Well I’m Leaving On A Concord, Don’t Know When . . . I’m Back!

For one who now cannot stand to travel, I certainly did a lot more of it than I thought I would this Summer. There was a time when I used to love to fly, but these days it just isn't fun anymore. Thus, when I needed to reserve a flight on short notice several months back, I approached the task with great trepidation.

Now don't get me wrong: for my nephew’s bris I would gladly overpay for a flight that would take me twice as long as it should. I was just hoping that I wouldn’t have to go to such lengths. Naturally, the first place I checked for a flight was with Southwest Airlines, but their prices weren’t all that great, and every time I checked out different flight times, the cheaper flights were gone. So it was with some skepticism that I then checked Air Tran.

To my great surprise, not only did I find a flight that was almost half the price of the cheapest one on Southwest, but it was also direct both ways. This was a very good thing, because as much as I thought I would go to any length to get to the bris, I’m not sure I would have been able to handle flying Air Tran with layovers. You see, there’s a really good reason why I didn't want to check Air Tran, and though this story happened over four years ago, I still shudder when I think about it.

The time was President's Day weekend, 2005. My wife and I had decided it would be nice to visit our family down in Florida over the extended weekend, and since we were going to be renting a car, we chose to save a few bucks on the tickets. This meant that we would have a short layover in Atlanta on the way down and back. Thank goodness we didn’t opt for long layovers.

On the way down, our flight out of Baltimore was delayed a little over an hour, but seeing as how we had a two hour layover in Atlanta, we didn’t think much of it. In the end, our 6 p.m. flight left at 7:15, but that still didn’t pose a problem. No, the problem came when we got to Atlanta. Our connecting flight had been delayed somewhere down the line and was “on schedule” to arrive two hours late. So, instead of our connecting flight being at 9:45, it was to be around 11:45. Well, our connection airplane didn’t actually land until 11:45. We finally left the gate at 12:15, and woke up my brother at 2 a.m. Having left for BWI airport at 3:30 p.m. the day before, and finally landed at 1:30 a.m. in Fort Lauderdale, that put our overall travel time at 10 hours. That was the good part.

The best word to describe our return trip would be “Nightmare”. Yes, with a capital “N”. We left for the airport that day at 1 p.m. Our flight was to be at 3:15, but inclement weather (of course) delayed our airplane’s previous flight for two-and-a-half hours. It didn’t even leave from the other airport until an hour after we were supposed to leave from ours! At one point, concerned that we would miss our 6:30 connection in Atlanta, we enquired as to the status of that flight and any other later flights from Atlanta to Baltimore. The answer: No, there weren’t any more flights to BWI after ours, but that was okay, since our connecting airplane was already three-and-a-half hours behind schedule!

Well, as luck would have it, due to missed flight windows and all, we didn’t actually take-off from Fort Lauderdale until a little after 6:30, and so when we arrived in Atlanta, we figured we would actually have a shorter layover than originally planned. Were we ever wrong. We ended up waiting for almost six agonizing hours until, at last, our connecting flight landed at 12:50. We finally unlocked the door to our house at 3:15 a.m., for a grand total travel time of 24 hours and 15 minutes!

As bad as that ordeal was, I still smile when I think about it. Now you must be thinking, what could I ever have to smile about, right? However, one of the funniest things I have ever seen was during this trip. No, it wasn't the 45-minute (instead of two-minute) epic fail test of the Atlanta airport’s fire alarm at 11:30 p.m. While all of us laughed like drunken idiots every time the alarm started again and again . . . and again, it was really just because we all thought how fitting for us to have to endure that as well. No, what was truly special and unforgettable was this: the husband and wife Maryland State Troopers who were laughing their butts off while watching a DVD. It wasn’t that they looked silly, that they had funny laughs, or that it was just plain weird to see State Troopers laughing—I've seen stranger and funnier sights. So what made this sight so hysterical that it could be the saving grace of such a travesty of a trip, you ask? Well, after about 40 minutes of the cackles and guffaws, I worked up the courage to walk over and ask them what was so funny. While laughing so hard he had tears in his eyes, the man swiveled his LCD screen toward me so I could see. They were watching C.O.P.S.

Lite for All*

According to today’s front page of The Baltimore Sun, rookie pitcher Brad Bergeson recorded his first game in which he actually competed. Considering the way the Orioles have been playing of late, I’m glad to hear that. However, the last I checked, “Compete Games” was not a statistic in baseball, nor any other sport. If I had to guess as why, I would say that it’s because the very nature of sports is competitiveness. Therefore, I correctly inferred from the blurb that Bergeson had actually recorded a “complete” game.

This and many other typos have, sadly, become rampant in The Sun. I wonder if there were any proofreaders left before the last round of layoffs? It appears certain to me that there aren’t any left now. This error only proves—once again—that Spell Check is not a suitable replacement for a human.

Now perhaps such issues aren’t bothersome to the average reader. As for those who, like me, proofread or edit for a living, I can tell you that these mistakes are increasingly irksome. Case in point: in the same paper, the last blurb in the Around the Horn section on the Orioles page (Sports, page 5) states that Bergeson’s complete game was the first by an Oriole since last year. This statement appears right next to the Orioles 2009 statistics, which show that Jeremy Guthrie has a complete game as well.

So remind me again, I ask myself, why I still subscribe to The Sun? Oh, right, it’s for the coupons that were missing from my Sunday paper this week.

*Author’s Note: The Baltimore Sun’s slogan is “Light for All”. My use of the word “Lite” is meant as a pun, showing a correctly spelled, but incorrectly used word that wouldn’t be caught by Spell Check, as well as noting how the current Baltimore Sun resembles a “lite” version of what the paper used to be—both in size and staff.

I Love Trance and Progressive, So Queue Another Track in the Playlist, Baby!

Upon learning this little tidbit about me, almost everyone has asked, “What the hell is wrong with you?” (Or something like that.) Well, I want to set the record straight: There is nothing wrong with me, so please allow me to enlighten you all as to some of the reasons for my musical preference. Who knows, I just might get you interested in the genre as well!

Just because I love Trance doesn’t mean I don’t like other genres (or, as you might say, normal music). Since my father is a musician (Guitarist), I was introduced to music—more specifically, Rock and Roll—at a very early age (when I was around 2). I can remember watching his garage band practice and, while they were taking a break, sitting on a drum stool banging away on the snare, while my feet dangled high above the foot pedals. My dad once told me that my favorite request was for the song Rock and Roll Band, by Boston—only I would call it You Away. (Incidentally, the phrase “You Away” isn’t in the lyrics, but what do you want from me? I was 2 years old!) To this day, I am still a big fan of Rock, as well as Alternative Rock. So how does someone get from Rock to Trance? The answer, my friend, is not as complicated as you might think.

One day during my second year of University, I walked into my friend’s room. He was studying and listening to Trance. “How can you study and listen to this garbage?” I asked. He informed me that it was quite easy, and actually helpful. I thought he was nuts and soon left him to his weird, high-BPM (beats per minute) music. Little did I know I would eventually think the same way.

I would have to say that the event that converted me was really quite spectacular (and quite a spectacle as well). Near the end of a trip to Israel, I found myself in the Central Bus Station in Tel-Aviv. I had some time to kill, so I went looking for some music. One of the stores I walked into was playing a trance CD. The music didn’t bother me, so I didn’t leave. Then, a few minutes later, it happened: customers started dancing in the aisles. Seeing this, the guy behind the counter turned up the volume, and I suddenly found myself in a mini-rave. It was awesome! I immediately purchased the CD they were playing. The rest, as they say, is history.

I suppose you could say I was ripe for the picking. I was sick and tired of hearing the same songs over and over again on the radio, and, before you knew it, there was another commercial break—which seemingly every station hit at the same time. So I started listening to a couple of weekly Trance shows and found that not only were the DJs constantly playing new music, but there also were never any inappropriate or crass lyrics. Better yet: there were no commercials!

What’s that you ask? Where can I listen to some Trance and Progressive music? Well, the shows I listen to are Markus Schulz’s Global DJ Broadcast, and Armin van Buuren’s A State of Trance. Both shows are two hours long and conveniently air back-to-back every Thursday from noon to 4 p.m. (E.S.T.) on di.fm. Now, just to give you an idea of the variety I mentioned above, Armin plays approximately 700 new tunes over the course of a year. That’s right, 700! Regular radio stations, which have 166 more hours of air-time a week don’t even come close to that. I’m not sure they play even one-quarter of that amount.

So, considering everything I have told you, why would you listen to anything else? If you need any more incentive, maybe you should try this little experiment: Note down every time you hear Second Chance by Shinedown on the radio. When you get to 20 times in one week (or more like one day) and are completely fed up, maybe try tuning in to some Trance music, say, for four hours on Thursday. I promise you won’t be let down.

Stop! In the Name of . . . Matzah?!

Wednesday night marked the beginning of the Jewish holiday of Passover. Commemorating the Jews’ Exodus from Egypt some 3,300 years ago, Passover is noted for two main things: a festive meal (called a Seder) on the first and second nights of the holiday, and eight days of eating matzah. For those of you who don't know, matzah is basically bread in cracker form . . . and the single most destructive force in the universe!

So why eat matzah? Well, as the story goes: when the Israelites were freed by the Egyptian Pharaoh, they were told to “Leave now!” (“. . . and never come back!” as Smeagol would say.) Not wanting to give the Pharaoh a chance to harden his heart (or swallow his tears, as Quarterflash would say) like he had done after witnessing all the previous plagues, Moses told the Israelites to pack it in and head on out—posthaste! Baking bread would obviously not fulfill the “posthaste” part, so they had to bring whatever they had on hand or could make in a very short time. Since matzah could be made in under 18 minutes from the combining of ingredients (water and flour) until being fully-cooked, that was what they made.

Legend has it that one woman decided she would have time to actually bake bread and still catch up with the others. I mean, let's face it: the entire nation was picking up and leaving! If the lines to cross the Nile bridge were bad when just the men were going to work, foot traffic that night was going to be horrendous! So this woman, let’s call her Yenta, started pulling out all the ingredients for bread and found she was completely out of yeast. Well, Yenta knew that her good friend, coincidentally (or not) also named Yenta, had some yeast, so Yenta went over to Yenta’s. When she got there, the Yentas started to shmooze (as yentas will do).

Yenta 1: Hi! Can I borrow some yeast? Solomon’s packing for the exodus and asked me to put together some food, so I decided to bake some bread.
Yenta 2: Sure! Come in! Hey, did you hear that Pharaoh’s firstborn was smitten tonight?
Yenta 1: No! Really? Well, the other day I was talking to Shifra the mid-wife, and she told me that she delivered sextuplets for Judith! Again! I swear, she must be using fertility reeds.
Yenta 2: Ain’t that the truth! You know, Abiram’s wife thinks her husband has been spiking his Haroseth again, since he keeps insisting that Moses killed an Egyptian taskmaster.
Yenta 1: That doesn’t surprise me: Abiram and his pal, Dathan, always liked to hit the sauce.
Yenta 2: Hey, didn’t you want to borrow something?
Yenta 1: Hmm, I forgot what I needed!
Yenta 2: Oh, well. Let’s make some fresh bread and have some tea. Say, what do you know about fertility reeds? Saul and I have been having trouble conceiving. . . .

And on they went straight through until morning, when it occurred to them that it was pretty darn quiet outside. When they went to check, they found that everyone had left. Stunned (and not a little bit angry) that their husbands had forgotten them, they went back inside—where they decided to wait until, realizing their error, their husbands would return for them. They were still sitting there in Yenta 2’s living room when Pharaoh returned from the Red Sea, his entire army drowned within. Thinking to have the final say, he brought Yentas 1 and 2 into the palace, vowing never to set them free. One hellish week of mindless gossip later, he gave them horses, provisions, and maps and begged them to leave. This came to be known as the Second Exodus.

Getting back to matzah, what, I hear you asking, makes it so dangerous? Well, much like Tolkien’s Lembas, matzah is a waybread. The only difference being that whereas a single bite of Lembas was “able to fill a grown man’s belly for a whole day,” matzah can fill a grown man’s intestines for at least a whole day. Usually it's more like two or three days. There have even been some rare instances where its effects lasted up to a week!

I am reminded now of a Passover many years ago, when my mother prepared a “special” dish. Cholent, a Sabbath staple in Jewish households, is a meat stew that is largely comprised of beans and barley. However, since both beans and barley are forbidden to be consumed on Passover, my mother had to improvise when preparing the Sabbath food for that holiday. It was thus that she came to make a beef stew with the secret ingredient of prunes “for medicinal purposes.” I don’t remember how it tasted, but I do remember that my bowels thanked her. Profusely.

This year, late Friday afternoon (the second day of Passover), I was awakened from my nap by a strange noise. As I became more alert, I thought the sound—simultaneously haunting, yet also ecstatic—to have been a trick of hearing as a result of my waking dream. This was not the case, however, as ten minutes later (and ten pounds lighter) I knew the sound for what it was: my neighborhood’s collective sigh of relief.

Now the Nightmare’s Real: Now Dr. Horrible Is Here....

Today I would like to talk about the Internet sensation known as Dr. Horrible’s Sing-Along Blog. Most (if not all) of you reading this are now probably thinking: “What’s that, some kind of karaoke blog?” Well, I’m here to tell you that no, it’s not . . . at least, not really.

Dr. Horrible is a little project that Joss Whedon put together during the 2008 Writer’s Guild strike. Basically, he got a bunch of his friends (and family) together to work on a self-financed short film. The beauty of it was, since there was no big studio or distributor involved, everyone who worked on it would get a share in the profits. And even if they weren’t paid up front or upon completion of the project, it was certainly better than sitting on their duffs while writers hung out in picket lines and Hollywood lost millions. But I’m not interested in talking about the brilliant marketing campaign (which was further enhanced when Whedon’s insanely-large fan base started spreading the word) or the initial release strategy (it was free to watch on-line during its first week); rather, I’m interested in talking about the movie itself—or, more specifically, the cast.

Let’s begin with lead actor Neil Patrick Harris—portrayer of Dr. Horrible and newcomer to the stable of actors in the Whedonverse. Many of you will remember Neil from the classic television show Doogie Howser, M.D. and, currently, How I Met Your Mother. But, unless you are a serious Harris fans, most of you do not know he can sing. I mean REALLY sing. My wife was unaware of this particular talent, and immediately fell in love with him. When she asked if I knew, I told her that years ago I had seen him perform a song with the then-current Broadway cast of RENT on Late Night with Conan O’Brien. (Given her feelings towards RENT, she fell even more in love with Neil—if that were at all possible.) Oh, he happens to have excellent comedic chops as well. If you need any more encouragement, he just won the first Streamy award for Best Male Actor in a Comedy Web Series for his work on Dr. Horrible.

Next up is the relatively unknown supporting actress Felicia Day, who plays Penny—Dr. Horrible’s love interest. Some of you may recognize Felicia from a story arc in Buffy the Vampire Slayer, but if you tell me that you remember seeing her in some recent SEARS commercial, then I’ll tell you that you watch too much television. She is no stranger to the web series format as she can be seen on The Guild, which just finished its second season. Coincidentally, she too just won a Streamy for her work on The Guild. Her excellent performance here should be the catalyst she needs for bigger roles.

Finally, we get to supporting actor (and Whedon veteran) Nathan Fillion, who plays Captain Hammer—Dr. Horrible’s arch nemesis. You may know Nathan from his (in my opinion) defining role of Captain Malcolm Reynolds on the Whedon-created series Firefly and its follow-up movie Serenity. Currently, he can be seen on the new and quite enjoyable Castle on ABC. As Captain Hammer, Fillion is perfectly cast and nearly steals the show. (Some might argue that there is no “nearly” about it.) Well-known for hamming it up, Fillion was surprised (and quite excited) by these instructions from Joss: “More cheese. Cheesier!” The result was like adding C4 to dynamite. It seems only fitting, then, that late in the second act Nathan gets to utter what is possibly the greatest one-liner of all time. I highly advise against eating or drinking while watching this portion as you may very well end up doing a spit take. It’s that good.

Getting back to the film, some of you may be wondering: “Why is it a sing-along?” Well, remember how I already mentioned that Neil Patrick Harris does some singing in this thing? Guess what? So do Felicia Day and Nathan Fillion! (I know! Forget about Neil. Who knew Nathan could sing?!) See, this is actually a musical about superheroes and super villains. And, while seemingly presumptuous, the title is completely truthful: the songs are so catchy that not only will you find yourself humming them shortly after watching the movie, but you will also be singing along with them upon subsequent viewings. (And there WILL be subsequent viewings!)

Back in December, when Dr. Horrible was about to be released on DVD, I advised some of my friends to just buy it—it would be the best $10 they spent over the holiday season. And now, dear friends, I am advising you the same. (No, you don’t have to wait until the end of the year to make the purchase.) The DVD really is worth every bit (and more) of the $10, and its price makes it a great filler item if you wanted to get a book or two on Amazon but not pay shipping. In fact the only thing that I find lacking on the DVD is a karaoke feature. Quite a missed opportunity, if you ask me, but I suppose you could always just turn on the subtitles. Anyway, if after all my gushing you are still unsure, you can now once again watch it for free online. When you do, just be prepared to be entertained . . . and to part with $10 soon after.

100 Bottles of Beer on the Wall

Last Tuesday we of the Jewish faith celebrated our bacchanalian of holidays, known as Purim. Commemorating one of the many times that some fool attempted genocide against our nation, it is our duty to alcoholically imbibe ourselves to a state in which we would bless our enemies. Now that I have had sufficient time to recover from the festivities, I would like to reminisce on some Purims past.

We Jews have some pretty quirky customs, as all religions do, but I like to think that ours list among the more strange. Point in fact: this holiday can be celebrated on two different days (four days in Jewish leap years). Basically, the city of Jerusalem celebrates the holiday one day later than the rest of Israel and the world. As you might suspect, with little effort this can lead to some prolonged revelry. A two-day drunk sounds pretty fun to many of the 18- and 19-year-olds that are away from home in various programs in the Holy Land. As if this weren’t enough, when Purim falls (for everyone else) on a Friday, Jerusalem pushes off the festivities until after the Sabbath—prompting some to pull a three-day bender. This leads me to my first story.

During my second year in Israel, Purim fell on a Friday for everyone not in Jerusalem. As luck would have it, my birthday (February 26th, for those who don’t know) was that Saturday. I looked forward to going out and having at least a few drinks without worrying about getting trashed—it’s pretty hard to look like a drunken fool when everyone else is. There was even a great way to get started: the Lubavitch Absolut Vodka Purim Party at the Central Bus Station.

I should have known that I was not going to have the evening I wanted when I got to the bus station and there was no booze left. The party had started less than an hour before and they were cleaned out! So I walked to town, since it would be faster than waiting for a bus. When I got there, pretty much everyone in sight was drunk, including my brother. Resigned to the fact that I probably wasn’t going to do any drinking, I sat down with my brother and some of his friends. One thing I can say about drunks: they make for the funniest conversations.

After ten minutes or so, my brother jumped up, having remembered it was my birthday. He then decided he would get as many people as possible to sing “Happy Birthday” to me. Yelling to everyone present—which was a considerable amount, since we were in the center of town—he led some 50 drunk Israelis and a few others through the song. You haven’t heard “Happy Birthday” until you’ve heard a throng of people singing “Heppy Beeersdayy tuuu yuuuuu!” It was truly a special moment. Coincidentally (or not, since these are Purim stories), the words “drunk” and “Israelis” factor into my second story.

It was my first year at Bar-Ilan University, and the most popular show on Israeli television was “Comedy Store”. This was effectively a cross between “Mad TV” and “You Can’t Do That on Television”. The show was essentially a bunch of skits with recurring characters, one of whom was named Jo-Jo Halastra. Jo-Jo was the prototypical cool Israeli. He wore a leopard-print shirt that was open three buttons down, five or six gold chains that you could hardly see through all his exposed chest hair, a ton of bracelets, and had long curly hair. His primary joy (and the subject of his weekly scenes) was making fun of dorks, nerds, and the like. Oh, he also had a ridiculous laugh. Anyone care to guess how many Israelis decided to dress up as Jo-Jo for Purim?

As for me, I thought I would do something fun for the Americans, so I dressed up as Kramer from “Seinfeld”. It was a pretty convincing getup and every American got it right away. The Israelis, however, had never seen the show and, instead of thinking I was dressed up, they thought I was a completely smashed American. Thus it was that whenever a Jo-Jo passed a Jo-Jo they would laugh that crazy laugh at each other, but whenever a Jo-Jo approached Kramer, Jo-Jo would walk into the street or onto the grass—anything to stay away from the disheveled and drunk American. Some even crossed the street! You tell me, do I look drunk in the picture below? Incidentally, with all the crap I had to use to do that, it took me about four days to get my hair back to some semblance of normal.

Well, those are two of my more fond Purim memories. They certainly are the most memorable, though the time I got laid-off is a very close second (or third, I guess), but I try not to think about that. That’s all for now. Until next time, have a drink on me.

21st Century Digital Boy

I like to think that I’m with the times. Certainly I was way back when I was fresh out of college and I bought a Pentium II, 233mHz computer—at the time, the second-fastest CPU on the market. I most definitely was when I was the first one on campus to watch The X-Files. And I’m pretty sure I was when I was the first on my block to get an Atari 2600. Yeah, I was—and am—a with-it kind of guy!

I was teaching myself how to program a webpage in HTML before Netscape released version 2.0. I was preaching cable modems back when most people thought that 28.8k dial-up was the shiznat. And I chatted with people all over the world when you could only do it with a text-based program called IRC.

So what happened over the last few years? Why is it that I don’t have a single RSS subscription? That I prefer to go against the grain and do NOT have any version of the iPod? That I don’t have a phone with a full keyboard? That I don’t have an HDTV? Or that I don’t have a blog?

I can just hear you all thinking: “Where on Earth have YOU been? You don’t blog?! You are SO living in the 90s!” Well, here I am, remedying that transgression. Welcome to my very first blog, as I take some baby steps into the 21st century. I figured it was a good idea to do this before the first decade was over.

Does this mean that now I will be getting an HDTV or an iPod? That’s probably not going to happen anytime soon: HDTVs are just too expensive for me at the moment, and I abhor the iPod. (I prefer to use other MP3 devices—like those that don’t need proprietary software just to use them.) As for getting RSS feeds, well, I suppose that isn’t too complicated for a guy like me (who still thinks he’s with it).

But I digress. The important thing here is the blog. You see, blogging will be more to me than just blowing steam, or spewing some of the many ridiculous or inane thoughts I have. My blogging is meant to serve the important purpose of getting me to write. For those of you who know me, I studied English Literature in college because I fancied myself a writer. Well here I am, more than a decade removed from graduating, and I still am not writing. My hopes are that by blogging I will get into the habit of writing again, and re-learn myself how to get the words flowing.

That last part is crucial, since I have finally put a lot of pieces together from a little idea I had over ten years ago. The end result (which looks to be a trilogy) will allow me to fulfill my dream of being a published author. I look forward to one day sharing with you the titles of these and other books and the stories they contain. In the meantime, I hope you enjoy some of the other junk that is cluttering my brain. And I promise to try not to sound outdated . . . much.