I have flown all over the world – to Europe, to China, and against my better judgment, once to Scranton, PA. But I’ve never flown first class. I had a boss who flew first class all the time. Recently we exchanged notes about our passenger experiences on a flight to Dallas – hers in first class versus mine in cargo, er, I mean coach (same difference). Here is a side-by-side comparison, as documented by the flight attendant announcements.
FIRST CLASS FLIGHT ATTENDANT PASSENGER ANNOUNCEMENT: Good morning, ladies and gentlemen. Welcome aboard Delta Airlines Flight #427 for Dallas. It will be our pleasure to serve you this morning. You will all receive a case of Omaha Steaks simply for listening to this announcement.
COACH CLASS FLIGHT ATTENDANT PASSENGER ANNOUNCEMENT: This is Delta Flight #427 for Dallas. Everybody, listen up. If you weren’t planning to fly to Dallas today, then you’re on the wrong plane. You’ve got sixty seconds to get the heck off. Hey, bald guy in the third row, listen to me when I’m talking to you!
First Class: As you take your seat, if you have any difficulty stowing your carry-on luggage, we’ll be more than happy to assist. Ma’am, let me help you with your ostrich. No trouble at all.
Coach: As you take your seat, put your carry-on luggage in the overhead compartment or under the seat in front of you that your knees are currently pressed up against. Anything larger than a child’s backpack will be confiscated and tossed into a pile of luggage bound for Saskatchewan.
First Class: Now that you’re comfortably seated, please note that your seat can recline a full 180 degrees. If you do not prefer a cotton eye pillow, we’re happy to provide a silk one. Can I interest you in a free Apple Watch? (more…)
One of my favorite jokes goes like this: “I got really drunk last night, so I decided to take the bus home. Now that may not sound impressive to you, but I’ve never driven a bus before.” Stop the Presses! Drunk drivers may soon not need to drive the bus – or their car – anymore. Welcome to the world of self-driving cars. They’re just around the corner.
Several tech companies like Tesla, Google and Apple are driving ahead with plans to mass-produce “autonomous” cars. These boring box vehicles are designed to ruin your happiness. If successful, they will all take away your freedom to cruise the open road at 90 mph, steering only with your knees, while singing Tom Petty’s Free Fallin’ off-key at the top of your lungs with the top rolled down. We need to slam the brakes on this effort. Our forefathers, who guaranteed the right to drive in the Bill of Rights, would be mortified at this attack on our this fundamental constitutional liberty.
If these tech companies succeed, it’s only a matter of time before other companies will start manufacturing self-cleaning ovens, self-navigating vacuum cleaners or even self-playing pianos. Today they’re coming for your car. Tomorrow they’ll be coming for your kids. Read my argument in fierce opposition to the freedom-crushing future of autonomous cars.
Argument for autonomous cars: Autonomous cars are far superior drivers. They will never get distracted by what’s going on around them. They won’t feel a need to check out who just texted them or try to balance their McDonald’s drive-through meal on their lap, swerving as they reach for their French fries that just fell to the floor.
My rebuttal: Are you trying to impugn the greatness of our nation’s finest fast food chain? You really hate America, don’t you? And I would never get distracted checking text messages while driving. I’m usually far too busy staring at my rearview mirror and shouting at my daughters, who are arguing with each other in the back seat about what video to watch on the minivan monitor.
Argument: Autonomous cars will dramatically lower automobile injuries and fatalities. If only 10% of U.S. vehicles on the road were self-driving, it would reduce car accidents by over 200,000 and save over 1,000 lives per year. If 90% of vehicles were self-driving, it would save 22,000 lives annually. (more…)
Recently, I played a round of golf with my longtime golfing buddy Kevin. Kevin hates it when I refer to him by his actual name in my posts, so that’s how I will refer to him – because I just like to piss Kevin off. We were scheduled to play a round, but I called him an hour before our tee time to report that it was raining cats and dogs at my house. “Really? Well, it’s sunny and clear here,” he said. So against my better judgment – which judgment is shaky at the best of times – I decided to go ahead and play.
We were met at the course by the rest of our foursome, Ron and John. And just like Kevin had predicted, it was clear and dry – conditions that were going to change dramatically about fifteen minutes after we teed off.
Kevin and I have been playing golf together for 17 years. It has evolved into something of a rivalry. It often comes down to the final hole before Kevin knows for sure whether he beat me by double digits or just single. You see, Kevin is a really good golfer and, with rare exceptions, I allow him to beat me – mostly to placate his fragile male ego, which shatters like broken glass if he loses to me in anything. And also because he is the far superior golfer.
Ron, John, Kevin and I teed off at the first tee. Kevin hit a gorgeous drive 270 yards straight down the middle of the fairway. Then it was my turn. I smiled as my ball landed eerily close to Kevin’s – by which I mean 100 yards closer to the tee box and banana-sliced 40 yards into the right-side woods. Oh yeah. The game was officially on.
As we reached the second hole, I noticed a few gentle droplets of rain. Kevin shook it off. He was sure it would pass. His smart phone’s weather app said it was going to be mostly sunny by afternoon. But at 8:15am, the sky was looking foreboding, like the skies over Mordor. As Kevin headed up the second fairway and I headed due east into the right-side forest, I noticed the raindrops were coming down harder. Wisely, I had decided to bring a jacket. Unwisely, I’d soon discover it repelled water about as effectively as toilet paper. And I forgot my golf cap.
I’ve lived in major metro areas my entire life – Albany, NY, Columbus, Miami, Pittsburgh, Philadelphia, and most recently, Seattle. They all had one disturbing characteristic in common – high levels of crime. Every year, it seems, the rates of homicides, drug-related incidents, home break-ins, road rage, and jaywalking go up. I hate to admit it, but even I eventually succumbed to my base criminal instincts. Last summer, I paid for three hours of parking in downtown Seattle, but left my car in the spot for three hours and 12 minutes. I know I should have turned myself in. It’s something that will eat away at my conscience for the rest of my life.
So when my wife and I moved to a small, idyllic community (population ~ 15,000), I was relieved that we’d finally escaped the urban world of unbridled crime. Or had we? We now live on Camano Island, a seemingly tranquil, semi-rural community with rolling farmland, rugged beaches, and views of snow-capped mountains. But lurking underneath this deceptive façade of serenity, I’ve discovered an insidious underbelly of rampant crime.
The island’s longtime elderly residents remember nostalgically a more peaceful era, when the main activities were crab fishing and sitting. The island only had one stop light, one gas station, and almost nobody with a last name that was hard to pronounce. But now the island has four stop lights and three gas stations. Thankfully, with the exception of Lucjan and Konstantyna Chmielowski, who were born in Poland, we can still pronounce most people’s names. However, along with this community’s spiraling urbanization (recently they even opened a drive-through espresso stand, can you imagine!) has come previously unheard of levels of crime and disorderly behavior.
The following is a list of infractions reported for the month of March. (All of the following items are based on actual police reports found in the local paper, the Camano Island Hopper.)
March 4: Mail was stolen from 115 Paradise Lane. The homeowner is only asking the perpetrator to please return the Wednesday Flyer section of the paper. There was a two-for-one coupon on flank steak she had planned to use. (more…)
On behalf of the people of Canada, we would like to welcome you to our country. We hope you’ll enjoy your stay. We heard about your recent election, and, frankly, we’re starting to worry about your nation’s apparent complete psychological breakdown. What exactly were you folks thinking? You were doing so well these past eight years with President Obama. He seemed like an awfully nice fellow. We’re not quite sure what has caused your country to go off the rails, but as we watched your presidential election results, the only plausible conclusion we Canadians can come to is that millions of your fellow Americans have gone utterly bonkers.
Oh sure, for a while there, we’ll admit, we were highly amused watching your presidential contest, featuring a carnival of candidates, from a narcissistic billionaire / Reality TV show host, to a rightwing evangelical Texan universally disliked even by his own party’s colleagues in the Senate, to a prominent neuro-surgeon who believes Egypt’s pyramids were built to store grains, not pharaohs. Where on earth did you find such a zany cast of characters? But we figured that eventually your countrymen would come to their senses and realize that perhaps the most important criteria for selecting your next head of state should be something more substantial than the size of the candidate’s privates or the relative hotness of their spouse. Apparently we were wrong. And for that, we deeply apologize.
I have flown all over the world – to Europe, to China, and against my better judgment, once to Scranton, PA. But I’ve never flown first class. I had a boss who flew first class all the time. Recently we exchanged notes about our passenger experiences on a flight to Dallas – hers in first class versus mine in cargo, er, I mean coach (same difference). Here is a side-by-side comparison, as documented by the flight attendant announcements.
First Class: Now that you’re comfortably seated, please note that your seat can recline a full 180 degrees. If you do not prefer a cotton eye pillow, we’re happy to provide a silk one. Can I interest you in a free Apple Watch? (more…)
One of my favorite jokes goes like this: “I got really drunk last night, so I decided to take the bus home. Now that may not sound impressive to you, but I’ve never driven a bus before.” Stop the Presses! Drunk drivers may soon not need to drive the bus – or their car – anymore. Welcome to the world of self-driving cars. They’re just around the corner.
Recently, I played a round of golf with my longtime golfing buddy Kevin. Kevin hates it when I refer to him by his actual name in my posts, so that’s how I will refer to him – because I just like to piss Kevin off. We were scheduled to play a round, but I called him an hour before our tee time to report that it was raining cats and dogs at my house. “Really? Well, it’s sunny and clear here,” he said. So against my better judgment – which judgment is shaky at the best of times – I decided to go ahead and play.
I’ve lived in major metro areas my entire life – Albany, NY, Columbus, Miami, Pittsburgh, Philadelphia, and most recently, Seattle. They all had one disturbing characteristic in common – high levels of crime. Every year, it seems, the rates of homicides, drug-related incidents, home break-ins, road rage, and jaywalking go up. I hate to admit it, but even I eventually succumbed to my base criminal instincts. Last summer, I paid for three hours of parking in downtown Seattle, but left my car in the spot for three hours and 12 minutes. I know I should have turned myself in. It’s something that will eat away at my conscience for the rest of my life.
