Category Archives: Travel

I read the leader today, oh boy…

4 Replies

All right, so it wasn’t properly a leader, but a column. I just wanted to add some British idiom to my allusion…

Thought y’all might be interested in this item in The Guardian today (over breakfast at our B&B in Oxford, my wife was reading The Times and I had The Guardian — which I had run next door to the off-licence to get — but she never gave up The Times).

We never got around to visiting the Abbey Road crossing in London, even though it wasn’t far from where we were staying. I sort of lost interest after reading that the local council had moved the zebra crossing so that it wasn’t the real one. But I’ve been bemused at how they do go on about The Beatles here. I had sort of thought they had faded from memory here, rather the way one never saw much about Elvis in Memphis until after he died (I know, I lived there then).

That’s mostly because there have been two recent news items. The first was that the Abbey Road crossing was recently given Grade II historic status — even though it’s the wrong place. The second was that a Tory minister wants to protect Ringo Starr’s birthplace in Liverpool from demolition.

So today’s columnist wrote a piece headlined, “I am a Beatles obsessive. But let’s cut the Fabs-worship.” And quite right he is, even though I love the Beatles. As he wrote,

Such, anyway, is yet another episode in a story that has long since ballooned into absurdity: the transformation of the Beatles into a national religion – arguably bigger than Jesus, as John Lennon infamously put it. X Factor contestants must, by law, deliver warblesome readings of Let It Be and The Long and Winding Road; each time Sir Paul McCartney ventures out to hack out his versions of the hits, the public is encouraged to think something miraculous is afoot; Yoko Ono, bless her, keeps the posthumous Lennon machine grinding on.

In Liverpool, meanwhile, delusions of post-industrialism have reached their apogee in the idea that Beatledom can be a substitute for a lost mercantile past. It’s all there: John Lennon international airport, the Hard Day’s Night Hotel, the “Magical Mystery Tour” that wends around the city, even a Fabs-themed Starbucks — though judging by the forlorn atmosphere of too many of the surrounding streets, Beatles-driven regeneration really isn’t working. Funny, that.

Yes, isn’t it? He goes on to note that not ALL Beatles music is iconic:

Moreover, the idea of the Beatles as all-dominating titans had yet to take root: well away from their legacy, music developed on its own terms. These days, by contrast, they use up so much of the cultural air that we seem little able to breathe. There must be more to life than nodding-dog piano ballads of the Hey Jude variety, but there are times when they seem to define a good 50% of the mainstream. For all their inventive wonderment, one would imagine that I Am the Walrus, Happiness Is a Warm Gun and Helter Skelter left at least some of rock’s more creative possibilities unexplored, though listening to the bulk of even supposedly cutting-edge music, you’d never know.

Indeed. Then, he ends,

In 1970, John Lennon said this: “It’s just a rock group that split up, it’s nothing important – you can have all the records if you want to reminisce.” The words crumble next to his group’s myth, but they also speak an undeniable truth — which is why the 72% of local people who are reportedly OK with the Madryn Street demolition ought to have their wishes respected, and life should go on. And one other thing: Ringo was the drummer, remember.

I’m not sure what he meant by that last bit. As “Paul’s grandfather,” the clean old man, observed in “A Hard Day’s Night,” where would they be without his steady beat. But I thought the piece was food for thought.

Pint of best bitter, please — or stout, ale, or whatever you’ve got

14 Replies

Sharp's Doom Bar at the Golden Lion.

When we were on the way into town from Heathrow the other day, my granddaughter mentioned that she had forgotten to pack her best glitter. I couldn’t resist that opening, and immediately said, “We’ll just go into a pub and order a pint of best glitter!” She and my wife both looked at me blankly. Sigh. It went over as well as one of Jack Aubrey’s puns. But I was just as proud of it as he ever was…

So I’ve ordered a pint of bitter, and occasionally stout or lager, at various places in London, Greenwich and Oxford now. Also had some Peroni and Beck in restaurants without taps, but that doesn’t count.

I’ve had Spitfire (twice) and Samuel Smith Sovereign Bitter and some Samuel Smith stout as well (Samuel Smith was all they served at the Swiss Cottage pub near us in London). My very first pub was The Golden Lion in central London, where I had Sharp’s Doom Bar. (I had to walk ’round and see the tap myself, because the barmaid had a heavy foreign accent. It was THE best bitter I’ve had so far.) Sort of a posh clientele — I suspect some of those chaps of working at Christie’s, right across the road.

The most recent place we visited was The Turf in Oxford. It’s only been a pub since the 13th century, and I like to give these new places a try. Didn’t actually have a pint there (I was still drinking a coffee from down the road) — but J had a mulled wine.

I will continue to investigate this aspect of this lovely country, and report back to you, my readers. Someone has to do it.

I intend to carry on in spite of the fact that the new tax rates are going into effect within hours. More about that later.

I found “Championship Vinyl” (and you can’t prove I didn’t)

11 Replies

See where it says "shop to let"? And do you see any window-shoppers?

Well, I told you I would find the former site of “Championship Vinyl,” the record shop in High Fidelity, and I did. And no one (except maybe Nick Hornby) can tell me I’m wrong.

It satisfies the criteria:

  1. It’s in Holloway.
  2. It’s just off the Seven Sisters Road.
  3. It’s in a location that guarantees the “minimum of window-shoppers” — in other words, the only customers are those geeky young males who go out of their way to seek the place out.
  4. I was looking for a vacant space, on the theory that since the book was published 15 years ago, and since Rob was trending toward changing his life for the better toward the end, that he would have moved on from running the store, or moved it to a better location, or something by now. I mean, he and Laura would have some kids by now. Any road, this is a good theory for me to have to explain that it’s not actually there, since, you know, it never really existed.

I made up that last criterion, but the first three are in the book.

So, you ladies are wondering — just how patient is my wife, to go along to places like this? Well, she didn’t. This was the one thing I did

Unfortunately, the souvenir shop wasn't open. I had wanted one of those scarves...

on my own. Today was the day we were leaving London for Oxford, and she just wanted to get up and get ready. So I got up before she did, hopped the Jubilee line down to Green Park and got on the Picadilly way out to Islington, to Holloway Road, and hiked over to Seven Sisters.

Then, after “finding” Championship Vinyl (it was the first street off Seven Sisters with some actual commercial fronts off the main road) on Hornsey Road, I walked back east until I got to Arsenal Stadium, the scene of other Hornby tales. At Arsenal, at least, I wasn’t the only geek taking pictures of the stadium — but the others were English football fans. One guy was having his wife take his picture there while she tried to keep the kids in order.

After I found the Arsenal Tube station (this required asking directions four times, twice from people who did not speak English), I rode back to our stop, and left Swiss Cottage station with sadness. I really, really love the Underground. (There’s no other way I could have gone all the way to Islington in a city this crowded and done all that walking about and gotten back in less than two hours.)

When I got back, J had packed for both of us, and we took a taxi to Victoria Coach Station for the ride to Oxford. Come to think of it, she really is enormously patient with me…

Oh, and if you wonder why I would want to do this… well, you just have to read High Fidelity. The movie was great, but the novel was much better.

Or maybe THIS is it, a couple of doors down. I can see how experts could in good faith disagree...

The UFOs of Primrose Hill (Happy 2011!)

4 Replies

Sorry about the poor quality; I only had my Blackberry. Still, you can see a bunch of our UFOs, rising away from Primrose Hill toward central London. And down on the horizon, among other things, you can see the Eye of London.

J and I had this brilliant idea. We would avoid the madness of Trafalgar Square on New Year’s Eve, but still experience it, quietly and privately, by walking up to Primrose Hill, which we had heard afforded a great view of London.

So, after a wonderful meal at a fine Indian restaurant near our hotel in Swiss Cottage, we set out walking. I had assured her I could find the park from having glanced at Google Maps, and I hoped I was right.

Along the way, we saw some young guys on the sidewalk outside a house where a party was going on, and they seemed to be trying to make an upside-down luminaria take off like a hot-air balloon using a cigarette lighter. They were laughing like mad, and the people inside the party were watching out the bay window with great interest, and we just assumed they were half-cut, or more. As we walked past I did say, “Well, the principle is sound…”

Then, as I we walked on and I started to wonder whether I had lost my way after all, we noticed down south, over the city, some reddish lights hovering in the sky. They looked very strange. The way they acted, they couldn’t be aircraft. My guess was that someone had fired parachute flares, but they were so high that seemed unlikely.

As I was about to despair of finding Primrose Hill Road, I saw a fairly busy road ahead of us… and lots of people walking along it. Since they were walking in the direction of a church, my wife came up with a Catholic answer — they were going to a midnight Mass. But that’s not where they were going. We found ourselves part of a pilgrimage of perhaps a couple of thousand, all of whom had had the same idea — climb Primrose Hill to watch the fireworks down around Trafalgar.

There were all sorts. Most seemed 20ish, and most had bottles. But there were older folks, and parents with small kids. Most were English, but I heard German and Spanish nearby.

Everyone had a blast, and it was fun to be among them. But the most remarkable thing was that, from here and there in the crowd, these big bags with little fiery things dangling from them kept drifting up. At one time, about 25 of these UFOs could be seen, drifting high toward the Thames. It was wonderful to watch (and so quiet, by comparison to fireworks).

Then came a ragged, spontaneous countdown, and bam! The fireworks went off over Trafalgar, to the delight of all.

It was wonderful. The weather was cool and damp, but not uncomfortably cold (just as it’s been since we’ve been here, which I love — I would have been so disappointed had it been sunny).

So that’s what we did for New Year’s. What did you do? Oh, wait — you haven’t done it yet. Well, whenever midnight does reach you, have a wonderful time, and be safe and careful.

And have a wonderful 2011. I plan to.

Then came the

Ruining my “typical” English breakfast with The Guardian

18 Replies

What is THE very most obnoxiously touristy thing I could do on my first day in London? Yes, you guessed right -- here, my granddaughter and I harass one of the Horse Guards.

First, an apology for not blogging more. Had major trouble connecting to the wi-fi at the hotel again. After working on it for about an hour and harassing the Polish night clerk for half that time, back in my room I finally got on. My wife asked me what I did differently. I explained that I entered the username and password with my left hand that time. True, there were other things I did as well. But the only one I remember was entering the login info with my left hand. So… there could be trouble again tomorrow.

Now, to report on a bit of my day… the very first bit… I’ll write about how The Guardian did its best to spoil the typical “English breakfast” that I had this morning. OK, modified English breakfast. First, I was eating it at an Italian bistro near the hotel (but they advertised it as a typical English breakfast). Then, I asked them to leave out the eggs and the toast (because of my allergies), and to substitute chips. Other than that, quite typical — bacon (OK, it was like bacon in the Great White North, but that’s what they called it), sausage (or should I say “banger”?), fried tomato, mushrooms, and baked beans (with a bit of HP sauce on it). And a couple of espressos. (But don’t call it espresso. I made the mistake of saying “another espresso” to the waitress — I was going by the foam — and she corrected me saying it was “black coffee.” No, black coffee was what I had at Starbucks later in the day. Whatever.)

It really fortified me for walking about all day in typical English weather (something like 45-50 degrees, totally overcast, occasional mist — which I’m loving; I’d be so disappointed if it were sunny). And I enjoyed it thoroughly.

But it was very nearly ruined by reading The Guardian, which someone had left in the restaurant. Actually, as it turned out, it was a two-day-old Guardian. But I didn’t realize that until later.

I guess you could call this post my British version of my Virtual Front Page, which I haven’t done in awhile. So enjoy.

The biggest news today, by the way, has been England winning the Ashes in Melbourne. This, apparently, is huge, since they haven’t done it in 24 years. But just try understanding the coverage of it. For instance, try diagramming the two sentences in this paragraph:

England had arrived knowing that they required four more wickets, but notionally three for the crippled Ryan Harris was never going to bat: no tail-ender in a surgical boot has ever batted out more than five sessions to secure a draw and they were not about to find out. Eventual victory did not come easily however and Andrew Strauss and his men had to wait until 40 minutes before lunch before Matt Prior swooped on to an inside edge from Ben Hilfenhaus, a fourth wicket for Tim Bresnan, and the entire team, along with a corner of a very large foreign field that was England, were able to erupt in their collective euphoria.

I don’t think understanding the jargon would help; I’m pretty sure those sentences are nongrammatical. Maybe it’s the punctuation. Anyway, we move on.

In the Monday paper, I read about Elton John having purchased a child in California. But that didn’t make much of an impression. Then, I read truly shocking news: David Cameron has called off a free vote on lifting the ban on hunting with dogs. I especially enjoyed this quote from Cameron:

Cameron, a self-confessed “shire Tory”, has said he is a country man at heart and favours hunting, but he recognises it is a highly divisive issue and would play to negative stereotypes around his party.

Bloody do-gooders. Bloody leftist rag I’m reading about it on. I mean, what’s the use of having a Tory government (or a coalition government in which the Tories dominate), if you can’t restore riding to the hounds? I mean, is this England? I wonder if Cameron was so mealy-mouthed in The Times. Harrumph.

But seriously, folks, that’s not what upset me. What upset me was this story:

The government is to follow the lead of The X Factor television programme and allow the public to decide on legislation to be put before MPs.

In an attempt to reduce what is seen as a disconnection between the public and parliament, ministers will ensure that the most popular petition on the government website Direct.gov.uk will be drafted as a bill. It is also planning to guarantee that petitions which reach a fixed level of support – most likely 100,000 signatures – will be guaranteed a Commons debate.

Ministerial sources acknowledge that the proposals have the potential to cause headaches for the coalition because populist causes célèbres – such as a return of capital punishment or withdrawal from the European Union – could come top of the list.

The leader of the Commons, Sir George Young, has signalled he wants to press ahead with government by petition in the new year.

There would be no guarantee that the government would support the most popular proposals but, subject to discussions, there would be an agreement that the issues would be converted by parliamentary draftsmen into a bill…

My God, direct democracy? Worse, reality-TV-style direct democracy. In Britain? I got here too late.

And I thought American politicians were the kings of pandering. Obviously not. I suppose this is what they mean when they say travel is broadening.

As you see, I didn't let The Guardian upset me SO much that I didn't finish the breakfast. Oh, as for the 15 quid on the tray -- that's not just for me; that's for three breakfasts, plus tip. And yes, I know The Shop Tart shows you her meals BEFORE she eats them, but I'm not The Shop Tart, am I? I'm more avant-guarde...

OK, we’re here — more later

10 Replies

Got to London, but…

  • The plug adapter I spent $20 bucks on at Radio Shack only has two holes on the American side, and I need three. I just bought it Sunday and threw it in the suitcase. I’m down to 14 percent battery power.
  • The Internet connection at the hotel is fitful. I finally connected after working with the guy at the front desk for about half an hour. They tell me that tomorrow, I’ll need a whole new password.
  • Oh, yes, the lift is out of order, and we’re on the third floor. So, a dilemma — after I carried half the EXTREMELY HEAVY suitcases up to the third floor and the bellhop carried the rest, should I tip him extra, or not at all, as I stand there huffing and puffing? I gave him three pounds, as it happens.

More when I have power…

Tinker, Tailor, Soldier, Tourist

10 Replies

Sitting in the Detroit airport, thinking about our eventual destination…

Maybe I’m not, as friends and family seem to think, Jethro. But I am an … idiosyncratic sort of tourist.

Sure, I want to see the usual things in and around London – the Tower, the Bridge, maybe Stonehenge when we get out of town. My granddaughter wants to see Mme. Tussaud’s. I will also reluctantly accompany her onto The Eye, even though the smallest carnival Ferris Wheels give me the fantods.

But I hope she and my wife will indulge me on a few somewhat more oblique digressions.

My notion of what to see Over There is heavily influenced by fiction. This means that I want to see places where people who never actually existed didn’t actually do the things that I read about. That means some of these sights aren’t much to look at, while some are entirely imaginary. But I want to see where they would be if they did exist. Hard to explain.

I’m not entirely alone in this. Some of the more esoteric (I thought) sights have been sought out by other fiction geeks ahead of me – which will save me time in “finding” them. Others are a bit more problematic.

Some examples:

  • The one that causes the most eyebrow-raising when I mention it (so I’ve stopped mentioning it) is Championship Vinyl. You know, the record shop in High Fidelity. Yes, I know it’s not real. But I want to find where it would be if it did exist. Fortunately, Nick Hornby supplies some good clues (“We’re in a quiet street in Holloway, carefully placed to attract the b are minimum of window-shoppers…” near Seven Sisters Road…). When I find the perfect location, I suspect it will be a vacant storefront or some such. Nevertheless, I’ll take a picture to prove I “found” it. And if I don’t find a likely location, I’ll console myself by heading over a few blocks to Arsenal Stadium (Fever Pitch).
  • I had thought no one else would ever think of this one, but I was wrong (link): I want to see the path in Hampstead Heath (just a few blocks from our hotel) where Gen. Vladimir was assassinated by Karla’s people at the start of Smiley’s People. Maybe I could even find the fork in the tree where George found the tattered packet of Gauloises with the crucial negative in it. If so, I’ll get a picture of that, too.
  • Of course, there’s always Smiley’s flat, and I know the actual address.
  • I’ll go see the new MI6 HQ, which le Carre called “the River House” in The Night Manager. But what I really want to see is The Circus. Fortunately, others have identified it as being this building. And it’s near some great book shops, so my wife might not mind this detour too much.
  • The Islington highway exit where Arthur Dent was dropped off when he returned to Earth at the start of So Long, and Thanks for All the Fish.
  • Tea at Fortnum’s. OK so this is a typical tourist thing. But here’s my reason for wanting to do it: When Percy Alleline confronts Peter Guillam in Tinker Tailor Soldier Spy, accusing him of consorting with “defector” Rikki Tarr, a long stream of things run through Guillam’s head in an instant (one of the best passages of that sort I’ve read outside Dostoevsky). But what he says is, “Sure, Chief. Rikki and I have tea at Fortnum’s every afternoon.” Like a couple of scalphunter tough guys would do that. His facetiousness saves him. Anyway, that’s what got me interested in having tea at Fortnum’s: I want to do something that two people who never existed didn’t even do in fiction. Also, I think my wife will enjoy it.
  • Finally, I’d really love to find some landmarks for the Aubrey/Maturin novels, but I know that after all this time it will be hard to find places that look just as they did in the early 19th century. For instance, can I find anything that looks like the Grapes, in the liberties of the Savoy? Or, is the old Admiralty building still in use, where Jack and other officers paced the First Lord’s waiting room, hoping for a ship? We’ll see…

So you see, I’ll be busy.

But you know what I want to do the most? Find and experience things I never even thought of, things I didn’t plan. The places and things I’ll just run across and be delighted by – those are the greatest rewards of travel, I find.

Don’t you?

See you — I’m off to England

4 Replies

Or not. They just announced a “maintenance problem” on our aircraft. To be fixed in a “coupla minutes.” We’ll see. But it just gives me time to dash off this note.

So I think we’re ready. Some last observations before leaving:

  • One reason I didn’t post yesterday was that I had some last-minute shopping to do, such as for a carry-on bag that will also hold my laptop. And I have this question:  What happened to the day after Christmas, which is supposed to be one of the biggest shopping days of the year? I went to WalMart and out to Harbison, and did not run into crowds anywhere. WalMart had several registers given over to “returns,” but there was no one lined up at them. And the “crowd” in the store might have been a midyear weekday. And after they pushed so hard to get rid of the blue law. Harbison was practically deserted — I got around MUCH more easily than on a typical weekend. So what happened? Did that uptick in consumer spending just crash, or were they waiting until today? Surely it wasn’t that little bit of snow, none of which was on the roads…
  • Speaking of Boxing Day — here’s hoping the London Tube workers got their little strike out of their system yesterday. What worries me is that the Boxing Day holiday is actually on Tuesday this year. Here’s hoping some of the workers didn’t think that was the day, since that’s the day I arrive. If I have trouble getting around London because of labour unrest, I’m voting Tory next time. Strikes? That’s SO Old Labour. It’s like they never heard of Tony Blair or something…
  • By the way, I’m totally set for thoroughly embarrassing my wife on this trip. When she saw me last night proudly showing off my new travel vest with all the pockets stuffed, she laughed uncontrollably. Then she seized control of my bulging wallet and forced me to give up most of the cards that I “wouldn’t need,’ in her opinion. She did let me keep the one with the Our Father in Spanish on it. Good thing she’s Catholic….
  • Speaking of embarrassing my wife — in spite of Kathryn Fenner’s urging, I’ve decided NOT to put on phony British accents wherever I go. After all, I’d probably use the wrong one in the wrong place — go all posh in a working-class pub or something — and get into trouble. No, I have a better plan: I’ll pass myself off as Irish…
  • It’s totally amazing that we didn’t have any trouble checking in at CAE, the way those things were stuffed. But I did have a spot of passport trouble. It wouldn’t scan, so they had to handle in manually. Here’s hoping I don’t have that trouble everywhere. Maybe I should have brought one of the others from the safe deposit box. The Bourne one, maybe…

I will check in with y’all as soon as I’m settled at the hotel. Assuming the laptop works there.

I’m really counting on British pluck here…

9 Replies

Here we are, five days from when I’m supposed to leave U.S. airspace, and I’m hearing a bunch of stuff I don’t want to hear:

Heathrow airport could remain in a state of partial paralysis beyond Christmas, its owner admitted yesterday, spelling misery for the tens of thousands of passengers who face the prospect of being stranded over the festive period.

BAA said two-thirds of flights into and out of Britain’s largest airport would be cancelled until at least Wednesday morning because it has the resources to keep only one of its two runways open.

Of course, that’s from those lefty alarmists at The Guardian, but even more sensible, conservative newspapers are saying distressing things. Even
The Times, if you’re willing to pay a quid to read it.

This morning, I was hearing that everything should be cleared up by Friday. Now we’re hearing the ominous “beyond Christmas,” which, after months of planning and years of anticipation, could potentially put a crimp in our plans.

My wife’s been reading cheery notices from the British rail system about all the salt they’ve bought, and how energetically they’re applying themselves to the problem.

And that’s what I’m counting on, you see. British pluck. Nothing like it. Go to it with a will, lads. I’ve all the faith in the world in you. Make this your finest hour, and clean up this mess. And don’t fear; I’m on the way…

Well, this sounds ominous…

5 Replies

A month from now, I’ll be in England. So I did feel a bit of empathy for a moment when I read this e-mail this morning:

How are you doing? I came over to England(UK) for a short vacation.
unfortunately,I was mugged at the park of the hotel where i stayed,all
cash, cell phones and credit card were stolen from me but luckily for
me i still have my passports with me.I’ve been to the Embassy and the
Metropolitan Police here but they’re not helping issues at all and my
flight leaves tomorrow but i am having problems settling the hotel
bills and the hotel management won’t let me leave until I settle the
bills. Please I really need your financial assistance..Please, Let me
know if you can help me out?

I’m looking forward to hearing from you.

Thanks and Regards,

Charlie.

But as it happens, I’m familiar with this come-on. And no, I don’t know this Charlie guy. He must think me a proper flat…

Far more useful than a phrase book…

4 Replies

Next month I’ll be traveling to England, so this video, which Kathryn brought to my attention, might come in handy. If I can only master these, I should be able to pass as a local wherever.

Excuse the language. Or as the young man says, ignore the words. Just listen to the accents.

I used to be good at accents when I was his age (although not so much now; I think our speech patterns get less elastic as time goes on). But I was never this good.

I would discuss this, but I don’t have time

9 Replies

The Juan Williams mess led to a long and provocative thread about normal fears and irrational prejudices, and what we should feel free to express about certain situations in modern life without getting fired for it.

And at some point, I posted the following in that thread, and it was so long I decided to make it into a separate post, even though, once I post it, I really need to move on to other stuff… Anyway, what I said was”

You know, there’s a whole conversation I’d be interested to have here about the way a healthy human brain works that takes this out of the realm of political correctness-vs.-Angry White Males, which is about as deep as we usually go.

But in the last week of an election, when I’m having trouble blogging at all, much less keeping up with all the election-related things I need to be writing about… I don’t have time to set out all my thoughts on the subject.

But to sort of give a hint…

What I’m thinking is this: There are certain things that we decry today, in the name of being a pluralistic society under the rule of law, that are really just commonsense survival strategies, things programmed into us by eons of evolution.

For instance, we sneer at people for being uneasy in certain situations — say, among a group of young males of a different culture or subculture. And we are right to sneer, to a certain extent, because we are enlightened modern people.

But, if our ancestors weren’t uneasy and ready to fight or flee in such a situation, they wouldn’t have lived to reproduce, and we wouldn’t be here. Thousands of years ago, people who felt all warm and fuzzy and wanted to celebrate multiculturalism when in the company of a bunch of guys from the rival tribe got eaten for dinner, and as a result, those people are NOT our ancestors. We inherited our genes from the edgy, suspicious, cranky people — the racists and nativists of their day.

Take that to the next level, and we recognize that such tendencies are atavistic, and that it’s actually advantageous in our modern market economy governed by liberal democracies to be at ease with folks from the other “tribes.” In fact, the more you can work constructively with people who are different, the more successful you will be at trade, etc.

So quite rightly we sneer at those who haven’t made the socio-evolutionary adjustment. They are not going to get the best mates, etc., because chicks don’t dig a guy who’s always itching for a fight. So they’re on the way out, right?

However… the world hasn’t entirely changed as much as we think it has. There are still certain dangers, and the key is to have the right senses to know when you need to be all cool and open and relaxed, and when you need to be suspicious as hell, and ready to take evasive or combative action.

This requires an even higher state of sophistication. Someone who is always suspicious of people who are different is one kind of fool. Someone who is NEVER suspicious of people who are different (and I’m thinking more of people with radically different world views — not Democrats vs. Republicans, but REALLY different — more than I am people wearing funny robes) is another kind of fool.

The key, ultimately, is not to be any kind of fool. The key is to be a thoughtful, flexible survivor who gets along great with the Middle-eastern-looking guy in the airport queue or the Spanish-speakers in the cereals aisle at Walmart, but who is ready to spring into action to deal with the Middle-eastern-looking guy in seat 13A who’s doing something weird with the smoking sole of his shoe (or the Aryan guy doing the same, but my point is that you don’t give the Arab pass in such a situation just to prove how broad-minded you are), or the Spanish-speaking guy wielding an AK-47 over a drug deal…

This may seem common sense, but there are areas in which we will see conflicts between sound common sense and our notions of rigid fairness in a liberal democracy. For instance, I submit that an intelligent person who deals with the world as it is will engage in a certain amount of profiling. I mean, what is profiling, anyway, but a gestalten summation of what you’ve learned about the world in your life, applied to present and future situations? The ability to generalize, and act upon generalizations — without overdoing it — are key life skills.

There are certain traits that put you on guard and make you particularly vigilant under particular circumstances, or you are a fool. If you’re in an airport and you see a group of 20-something Mediterranean-looking males (and young males from ANY culture always bear more watching than anyone else — sorry, guys, but y’all have a long rap sheet) unaccompanied by women or children or old men, and they’re muttering and fidgeting with something in their bags… you’re not very bright if you don’t think, “This bears watching.”

Now of course, knowing this, if I’m a terrorist organization, I’m going to break up that pattern as much as I can. (I’ll have them travel separately, wear western clothes, coach them not to seem furtive, etc. I’ll recruit middle-aged women if I can, although they generally have far too much sense.) So if you’re watching this scene, and you are intelligent, you’re bound to think, “These guys look SO suspicious that they must be innocent, because terrorists aren’t that stupid…” Well, yeah, they can be. Let me submit the evidence of the guy who set his underpants on fire… So there’s such a thing as overthinking the situation. I mean, how bright is a guy who wants to blow himself up to make a point? People who do that ALSO don’t reproduce, so evolution militates against it…

Anyway, I’d go on and on about this, and examine all the implications, and endeavor to challenge the assumptions of people of all political persuasions… but I don’t have time this week.

Hang down your head, candidate

5 Replies

A piece I read in the WSJ this morning reminded me of a picture I shot with my phone while at a stoplight in Birmingham Friday. The story was about candidates with unusual names, such as Young Boozer, Krystal Ball and Isaac Hayes:

It might come as no surprise in these tumultuous times that a Young Boozer is running for Alabama state treasurer.

Young Boozer introduces himself on the stump as, “Young Boozer and yes, that’s my real name.” He says each audience is made up of three parts. The first wonders, “Is that the guy’s real name?” The second says, “‘What’s his father’s name, Old Boozer?”‘ The rest already know him.

Mr. Boozer, 61 years old, is the third consecutive Young Boozer in his family. He coined the motto, “funny name, serious leadership,” after realizing on the campaign trail the political advantage the elder Young Boozers had passed along. Previously, the Boozers were associated mostly with sports. Mr. Boozer’s father, Young Boozer, Jr., was a football star at the University of Alabama, where he faced off in the Rose Bowl against a Stanford player named Tom Collins.

“I’ve always been a Boozer,” jokes the candidate. The family name is so unusual that “once you hear it, you never forget it,” he says. Still, “I didn’t think it was funny when I was growing up because my dad was so well known.”…

I’m sorry if you can’t make out the blurry image above, but it urges people to vote for Tom Dooley for Alabama state board of education. (So yes, in Alabama, voters have the opportunity to vote for both a famous name from an iconic folk song, and Young Boozer.)

This sparked a conversation between my wife and me — one of those kinds of conversations that are rare in this era of Google. I couldn’t consult the Blackberry while driving, and so we tried to remember… we both knew about the folk song, and to the great regret of the other occupants of the car, I was able to sing four lines of it, repeatedly, before I got stuck:

Hang down your head, Tom Doo-ley.

Hang down your head and cry.

Hang down your head, Tom Dooley.

Poor boy, you’re gonna die…

Beyond that, we didn’t know much. I was thinking the song was about a man condemned some notorious, long-forgotten murder. My wife said yes, but the defendant was a doctor. I said I didn’t know about that, but I did know… and launched into my four lines again.

Well, now that Wikipedia is at hand, I can report that:

  • The song was about the 1866 murder in North Carolina of a woman named Laura Foster.
  • Tom Dula was hanged for the murder in 1868, after two trials.
  • Dula was pronounced “Dooley” in Appalachian dialect, as a result of the same linguistic quirk that led to the current pronunciation and spelling of Grand Ole Opry.
  • Several versions of the song, first sung shortly after Dula’s execution, were recorded in the first half of the 20th century. By far the most famous was by The Kingston Trio in 1958, which was a huge crossover hit and is widely credited with launching the folk boom of the early 60s.
  • At the time that hit recording came out, a Dr. Tom Dooley (Thomas Anthony Dooley III) was famous as an international humanitarian. (Since he was an American Catholic, I’m guessing my wife heard a lot about him from the nuns at school.)
  • It’s not “gonna die,” but “bound to die.”

Oh, finally — turns out the Tom Dooley running for school board is also “Dr. Tom Dooley,” according to his Web site.

And that’s all I know about Tom Dooley.

Aren’t you glad you weren’t stuck in a car with me driving for 20 hours over the weekend? I won’t even get into the thoughts I had when I saw in Memphis a sign telling me that Ned Ray McWherter’s boy is running for governor…

Is Joe Neal moonlighting in Memphis?

2 Replies

Went to the Rendezvous for Charlie Vergos’ famous dry-rub ribs Friday night, and was really surprised when I looked down at the menu.

Is it just me, or is that guy a dead ringer for our own Joe Neal, preacher and legislator?

I don’t think it’s just me. When I got back and took a look at his official picture on the legislative Web site (the same one that has Nikki as “Mrs. William Michael”), Joe looked even more like the guy on the menu than I had remembered.

I’m impressed. For an SC lawmaker to have such a connection, however coincidental, to the unparalleled Memphis barbecue tradition is worth celebrating…

The Chinese water torture approach to campaigning

4 Replies

Yesterday, driving back from Memphis where we had gone for a wedding, I came close to throwing the Blackberry out the window somewhere near Birmingham.

When I get an e-mail on the Blackberry, it buzzes twice. When I get a phone call, it also buzzes twice, before ringing. So whenever I get two vibrations, I tense up, waiting for the phone call. Which is no big deal most of the time, but pretty irritating. So imagine how I felt about the Rob Miller campaign after the follow messages buzzed me:

2:21 PM — “FACT CHECK: Joe Wilson Says He Has Created Jobs”

2:38 PM — “FACT CHECK: Butch Wallace, Paid Nearly $100,000 for part-time work”

2:39 PM — “FACT CHECK: Joe Wilson on the Wall Street Bailout”

2:40 PM — “FACT CHECK: Joe Wilson Says Rob Miller is a Nancy Pelosi Liberal”

2:44 PM — “FACT CHECK: Joe Wilson Says 16,500 IRS Agents Will Be Hired To Enforce The New Healthcare Law”

2:49 PM — “FACT CHECK: Congressman Wilson’s son received loans from a bailed-out bank”

3:04 PM — “FACT CHECK: Joe Wilson is a Fiscal Conservative”

3:11 PM — “FACT CHECK: Joe Wilson Touts Dangerous Defense Cuts”

3:12 PM — “FACT CHECK: Joe Wilson Says He Supports Tax Cuts”

3:14 PM — “FACT CHECK: Wilson Says he Wants to Protect Social Security”

3:16 PM — “FACT CHECK: Wilson Spent Over $920 Per Month in Taxpayer Money to Rent a Car for His Personal Use, More Than All But 8 Other Congressman”

3:20 PM — “FACT CHECK: Joe Wilson Says He Supports Veterans”

3:30 PM — “FACT CHECK: Wilson & The Savannah River Site”

I am guessing this had something to do with the debate between Miller and Wilson yesterday. But you know what? I don’t care. I’m still pretty ticked about it. Who on Earth thought it would be a good idea to do this to people on a Sunday afternoon?

bradwarthen.coffee

4 Replies

Who’d like to invest in a coffee shop in Surfside Beach that is designed purely as a place for people to take their laptops and connect via wi-fi?

There’s a real gap in the market there. And the public library that was my refuge last week has its limitations. For instance, my son-in-law, who is a economist/consultant, needed wi-fi in a place where he could simultaneously talk on the phone — so he ended up going to a Starbucks way up in Myrtle Beach. (Even there, I don’t know how welcome he was, talking into his cell phone in a public place, which suggests the need for a better place that is all ABOUT connectivity.)

OK, maybe “bradwarthen.coffee” is a goofy name for the place — maybe I should get my fellow ad wizards at ADCO to work on it — but I was thinking that it needs a name that tells people it exists for bloggers (like Tim Kelly, who also vacations there and has to go to McDonald’s of all places to get connected) and others who can’t get through their vacations without a reliable place to connect.

This is a bit of a throwback — a decade or two — to the old “Internet cafes” that existed before access was widespread. But I think that in a vacation spot like that that lacks a Starbucks or a Panera, it would have a real chance to catch on.

The money would be made from coffee and snacks, as one certain source of revenue, but they would not be the main attraction. And while my first instincts are that the wi-fi must be free, if it were inviting and accommodating enough (with amenities like LOTS of electrical outlets so you don’t have to jockey for those spaces, and maybe soundproof booths for those needing to teleconference and such) perhaps the market would bear a small fee for the access. I don’t know. This is just the beginning of an idea…

God doesn’t want me blogging this week

7 Replies

Don’t believe me? Well, here’s the evidence:

  • The place where I used to blog when I was here closed. It was a coffee shop called Jacob’s Java. Actually, it was only sorta kinda nominally a coffee shop. They didn’t care whether you bought anything. But it had free wi-fi, and you could sit there as long as you like, as there was never any danger of being in the way of actual customers. The reason this was so was that it was a front for a commercial bakery. The local building codes required that there be a retail business in that location, so they put a coffee shop in front of the bakery to cover that technicality. Anyway, after Jacob’s Java closed last year, I was driving past and saw the owner of the NEW business, a sub shop, out doing something to the facade. I asked whether he, too, would have free w-fi, and he said no.
  • Before I came down here, I contacted Tim Kelly, who I knew from Twitter had been here last week (social media is such a wonderful surveillance tool; it makes each of us into a Big Brother), to see if he’d found a replacement spot to blog. He said all he’d found was McDonald’s. Well, McDonald’s isn’t a very conducive environment, and it’s not nearly as convenient to the house anyway, and I’m mainly here to spend time with my family, not run all over creation to try to blog amid the Big Macs. So that was out.
  • My wife’s brother and sister-in-law are here with their kids, and the second night we were here the sister-in-law went on a quest for wi-fi. She thought she’d found it in a Dunkin’ Donuts the next town over, but she could never get connected.
  • Then, yesterday, my oldest daughter arrived with her little netbook that is perpetually connected via Verizon. So I sat down with that and put up the post about Vincent Sheheen slam-dunking Nikki Haley on her chosen issue, having just read the e-mails that informed me of those developments. But then my daughter told me she gets a finite amount of data per month on her account, so that option was out.
  • Then, my middle daugher informed me that last time SHE was here, the sub shop — which was formerly Jacob’s Java — DID have wi-fi. Which made perfect sense; I guess the owner wised up. So I went there midafternoon yesterday — to find that it had closed at 2.
  • My daughter said she found yet another place, although it was a restaurant where you feel funny just sitting there and not ordering a meal. But I filed that as a backup option.
  • Then today I went to the sub shop. I offered to buy coffee, but was told “We’re not a coffee shop anymore.” Yeah, I know. But she didn’t mind me using the wi-fi — though it was lunchtime, the place was deserted — so I set up. And realized I had not brought my power cord. It was back in Columbia. Fine. I would blog fast. But then my laptop had issues, and I had to reboot once or twice, and after doing all that STILL wasn’t connected. So I left in frustration.
  • But my wife had suggested something as I walked out the door today — the public library! Doh! How could I have not have thought of that? Wonderful government services are always there when the cold, heartless marketplace lets you down! So I came here to the library, and… still couldn’t connect. Then I realized what I had been too flustered to realize at the sub shop: You have to take the steps to connect to the router first. I’ve grown so accustomed to having that set up to happen automatically at the places where I usually use the laptop, I had forgotten something so basic. So now I’m up and running.
  • But my battery is running down, and it occurs to me that I might need it for something urgent. So this it it for now.

As I said, God doesn’t want me blogging this week. And I’m fine with that. I’ve spent all my time with my family, and that’s better any time.

The Midlands Aviation Summit today

16 Replies

Went to the Midlands Aviation Summit today at the convention center, which was the community’s chance to hear airport consultant Michael Boyd of Boyd Group International (above) assessing the state of, and future prospects for, Columbia Metropolitan Airport.

As you can see below, there was a pretty decent turnout of concerned folks. They ran the gamut from professional ecodevo types from the Chamber, the Midlands Alliance and Midlands Authority for Conventions, Sports & Tourism to business travelers with a beef about the cost of parking at CAE.

Some main points from what he said:

  • “That scraping sound is not an iceberg.” The fact that Southwest chose Charleston and Greenville and not Columbia is not a huge deal. Southwest is what it is, and he doesn’t see it as the cure for Columbia’s ills. It’s not “the giant sucking sound.”
  • While we might have challenges with fares and losing passengers to Charlotte, for business purposes CAE provides what Columbia needs — connections to where business travelers need to be.
  • Main thing travel into and out of Columbia needs to be is reliable, to not have our flights be among those that get canceled when there’s a rainstorm.
  • Airlines don’t care about our civic enthusiasm. They don’t want to view cute or pleading videos. Don’t send them the mayor. What they care about is whether they’re going to make any money, because nobody’s taking risks these days.
  • No, don’t start your own airline. Air South? “We don’t talk about that in polite society.”
  • What can civic-minded folks who want to see the airport grow as a boost to the local economy DO? Check out the local airport first. Don’t assume it can’t meet your needs. Give it a chance.
  • We just don’t have enough traffic — enough passengers on big enough airplanes — to bring down fares. When someone pointed out that smaller airports such as Florence and Augusta have lower fares, he said he had no idea why. “I used to be in airline pricing, so I have no understanding of it whatsoever.”
  • The cost of parking is not a problem.

On that last one I had to challenge him. When he said “Nobody cares about the cost of parking,” several people around me muttered, “I care.” I told him that, and also told him that I hear all the time from people who have run the numbers, and come out ahead paying for the gas to drive to Charlotte and park there. I added that even if it didn’t make sense, even if it were totally irrational, it would still be a real problem we had to deal with. Airport Executive Director Dan Mann told me afterward that he gets it. Perception is reality.

(It occurs to me that next time local governments want to invest money in boosting air travel, rather than starting an airline, maybe they could help the airport lower those parking costs. I realize it’s based on the need to pay for the capital investment, but maybe there’s some way to restructure the debt. Or something.)

On the lower pricing in Augusta and Florence… I was glad someone brought that up, and somewhat disappointed he couldn’t tell us why that was the case. But it occurs to me that there must be some reason, his joke about the illogical nature of pricing aside. And if we could find out that reason, and apply it here, it would help.

Based on what Mr. Boyd said and a brief conversation with Dan Mann after the presentation, the thinking seems to be that Columbia’s best chance for expansion of air service lies with Delta, not USAirways. So our local economic developers in the air transportation field are likely to be looking more to Atlanta, less to Charlotte.

Toll road operator goes bankrupt

9 Replies

This should give us pause. I’ve often thought we ought to experiment more with toll roads in South Carolina to help us back for our huge backlog of maintenance needs.

Then again, maybe not.

This just in from the Columbia Regional Business Report:

Developer of Upstate toll road files for bankruptcy protection

The nonprofit organization created to develop the Southern Connector toll road in Greenville County has filed for bankruptcy protection, seeking to reorganize some $300 million in debt tied to the road’s development .
Piedmont-based Connector 2000 Association Inc. said in its bankruptcy filing today that it is insolvent and unable to reach a debt restructuring agreement with its creditors. According to bankruptcy records, the association owes $278 million to U.S. Bank National Association and $90.9 million to HSBC Bank USA.
The nonprofit organization was created in 1996 to help the S.C. Department of Transportation finance and construct the Southern Connector in Greenville County. More than $200 million in bonds were sold in 1998 to build the 16-mile toll road, which extends from the intersection of Interstates 185 and 385 to the intersection of US 276 and I-385.
The association said traffic has been significantly lower than original projections and that it has failed to pay some of the interest and principal due on the bonds.
The S.C. Department of Transportation will file a response with the bankruptcy court by the end of the summer and will not comment on the case until that time, said spokesman Pete Poore.

Southwest Air to Columbia: Drop Dead

1 Reply

Perhaps there’s some angle to this story that hasn’t been reported yet, some angle that will mean GOOD news for a change about air fares out of Columbia. But so far I’m not seeing any. In fact, this Charleston story doesn’t even mention that other city in the middle of the state:

Southwest Airlines has set a course for South Carolina.

The low-fare carrier said today it would launch service at both Charleston International and Greenville-Spartanburg International airports. The deal came after weeks of debate over proposed incentives to lure a discount airline. Southwest said it would offer the flights without any public assistance, aside from routine start-up help from Charleston International Airport.

The Dallas-based airline will start flights to and from South Carolina within the year. It will spend the next four or five months studying which cities to connect with the Palmetto State.

Officials estimate the airline will bring in 200,000 additional passengers annually.

Charleston’s cry for discount flights recently reached fever pitch in the wake of soaring rates after AirTran Airways’ December departure. Passengers watched as tickets to New York, for example, soared from a little more than $200 round-trip without a required overnight stay to nearly $800.