On September 16, 2008 I got my current iPod Touch, with 32GB of solid state flash memory. Once again I thought, "Even with apps, there's no way I'm ever going to fill this up". (Despite working in a corner of the software industry, I've never really gotten the App craze)

Despite no longer running the latest version of iOS, not having a camera (do I really need another device with a camera?), no longer having the greatest battery life, and having more than a few battle scars it's been by my side or in my laptop bag nearly every day since. And I haven't quite hit that 32GB ceiling. (The 20GB iPod, on the other hand has been maxed out for at least a couple years).

As a result, I've functioned with the premise that once I acquire a piece of music, it is never deaccessioned. In other words, my music collection has become somewhat of a roach motel -- what goes in never leaves.

Carefully considering a few additions to my collection this evening I noticed that the once unfathomable 32 gigabytes of music is rapidly approaching. This leaves me with two options.

Option 1: Buy a new 64GB iPod Touch so that my collection can grow without worry of being edited down. At $400 I have a hard time justifying the purchase to myself, especially since my current iPod still mostly works -- even if it is only the equivalent of a few Cleveland Orchestra concerts.

Option 2: Remove those songs that have earned the dreaded one-star rating from the collection to free room for new acquisitions. This just feels wrong on some level. Partially it's my inner pack rat but it clearly makes more sense economically and practically. So, Tyrese, I'm sorry you're I Like Them Girls, you are the first to have been voted off the iPod. I'm actually not entirely sure how you snuck in in the first place. I don't think you'll be missed.

If you're curious, and at the risk of embarrassing myself, the lucky new additions tonight are, in no particular order:

Josh Grobman: Brave from All that Echos. Really cool sound, nicely mastered, and a music video that kind of gave me chills for some reason I can't put my finger on (and made me miss doing live event/recording production). I kind of dream of seeing the Cleveland Orchestra team up with a pop artist ala The London Symphony Orchestra's Symphonic Rock

A Great Big World: Rockstar and others from A Great Big World (EP) and the single This Is the New Year. I found the EP after first discovering This Is The New Year, and I'm hooked. In both pieces the vocalists have a sound that I can only describe as honest and real. Aside from the crisp piano and nice mastering, the lyrics are catchy and move a story ("There's a girl in the tree top looking at the stars/Waiting for a touchdown comin' in from Mars/Thinkin' "is there anybody out there?"/There's a boy thinking of her playin' his guitar/Searching for the answer buried in his heart/Singin' "ah, ha ha, is there anybody out there?").

I feel slightly compelled to attempt to produce a promo video/ :60 for The Cleveland Museum of Art built around This Is the New Year -- having been woefully unimpressed by the "Discover Amazing" campaign -- but I'm afraid all I have is the creative vision. (I have a similar, if impractical vision associated with  Miike Snow's Black & Blue)

If they come to Cleveland, I'd probably be interested in hearing them live.

Jim Brickman: Good Morning Beautiful from Believe. Very light and bubbly, part of it's selection may be due to the proximity to Rachel and my second anniversary of dating.

Matt Hires: Restless Heart from Forever.  Not actually the biggest fan of the lyrics, but I think it will be a nice, fairly fast piece to wake me up when I'm working late, particularly through the driving guitar.

Passion Pit: Carried Away from Gossamer. This is just one of those somewhat addictive songs that show up in a commercial and just kind of get stuck in your head. Like ice cream on a hot summer day, you can't really help but to enjoy -- speaking of hot days, once the weather warms up, I have a feeling this will make it on to my "Run" play list.

Walk Off the Earth: Red Hands from the album R.E.V.O. The sudden tempo change at the beginning caught my attention, the initial gritty male vocal piqued my interest, and the soft female vocal standing in stark contrast roped me in. The chorus are chantable -- even if I'm not sure what to make of the meaning (That gun is loaded, but it's not in my hand/The fire burns, I'm not the one with the match, man/That gun is loaded, but it's not in my hand)

Since this is getting really long the remainders will pass without comment: Rebel Beat by the Goo Goo Dolls from the deluxe version of Magnetic;  It's Time by Imagine Dragons from Night Visions;  Closer by Tegan and Sara from Hearthrob; Hung Up by Hot Cheele Rae from the single of the same name; Just Give Me A Reason by Pink (featuring Nate Ruess) from The Truth About Love.

Lincoln

Made In Ohio Tour: The KitchenAid Factory

I've been dating Rachel for one year, eight months and fourteen days -- not like anyone is counting -- for nearly as long Rachel has been talking up the awesomeness of the KitchenAid Stand Mixer. I was planning on simply getting her one for Christmas -- which doubles as Rachel's birthday, so you may occassionally hear me refer to it as Rachemas... until I learned they're manufactured in Ohio.

1701 KitcheanAid Way in Greenville, Ohio -- a little North and a little East of Dayton -- to be percise. And they offer factory tours Tuesday-Friday at 12:30. So I asked Rachel to let me know when she may have a Friday off before Christmas and we'd go on a surpise road trip (though I think she figured out where we were going...)

Thursday evening after we both got off of work, we pointed my car Southwest and drove towards Dayton. Cashing in a few Hilton HHonors points, we overnighted at the Hampton Inn in Sidney, Ohio -- a hotel that is exceptionally well-kept, well-staffed, and friendly, given its somewhat "middle of nowhere" location off of Interstate 75. This morning, we slept in, grabbed breakfast and launched in for the last 45 minutes of so of the drive to Greenville.

Not being sure entirely what to expect -- the KitchenAid website is a little light on details, and unless you're bringing a tour bus, the toll-free information number doesn't go much further -- we showed up way too early, and after confirming the yes, indeed, there would be a tour (and learning for the first time, the tour is $5 per person, cash only) we had about an hour to kill.

I had planned on stopping by the KitchenAid Experience -- the KitchenAid store in beautiful and historic downtown Greenville, Ohio (which reminds me a lot of St. Ignace, Michigan) -- after the tour to let Rachel pick her color, and with the surprise no longer a surprise, we decided to do that first. We found a 5 Quart model in the Red she had her heart set on at a good price and I whisked it out to my trunk.

We returned to the Whirlpool facility on KitchenAid way -- that was one of the first things we learned: Since the late 1980s, KitchenAid has been a Whirlpool brand. We signed in, I paid for our tour and while we waited I was impressed by the "Customer First" banner in the lobby (the customer pays our salary, the customer is never an inconvenience, etc.) -- but more impressive, someone had walked in with a blender needing help, and someone who seemed to be straight off of the assembly line provided a replacement part and help in figuring out how to put it back together.

Our group -- there were a total of four of us, Rachel and I and an older couple -- was ushered into the cafeteria where we were given protective eye wear and an assisted listening receiver (to hear our guide over the factory noise). We also met our guide for the day. I had been concerned that it may be a spin-heavy tour lead by a public relations suit. That couldn't be further from the truth. Our guide was a down-to-earth Quality Auditor who has been working for KitchenAid for 34 years -- her job is to take random units off of the assembly line after they've been finished. Once selected, the units are completely disassembled to make sure that they not only look good on the outside but are built perfectly inside. 2% of the plant's production each day gets run through the ringer like this to ensure continuous quality.

The factory tour highlights each stage of manufacturing except casting (which is done in Erie, PA) from paint and polish to gears and building the wire whips. Every KitchenAid stand mixer sold anywhere in the world -- including those exported to China (which made me chuckle) -- rolls off one of the six assembly lines in Greenville. As do the wire whips (which are manufactured at dedicated stations), and most if not all of the attachments for the blenders. KitchenAid blenders and handheld mixers also come off of lines in Greenville.

Also interesting: Some of the pieces of equipment used in the factory today have had long lives at KitchenAid, including making parts to support the war effort during World War II.

On our way out of the factory, we were graciously offered the opportunity to take advantage of a special discount for the holidays and to celebrate KitchenAid's 2 Millionth Mixer -- Where we could purchase a brand new amazing 7 quart lift-bowl mixer (with a capacity of, among other things, 14 Dozen cookies at a time) at a price that was less than what I paid for the refurbished (but still awesome) 5 quart (and a "there's no way that's the right price" less than the price listed on the website): We exchanged the mixers, and it wasn't until I was out in the car and looked at the receipt, which listed the pre-discounted price and nearly fell over (I knew it was a deal, but I didn't know it was significantly more than half off).

While I can't say I go out of my way to buy "Made in America", I am proud to support Ohio manufacturing, from my Honda (built outside Columbus) to the KitchenAid products and it's impressive to see the people and dedication first hand.

So with our visit to the gracious hosts at KitchenAid finished, and being mere miles from the Indiana border, we made a quick jog over to the Fry's Electronics in Fishers (near Indianapolis), grabbed dinner, and headed for the second stop on our tour: A hotel in Wilder, Kentucky where we're spending tonight, before hitting a nearby aquarium tomorrow and heading back to Cleveland -- in time for me to hit a Cleveland Orchestra concert I've been waiting for.

Lincoln

Am I breaking up with, or cheating on, my dry cleaner?

Sigh.

If you haven't figured it out by now I'm either very loyal to inanimate objects, have a high degree of corporate inertia, or both. Perhaps the most shining example is the fact that I still bank with Bank of America -- nearly 9 years after moving to a state, perhaps the only state, that has not a single branch within its borders (although you can see the branch in Temperance, MI from Toledo, if that counts) -- heck, its only within the past few months an ATM that actually accepts deposits has appeared nearby (and within the past month, the ability to deposit via smart phone, prior to that I'd use a BofA withdrawal-only ATM on my way home from work and either mail in deposits or visit a branch when I was on the road).

But I digress.

This loyalty has, thus far, extended to my dry cleaner. A dry cleaner a friend recommended in Berea*, of all places, right on Front Street. I've since recommended them to others. But I think the time has come fore me to move on with my dry cleaning relationship.

When I first moved to Cleveland and was living downtown they were actually pretty convenient -- I didn't really get the feeling I was passing by any other qualified dry cleaners on my way to and from, and it was only about 20 minutes of all freeway driving.

Since I moved to Cleveland heights, they are decidedly less convenient for routine trips but I've stuck with them. Partially because they're convenient to the airport (there have been trips where I've landed at Hopkins, picked up my luggage and immediately dropped off 90% of the contents of my suitcase on my way home, only to pick up the results before heading out of town on another trip) and because they've generally treated me and my clothes well. It's a mom-and-pop shop where I got the feeling there was an eye on quality and nary a computer in sight, yet they usually remember my name.

That changed recently though. Perhaps it's because I've been looking for an excuse to take my business somewhere more convenient.

But on my most recent trip, I dropped off a few pairs of pants and a pile of shirts. "All for dry cleaning, please." Though the standard in the dry cleaning world (or at least this cleaner) seems to be dry clean pants and launder shirts, my standard order -- it hasn't changed in at least five years -- is "All for dry cleaning, please".

I've found that my shirts last longer, look better, and feel more comfortable when I wear them when I dry clean (and don't get me started on starch). That plus a care tag indicating "for best results dry clean only" make me happy to pay the additional cost per shirt.

When I dropped my last order off the "new girl" wrote up a single ticket correctly, listing my pants and shirts for dry cleaning. I took it and picket up the order early in the morning on my way to catch my last flight. The price seemed lower than I expected, but I wasn't fully awake and wasn't really thinking about it.

When I got to the airport I realized that not only had the pants been bagged separately from the shirts, each bag had a different tag on it, neither of which was a carbon of the tag that had been filled out when I dropped them off. I had a bad feeling. I reached under the bag and felt those shirts. I won't lie. "Those mother.... washed my shrits" was my initial, dejected cry.

I called the cleaners. The woman I answered knows me -- and was the one who had just taken my cash. There are a lot of things they could have done to achieve what the service industry refers to as "service recovery": From the extreme of replacing the now damaged (in my eyes) shirts to a refund for the service I didn't want, or at the very least an offer of a credit of some kind.

But no. Even though she acknowledged that I never have anything laundered, and I had told her that, as always, I had requested that they all be dry cleaned, and that the slip I had been given indicated that they were all for dry cleaning.

"Oh, we've told the new girl that she always needs to write up separate slips for dry cleaning and laundry, they caught it in the back and had her rewrite them"
"But this was all for dry cleaning, and it was written that way on the slip I was given"
"Well you need to be sure, if you see notations like ____ it means that you want them laundered with a hanger and light starch, which only applies to laundry"
"There weren't those markings on the ticket I was given, in fact those markings aren't on the replacement tickets either"
At this point I hear rustling while she pulls the original
"Oh, you're right, your slip was correct. Well, they got laundered that explains why the total was so low, but it's alright. Those shirts can be laundered.

The call basically went on like this with her alternating between implying it was my fault and that since it's OK to launder the shirts per the care tag I shouldn't care. Guess what: If I didn't care I wouldn't have been paying extra for dry cleaning these same shirts (and their siblings) for as long as I've owned them.

I'm also irritated that there was never even an "I'm sorry, we screwed up." I think I was, and continue to be, more ticked off about the way the problem was -- or rather wasn't -- responded to than I was initially about the problem itself.

So if they really don't give a damn about my business I should take my business to somewhere that's more convenient for me regardless of my travel schedule. I'd prefer locally owned, mom-and-pop type and, slightly more importantly, I'd prefer to use a cleaner with a plant on site.

I know there are a couple cleaners in Cleveland Heights, and I need to investigate whether either of them has the plant on site (one of them I strongly doubt, the other is iffy). Does anyone have suggestions for cleaners in the eastern 'burbs? I loaded a few shirts and a pair of pants in my car thinking about giving someone a try this afternoon... but I had an overwhelming feeling of guilt about cheating on my former cleaners. I just need to suck it up.

Lincoln

*- Those reading from out of town: I live in an inner-ring suburb on Cleveland's East Side. Berea is on the West Side. If it's an inner-ring suburb it just barely qualifies as so, it's probably a 45-50 minute one way drive from my house, and about a 5 minute drive from the airport)