The gentleman in Seat 31E on the April 20 8pm flight from ORD to PDX, should be paying for part of my seat. Here's how I see it:
I understand that airline travel is not supposed to be comfortable or luxurious. You pay airlines a few hundred dollars. For this number you get to deal with sub-human customer service representatives (with a few wonderful people sprinkled in...just to keep you hoping!), forced to stand in no fewer than three long lines, poked and prodded by TSA primates who seem able to miss handguns aplenty, but will sniff out every last four ounce bottle of shampoo. If you survive this, you get crammed like sardines into a flying tin germ trap. That makes sense.
But here's the problem; these seats have a maximum width. Unfortunately, some of the people who inhabit them do not. And lest you think I'm being harsh, Gentle Reader, we're not talking about folks who are "overweight", or "carrying a few dozen extra pounds", or even "obese." If an NFL lineman gave any advice to the gentleman in Row 31, it would be, "Dude, you need to lay off the double-thickburgers!"
Here's where we get into the unique properties of fat. You see, in copious amounts fat behaves like a liquid, spilling over the cusp of whatever is feebly attempting to contain it -- in this case, an armrest. And because one can't pull one's scapulae together for an entire cross-country flight, occasionally one's elbow relaxes and sinks ... into a sea of simple carbohydrates only barely covered by sweat-damp polo.
This, my friends, is not a healthy feeling.
As such, about 25% of my seat was uninhabitable. I feel that the gentleman in the middle should definitely pick up the tab.
Monday, April 21, 2008
Sunday, April 13, 2008
We passed Italy!
Thanks to superb team performances at Junior World Champs, we just passed Italy in the medal count! Congrats to the Women's Epeeists!!
Tomorrow's event will be tough; Italy is deep in both Women's Foil and Men's Epee, and they will likely pass us. The tableaux have us meeting them in the Gold medal match in ME, and the semis in WF.
Medal counts are silly. Italy is already ahead with 3 gold, 7 silver, 2 bronze compared to our 4 gold, 1 silver, 1 bronze, but the FIE site prioritizes gold. Thus, we win! Gold medal for Amy!
Tomorrow's event will be tough; Italy is deep in both Women's Foil and Men's Epee, and they will likely pass us. The tableaux have us meeting them in the Gold medal match in ME, and the semis in WF.
Medal counts are silly. Italy is already ahead with 3 gold, 7 silver, 2 bronze compared to our 4 gold, 1 silver, 1 bronze, but the FIE site prioritizes gold. Thus, we win! Gold medal for Amy!
I believe your formal complaint is lodged...
"Could you please write a memo..."
These are words I didn't think I'd ever hear after leaving the cubicle world.
This weekend was the National Championship Qualifier, being held at NWFC. Since I'm a good host, I drag my nocturnal self out of bed at 8am, and open up the club. Cadet Men's Sabre...no big deal, I've done this before. The fencers are fine, there's about the usual level of tempo questioning and the typical answers. Tournament runs smoothly, the fencers don't really want to be there, just need to get the number of qualifiers done.
And then, once I've moved on to a different event, there's suddenly an uproar. One of the parents of a non-qualifying fencer is "filing a formal complaint" against the Division. Why? Because apparently there are anomalies with the strip used to run the sabre tournament. This is un-expletive-believable.
First, I'm a referee. I'm good at it, clear, unbiased, friendly, and unlike many won't lazily parse actions if I believe the fencers are "beneath me." You paid your money, you deserve to be treated like everybody else.
Second, we've got a certified armorer in the house. If there's something that looks strange, I call L and get a caffeine break. What's not to love?
At no point during this whole tournament, or the events run on the previous day, did anything bizarre come up on this strip. Every time an athlete asked to test, the equipment performed properly. Even an elite athlete (but let's not be too kind here) is prone to thinking they hit when they didn't; the game is that fast. Of course, if this had become a concern during the actual running of the event, it should have been brought to our attention immediately, and we could have performed diagnostics, but why should I deviate from standard procedure if the circumstances are completely and utterly ordinary?
Ah, because it's Johnny Superstar Athlete, who's the proud son of Mrs. Entitled Bitch III.
Accountability is the first thing that we should teach athletes; if they are not accountable for their actions, how can they effectively control their environment? If their every mistake can be rationalized, how can they submit to a process of continuous improvement?
Parents are not protecting their child by letting them fail and then having a temper tantrum. In the case that the young Mr Athlete, Esq is in need of an advocate, they should do it immediately. If there is an injustice, you fight it immediately, not only after a losing outcome. I've asked fencers to refuse to fence because of a rule violation, and never lost a bout committee appeal.
So now, I'm writing a memo in which I talk about doing my job. So is L, who's done due diligence with her multimeter.
In short, I very much hope this woman files her complaint. The extraction process from where it's currently lodged will be quite painful.
These are words I didn't think I'd ever hear after leaving the cubicle world.
This weekend was the National Championship Qualifier, being held at NWFC. Since I'm a good host, I drag my nocturnal self out of bed at 8am, and open up the club. Cadet Men's Sabre...no big deal, I've done this before. The fencers are fine, there's about the usual level of tempo questioning and the typical answers. Tournament runs smoothly, the fencers don't really want to be there, just need to get the number of qualifiers done.
And then, once I've moved on to a different event, there's suddenly an uproar. One of the parents of a non-qualifying fencer is "filing a formal complaint" against the Division. Why? Because apparently there are anomalies with the strip used to run the sabre tournament. This is un-expletive-believable.
First, I'm a referee. I'm good at it, clear, unbiased, friendly, and unlike many won't lazily parse actions if I believe the fencers are "beneath me." You paid your money, you deserve to be treated like everybody else.
Second, we've got a certified armorer in the house. If there's something that looks strange, I call L and get a caffeine break. What's not to love?
At no point during this whole tournament, or the events run on the previous day, did anything bizarre come up on this strip. Every time an athlete asked to test, the equipment performed properly. Even an elite athlete (but let's not be too kind here) is prone to thinking they hit when they didn't; the game is that fast. Of course, if this had become a concern during the actual running of the event, it should have been brought to our attention immediately, and we could have performed diagnostics, but why should I deviate from standard procedure if the circumstances are completely and utterly ordinary?
Ah, because it's Johnny Superstar Athlete, who's the proud son of Mrs. Entitled Bitch III.
Accountability is the first thing that we should teach athletes; if they are not accountable for their actions, how can they effectively control their environment? If their every mistake can be rationalized, how can they submit to a process of continuous improvement?
Parents are not protecting their child by letting them fail and then having a temper tantrum. In the case that the young Mr Athlete, Esq is in need of an advocate, they should do it immediately. If there is an injustice, you fight it immediately, not only after a losing outcome. I've asked fencers to refuse to fence because of a rule violation, and never lost a bout committee appeal.
So now, I'm writing a memo in which I talk about doing my job. So is L, who's done due diligence with her multimeter.
In short, I very much hope this woman files her complaint. The extraction process from where it's currently lodged will be quite painful.
Monday, April 7, 2008
Early April
Good morning, east-coasters!
Life is settling down a bit, enough that I actually kicked back and watched a movie on the big screen desktop. The normalcy of a television will elude me until K insists on getting a Wii.
I'm not quite in a rhythm yet - we've been busy trying to change a bunch of stuff at the club, and as such, doing a bunch of minor construction projects. Marx time is similar to Jewish Standard Time, so have to adjust my schedules appropriately.
Everybody has discovered my schedule is malleable, and I keep finding new lessons penciled in on my calendar. Boredom might be the single outlet for spending money, so I'm appreciative of the extra work; it removes that opportunity cost, and since my salary is augmented by extra lessons, that's good. Plus, there is no shortage of events to referee on the weekends.
The center just got a 501c3, which means they're a non-profit. This is a good thing; it means that anything donated to the club is tax-deductible. I've got my wishlist...if anybody has any prosumer HD cameras or non-linear editing systems they're looking to get rid of, and really really want to support one of our national training centers, you can Google my phone number. We'll produce amazing training DVDs and send them to you.
Speaking of training, my legs feel like rubberized pain. A little background -- since there are only 10 Olympic medals for fencing, we have 6 individual events and 4 team events, rotating which two team weapons get screwed every Olympiad. This year, Men's Foil is one. The FIE is having a team World Championship and individual test event in Beijing, and Ariel was selected for the event. He leaves in a little over a week and is cramming, which means being in here and training every day, including weekends. Basically, if there are no other competitive fencers there, it means we're on the finals strip for 45 minutes, bashing away at each other. This may be the best way to get back into fighting shape, but it requires the emotional capacity to shrug off losing 10 hits in a row.
The new Roger Clyne & the Peacemakers album is merely excellent. One of those "if they were anybody else, this would be brilliant" efforts. 11 songs recorded in 8 days in Rocky Point, Mexico, and it's got a smooth groove that makes me want to sip tequila and chow down on a steak burrito. (Astute readers will note that this is common-enough-behavior and probably has nothing to do with the music.) That said, I miss the ironi-country of Honky Tonk Union.
Wedding planning feels somewhat behind, which I've been told is how you feel until it's over.
Loki's adjusted quite capably. He's enjoying having an apartment all to himself, chatting with his buddy (a male grey tiger who lives next door but is let out every day), and getting lots of attention whenever I'm home. He's a decent conversationalist, although after the bustle of the fencerhaus, it's a little weird to come home to a quiet place.
Delayed onset muscle soreness, you are my bane. Back to fish oil, vitamin i(buprofen), asanas, and bed.
Life is settling down a bit, enough that I actually kicked back and watched a movie on the big screen desktop. The normalcy of a television will elude me until K insists on getting a Wii.
I'm not quite in a rhythm yet - we've been busy trying to change a bunch of stuff at the club, and as such, doing a bunch of minor construction projects. Marx time is similar to Jewish Standard Time, so have to adjust my schedules appropriately.
Everybody has discovered my schedule is malleable, and I keep finding new lessons penciled in on my calendar. Boredom might be the single outlet for spending money, so I'm appreciative of the extra work; it removes that opportunity cost, and since my salary is augmented by extra lessons, that's good. Plus, there is no shortage of events to referee on the weekends.
The center just got a 501c3, which means they're a non-profit. This is a good thing; it means that anything donated to the club is tax-deductible. I've got my wishlist...if anybody has any prosumer HD cameras or non-linear editing systems they're looking to get rid of, and really really want to support one of our national training centers, you can Google my phone number. We'll produce amazing training DVDs and send them to you.
Speaking of training, my legs feel like rubberized pain. A little background -- since there are only 10 Olympic medals for fencing, we have 6 individual events and 4 team events, rotating which two team weapons get screwed every Olympiad. This year, Men's Foil is one. The FIE is having a team World Championship and individual test event in Beijing, and Ariel was selected for the event. He leaves in a little over a week and is cramming, which means being in here and training every day, including weekends. Basically, if there are no other competitive fencers there, it means we're on the finals strip for 45 minutes, bashing away at each other. This may be the best way to get back into fighting shape, but it requires the emotional capacity to shrug off losing 10 hits in a row.
The new Roger Clyne & the Peacemakers album is merely excellent. One of those "if they were anybody else, this would be brilliant" efforts. 11 songs recorded in 8 days in Rocky Point, Mexico, and it's got a smooth groove that makes me want to sip tequila and chow down on a steak burrito. (Astute readers will note that this is common-enough-behavior and probably has nothing to do with the music.) That said, I miss the ironi-country of Honky Tonk Union.
Wedding planning feels somewhat behind, which I've been told is how you feel until it's over.
Loki's adjusted quite capably. He's enjoying having an apartment all to himself, chatting with his buddy (a male grey tiger who lives next door but is let out every day), and getting lots of attention whenever I'm home. He's a decent conversationalist, although after the bustle of the fencerhaus, it's a little weird to come home to a quiet place.
Delayed onset muscle soreness, you are my bane. Back to fish oil, vitamin i(buprofen), asanas, and bed.
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