I think Rachel and I both learned our lesson last trip in overplanning, so this trip has a much more relaxed schedule.
This morning we awoke, lounged for a bit, visited an ATM (BNP Paribas is in Bank of America's Global ATM network -- so no fees for me) in the next building over to restock our cash supplies, along the way encountering the happiest little ATM I've seen -- why can't American ATMs have personality?
Cash in hand we headed out to Centre Pompidou and explored the exhibits for a bit -- while enjoyable, nothing really screamed "love me" or "commit me to memory" -- I'm glad we went, though.
Following our visit, we attempted to get our "Required Foreign McDonald's Visit" (RFMDV) in but were faced with a kiosk that -- despite claiming to speak English, was wholly intuitive and we couldn't figure out how to actually access the menu (any attempt to dismiss the "special offers" just resulted in it asking for us to insert our credit card). Since we were in an area that seemed to have an abundance of restaurants, we decided to postpone the RFMDV and perused a couple menus before finding a tiny little restaurant that sounded good... and in fact was good.
We returned to the hotel to drop off our souvenirs and decided while we were playing tourists that we would go out to Marne-la-Vallee to visit the entrance to Disneyland Paris. Though not quite tourist enough to actually spring for the admission, we did visit the gift shop. [Some day I think I'd like to visit the parks, however, having grown up in original Disneyland territory and having plenty of other Parisian sites to see... visiting this park will wait for a future visit.
We stopped by a Monoprix (Supermarket meets Kohls is the best comparison I can come up with at the moment) purchased some snacks and more or less promptly collapsed into bed
Lincoln
Showing posts with label Travel. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Travel. Show all posts
Monday, March 23, 2015
Sunday, March 22, 2015
Lincoln et Rachel a Paris trois jours
Being Sunday, Parisians take things much more slowly than the remaining six days of the week -- and either the US or London -- Rachel and I decided to do the same, talking a very leisurely start to the morning eventually heading to the Musee Des Egouts De Paris (Museum of the Sewers of Paris) which was an interesting look under the streets of Paris and certainly aromatic -- though, as one may expect, not in a good way (it certainly reduced the cost of lunch afterwards...)--as a technical minded person the dirty history was quite interesting.
Since the photos below ground didn't really turn out (and let's be honest, do you really want to see someone else's raw excrement floating on a rapidly moving without also having the experience of smelling it), here's a photo taken across the bridge from the entrance -- the Flame of Liberty with the Eiffel tower in the background -- according to Wikipedia it's a full-size replica of the flame in the hand of the Statute of Liberty
We found lunch at a small cafe slightly off the tourist beaten path but with the Eiffel Tower lurking in the distance and setting out for our second underground experience of the day -- a fair distance away -- the Catacombs de Paris, an immense subterranean network of caves re-purposed centuries ago to hold intricately stacked bones from deconsecrated cemeteries taken over by the needs of the living in an expanding Paris of the time.
This attraction was the first time we encountered a major queue during our visit -- waiting about an hour above ground to get through the turnstile to get below ground. Though I have a weak stomach generally, I was really surprised that I wasn't really affected by seeing thousands of bones, skulls, and the like stacked so carefully on both sides of a passage that at times seemed like it would never end. It is interesting to consider that these bones have been lying in place here for in some cases over two hundred years.
After we left the home of the dead and returned above ground to the land of the living we walked some side streets before finding ourselves back at the RER/Metro station that delivered us to this neighborhood and decided that -- with a distinct chill and ominous clouds in the air -- that we would return to the hotel and find something to snack on along the way.
Lincoln
Since the photos below ground didn't really turn out (and let's be honest, do you really want to see someone else's raw excrement floating on a rapidly moving without also having the experience of smelling it), here's a photo taken across the bridge from the entrance -- the Flame of Liberty with the Eiffel tower in the background -- according to Wikipedia it's a full-size replica of the flame in the hand of the Statute of Liberty
We found lunch at a small cafe slightly off the tourist beaten path but with the Eiffel Tower lurking in the distance and setting out for our second underground experience of the day -- a fair distance away -- the Catacombs de Paris, an immense subterranean network of caves re-purposed centuries ago to hold intricately stacked bones from deconsecrated cemeteries taken over by the needs of the living in an expanding Paris of the time.
This attraction was the first time we encountered a major queue during our visit -- waiting about an hour above ground to get through the turnstile to get below ground. Though I have a weak stomach generally, I was really surprised that I wasn't really affected by seeing thousands of bones, skulls, and the like stacked so carefully on both sides of a passage that at times seemed like it would never end. It is interesting to consider that these bones have been lying in place here for in some cases over two hundred years.
After we left the home of the dead and returned above ground to the land of the living we walked some side streets before finding ourselves back at the RER/Metro station that delivered us to this neighborhood and decided that -- with a distinct chill and ominous clouds in the air -- that we would return to the hotel and find something to snack on along the way.
Lincoln
Saturday, March 21, 2015
Lincoln et Rachel a Paris deux jours (Saturday)
This morning I was a little groggy when I woke up and thanks to a 10am "Behind the Scenes Tour" of the Eiffel Tower there was little time to drift back to sleep.
Getting ready and heading out we discovered the entire city covered in fog, or as it may more accurately be, smog. Pollution levels were reported to be so bad that officials declared public transit would be free for this weekend to discourage driving. It was incredibly cold but uneventful as we made our way from La Defense to La Tour Eiffel and had a fascinating tour of the elevator machinery along with other elements of the tower's history (Including the colors that it's been over the years, from red to army green to today's gray).
Our tour included an elevator ride to the 2nd platform of the tower which had spectacular perspective -- but thanks to the (f|sm)og, it was impossible to see more than a few blocks in any direction [l'arc de triomphe was faintly visible in the background], so Rachel and I decided to postpone buying a ticket to the top of the tower.
Owing to the haze and cool temperatures, we returned to the hotel to drop off our souvenirs and see if we had any warmer clothing with us (I was cursing my refusal to pack any kind of headwear because it "won't be that clod"). Along the way we stopped by "Quick" for lunch where a multilingual kiosk allowed us to order without embarrassment and enjoy a quick bite to eat. Adjacent to the hotel, we stopped into a market called Monoprixe -- I was planning on buying a Coke, but I was shocked to discover they had Mountain Dew (my morning caffeine of choice -- which I was not expecting to find in France) although the taste more of sugar water than the flavor of the American variety.
After a brief respite in our room, we noticed that the haze was lifting and the temperature warming so we decided to explore our environs -- our hotel, the Hilton Paris-La Defense, is directly adjacent to La Grande Arche de la Défense, so we started by walking that area and climbing the immense stairs at the mouth of the arch -- and from there we noticed that the Arc de Triomphe visible and the haze nearly entirely lifted.
Hopping on an RER A train it was a quick underground ride to the station and emerged to find the arc directly in front of us.. and we quickly decided to shell out the 9.50 euros for the climb to the top... and boy can you feel the thighs burn after ascending the 150+ feet of stairs to the peak, but the views from the top were well worth it.
Working our way down from the top, we decided to try walking Avenue Charles de Gaulle back to our hotel and it was a very pleasant 5.1km (~3.16 mile) walk with plenty of scenery along the way, including a chocolateir that was almost too much to resist and a bakery that proved too much to resist.
[The hotel internet connection is a bit spotty so I apologize for not having more photos]
Lincoln
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| The Eiffel Tower This Morning |
Our tour included an elevator ride to the 2nd platform of the tower which had spectacular perspective -- but thanks to the (f|sm)og, it was impossible to see more than a few blocks in any direction [l'arc de triomphe was faintly visible in the background], so Rachel and I decided to postpone buying a ticket to the top of the tower.
Owing to the haze and cool temperatures, we returned to the hotel to drop off our souvenirs and see if we had any warmer clothing with us (I was cursing my refusal to pack any kind of headwear because it "won't be that clod"). Along the way we stopped by "Quick" for lunch where a multilingual kiosk allowed us to order without embarrassment and enjoy a quick bite to eat. Adjacent to the hotel, we stopped into a market called Monoprixe -- I was planning on buying a Coke, but I was shocked to discover they had Mountain Dew (my morning caffeine of choice -- which I was not expecting to find in France) although the taste more of sugar water than the flavor of the American variety.
After a brief respite in our room, we noticed that the haze was lifting and the temperature warming so we decided to explore our environs -- our hotel, the Hilton Paris-La Defense, is directly adjacent to La Grande Arche de la Défense, so we started by walking that area and climbing the immense stairs at the mouth of the arch -- and from there we noticed that the Arc de Triomphe visible and the haze nearly entirely lifted.
Hopping on an RER A train it was a quick underground ride to the station and emerged to find the arc directly in front of us.. and we quickly decided to shell out the 9.50 euros for the climb to the top... and boy can you feel the thighs burn after ascending the 150+ feet of stairs to the peak, but the views from the top were well worth it.
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| (Click for Large) Panorama from the top of the Arc de Triomphe -- La Grande Arche and our hotel is at the end of the Avenue Charles de Gaulle (Center) |
[The hotel internet connection is a bit spotty so I apologize for not having more photos]
Lincoln
Lincoln et Rachel a Paris un jour (Friday)
Today marks the fourth anniversary of Rachel and my first date and out second year of marking the occasion with a vacation overseas -- this year it is a week in Paris, France.
Last year's trip was to London and I loved every minute of it. (Honestly, I could see myself living there and it quickly displaced Manhattan (NYC) as my #1 "If I could live anywhere and money was no object..." -- this year, leading up to our departure I was more than a little nervous, largely owing to my complete lack of proficiency with French (or any language other than English for that matter).
Despite having taken a year of French in High School and two or three semesters of French in college, 'Excusez-moi, je ne parle pas bein francais" remains the only coherent sentence I can form in French... and to be honest, I feel like a bit of a...eh...jerk... will suffice... for heading to a foreign country not being able to speak or understand the language. And I was getting myself psyched out with all of the "What ifs" ("How do I deal with Customs?")
Rachel and I had an uneventful trip from the Cleveland to Charles de Gualle via Chicago -- although I had a horrible time falling asleep on the trans-Atlantic flight -- arriving at about 10am Paris time Friday morning.
My biggest concern with customs quickly passed when I approached the booth, said "Bonjour" and the immigration officer didn't even look at me and barely looked at my passport before stamping it and handing it back to me without uttering so much as a word to me. Passing immigration we made our way to baggage claim, where our bags were promptly delivered and we exited the terminal to board the first of three trains to our hotel -- without encountering another official along the way. Someone had told me that it was easier for an Americ
an to get into France than it was to get back into the United States and thus far I concur whole heatedly -- without even having to fill out a customs form, I think it was easier and faster (including waiting for luggage) to get out of Charles de Gaulle than the last time I landed at Cleveland Hopkins.
Arriving at the airport train station Rachel handled purchasing our rail passes and we were on our way into metropolitan Paris. We had some fun when we transferred to a train going the wrong direction but after a quick correction we found ourselves at Cint, a shopping center our hotel is attached to. However, finding the hotel was slightly more challenging.
Spotting an information desk, I approached -- "Bonjour" "Bonjour..." Ok, High School french, how do I ask for the Hilton. I panicked "Parle-vois anglais?" "Yes" she smiled. "Where is the Hilton?" "Through the Tunnel" "Merci" "You're welcome."
Arriving at the hotel's front desk, a similar experience though realizing I had not a chance at asking for an early checkin in French -- "Bonjour, Monsieur." "Bonjour, parle-vous anglias?" "Yes" and off we were.
After freshening up for a bit and relaxing -- but resisting the temptation to sleep -- in the room, Rachel and I headed out to visit Notre Dame cathedral -- a beautiful edifice, and we happened to be inside during the processional and beginning of a 3pm mass. Our visit to Notre Dame, and our mass atteandance, complete we set off for an early dinner. One of Rachel's coworkers had recommended a resturant near by, however after checking out the menu nothing seemed to my (picky) taste... Luckily two doors down we found a delightful and tiny restaurant with a menu a bit more to my taste.
"Bonjour" "Bonjour... would you like to eat or to drink?" and from that point our restaurateur spoke entirely in English (even answering "Merci" with you're welcome) -- the food was good and in conversation our waiter mentioned that he was happy to speak English because "you learn it in school and have to practice it" and he doesn't want patrons to feel obligated. I'm becoming convinced that the stereotype of the Parisian that refuses to speak English is entirely outmoded."
After dinner we walked along the Seine for a bit before returning to our room and falling asleep relatively early.
Lincoln
Last year's trip was to London and I loved every minute of it. (Honestly, I could see myself living there and it quickly displaced Manhattan (NYC) as my #1 "If I could live anywhere and money was no object..." -- this year, leading up to our departure I was more than a little nervous, largely owing to my complete lack of proficiency with French (or any language other than English for that matter).
Despite having taken a year of French in High School and two or three semesters of French in college, 'Excusez-moi, je ne parle pas bein francais" remains the only coherent sentence I can form in French... and to be honest, I feel like a bit of a...eh...jerk... will suffice... for heading to a foreign country not being able to speak or understand the language. And I was getting myself psyched out with all of the "What ifs" ("How do I deal with Customs?")
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| Notre-Dame Cathedral, our first major tourism stop |
My biggest concern with customs quickly passed when I approached the booth, said "Bonjour" and the immigration officer didn't even look at me and barely looked at my passport before stamping it and handing it back to me without uttering so much as a word to me. Passing immigration we made our way to baggage claim, where our bags were promptly delivered and we exited the terminal to board the first of three trains to our hotel -- without encountering another official along the way. Someone had told me that it was easier for an Americ
an to get into France than it was to get back into the United States and thus far I concur whole heatedly -- without even having to fill out a customs form, I think it was easier and faster (including waiting for luggage) to get out of Charles de Gaulle than the last time I landed at Cleveland Hopkins.
Arriving at the airport train station Rachel handled purchasing our rail passes and we were on our way into metropolitan Paris. We had some fun when we transferred to a train going the wrong direction but after a quick correction we found ourselves at Cint, a shopping center our hotel is attached to. However, finding the hotel was slightly more challenging.
Spotting an information desk, I approached -- "Bonjour" "Bonjour..." Ok, High School french, how do I ask for the Hilton. I panicked "Parle-vois anglais?" "Yes" she smiled. "Where is the Hilton?" "Through the Tunnel" "Merci" "You're welcome."
Arriving at the hotel's front desk, a similar experience though realizing I had not a chance at asking for an early checkin in French -- "Bonjour, Monsieur." "Bonjour, parle-vous anglias?" "Yes" and off we were.
After freshening up for a bit and relaxing -- but resisting the temptation to sleep -- in the room, Rachel and I headed out to visit Notre Dame cathedral -- a beautiful edifice, and we happened to be inside during the processional and beginning of a 3pm mass. Our visit to Notre Dame, and our mass atteandance, complete we set off for an early dinner. One of Rachel's coworkers had recommended a resturant near by, however after checking out the menu nothing seemed to my (picky) taste... Luckily two doors down we found a delightful and tiny restaurant with a menu a bit more to my taste.
"Bonjour" "Bonjour... would you like to eat or to drink?" and from that point our restaurateur spoke entirely in English (even answering "Merci" with you're welcome) -- the food was good and in conversation our waiter mentioned that he was happy to speak English because "you learn it in school and have to practice it" and he doesn't want patrons to feel obligated. I'm becoming convinced that the stereotype of the Parisian that refuses to speak English is entirely outmoded."
After dinner we walked along the Seine for a bit before returning to our room and falling asleep relatively early.
Lincoln
Monday, September 1, 2014
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 ;)]
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 ;)]
Saturday, May 24, 2014
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
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
Thursday, March 20, 2014
Lincoln and Rachel in London: Day 5
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| Rachel and I on an Escalator; Reflection from window at Tate Modern |
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| One of the works that attracted my attention: Untitled 1-5 by Dan Flavin |
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| 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.
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| 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.
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| Tower Bridge |
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| Say what? |
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
Wednesday, March 19, 2014
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
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
Tuesday, March 18, 2014
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.
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.
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:
Sunday, March 16, 2014
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.
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.
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)]
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.
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.
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.
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)
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 |
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 |
 |
| 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, |
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. |
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)
Thursday, January 30, 2014
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.
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.
Friday, June 21, 2013
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.
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:
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.
Sunday, April 28, 2013
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.
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.
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
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
Monday, April 22, 2013
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
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
Sunday, April 7, 2013
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)
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:
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:
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
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 |
 |
| Guess who? Guess where? Note the cactus in the background. They were everywhere. |
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...
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
Saturday, March 9, 2013
Column and Stripe/NYC - The Armory Show [Cleveland Museum of Art]
As many regular readers (or those who pay attention to the "Disclosures" bar off to the right [your other right]) know, I'm involved in Column and Stripe: The New Friends of the Cleveland Museum of Art. Unfortunately travel demands of my real job haven't been conducive to attending all of the great events that our Programming Committee organizes.  |
| Exterior of Pier 92 from Across 12 Ave. |
 |
| C&S Attendees; Mark Cole center background. |
Mr. Cole not only introduced us to some of the dealers who he knows, but also pointed out artists with Cleveland connections and artists who he thinks are significant and would like to see added to the museum's collection to complete the story (he remained mum as to specific works).
After our overview fly-by the group splintered and attacked the show in greater detail. The show which brings together leading art dealers from around the globe and concentrates them on two of the piers of Manhattan's West Side is a little overwhelming. ("Modern" is on pier 92, "Contemporary" is on pier 94)
 |
| One aisle of dealers at Pier 94 |
It was a wonderful opportunity to enjoy art outside of Cleveland with similarly interested young Clevelanders, and hopefully this will be the first of many trips -- and that Rachel's work schedule will allow her to join in the next trip.
[By the way, any of the pictures should be clickable for a larger version if you so desire]
Lincoln
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