Smiling Paul

A Letter to My Sixteen-Year-Old Self

2012-01-05T21:07:00.002-06:00

I recently learned of a book called Dear Me: A Letter to My Sixteen-Year-Old Self. In the book, various celebrities write letters to the sixteen-year-old version of themselves, guiding them with a tender touch of advice from their current state in life. Although I haven’t read the book, it made me wonder what I would write to the sixteen-year-old version of Paul. This is what I came up with.

Dear Me:

They say if you find something you love to do and can do it for a living, you won’t work a day in your life. So, congratulations, you’ve already found something you love to do and coincidentally, will make a great career. Don’t give up. Some days will be tough. Paychecks will be slim for the foreseeable future. Trust me, eventually you’ll be flying big jets all over the world, and you’ll love it. So, try not to kill yourself in small airplanes between now and then.

I know you think playing drums is cool, but make time to learn piano or guitar. You’re a good drummer, but when you’re trying to impress a woman, she won’t want to listen to a fifteen minute drum solo. While you’re learning new things, learn how to cook something more than Hot Pockets. Hot Pockets are great when you’re sixteen, but no one eats Hot Pockets in the real world. Also, women dig guys who can cook.

Speaking of women, three things: (1) When a woman says “we need to talk,” buckle up. You’re in for a long night. (2) Say what you mean, and mean what you say. That’ll make life easier and less dramatic later. (3) Follow your heart. You’ll know when it’s right.

Learn how to budget your money. When you’re in college, suck it up, you’re a poor college kid. You don’t need new clothes every month, they’re going to be out of fashion by the time you pay for them anyway. Avoid putting money on your credit card. They become exponentially harder to pay off. Your first airline job isn’t going to afford you to pay down thousands in credit card debt and live on your own, which will mean moving in with mom and dad. Don’t get me wrong, mom and dad are great, after all, you wouldn’t be where you are without them, but as a 22-year-old airline pilot, you’ll want a little more freedom than living in your parents basement provides. Also, when you’re finally able to put some money away in savings, buy some stock in a company called Google. Trust me.

Finally, say yes more often. You’ve got some really cool friends who do a lot of cool things and they’ll invite you to participate. Do it. Don’t be afraid of adventure, embrace it. Ride motorcycles. Skydive. Bungee jump. Go on weekend trips. All that stuff. Have fun and enjoy those moments in life that take your breath away.

Don’t mess this up kid, it’s your life we’re talking about.

Sincerely,
Future You

Why I Hate Christmas

2011-11-25T09:14:00.000-06:00

I hate Christmas. Well, that’s not entirely true. I hate what Christmas has become. I hate that it’s become more about getting 50% off a new sweater for dad than being thankful that you even have a dad. I hate that it causes stress in an already stressful world. I hate that there are people out there hurting because their family has abandoned them, and I hate that someone can’t be with their family because they can’t afford airfare to see them, or worse yet, because they don’t have any more family left.

Today, people woke up early to go spend hundreds of dollars on their loved ones. Why? Because the more money you spend, the more you love someone? Trust me, I’d love to wake up on Christmas morning and unwrap a new iPad 8 (or whatever number they’re up to now). But, I’d much rather wake up and see my beautiful wife lying next to me. I’d rather go lift my daughter out of her crib and start creating new Christmas traditions. I’d rather spend an afternoon with my parents, thankful that I still have parents to spend an afternoon with.

Don’t get me wrong, I love to give gifts. The Three Wise Men brought gifts for Jesus when he was born, and I have every intention of spoiling my little daughter with toys and games throughout the years. But sometimes I think we get so wrapped up in gift giving, that we loose sight of what’s really important. Some of my best memories of Christmas aren’t what gifts were opened, but memories of Christmas eve dinner, or memories of mom warming up the coffee cake to fuel us for a day of tobogganing down the hill with my dad and brothers. I guess what I’ve learned, is that the greatest gift, isn’t a gift at all. The greatest gift is the memories themselves.

I guess that’s why I hate Christmas. I hate Christmas because I wish it was more like Thanksgiving. We should be thankful for our family and our loved ones. We should be thankful that we’ve made it through another year and can look forward to a new one. We should be thankful that Jesus was born and died for our sins. And yes, if someone gives you an iPad 8, you should be thankful for that too.

You only have so many Christmas’ left. Be thankful for what you have. Be thankful that you have loved ones. Lastly, if you get to spend time with your loved ones, be thankful for that too, because the gift of each other, is the gift that lasts a lifetime.

That Journey That Almost Wasn't

2011-10-27T14:36:00.002-05:00

Flying is often said to be more about the journey than the destination. I’ve found this to be true, not only in general aviation, but also in my position as a first officer for a major airline. After a recent layover in Paris however, the journey to Washington, DC almost never began.

After battling Paris traffic for an hour, we arrived at the Charles De Gaulle airport approximately one hour before our scheduled departure time of 5:00 PM. After clearing customs and security, we walked on board the Boeing 757 to find the concierge waiting with our paperwork. He told us our original flight plan had us stopping in Gander, Newfoundland for fuel, but dispatch had been able to find a way around that, and our new flight plan had us filed to the Dulles airport non-stop. Because of that however, every pound of fuel would be critical in preventing an unscheduled pit stop.

As I prepared the cockpit, the relief pilot did the preflight walk-around, while the captain was in the business first cabin, talking with a mechanic about various write-ups and to confirm the ETOPS pre-departure check had been accomplished. ETOPS is an acronym for “extended twin-engine operations,” but we also joke that it stands for “engines turn or people swim.” Meanwhile, the flight attendants were busy preparing the cabin for service and preflighting all of their own emergency equipment. Once they finished, the concierge began the boarding process.

While the passengers found their seats, the captain, relief pilot and myself began briefing our departure. We noted that fuel was going to be critical on this flight but also saw that we were over-fueled by 200 pounds of Jet-A. The boarding process invariably heats up the cabin, and since we had an extra 200 pounds of fuel to play with, we started the auxiliary power unit to establish a stronger source of air conditioning than the ground air could provide. Of course, that also started the fuel burn countdown to the minimum fuel quantity we could legally take-off with; 75,700 pounds. Around the same time, the mechanic came back to the airplane to reset a nuisance status message. While he was in the cockpit, he asked if he could disconnect the ground power and air conditioning. Since we had started the APU, we couldn’t think of any reason not to.

Up until this point, everything had the appearance of the beginnings to a normal flight. However, after the mechanic left, the radio crackled with a French accent. It was operations calling to inform us that the ground crew had just gone on strike and they would hopefully be done striking at 6:00 PM. I turned to the captain and asked, “Did he just say the ground crew is on strike?” Nodding his head, the captain said, “That’s what I heard.” Once we processed the news, I called operations back and asked if they thought we would be pushing back at 6:00 PM. It wasn’t that simple. There were still hundreds of bags to be loaded, so he arranged a wheels-up (aka slot) time with the tower of 6:46 PM, with the hopes that the ground crew would be done with their strike at 6:00 PM, at which point they’d load the bags, and we’d be airborne by our wheels-up time. Then he told us he might be able to get some management personnel from the company who handles our ramp operation (who aren’t in the ground crew’s union) to load bags. They, of course, were busy with other airplanes so it may be a while. Wonderful. So, the best case scenario is, we would be leaving over an hour and half late.

With a critical fuel situation and an unknown delay, we thought it would be a good idea to reconnect the ground power and air conditioning so we could shut down the APU and conserve some of our fuel. Fortunately, the mechanic who had been working with us, worked for a partner airline and not the striking ground company. The mechanic came into the cockpit and we asked if he’d be kind enough to reconnect the ground power and air. The good news just kept coming when he told us, “I’ll do my best but the ground power requires a key to start and the ground crew took the key with them.” Great.

If getting ground power back wasn’t an option, there was no way we were going to be able to sit at the gate for two hours, with the APU burning into our precious fuel supply. We would need a fuel truck back at the airplane. Again, we were fortunate that the fueling company was separate from the ground company and were able to get more fuel without any issues. Because of the known delay, we asked them to give a little more than what was on the release. The fueler obliged and gave us 400 pounds more than we needed. The APU burns about 200 pounds of fuel per hour, so that would get us by for the next couple hours.

As the natives were beginning to get restless in the back, our first glimpse of hope showed up; the ground crew management we had been told about. Around 5:30 PM, three people dressed in shirts and ties began loading bags onto the airplane. The master caution light illuminated with the opening of the aft cargo door. Finally! Progress! After about ten minutes, the blue “ground call” light on the overhead panel illuminated. The captain picked up his microphone and answered the call, “Hello?” In a thick French accent, the ground manager said through the headset outside, “Captain, we have loaded the aft cargo compartment and we are ready to load the forward cargo, but the forward cargo door is stuck closed. Can you call maintenance?” This was turning into a comedy of errors. How could so many things go wrong before we even leave the gate? Fortunately, the mechanic, who was quickly becoming our new best friend, was already onboard repairing a malfunctioning oven in the aft galley. We told him of the problem outside, and he rushed outside to fix the broken cargo door. Once he finished working on the cargo door, he came back to inform us there were only a few more bags to be loaded. We asked if he knew who would push us back. He said he would do it for us and he would be outside ready to go whenever we were.

The ground crew management finished loading the bags, and the concierge came up to the cockpit to tell us that they were ready for push-back, however he can’t drive the jetway, so we needed one of the ground crew managers to operate the jetway. Finally, at 6:00 PM, we called for our push-back clearance and were told by the ground controller that we had a slot time of 6:46 PM and should call back in fifteen minutes. We, of course, already knew about the slot time, but we thought getting off the gate and away from all the problems would be a better idea.

Seven minutes later, another problem arose when a flight attendant came into the cockpit to tell us the coffee maker in the mid-galley was leaking water and she couldn’t shut it off. I went back, thinking my magical pilot powers might be able to stop the leak. They, of course, were useless against the mighty coffee maker. Despite shutting off the valve, water continued to spill out onto the counter. Chuckling at our misfortune, I walked back to the cockpit to call maintenance. Of course, in order for the mechanic to come onboard, we need the jetway reattached to the airplane, and the only people who could drive the jetway at the moment are the managers from the ground company, and since they were done with our airplane, they had moved on to the next airplane and are nowhere to be found. Another call to operations.

We were quickly approaching the time the ground controller wanted us to call for a push clearance and now, not making our slot time is becoming an issue. About 6:15, I was tickled to see one of the managers from the ground company walking up the jetway’s external stairs to reattach the jetway so maintenance could come on board. The mechanic quickly fixed the coffee maker, bid us adieu, and headed downstairs to push us back.

It finally looked like we were going to say au revoir to the lovely people of Paris and get out to the runway before our slot time expired. With the jetway pulled away, I saw the mechanic walking toward the nose of the airplane and a few seconds later, his voice was heard over the speakers in the cockpit. “You guys aren’t going to believe this,” he said, “While I was on the airplane fixing the coffee maker, the tug disappeared.” Of course it did. I had seen the tug sitting in front of the airplane at one point, but when the coffee maker fiasco started, it was as if it vanished into thin air. I don’t know where it went, but we suddenly found ourselves without a push-back tug. Knowing that it can sometimes take upward of an hour to get a new slot time, we would have to be underway soon or face further delays. Unfortunately, there was nothing we could do at this point besides sit and wait.

At 6:30 PM, clearance delivery called us to ask if we were ready to go. I told him about the lack of a tug and that we would call him back when we found one. We sat in wait, laughing at the debacle that is our flight. Finally, about fifteen minutes later, across the ramp, I noticed a tug barreling towards the airplane. Could this be our ticket out of town? Perhaps, but we only had two minutes until our wheels-up time. We would clearly not make the slot time. The best we could do now is call and ask what they had in store for us. After the tug we saw pulled up to the airplane, the mechanic got in and told us he was ready for push-back. At this point, our slot time had expired, but when I called for a push-back clearance, the tower told us all slot times had been cancelled and we could take-off as soon as we were ready. It looked like things were finally turning around for us.

With the push-back complete and both engines running, we called for our taxi-clearance and waved good-bye to the mechanic, who had been so faithful in assisting our departure. Before we even got off the ramp and onto a taxiway, the ground controller’s voice crackled in our headsets. I could tell from the tone of his voice it wasn’t going to be good, “I can’t find your flight plan,” he said, “Expect a delay while we work out the problem. It could take about one hour.” It just keeps getting better and better.

At this point, I’d lost all faith in us even taking off for Washington. In my mind, I was thinking about going to dinner at the crêpe place I had gone to with some flight attendants the night before. With both engines running, we were quickly burning through the fuel we needed to keep us above the minimum required for take-off. We started sending ACARS messages (our way of text messaging) back and forth with our dispatcher. If we had to wait an hour to take-off, there was simply no way we’d make it to Dulles with the fuel we had. Typically, we would just go back to the gate for more fuel, but during the push-back, the mechanic told us the ground crew had extended their strike until 8:00 PM. If we went back to the gate for more fuel, who knows how much longer we’d be in Paris. Thinking the best option would be to land in Gander to refuel, we were trying to get dispatch to re-release us to Gander, but legally we couldn’t take-off below the minimum fuel of 75,700 pounds listed on our release. As my fingers began smoking from all the typing I was doing, the air traffic controller called us and unexpectedly cleared us for take-off. I looked up at the fuel gauge, we had 76,000 pounds of fuel on board; 300 pounds more than the minimum required. Just like a fast moving line of weather on a hot summer day, our problems had come and gone. No fuel stop would be necessary and soon the only problem we’d deal with is what kind of salad dressing to have with our crew meal.

With just minutes to spare, we lined up on the runway, engaged the auto-throttles and soon we were passing over French vineyards, across the English Channel, over the North Atlantic, down the Saint Lawrence River, past New York City, and into our nation’s capitol. Having finally reached our destination, I was glad the journey had come to an end.

Remembering 9/11

2011-09-11T10:02:00.004-05:00

Last week, I wrote a piece which is being published in the Minneapolis Star Tribune today, September 11th, 2011. If the ten year anniversary of the 9/11 attacks weren't such a somber occasion, I'd be pretty excited about my first paid publication. But that's pretty small apples compared to what today is all about.

Today is about remembering the lives lost and the families who will never be the same because of that tragic day. It's also about remembering the soldiers whose have paid the ultimate price and the military families who have sacrificed so much over the past ten years in the war on terror. May we never forget the heroes that make this country great.

Below is the article I wrote. You can also find it in the online version of the Minneapolis Star Tribune.

The radio crackled in my headset as we passed over a tranquil Lake Calhoun. Downtown Minneapolis drifted outside the cockpit window. The landing gear was down.

Everything was as it should be. Outside, the skies were clear and the air was refreshingly less humid than it had been the previous month. I briefly looked down at the passing homes and schools of south Minneapolis.

School was back in session, and bright-yellow buses were busy transporting children, as they would on any other Tuesday morning. But this wasn't any other Tuesday morning. This was Sept. 11, 2001.

As I was completing what would be another uneventful flight, there were four other airplanes whose final destiny would be anything but normal.

That day has forever changed our lives, whether because of enhanced screening at the airport or, heaven forbid, the loss of a friend or family member in the attacks on domestic soil. We all have stories about what we were doing on 9/11.

Most, like mine, aren't anything to write home about, but everyone remembers where they were when American Airlines Flight 11 hit the World Trade Center's North Tower, and what happened afterward is something to write about.

It's what we did after 9/11 that changed America and its people.

Maybe you watched the television with disbelief. Maybe you cried for the loss of fellow Americans. Maybe you called your parents and told them you loved them. Maybe you held your children extra long before they went to bed that night. Maybe you thanked a police officer or firefighter. Maybe you bought a traveling soldier dinner before your flight home.

But what did you do two years afterward? What did you do eight years after 9/11? I don't think people will ever forget that dreadful day, but it has definitely slipped into the back of our memory bank.

For someone like me, an airline pilot who is constantly dealing with airport security and working with federal air marshals, I am reminded of our post-9/11 world on a regular basis.

But for the insurance salesman driving around Kansas or the schoolteacher struggling with a lack of funds, telling your kids you love them one more time before they go to bed or thanking the police officer for what he does after he just wrote you a citation may not be the first thing on your mind.

This past week, just seven days short of the 10-year anniversary of 9/11, I was sitting in Terminal B at Newark's Liberty Airport, waiting for my flight home. I noticed a group of TSA officers wearing honor guard regalia.

With them was a U.S. Army master sergeant. I learned that the master sergeant was escorting a fallen soldier on a final flight home. I didn't ask for the soldier's name, or even if the soldier was male or female. I honestly didn't know what to say.

After the airplane arrived, the honor guard and master sergeant went outside. I stood at the window, along with many other passengers, watching in silence as the honor guard stood at attention while the fallen soldier was loaded on to the airplane.

Through the tears in my eyes, I looked out at the New York City skyline, and it all hit me. Ten years ago, when I was flying over that school, where kids were playing outside -- maybe, just maybe, one of those kids was this soldier who gave everything for our country.

So, when you see a soldier at your regular lunch spot, tell the manager that you'll take care of his or her bill. Call your parents and tell them you love them. Thank police officers for all that they do. And when you come home from work today, hold your kids for a few extra seconds. As a matter of fact, that was the first thing I did when I got home from that trip. I forgot about the bills, forgot about the oil change the car needed. I held my little daughter in my arms for as long as she'd let me.

After today, we each have one day less. Make the most of it.

Above is a picture I took of that soldier taking his last flight home. May God bless you my unknown hero.

Book Review: "Unbroken"

2011-08-21T21:37:00.004-05:00

It’s not often that I write book reviews. As a matter of fact, I don’t think I’ve written a book review since my 8th grade English class with Mrs. Olson. Then again, it’s not often that I read a book that is so good, I feel the need to tell the whole world about it. That changed this last week when I finished reading Unbroken by Laura Hillenbrand, the same woman who wrote the tale Seabiscuit: An American Legend. In the acknowledgments chapter of Unbroken, Laura writes, “I felt certain that I would never again find a subject that fascinated me as did the Depression-era racehorse and the team of men who campaigned him. When I had my first conversation with the infectiously effervescent and apparently immortal Louie Zamperini, I changed my mind.” I’m glad she did, because the story of Louie Zamperini is one for the history books.

Unbroken is an amazing tale of survival, resilience, and redemption. Louie Zamperini, an Olympic class runner, is thrown into World War II as a bombardier in the Army Air Corps. After mechanical failure forces his B-24 crew to ditch in the Pacific, he finds himself with two other men, floating alone on sixty-four million square miles of ocean. Given up for dead, the once world class runner’s body had wasted away to less than 100 pounds. After floating for twenty-seven days, they anxiously set off flares when they saw what they were sure was a rescue plane. As bullets pierced their rubber raft, they quickly learned that what they thought was a rescue plane, was actually a Japanese bomber. Their only choice was to jump into the water. The same water that, for twenty-seven days, had been swarming with sharks. What happens next will forever change your definition of a “man.”

As I read through Unbroken, I kept saying to myself, “This is unbelievable.” The struggles Louie Zamperini went through will give you an idea of who the true hero’s of the world are. I still can’t understand how anyone could withstand the punishment Louie’s body, mind, and soul underwent. Seven years of research, writing so eloquent you loose track of time as you read, and an amazing story easily makes this one of my favorite books of all time. You would be doing yourself a great disservice if you don’t read Unbroken, for it could forever change your life.

On Writing

2011-08-03T20:44:00.006-05:00

Wow. It's been over three months since I've blogged. Do people even read blogs anymore? Based on my fan mail, I'm guessing not. I can count on one hand how many blogs I read regularly, and that includes my own. I could tell you that I don't have time to write blogs because I have a kid now. She's a good excuse for a lot of things. This could be one of them.

I'd like to say I've had a case of writer's block but that's not entirely true. I have been writing, just not on my blog. If you follow me on Facebook, you know I write way too much on there. Of course, it's easy to write Facebook updates when you only have to think of one or two sentences.

I recently submitted a piece to Flying Magazine for publication. If they don't publish it, maybe I'll post it on here. As you can infer, it was about flying. I love flying, but I don't want my blog just to be about flying, because there's so much more to me than that. Plus, I can't imagine everyone wants to read about flying. I don't even want to read about flying all the time.

Some of you know I've been working on writing a novel. That's where I've been putting most of my writing efforts. When people ask what kind of book I'm writing, I usually say, "It's kind of like a Nicholas Sparks novel." Now, I'm not so arrogant to think that I have the ability to write like Nicholas Sparks, but I can try. Writing my book is frustrating. Some days, the words flow and I picture myself at book signings all over the country. Other days, I wonder why I'm bothering spending over a year on something that may not even be published. Regardless, I'm still perfecting my autograph...just in case.

So, if you've been patiently refreshing my blog in hopes of an update, here you go. I'll try to be faithful to my fans out there...all four of you...and write more often. But I'm also going to concentrate on bigger and better things, like finishing my novel, and teaching my kid how to be a kid.

Addicted to Facebook??

2011-04-29T11:37:00.004-05:00

It wasn’t long ago that I was anti-Facebook. For all the people I’m friends with on Facebook, that may be hard to believe. If you talked to me eighteen months ago, I didn’t want anything to do with Facebook. I didn’t want people to know what I was doing or where I was going. After all, what business did they have knowing where I was eating dinner, and why would they even care? I especially didn’t want people to know where and when I was traveling. I was paranoid that iPhone pictures being posted would be embedded with GPS coordinates that would lead a bad guy directly to my front door while I was on a trip. However, I also heard stories of people reconnecting with friends from days gone by. So, after a little more research, I realized Facebook wasn’t all that evil, and signed up.

At first, I was overwhelmed. Friend requests? Status updates? Pictures? Tagging? I almost deactivated my account within the first ten minutes of signing up. It didn’t take long, however, before I was updating my status daily (and sometimes more). I was loading more and more pictures, and eventually, **gasp** telling people where I was going? Throughout the past eighteen months, I’ve reconnected with old high school friends, a few old work buddies who I had no way of finding, and of course, I’ve made a lot of new friends and have been able to keep in touch with them. It really is quite entertaining, and a good way to keep tabs on your friends.

The funny thing about Facebook, however, is that as you acquire more and more “friends,” it’s easier to spend more and more time on Facebook trying to keep up with all of them. One of my status updates once, said something to the effect of, “It seems the number of Facebook friends one has is inversely proportional to the number of real friends they have.” This may not be entirely true, but the social networking site, seems to make some people, less social. After all, who’s more social; a guy walking down his street talking to the neighbors, or the same guy walking down the same street with his head buried in his iPhone keeping tabs on his friends latest trip to Starbucks? I’ve been that guy so I’m certainly not throwing stones, because if I were, I’d have to throw some at myself.

Lately, I’ve noticed I’m spending way too much time on Facebook. It’s become so addictive that I’ll find myself logging off Facebook on my computer, only to pull out my iPhone less than a minute later, and logging back in. It’s easy to become addicted. You post a status update and it’s almost like the number of comments you receive is akin to a popularity contest in high school. It doesn’t help when people tell you they love your status updates (although it is a nice stroke to the ego). And who doesn’t love seeing those little red numbers when you log in? A few personal messages, half-a-dozen notifications, maybe a new friend request...gonna be a good day. But is that really what being social is about? Do I love keeping up with my friends? Absolutely. Do I enjoy seeing pictures from their latest vacation? Yep. Do I enjoy reading a well worded status update. You bet. Do I need to know “John Smith” was at Olive Garden three hours ago with two other people? No.

This piece sounds a lot like something a girlfriend would say right before she breaks up with you. The whole, “It’s not you, it’s me” line. This isn’t that. Some people take Facebook fasts. Some people deactivate their Facebook account altogether. I’m not going to do either of those things. From now on, I’m going to be conscious of what’s going on around me. I’m not breaking up with Facebook (or all my friends). But I don’t want to miss out on life either. I’m going to be social...socially.

Pilots have a saying they use while taxiing around when the pilot who’s not taxiing the airplane is going to look down at the airplane computer, or get something out of his flight bag. They’ll say, “I’m going head’s down,” as an indication to the other pilot to be extra vigilant because there are no longer two sets of eyes on what’s going on outside. And whenever the pilot who was “head’s down” is done doing what they were doing, they’ll say, “I’m back.” So, if you’ve seen me “head’s down” lately, my apologies. I’m back now. I’m going to keep my chin up, so I don’t miss out on things, and trust me, if something cool happens, I’ll tell you about it. Maybe not the second it happens, maybe not even the same day, but if you need to know, you will.

Ten Little Miracles

2011-02-02T17:14:00.007-06:00

There are a lot of phone calls you don't want to receive when you're 4,200 miles from home. One of those is that your pregnant wife's water broke. However, that's exactly the phone call I received on January 23rd after I arrived in Lisbon, Portugal. You may be thinking, "How in the world did you make it back from Portugal for the birth of your child!?" A lot of tiny miracles.

The first miracle was that my wife Erin called me as we were walking through customs in Lisbon. If she had called just an hour later, I would have missed the one flight back to New York. Instead, I was able to go right to the ticket counter while talking to crew scheduling who bought me a ticket, not only back to New York, but all the way to Minneapolis...that's miracle number two. We left Lisbon fifteen minutes early and because I knew the captain, I kindly asked him to fly a little faster than normal...miracles number three and four.

Once we landed in New York, I heard one of the pilots come on the P.A. and tell us that our gate was currently occupied. This wasn't helping my blood pressure. Because international flights can only park at certain gates, they very rarely change our arrival gate, but this day they did. Not only did they change the gate, but it was closer to my next flight (which was leaving in 45 minutes)...miracle number five.

Typically, when we go through customs, we have a crew line which is always shorter than the normal passenger line, but if you get stuck behind a foreign crew, you can be there for upwards of an hour. A few months ago, I signed up for Global Entry which is a program US Customs has for "trusted travelers". Basically, instead of meeting with a customs agent, you just scan your passport in a machine, and it lets you into the country. It cost $100 to sign up, but this day, it was worth a million dollars...miracle number six.

After I went through customs, I got through security and walked up to the Minneapolis flight about 10 minutes before departure time...miracle number seven. I told the gate agent that I was on an emergency positive space ticket and after a little confusion, she gave me my boarding pass. When I walked on the airplane, I talked to the pilots, told them what was happening and asked if they could fly a little faster. On the descent into Minneapolis, the pilots made the following announcement, "Ladies and Gentlemen, we have a special request. There's a passenger on board who is on the way to the birth of his child, so if everyone would stay seated until he gets off the airplane, we'd appreciate it." That was very nice of them, but I was shocked when everyone actually stayed seated when the seat belt sign was turned off...miracle number eight.

Because employee parking in Minneapolis is at the Humphrey Terminal, and the airlines I typically fly on park at the Lindbergh Terminal, I have to take the light rail train between the two terminals. On Sunday afternoons, the train usually operates about every 20 minutes and typically, I'll show up to see the train pulling away. Not this day, I walked down to the train station and less than one minute later, the train pulled up...miracle number nine.

If you know me, I love to drive...fast. When I left New York, they had already started giving my wife an epidural, which I assumed meant she was getting close. I used that information to justify driving 90 MPH to the hospital. I figured this was my one opportunity to speed and have a really good excuse. Fortunately, I didn't get pulled over...miracle number ten.

I ran into the hospital expecting blood, screaming, doctors and nurses throwing scalpels across the room like circus jugglers. Instead, I felt like I had walked into a library. The lights were dimmed, classical music was playing, my wife's dad was reading a book, my mom was eating a sandwich, Erin was laying in bed resting. I said hello, changed out of my uniform, and three hours later...I met our little miracle.

One Year

2011-01-22T06:53:00.002-06:00

One year. 365 days. 8,760 hours. 525,600 minutes. 31,536,000 seconds. The older I get, the quicker the years seem to pass. When it comes to flight time, however, it took me over half of my life to accrue one years worth of flight time. I started flying about 18 years ago and it wasn’t until yesterday that I reached a grand total of 8,760 hours flying airplanes.

The flight time adds up quick while working for the airlines so it’s easy to forget how hard it used to be to add up all the early entries in my logbook. There were many days when I thought I’d never see 1,000 hours. When you’re paying for flight time yourself, or starting out as a commercial pilot, the hours don’t always come easy. My advice to young aviators has always been to “beg, borrow, and steal” as much flight time as you can. I have to say, when I was younger, I did a lot of begging...I also did a little borrowing and some stealing, but I won’t talk about that. What I will talk about is some of the flying I did when I was building time way back when.

One of the most fun flying jobs I’ve ever had was flying skydivers. I didn’t get paid anything (besides sandwiches and Cokes), but on a good weekend, I’d fly 16 hours, and that’s 16 hours I didn’t need to pay for. The “benefits package” that the skydive club offered was pretty simple; free skydiving. I guess that’s kind of the opposite of a normal companies’ benefits package. Most companies offer health plans, this one offered free opportunities to injure yourself and no health insurance. I took them up on it. During my time there I flew a lot, earned my skydive license, and managed not to break any bones...or airplanes for that matter.

Another flying opportunity that arose after a lot of begging was the chance to fly with the Minnesota State Patrol. When I was in college, I worked at the St. Paul Airport which is where the State Patrol kept their airplanes and helicopters. I became friends with many of the troopers which turned into offers to go flying. I went up in their helicopter many times, which was fun, but I couldn’t count that as flight time because I didn’t have a helicopter rating. I also went up in their airplanes whenever they had to deliver emergency blood or to enforce speed on various metro freeways. Flying for speed enforcement was a blast! Not for the guy getting the speeding ticket, but I was sure having fun chasing them. Usually, the trooper would run the stopwatch and talk to the troopers on the ground to stop the cars while I flew the airplane around in circles. Basically, every five minutes, we’d have a one minute car chase. Not only did I get to log this flight time, which was paid for by the good ol’ State of Minnesota, but I also got to fulfill my childhood dreams of being a cop.

People often ask what kind of emergencies I’ve had as a pilot. Thinking back, I’ve had a few. They say “what doesn’t kill you, makes you stronger.” In terms of flying, I’m strong enough. It’s funny, when I go fly airliners around, if we were ever down to one engine and one radio, we’d consider than an emergency. But the first airplanes I flew only had one engine and some didn’t even have a radio. Over the years, I’ve had an engine quit (on a plane that only had one engine to begin with), I’ve had smoke in the cockpit due to an malfunctioning heater, I’ve had a few flap failures, I’ve had a thunderstorm lift my airplane one thousand feet higher than we wanted, and once I had enough ice built up on the wings to build a small ice castle (and force us into an airport we weren’t planning on going to). So yeah, I’ve had a few emergencies, and I’m sure I’ll have a few more, but it’s those emergencies that build character and put hair on your chest...something like that.

The past 18 years of flying have had their ups and downs, but I wouldn’t change one bit of it. After all, it’s not the destination that makes flying fun, it’s the journey, and I’ve had a great 8,760 hour journey.

One year.
One year of amazing memories.
One year of doing what I love.
One year of flying airplanes.
I am truly blessed.

How I Broke a Customs Agent

2010-11-28T09:07:00.006-06:00

Warning: This post may not be suitable for people with sensitive ears.

I love to have fun at work. Sure, there are a lot of times when flying airplanes is a pretty serious business, but there are also times when joking around with other pilots and flight attendants is the only way to stay sane.

The other night we had just flown over Cuba and off in the distance I saw the island of Grand Cayman. I was reminded of a time I had a customs agent laughing so hard, he was nearly in tears. Now, Customs and Border Protections agents are kind of like the guards at Buckingham Palace, they're tough to break. However, with all the passes I make through the customs hall...it's fun to try.

A few years ago, I had started a 4-day trip out of Houston with a flight to Grand Cayman and back. Often times, pilots and flight attendants use those trips south of the border to restock their liquor cabinet or replenish their cigar collection. This would be my first trip to Grand Cayman and before we left, one of the flight attendants told me there's a particular type of rum that's only available in Grand Cayman. I'm always a sucker for picking up things that are only available in certain locations, so when I heard about the rum that's only available in Grand Cayman, I had to get it.

After we touched down in the island paradise, I was hoping our plane would break down and we could stay for a few days. But alas, the ol' B-737 was operating like the finely tuned machine it is, and we only had an hour on the ground. I headed inside to the duty free store with a few other crew members. One of the flight attendants pointed out the rum that was only available on this pristine island. I examined the bottle; it wasn't expensive and I had heard that it isn't the best quality rum. So what makes it so special? The name; Big Black Dick.

I purchased the bottle and headed back to the airplane. On the flight back to Houston, I was filling out our customs declaration form, which is when I thought I'd have a little fun with the customs agents. On the form where it asks you to write what you've purchased abroad, I wrote, "1 - Big Black Dick - $12."

We landed back in Houston and headed to customs. I showed the first agent my passport and paperwork, neatly filled out and stating what I had purchased. He swiped my passport through his computer, stamped my declaration paperwork, and said, "Have a nice day." Well, that's not the reaction I was looking for but I still have to hand in the paperwork to another customs agent before I'm allowed to enter the United States.

I headed downstairs where the agent was collecting declaration forms from passengers and crew. The customs agent in my line looked a lot like the actor Michael Clarke Duncan. In other words, he looks like the kind of guy who eats people like me for breakfast. Uh-oh. I anxiously approached the agent and when I reached his post, he looked like any other customs agent; no smile, eying up every passenger like they're the next terrorist, ready to kill at any moment. I handed him my form, he looked down at the paperwork, then looked up at me. I just stood there like a goober, not sure if I should smile and praying I wasn't going to end up in a back room for a "special" inspection. He looked back at the paperwork, straight faced, looked back at me...and burst out laughing! I breathed a huge sigh of relief and started laughing along with him. He told me that a friend of his lives in Grand Cayman so he was familiar with what I was declaring, which is probably what kept me out of the interrogation room.

I brought the rum home and the reviews were right, it's not that great...but it makes for a good story about the day I broke a customs agent.

Flossing and Flying

2010-11-02T11:43:00.003-05:00

I’ll be the first to admit I’m not good at flossing my teeth. As a matter of fact, usually when the dental hygienist asks me how often I floss, I like to joke by saying, “The last time I flossed, you did it.” She usually doesn’t find that as amusing as I do. It’s not quite that bad, but those cards the dentist office sends to remind me of my upcoming cleaning, are usually my reminder to start flossing. I’ve taken care of my teeth for the most part; I wore braces for a couple years, I paid big bucks to have them whitened, but if you were to give me a grade on flossing, I’d get a big fat F...as in Flunked Flossing. I know all the benefits to flossing; better looking teeth and gums, no gum cancer, a longer life span, and even weight loss. So why, you might ask yourself, would I not floss my teeth as much as I should when the benefits include looking better, living longer, and not getting mouth cancer?

My first excuse is that I have built in retainers. These metal fences on the back of my teeth make flossing more complicated than just pulling out some thread and going at it. It requires a flossing needle. I literally thread floss through the needle like I did in 8th grade home economics...which I also failed. The needle isn’t actually a needle as you might think of it, it’s more like a plastic lasso for floss. It doesn’t hurt, but it is a pain. The second reason I don’t floss like I should? Mostly laziness. Usually by the time I’m ready for bed, I’ve stayed up beyond most peoples bed times, and the last thing I want to do is spend an extra couple minutes in the bathroom before I stumble into bed.

The other day, a lightbulb went off in my head (which doesn’t happen very often, so I have to pay attention when it does). I was flying over to Europe, and somewhere over the North Atlantic, I looked at the clock and decided 20 hours awake was too long to go without brushing my teeth. Pilots are allowed to leave the cockpit inflight for physiological reasons, I figured bad breath is physiological, right? I opened my suitcase, grabbed my toiletry kit and headed out of the cockpit and to the lavatory. I also brought a bottle of water because I refuse to brush my teeth with airplane water.

As I pulled the toothbrush out of my toiletry kit, I saw my floss laying there. It was looking up at me, almost as if it were saying, “Hey Paul, wanna play?” So I grabbed the floss and floss threaders and went to work. As I was threading floss through my incisor, the lightbulb went off. I fly back and forth across the ocean at least four times a month, if I floss on every flight, that’s eight times per month. Now, I know that’s not nearly the number my dentist wants to see, but it’s better than zero times per month.

So that’s my plan; flying and flossing. They say pilots are good at multitasking, I don’t think this is quite what they mean, but if people are going to call me Smiling Paul, I better have a good smile to go with the nickname.

A Long Day at the office...

2010-09-02T12:37:00.006-05:00

My grandfather has a saying, “Some days peanuts, some days shells.” I’ve found that anyone who flies airplanes probably knows what that means. Some days, the days when the airplane is running perfectly, you watch the sky turn from blue to red to magenta as the sun sets, tailwinds push you into an early arrival, isobars spread so far apart on the weather analysis chart that you know there won’t be any turbulence, those are the days when you love flying airplanes. Then there are the days that consist of mostly shells. A thunderstorm makes for a rough ride, you don’t like the person you’re flying with, or a broken part delays your departure. That was my circumstance recently on a flight back to the U.S. from Edinburgh, Scotland.

It was really a shame to be leaving Scotland on such a glorious day. For those who haven’t been to Scotland, it’s kind of like the Pacific Northwest, continuous rain interrupted by brief periods of sunshine. But let me tell you, when the sun shines, it’s one of the most beautiful places in the world. Good scotch is a bonus too. Of course, the day we were leaving was one of the few beautiful days.

I had bid specifically for Edinburgh layovers in August because of the Fringe Festival and the Military Tattoo. For those curious, the Fringe is a collection of street performers, not to mention over 1,000 musical, comedy, and theatre acts throughout all of Edinburgh. The Military Tattoo is a show featuring military marching bands that takes place in the esplanade of the Edinburgh Castle every night during August. Think of it as a high school marching band competition, except better, and with bagpipes. This particular trip to Edinburgh was my fourth of the month, with one more to come the following day.

Over the last year, I’ve become friends with a lot of the airport staff in Edinburgh, so after plotting our course across the North Atlantic, making small talk with various ground agents, I finally made my way to the airplane. I borrowed the “high vis” vest from the security agent at the airplane, which is required to walk anywhere outside on the ramp. After the pre-flight walk around, I came back inside and finished pre-flight preparations. Eventually we got the word that everyone was ready to go, the main door closed, and we called for push back.

After push back, we started the left engine, and then attempted to start the right side. To start the Boeing 757, you basically need to make sure you have enough air pressure, and then you select the start switch to GND which does a lot of things, but basically, it starts the engine. I selected the start switch to GND, at which point we start looking for the engine gauges to start showing some signs of life. On this particular day, there was nothing. Not one of the gauges moved, no oil pressure, no fan rotation, nothing. It was as if we had done nothing at all. Just then, the push back coordinator who was on the tug pushing us back and talking to us through a headset, said (in a Sean Connery type accent), “Sparks! You have sparks coming out of the number two engine!” We quickly stopped the start sequence, went to our abnormal checklist, and then attempted it again. And again, there were more sparks. Sparks aren’t actually that alarming, any time you turn on the ignitors, whether it be to start the engine, or to fly through heavy rain, it puts out sparks to keep the engine running (or starting in this case). We called maintenance and found a new gate to park in.

Once maintenance arrived, all involved thought that the start valve wasn’t opening, allowing air into the engine for start. If that were the case, maintenance can manually open the valve, until we get the engine started, and then close it. They opened up the engine cowling and asked us just to run the starter. They had someone on the headset, and as soon as I selected the starter to GND, the noise was unbelievable. Maybe it was because the cabin door was open and I don’t normally hear how loud it is, or maybe because the starter had giving up on starting engines. We suddenly heard yelling through the headset, “Shut it off! Shut it off!” We did and shortly afterward the mechanic came into the cockpit and told us that as soon as we ran the starter, parts started flying off the airplane. The stater was literally eating itself up. This was not good, we would need a new starter, and being half way around the world, they’re not always easy to come by.

We learned from maintenance that the closest one was in London and owned by another airline. I’m really surprised that when another airline requests a part from a competitor, the competitor doesn’t jack up the price. I’m not sure what the going price is for a Rolls Royce starter, but I heard a rumor that we were paying about $100,000 for this particular one. They would put it on a flight to Edinburgh, but it wouldn’t arrive for at least six hours. Add whatever time it is going to take the mechanics to put it on the airplane, plus a seven hour flight back to the US, and we would be approaching our maximum crew duty day of 17:30 hours.

The captain put in a call to our operations center to talk about options. Since I was coming back to Edinburgh the next day, I had pre-purchased over $200 in tickets to shows for my next layover, but if we didn’t get back to the US today, I wouldn’t be able to turn around and come back the next day (and would loose the money invested in the shows). My suggestion was that crew scheduling put us in an airport hotel for the minimum rest period. By doing that, once the engine was fixed, we would be able to take off in the evening without worrying about crew rest. However, because of all the festivities, hotel rooms were hard to come by. As a matter of fact, the ticket agent spent an hour searching for a hotel room for a business first passenger, she finally found one at the rate of £500, which is roughly $800. Regardless of the hotel availability, the crew coordinator wanted us to stay with the airplane until they knew when they’d be getting the part. And so began the waiting game.

Because we were going to be sitting there for the foreseeable future, they hadn’t parked us at a normal gate, but at a hardstand out in the middle of a ramp. So, in order to get the passengers off and back to the terminal, they had to coordinate buses to come pick them up. Three coach buses later, the last passenger was off the airplane and were now keeping the gate agents entertained in the terminal. The crew coordinator informed us that we would need to take off by 8:30 PM local time in order to be back on the ground in the US within our maximum duty day of 17:30 hours. The local mechanics said it would take six hours to get the part, then a couple hours to get it installed and signed off. Seeing as it was approaching 1:00 PM, it was going to be tight. The ground agents had offered to bring us into the terminal, but when you’re on an airplane with comfy seats, food, and your own selection of movies and television shows, a terminal full of angry passengers doesn’t sound like like a great place to hang out. So myself, the captain, and the flight attendants made our nests in first class.

The next five hours were a mind game. I kept running scenarios through my head, much like someone trying to survive in the wild. When would the part get here? How long is it going to take to install, test, and sign off? How long will it take to gather up the passengers, get them on buses and back out to the airplane? Are there any air traffic control delays that will prohibit us from taking off by 8:30? Unlike someone trying to survive in the wild however, I kept myself entertained by watching Green Zone with Matt Damon, followed by a nap, and then a couple episodes of The Office, and Parks and Recreation while I ate a delicious steak with vegetables and a salad. So, as far as sitting around an airport goes, we definitely got the better end of the deal. Finally, word came that the part was on an airplane departing London and would arrive at 5:00 PM.

As 5:00 was approaching, you could feel the excitement building in the cabin. People were waking up from naps, milling about the airplane, talking about whether or not we would be coming back the next day (as a few of the flight attendants were working with me the next day). Finally we got word that the part was on the ground, about a half hour later it showed up and the mechanics put on their jumpsuits and got to work.

The captain and I walked outside to watch them work, mostly because we had nothing else better to do. As we were watching them a security vehicle pulled up and we got a very stern lecture about how we were required to be wearing “high vis” reflective vests. Well, we didn’t have any vests and the person who normally is in charge of giving us the vest had gone home hours ago. So, like a young troublemaker sent to his room, we walked back onto the airplane where we would stay, all because we didn’t have a reflective vest.

I was incredibly impressed with their work. It was like watching a combination of an Indy pit crew, and an operating room full of surgeons; fast, efficient, effective. Forty-five minutes later, they had the part installed and had run a test on it, then it became a scramble to get the passengers back and get our new flight paperwork. Within an hour of them installing the new starter, we closed the door and pushed back. When it came to start the engine with the new starter, our fingers were crossed.

I selected the start switch to GND, just as I had done previously...and just like earlier in the day, nothing. No oil pressure, no fan rotation, NOTHING!!! At this point, I just about lost it. I couldn’t believe our new starter wasn’t working! Then I looked up at the overhead panel and realized that I didn’t have the air pressure going to the engine which is one of the necessities of starting. I opened the valve that provides air pressure to the engine and tried it again. That’s when I saw what I thought I was never going to see; fan rotation, oil pressure rising, and finally...a good engine start.

We taxied out, took off and headed west, across Ireland, across the North Atlantic, just south of Greenland, over Canada, down the St. Lawrence Seaway and finally back into the United States. After 15 hours spent on the airplane, we finally landed in New York at 9:30 PM on a beautiful night, the lights of the city welcoming us home. What was even more welcoming however, was the down bedding waiting for me at the hotel. And as far as the next day goes, we left on time, arrived early, I saw all the shows I had tickets for, and it was one of the best layovers ever!

The Adventures of Life

2010-07-26T22:25:00.009-05:00

Life is full of great adventures. Although I’ve never climbed Mount Everest, or sailed across the Atlantic Ocean, I’d like to think that I’ve had a few adventures in my lifetime. It seems that often times, one doesn’t realize they’re having an adventure, during the adventure itself. It’s not until afterward during the debrief, the talk around the campfire, the drive back home, or just the replay in your mind, that you realize what an adventure you just had...and often times, how close you were to death. When I think back to my adventures, having the time of my life, usually meant threatening my life itself.

One life-threatening experience that comes to mind was back in my college days. College life is bound to generate adventure. As a matter of fact, I’d say if you didn’t have any adventures in college, you probably didn’t do it right. But this experience wasn’t because I was in college, it just happened to occur in that timeframe. I had landed my first real flying job, and (so far) the only flying job where I would routinely take off with more passengers than I would land with. I was a “jump pilot,” hauling skydivers to 10,000 feet, kicking them out, and returning to earth for the next group. Like most first flying jobs, it didn’t pay anything, except for maybe an occasional sandwich and soda when a skydiver felt pity for me. The only perk of the job to speak of was the opportunity to skydive for free. I didn’t “jump” on the opportunity right away, but during my second season I decided to make a tandem skydive. Not long afterwards, I took the static-line course, and by the end of the summer, I was making group jumps with the other regulars. During one particular jump, five of us were jumping with a sky-ball. A sky-ball is nothing more than a tennis ball filled with lead weight that would fall at the same speed as a human body in a belly down formation. We would form a circle (during free-fall) and toss the sky-ball from one to another. Around 3,000 feet, one of us would tuck the sky-ball into our jumpsuit, we’d all track away from each other, and open our parachutes. Funny that the life-threatening part of the story has nothing to do with plummeting towards earth at 120 mph, it came afterward, when my parachute was open. I threw out the pilot-chute (which pulls out the main chute), once it was open I looked up to make sure my canopy had inflated and the lines weren’t tangled. As soon as I got turned toward the airport, another skydiver floated underneath me. As he passed me, the top of his canopy snagged on my foot. Often times when two skydivers run into each other under canopy, they become entangled in each others lines, and if one is able to get his or her reserve chute out, they may limp away with broken bones. More likely is it, however, that the reserve parachute may get tangled up with the rest of the mess, and they “go in.” (Two words that are forbidden at a drop zone, “go in” refers to a skydiver going in to the weeds at full speed, the outcome not being very desirable). Fortunately, when my foot snagged the other skydivers canopy, it somehow came out right away. The whole event took place in less than a second, and being a relatively new skydiver, I didn’t know the danger I actually was in, until I mentioned it to someone on the ground. That split second brush with death, is forever embedded in my mind as one of my great adventures.

They say that your life flashes before your eyes when you are near death. I never doubted that, but had never experienced it until one day while flying in a small airplane with a friend of mine. I won’t go into details, but it’s true, when my body perceived imminent death, I started seeing pictures in my mind of my dog Spunky and my family sitting around the Christmas tree opening presents. Honestly, if my parents knew all the times I’ve been near death, whether it be on a motorcycle, in an airplane, or falling out of an airplane, they’d probably be near death themselves.

But this piece isn’t about death, it’s about living, it’s about embracing the adventures that life brings you. You won’t always know what your next adventure will be or where life will take you. However, I have a sneaking suspicion one of my greatest adventures is about to begin...and that’s the adventure of life. More precisely, the creation of a new life. Erin and I are expecting a new addition to our family in February, 2011, and I have a feeling, the adventures have just begun.

How to Escape a Wild Boar...and Get in Shape.

2010-06-01T08:31:00.004-05:00

I took the pull-up bar out of the box, and as I assembled it, I wondered how long it would be before it was collecting dust in a corner or being sold for a nickel at the next garage sale. After I had it assembled and installed in the door frame between the hallway and the guest room, I hung there, in a vein attempt to do a pull-up as part of the “fit test” before starting a fitness program called P90X. To say that I did a pull-up would be a stretch, I just sort of dangled, flexing and grunting, thinking that the 20 pounds I’d put on over the last five years wouldn’t affect my ability to pull myself up. Why I would ever need to pull myself up is beyond me, I guess if I was being chased by a wild boar and needed to get up into a tree quickly, then being able to do a pull-up might be handy, but besides wild animals, my life didn’t really require pull-ups.

As a matter of fact, my life is probably the reason I couldn’t do a pull-up. Sitting in an airplane every day, and for the last year, making upwards of six trips to Europe every month, eating first class meals along the way, was probably one of the reasons I’d put on 20 pounds. I’m not sure what it was that motivated me to finally get in shape; maybe it was looking at pictures of me at family get-togethers, pictures that reflected more than the ten pounds the camera supposedly adds, or maybe it was hearing about a fellow co-worker, just a few years older than me, dying from a heart attack. Whatever it was, I needed to get in shape before it was too late - enter P90X.

P90X is a revolutionary home fitness regimen designed at confusing your muscles by constantly switching up your workout routine. It’s a 90 day program that involves cardio, resistance training, yoga, martial arts, and plyometrics. The 90 day course has three training blocks. Each block has three weeks of intensity, followed by one week of recovery. Within each block, there are three phases; (1) The Adaptive Phase when the body learns how to do the new exercises, (2) The Mastery Phase when the body responds to these exercises and experiences changes, and (3) The Recovery Phase when muscular healing occurs and your body grows strong, ready to be “confused” again.

Day 1 just about had me packing up the DVD’s and sending them back. There was sweating, swearing, grunting, and by the end...complete exhaustion. My muscles hated me, but the endorphins in my brain were firing on all cylinders now, and I had that “good sore” that you hear athletes talk about after a great workout. Day 2 was plyometrics, which for those who don’t know, plyometrics is jump training. I’m not really sure why more people don’t send these DVD’s back because after an hour of jumping around the guest room, which was now “the gym”, I was fairly confident I was in over my head. But, for some reason, Day 3 came, then Day 4, Day 5, and so on. I kept hitting “Play”, and kept working out, and before I knew it, a month had come and gone, then two months, and finally the last day was here.

Erin decided to participate in the program as well, believe me though, I didn’t tell her to. If there’s one thing I’ve learned after being married for five years, it’s that you don’t tell your wife that she needs to start a workout program. She stuck with it, sometimes working out in the morning, and other times after work, but she hit “Play” just as many times as I did.

Some days were better than others, but I can honestly say that I kept at it and even if it meant waking up at 4:30 AM before I left for the airport, I would get up and do it. I worked out in my hotel rooms too. After flying across the ocean all night, I’d take a nap and the first thing I’d do in the afternoon is P90X, then I’d do it again the next morning, which often meant waking up at 5:00 AM...in Europe!

I kept an eye on what I was eating and the pounds started to drop. The first time I weighed myself, I honestly thought the scale was broken. The first 5 pounds came off quick, after that I had to work a little harder, but at the end of 90 days, I had lost a total of 23 pounds. I’m still not Superman, but I’m planning on Round 2 later this summer. Oh, and as far as pull-ups go, I can now do six with good form. Sure, six pull-ups isn’t much, but it only takes one to get away from a wild boar.

DNA Removal

How Not to Tell Others About Your Birthday.

2010-04-27T03:33:00.005-05:00

Every one of us has a day each year that we love to celebrate more than anyone else. This day is really only important to us, other people usually celebrate it with you, but only because they feel obligated. What day am I talking about? Your birthday.

There are a few birthdays that are pretty exciting. The day you turn 16, you get to drive on your own. The day you turn 17, you can fly an airplane by yourself. Then of course comes the privilege to vote and join the military once you turn 18. The last big milestone is 21, when you can finally start drinking legally. However, in my personal opinion, if you joined the military when you were 18, you should be able to drink then. Those guys spend more time away from their family and see more blood and guts in a day than most of us will ever see in a lifetime. I’m not saying that they should drink their sorrows away, but a cold beer after you’ve been out in the hot desert chasing bad guys all day, isn’t that out of line.

After you turn 21, things kind of go downhill. At 25, your insurance rates go down, that's nice but not really worth celebrating. At 30, you start feeling old, eventually you start having kids and their birthdays become more important than yours. From here on out, people tend to celebrate every 10 years...until you reach 90, then every year is a celebration that your heart is still ticking.

Generally, nobody keeps track of your birthday except for you (and Facebook), so I find it interesting how people bring up their big day, when they do want to go celebrate. Some people go with the direct approach, “Hey, just wanted to let you know it’s my birthday on Tuesday.” To which I would respond, “Hey, just wanted to let you know, I’m not getting you anything.” The cool people of the world bring it up like this, “Hey, I’m buying a round of drinks for the whole office tonight to celebrate me getting older.” Some try to slip it into normal conversation, “My wife and I went to dinner last night to celebrate my birthday.” Regardless of how you bring it up to people, it’s tacky. The whole world doesn’t need to know about your birthday, the people close to you will know, but don’t be one of those people who thinks the whole world should be celebrating with you.

Oh, there’s one other way to tell people about your birthday, it’s probably the tackiest, most self centered, shameless, egotistical method out there - and that’s writing a blog and publishing it on the world wide web. Seriously...don't do that.

Theater of the Mind

2010-04-13T13:16:00.000-05:00

There are some great ways to be entertained out there; who hasn't streamed a movie from Netflix directly to their TV, or watched the latest episode of "The Office" on Hulu, or just tried to catch up on the latest with their friends on Facebook. These are all great forms of entertainment, which is why I'm not surprised that my favorite type of entertainment is disappearing quicker than Girl Scout Cookies in a Weight Watchers meeting. So you might be asking, what is my favorite form of entertainment? Talk Radio.

I'm not talking about the news or sports stations, like Fox or ESPN, I'm talking about good ol' talk radio, you know, theater of the mind. I'm sure you can picture a little boy sitting in front of one of those huge radios from the 1920's. What happened to those days? What happened to the kids rushing home from school, to sit in the living room and listen to their favorite afternoon broadcast.

Anyone can entertain you with special effects or pretty girls, but it takes a very talented individual to entertain someone with words alone. There's something magical about listening to someone tell a story. A good storyteller, one who can paint a detailed picture, will actually make you feel like you're part of the story itself. There are a few storytellers that come to mind; Paul Harvey would tell "the rest of the story" so vividly and with such personality that history became fun. Another great storyteller is Garrison Keillor, who has created an imaginary village called Lake Wobegon. When you listen to one of his stories, you can actually picture the daily business of the residents from a little town in Northern Minnesota.

A lesser known storyteller, from St. Paul, MN, is a man named TD Mischke. Although no longer on the air, "The Mischke Broadcast" was one of the most entertaining pieces of talk radio. Mischke would entertain you with whatever was going through his mind, and let me tell you, it was an interesting mind to get inside. Often times, there would just be silence, which on any other show would be a huge mistake, but not with Mischke, he would sit there in silence for sometimes minutes at a time, just ruffling papers, and mumbling and grumbling. You know you have a talent when you can entertain people by saying nothing....on the radio. Mischke would often take calls from a few select people, these people almost became local celebrities themselves. One of my favorite callers was a young boy named Luke, when you listen to one of his calls, you get the feeling that he may be the next great thing in talk radio, that is, if entertaining talk radio even exists in the future.

Fortunately there is still one entertaining talk show in St. Paul. "Garage Logic", an imaginary town where the philosophy is "anything that needs to be figured out, can be figured out in the garage." Joe Soucheray, the shows host, is the Twin Cities' preeminent purveyor of Common Sense. He is also the self-appointed Mayor and Fireworks Commissioner of Garage Logic, Minnesota. Garage Logic is more a state of mind than an actual place on a map. We are lucky to have such a great show on a local AM station, but unfortunately, other than Garage Logic, this station has switched over to a sports talk format. It seems that listeners would rather be entertained with the latest scores than the mind theater of the good ol' days.

As much as I enjoy listening to music, I enjoy listening to entertaining talk radio even more. But sadly, entertaining talk radio - theater of the mind - seems to be disappearing. I'm hoping for a comeback, maybe people will start thinking it's "retro", much like the clothing of the '70's coming back into style. Until then, I'll just have to be entertained by the voices in my head.

Everything You've Ever Wanted to Know About Starbucks

2010-03-03T15:57:00.005-06:00

We've all been there, you walk into Starbucks and look up at the "menu" behind the counter, quickly try to find something to drink, yet what everyone else is ordering doesn't seem to be on the board. As someone who has spent way too much time in Starbucks, I'd like to give you a few hints on ordering, as well as some fun facts about my favorite coffee shop.

Before you even walk into one of the 15,000 Starbucks locations, you might notice the logo. The company logo, modeled after a 15th century Norse woodcut, is a mixoparthenos, or twin-tailed mermaid, or siren as she’s known in Greek mythology. When it comes to ordering, there are over 87,000 different possible combination's of drink orders. So if you think the baristas have an easy job, think again. If you didn't know, the barista is the person taking your order. They typically average about three minutes per customer, which seems pretty fast considering all the possible combination's. Here’s how picky the drink standards are – each drink has a specified weight range. Falling above or below this range will cost a barista points on their drink making. Despite the baristas knowing all these different drinks, they don't get paid very much, so don't forget to tip.

You may have noticed that when you order a drink, they often read the order back differently than the way you ordered it. That's because they have a special calling and drink naming system. This is probably by far the most confusing aspect. There is a default method for making all drinks, and the calling system is the most consistent way to let the barista know what the customer wants. There is a default recipe for every drink, so the cashier will only call the changes that are made to the drink. The system works really well because the barista will always know what order the changes come in, and they can adjust accordingly. So, it goes like this; (1) decaf, (2) number of shots, (3) cup size, (4) syrup, (5) milk, (6) custom, and finally (7) drink type. For example, a grande latte normally has two shots of espresso, and whole milk. If the customer asks for a grande latte, that’s how the cashier will call it to the barista. However, if a person wants a non-fat, triple, decaf, hazelnut, extra-hot mocha, the cashier will call it in this order: decaf, triple, grande, sugar-free hazelnut, non-fat, extra-hot mocha.

Starbucks uses the word "pumps" to refer to the syrups, and "shot" to refer to the espresso. So, if you said that you want a “shot” of vanilla, you should probably go to a different coffee shop and get some more practice.

As you may have experienced, there is no "small", "medium", or "large" when it comes to drink sizes. The options are "short", "tall", "grande", and "venti" (which means 20 in Italian). There aren't too many people that know about the "short" size, so you won't see that very often, and if you ask for a "small", you'll get a "tall". In order from "short" to "venti", the sizes are 8 ounces, 12 ounces, 16 ounces, and 20 ounces for a venti, unless you're getting an iced drink. The iced venti's are 24 ounces. The reason behind the iced venti drinks having an extra 4 ounces is this, the espresso drinks have an extra shot of espresso in them, and cost a few cents more than their hot equivalents. Lastly, any coffee shop with the cup size, “supremo” should not be taken seriously.

You may hear people say "skinny" when they order. Most people think that means that they use non-fat milk. That's partially true, however "skinny" means they're using non-fat milk AND sugar-free syrup. If you want your drinks syrup to have sugar in it, then you should ask for "non-fat", not "skinny".

So there you have it, ordering made simple. Clear as mud...right? Once you figure out what you like, when you order it, it should be consistent at every Starbucks you go to. Unless you go to a Starbucks inside of a grocery store or bookstore? You'll probably notice that the selections are usually quite limited, and there are stupid things like soda being sold there. That’s because these stores aren’t real Starbucks. Instead, these companies pay Starbucks so that they can use their products and machines, but they run the store according to their own company’s rules. This creates the opportunity for a very varied experience. You have to go to a real Starbucks to get the real Starbucks experience.

Okay, so now for some fun facts about Starbucks, everything you didn't need to know.

10 Fun Facts About Starbucks

1. Espresso has no "x" in it, it has an "s", consequently, it should be pronounced ES-presso, not EX-presso.

2. Last week 20 million people bought a cup of coffee at a Starbucks.

3. The pastry at Starbucks with the lowest amount of calories is the low-fat blueberry muffin, clocking in at 290. The pasty with the highest calorie content to date is the cinnamon roll at 640 calories. I'm pretty sure both of those shouldn't be part of my diet.

4. A typical customer stops by 18 times a month, I average about 23.

5. Coffee is harvested during November and December.

6. The most expensive coffee Starbucks sells is Kona Coffee, which retails at 22 bucks a pound.

7. Cappuccino gets its name from the Italian order of Catholic Capuchin monks, whose hooded robes resemble the drink’s cap of foam in shape and color. The frothed milk from the top of the steaming pitcher is spooned on top to “cap” the cappuccino and retain heat. The proportion of espresso to steamed and frothed milk for cappuccino is usually 1/3 espresso, 1/3 steamed milk and 1/3 frothed milk on top.

8. Starbucks was in part named after Starbuck, the Chief Mate character in the book Moby-Dick, as well as a turn-of-the-century mining camp (Starbo or Storbo) on Mount Rainier.

9. Starbucks has never, and will not, sell fountain drinks. If you ask the barista for soda, you will probably hear a snort of derision. After all, it is Starbucks COFFEE and TEA company.

10. There is a super rare drink that is not available at most stores, and not really well known, it's called a Caffè Medici — A doppio poured over chocolate syrup and orange peel, with whipped cream on top. Good luck getting one of those.

What's Your Number?

2010-02-03T16:55:00.003-06:00

I recently watched the movie "Up in the Air", a story about a corporate downsizer and his travels. The film follows his isolated life and philosophies along with the people that he meets along the way. In the movie, the main character, Ryan (played by George Clooney) runs into another frequent business traveler named Alex (played by Vera Farmiga). The question comes up; "What's your number? How many miles do you have?" They are of course, referring to the frequent flyer miles that are used for upgrades at various airports and hotels. To two well-traveled business people, that's kind of a personal question. Ryan reveals to Alex that he has a goal, a number in mind, of how many miles he wants to achieve. His goal - 10 Million Miles! It got me thinking about how many miles I have flown in my years as an airline pilot.

Before I could figure that out, I started thinking about the difference between nautical miles and statute miles. The average land-lubber uses statute miles, your car's odometer uses statute miles, and the speed limit signs on the road use statute miles per hour. Statute miles date back to the Roman Empire; 1,000 (left-right) paces by a Roman soldier equal one statute mile.

Ships and airplanes on the other hand, use "knots" as their unit of speed, one knot is equal to one nautical mile per hour. The origin of the word "knot" comes from ships. To measure the speed and distance of a ship, knots were tied into a "log line." This line was thrown overboard, an hourglass was tipped, and the knots were counted. When the sand ran out, the counting stopped, and a general speed was determined.

So why are nautical miles used in aviation rather than statute miles?
It's because pilots use nautical charts — similar to those originally designed for ships — based on longitude and latitude. The world is divided into 360 degrees, with 60 minutes to each degree. Each minute equals a nautical mile. So you might be asking, "What's the actual difference, speed and distance wise, between a nautical mile and a statute mile?" Well, one knot is equal to 1.15 MPH and one nautical mile is 5,280 feet, while one statute mile is 6,076 feet.

As an ironic side-note, the first airplane I flew was so slow that the airspeed indicator used MPH instead of knots, that way you at least felt like you were going faster.

After I did this little bit of research, it got me wondering, "Do the airlines use statute miles or nautical miles for their frequent flyer programs?" I checked a few different airline websites, after typing in different cities into the airlines mileage calculators, I compared it with the great circle mapper. You'll be happy to know that the airlines use statute miles, so you're gaining the higher number.

So how many miles have I flown? I didn't have the time to go through 16 years of flying and figure out the distance - we measure our time in the air by hours, not miles. I did however go through my 2009 calendar year and with the help of the great circle mapper, I calculated that with commuting, vacations, and of course trips that I actually flew; I flew a total of 370,667 nautical miles. If you were to convert that into statue miles (or frequent flyer miles), that's a grand total of 426,267 statute miles.

So, what's your number?

Hello, I'm a Mac.....

2010-01-19T10:48:00.000-06:00

We've all seen the television commercials for Mac computers. A really hip looking guy wearing jeans and a t-shirt who looks like he got pulled out of a Gap commercial, talks to a nerdy middle aged man wearing a suit and tie, sporting Coke bottle glasses and a pocket protector. Every commercial starts out the same; "Hello, I'm a Mac...." says the cool guy, "....and I'm a PC," says the nerd. The commercials really appeal to the nerd who's trying to fit in with the cool crowd because anyone who's cool, already owns a Mac. That's exactly why I went out and bought a MacBook Pro the other day - a desperate urge to be cool.

Now don't get me wrong, I didn't buy a Mac just to fit in with the cool kids. I bought one because (1) they rarely become infected with virus', (2) they're simple to use, and (3) they just work. That's what you hear from most people who have Apple computers, "They just work." There is no re-booting, no more Ctrl-Alt-Delete, and they don't take 10 minutes to open Internet Explorer like my PC did. Another reason I bought one is so I could use the music and video editing programs to make movies like this one.

The main reason I wanted a Mac however was so I would have a computer to take on the road with me. I spend a lot of time hanging out in hotels and without a computer, I feel like there is a lot of wasted time that I could be using to work on other things - like my recent subscription to Facebook, chatting with my wife, and working on my book.

"Book! What book are you talking about?" I'll tell you. I'm working on a fictional love story with a little action mixed in. A lot of people ask me what it's about. It's a constant work in progress and changes every time I sit down to write it but if I could write a teaser for it right now, it would look like this;

"When airline pilot John Nash finds his marriage in trouble, he turns to ex-girlfriend and aspiring psychologist Joy Hill for advice. After a traumatic experience at work, he changes the way he thinks about life.....and love."

Now, I don't know how long it's going to take to write, or if it will ever get published but if it does - I expect all of you loyal blog readers to show up at my book signing. I'll be the cool guy wearing jeans and a t-shirt.

Minnesota Nice

2010-01-07T08:16:00.003-06:00

Picture this; It's a cold, clear December night. You just finished celebrating Christmas with your family and you and your spouse are driving home on a quiet two lane road in the Minnesota countryside. It's the middle of the night, the stars are shining, and there is no traffic to speak of. The radio is off, the two of you are exhausted from all the traveling over the holiday so nothing is being said. You look down at the outside temperature gauge and it reads -20F. All you can think about is getting home and into a warm bed. Then, without warning, the silence is interrupted by a loud pop. You feel something hit the bottom of the car by your feet. Your serene drive home just took an unforeseen twist. You think to yourself, "Maybe it was just a chunk of ice falling out of the wheel well." Not more than a couple seconds later you here a "thump, thump, thump" sound as the steering becomes increasingly more difficult to control. Your spouse asks the obvious question; "Do we have a flat?"

That was just the situation my wife and I found ourselves in this Christmas. After we pulled over I got out to inspect the damage and found the front left tire to be completely flat. I walked around to the other side of the car to check the remaining tires and noticed that we had not one flat tire, but two! Just to be sure I wasn't seeing things I pulled out the tire pressure gauge and checked both of the flat tires, and one of the good tires just to make sure the gauge worked.

Once I got back inside my wife asked me what we were going to do. I told her we would call AAA and have a tow truck come out. Even if we had only one flat tire, the middle of the night in sub-zero temperatures on the side of a highway wasn't the time to learn how to change a flat. I called AAA - hoping that I had remembered to renew my membership - and told them where we were. The dispatcher told me it would be 20-30 minutes. After I hung up the phone with AAA, and my mom who was going to stay up until we figured out where we would bring the car, Erin told me she had to use the restroom. A good reminder that even adults should go potty before they leave the house.

As we sat there, looking at the stars, the hazard lights providing an annoying strobe effect, I wondered how long it would be before someone would stop to check on us. I was pleasantly surprised when, not more than a few minutes after I got off the phone with AAA, did an elderly couple pull along the side of our car to ask if we needed any help. I told them about our flat tires and that the car was running - and keeping us warm - just fine so we should be okay. A few minutes later another person stopped to see if we needed any help. And shortly after that, another person stopped. Then a police officer stopped to check on us - and to make sure I wasn't a felon who's luck had just run out.

Considering what little traffic there was, I was amazed at how many people stopped. It may have been a different story had it been the middle of summer, but there was a lot of "Minnesota Niceness" happening. There was some "Wisconsin Nice" too as I remember one of the trucks had Wisconsin license plates.

After sitting on the side of the road for about an hour, the tow truck finally showed up. I felt bad for the driver - who had gotten out his warm bed to come help us, but like he told us, "It's part of the job." Ironically, I knew the tow truck driver from high school and went to class with his brother.

We dropped the car off at a tire shop a couple blocks from my parents house. My mom was waiting there for us with a warm van and permission to drive it to our house where she would get it the next day. A long day that became even longer was finally coming to an end.

I'm not sure if the story would have been the same had we been sitting on the New Jersey Turnpike. I'm sure somebody would have stopped but it wouldn't have been an acquaintance from high school and my mom certainly wouldn't have been waiting with a vehicle for us to drive home.

It was a cold night in Minnesota, which wasn't nice - but there were a lot of Minnesotans with warm hearts, who were very nice.

A Good Reminder

2009-12-28T14:10:00.004-06:00

"Ladies and gentlemen, we will be landing in approximately an hour and a half. For the last hour of the flight you will not be allowed to stand up, go to the restroom, or have any blankets or coats in your lap. If you need to use the restroom or move about the cabin, now would be a good time to do so."

Those were the words I heard the day after Christmas during my break while I worked a flight from London back into the United States. Those types of announcements, security personnel searching every passenger and their bags in the jet-bridge during boarding, not being able to tell passengers what cities we're flying over; it all seems very familiar. It seems like the stuff we used to see and hear right after 9/11.

Now granted, all of these rules seem rather silly. After all, if a terrorist is going to blow up a plane and knows that everyone will need to be seated during the last hour of the flight, what's to stop him from blowing up the plane right after take-off, or during the middle of the flight, or 61 minutes before the flight lands for that matter. And what's to stop a terrorist from mixing six 3-ounce bottles of liquid explosives together and blowing up a plane on the ramp - near the terminal.

The point is that regardless of how many rules are put into place, they're only effective if a terrorist hasn't been watching the news and is planning on doing the exact thing that the guy before him tried. Let's say tomorrow, someone tries to blow up a subway train but right before he pulls the trigger, he stands up, jumps around one one foot, sings "Mary Had a Little Lamb", and then BOOM! The next day, the subway police would come out with a new rule that would probably read something like this, "No jumping around on one foot or singing allowed on the subway." Seems kind of silly doesn't it, but it also sounds a lot like what the TSA has done. Moving blankets to the overhead and not allowing passengers to stand up for the last hour will certainly piss people off, but will it stop someone who has been training for the past 8 years to blow up a plane? Probably not.

Personally, I'm kind of glad that Umar Farouk Abdulmutallab tried to blow up a plane. Don't get me wrong, it upsets me that he made it through several security checkpoints while being a "person of interest". I certainly don't want to see anybody hurt and the economy probably wouldn't improve because of another terrorist attack. However, I think a failed attempt, like the one that occurred Christmas Day on Northwest flight 253, is a good reminder that we still live in a post-9/11 world and it's everyday people that need to make it safe. There isn't going to be a cop on every corner or an air marshal on every flight but there are normal people like you and me that, by working together, can prevent another attack on the country.

Terrorist's are training every day to attack our country's weakest points. Are you ready to attack back?

Is Christmas a Swear Word?

2009-12-21T10:07:00.000-06:00

"Happy Holidays".

We've been hearing that a lot lately. What we aren't hearing is "Merry Christmas", and honestly, it bothers me. For example, I saw the words "Holiday 2009" printed on a can of Coke the other day. I guess they don't want to advertise what "Holiday" they're talking about. Minneapolis has a "Holidazzle" parade, instead of a Christmas parade. I've even heard the trees we bring inside our houses called "Holiday trees" instead of "Christmas trees".

According to a recent poll, 76% of Americans are Christian. There are, of course, many different variations of being a Christian (ie, Baptist, Lutheran) but they all have one thing in common - a fundamental belief in Jesus Christ (who's birthday is coming up). So why, when the majority of Americans believe in Jesus, are people more likely to say a swear word than they are to say "Merry Christmas"?

Maybe saying "Happy Holidays" has become such the norm that some people are afraid to stand out in the crowd by saying "Merry Christmas"? Maybe they're afraid of offending someone? Although I'd think with 76% of Americans being Christian, the odds of offending someone is rare - about 1 in 4. I probably offend 1 out of 4 people with my presence alone - but it doesn't stop me from showing up.

So what are we afraid of? No one is afraid to say Happy Thanksgiving. Banks and post offices are closed, so even the government recognizes it as a holiday. It's even on all the calendars I see at those calendar kiosks at the mall - which are ironically only open around Christmastime.

So, if Christmas is a real holiday, celebrated by a big majority of people, and it's even on calendars - why not say "Merry Christmas"? After all, it isn't a swear word, and it'll make baby Jesus happy.

MERRY CHRISTMAS!

How's Your Commute?

2009-12-14T10:51:00.003-06:00

I'm writing this from seat 5A. Not a bad seat considering I ran up to the gate, a sweaty mess, 3 minutes before departure time, begging for a free ride home. Today I'm in the bulkhead row of an Embraer 175, there's no one sitting next to me which is nice considering I've been awake since midnight (body clock). Why I'm writing this for my blog and not sleeping is beyond me (although I think it has something to do with the Biscoff cookies Delta serves).

Odds are, if you have a job - you probably have to commute. Your commute may be a short walk or bike ride, maybe it's an hour drive in rush hour traffic, or if you're like me - you have to fly to work.

Because I'm based in Newark, yet live in Minneapolis, I have to fly to work. Being able to fly to work has it's advantages and disadvantages. The advantage being that I can live anywhere in the world and still get to work. The disadvantage of flying to work is that I spend a lot of time in airports, on airplanes, and often find myself sleeping in places most people wouldn't consider.

According to census.gov, the average person working in Downtown St. Paul, spends 21.7 minutes driving to work. Depending on how many flights are going my way, the weather, and the number of passengers booked - I usually leave my house 8-20 hours before I have to report for work.

You may hear pilots talk about "jump-seating" to work. That's usually what we call it regardless of where we sit. There are usually one or two extra seats in the cockpit and cabin that are considered jump-seats. They're used for check rides, international relief officers, or the most common use - a pilot trying to get to work. Just because a pilot says he's jump-seating though, doesn't mean he's in the cockpit. As a matter of fact, the TSA prohibits someone from sitting in the cockpit if there is an open seat in the cabin (unless they are there for official duties). I guess the TSA doesn't want an extra set of eyes and someone with experience in the cockpit when something goes wrong. I'm pretty sure they consider pilots a security risk.

Often times I end up in first class, which is always a nice way to ride to work. Often times, I'm in the jump-seat in the cockpit, which means I'm getting one of the last seats on the plane. Sometimes I end up in the middle seat between two linebackers. Every once in a while though, my commute is a horrible mess and I seriously consider wanting to move (even to Newark, yeah, sometimes it's that bad).

One of the most memorable commutes I've had, started after working a red-eye from Las Vegas to Newark. We landed in Newark at 4:45 AM, however because it was a weekend, the first flight to Minneapolis didn't depart until 8:00 AM. I managed to stay awake until departure time and found myself in the last row of the airplane with the whole row to myself - perfect for sleeping. Before we pushed back from the gate (but after the ever-important safety briefing from the flight attendants), I had my eye-mask on, my ear-plugs in, and I was sound asleep. I was woken from my deep sleep about an hour and half later to someone tapping my shoulder. When I lifted up my eye-mask, I saw a lady with a baby who asked me, "Can I sit here?" Okay first of all, who the hell decides half-way through a flight that they need to switch seats? I'll tell you who, someone who has already annoyed their 80 year old seat partner enough to drive them to take their hearing aids out. I didn't think much about it (because I had just woken up) and nodded in the affirmative. She sat down, I put my eye-mask back down and tried to go back to sleep. I wasn't giving her much room but her kid never stopped crying or jumping around. Finally a flight attendant came by and told her, "Ma'am, this is one of our pilots, he's been awake all night and needs to sleep, you need to go back to your original seat." Then this lady - who needs a lesson in parenting - said, "Can I go to first class?" Uhhhh, NO! You don't just get to go to first class, especially when you have a kid who won't stop crying! The pièce de résistance was at the end of the flight when she had moved to the seat across the aisle from mine (and next to another guy who looked as excited about sitting next to her as the rest of the passengers did). As we landed, her kid spilled a bottle-sized canister of Cheerios all over the floor. As if she was going to avoid detection, she quickly ran up to her original seat before the airplane had even stopped moving. Seriously, has this person never been out in public before? What made me laugh the most was during deplaning when the aft-galley flight attendant told the first-class flight attendant OVER THE P.A.; "Suzie, we're going to need an extra cleaning crew because that lady with the baby who's standing at row 7 right now, she spilled Cheerios all over the floor back here, it's a huge mess." Maybe not the most professional P.A. I've ever heard, but a little public humiliation might have been just what this lady needed.

That wasn't the first time someone tried to wake me up while I was sleeping with my eye-mask and ear-plugs. On a different flight home, I was equally as tired and sleeping soundly when the drink cart bumped me into a mild state of awareness. I was half-awake and knew that the flight attendants were close by serving drinks, then I felt the flight attendant scratch my knee, trying to wake me up. I heard the guy next to me say, "I think he's trying to sleep." I wanted to flip up my eye-mask and say, "What do you think someone wearing an EYE-MASK and EAR-PLUGS is doing?!" I'll tell you what they're not doing, they're not thinking about what kind of tasty soda they're going to get from the magical drink cart. Unbelievable.

Sometimes it's not the people that make my commute a miserable experience, it's the commute itself. A few months ago, on a Friday afternoon, I had a trip with a 3:30 PM show for a 4:30 PM departure from Newark to San Francisco. I showed up at the Minneapolis airport at 5:30 AM, hoping to get on the first flight out to Newark. Since the airline I work for doesn't fly from Minneapolis to Newark, any pilots that work for the airline I'm jump-seating on, have priority over me when it comes to getting a seat. The first flight was full with five jump-seaters, needless to say I didn't get on that one. The second flight was cancelled, the third flight still had four jump-seaters trying to get on. Then I thought I could go to LaGuardia and take a shuttle over to Newark. I went over to the LaGuardia flight, it was full and the jump-seats were already taken. Then I decided to go to the JFK flight and see how it looked. It had plenty of seats so I took one of them and we headed out to JFK. We arrived at the JFK airport at 2:00 PM. Keep in mind, I needed to be in Newark 90 minutes later. I found the ground transportation center and arranged a shuttle to Newark. The shuttle picked me up at 2:37 PM. If you've ever been in the New York area on Friday afternoon, traffic is bumper to bumper. Every couple minutes we would hit some sort of snarl that would drive my blood pressure through the roof. I watched the time tick away but eventually we made it to the Newark airport. For job preservation purposes, I won't tell you what time I showed up but the flight left on time (with me sitting in the cockpit).

Finally, one of the worst commutes was on an Embrarer 145. I was assigned to the cabin jump-seat, which on the E-145 is next to the last row of seats and blocks the lavatory when it's extended. The general procedure with someone in the cabin-jump seat is - sit there for take-off, then move forward to the other cabin-jump seat (by the main entry door) while the flight attendant does the service, then back to the rear jump-seat for landing. However, on a flight that's two hours long, once the flight attendant finishes her service, there's still over an hour to go until landing. Obviously the jump-seater can't go sit in the rear jump-seat because it blocks the lavatory, so they just have to find a place to hang out. Usually the flight attendant will do another service, or hang out in the small galley and read (the flight attendant manual, of course). This particular flight attendant wanted to sit in her jump-seat (by the main entry door). I obviously wasn't going to argue, it is after all, her jump-seat. She asked if I would like to sit on a ice-box in the galley. I've seen this before, the flight attendant will take one of those tin boxes with all the soda cans in it, throw a blanket over the top, and call it a seat. So when this flight attendant mentioned that, I figured that was what she meant. Nope. She actually took one of the ice-buckets, dumped out the ice into another ice-bucket, flipped it upside down, gave me a incredibly thin blanket to sit on, and went to her jump-seat. Now, the ice-bucket is maybe 7 inches tall. I, on the other hand am 6'3". Sitting on a 7" bucket for over an hour, isn't the most comfortable thing in the world. Oh, and did I mention that I was sitting on a plastic ICE BUCKET!!! Ice buckets are cold, especially when they just had two bags of ice dumped out of them. The blanket she gave me wasn't one of those nice comforter type blankets you'd use to snuggle with on a cold winter afternoon either, it was see-through-thin and provided no warmth whatsoever. So, after my legs fell asleep from the odd sitting position, my butt fell asleep from the subzero sitting surface it was frozen to. And as if those two things weren't bad enough, I just about went deaf from the wind noise blowing past the galley service door. My 21.7 minute drive home was the most comfortable part of the day.

So sometimes when I commute, I'm hanging out with the pretty people in first class, and sometimes I feel like I'm in one of Saddam's torture chambers, but either way, it gets me home.....and home is where the heart is.

Glad I haven't had to sit next to this guy yet!

A Letter to a Mugger

2009-12-03T17:39:00.005-06:00

You probably don't need to read this blog....unless you're the guy who tried to mug my wife and I while we were shopping at Gander Mountain last night. In case you don't remember who we were, I was the guy wearing the black pea coat that you demanded I hand over, shortly after you pulled the knife on my wife and I, threatening our lives. You also asked for my wife's purse and earrings. I can only hope that you somehow come across this rather important message.

First, I'd like to apologize for your embarrassment; I didn't expect you to actually poop in your pants when I drew my pistol after you took my jacket. The evening was not that cold, and I was wearing the jacket for a reason. My wife had just bought me that Kimber Model 1911 .45 ACP pistol for our anniversary, and we had picked up a new holster for it that very evening. Obviously you agree that it is a very intimidating weapon when pointed at your head....isn't it?!

I know it probably wasn't fun walking back to wherever you'd come from with that brown sludge in your pants. I'm sure it was even worse walking bare-footed since I made you leave your shoes, cell phone, and wallet with me. (That prevented you from calling or running to your buddies to come help mug us again.)

After I called your mother, or "Momma" as you had her listed in your cell-phone, I explained the entire episode of what you'd done. Then I went and filled up my gas tank as well as those of four other people in the gas station - on your credit card. The guy with the big motor home took 150 gallons and was extremely grateful!

After we left the gas station I drove by a homeless shelter and gave your shoes to a guy outside, along with all the cash in your wallet, he seemed to be really happy. I told him it's the season for giving. That made his day!

Later, I called a bunch of my friends over in Europe. It's been so long since I've talked with them, I usually don't call them from my own cell-phone because it's so expensive. As I was searching through your contact list I found a guy named "Probation Mike", I can only assume he is your probation officer?? I called him a couple times and made some threats to his family. I thought he knew I was kidding but he sounded pretty serious, you might want to call and explain what happened. Oh, the FBI called too - I think it might have something to do with the bomb threat I made toward a bank. The FBI guy seemed really intense and we had a nice long chat (I guess while he traced your number).

In a way, perhaps I should apologize for not killing you ... but I feel this type of retribution is a far more appropriate punishment for your threatened crime. I wish you well as you try to sort through some of these rather immediate pressing issues, and can only hope that you have the opportunity to reflect upon, and perhaps reconsider, the career path you've chosen to pursue in life. Remember, next time you might not be so lucky. Have a good day!

Giving Thanks and Helping Others

2009-11-25T04:30:00.000-06:00

The other day my brother said something I thought was great, he said, "I wish Christmas was more like Thanksgiving." When asked what he meant, he said that Christmas should be more about getting together with friends and family. I think he's right, there's no pressure to get anyone gifts on Thanksgiving, it's all about sitting down, enjoying a great meal and great conversation with people you love, and giving thanks for everything you're blessed with.

When is the last time you sat down with all your family and had a meal together? It seems that a lot of people start their day by rushing to the office with a cup of coffee and a power bar, and finish it with a trip through the drive-through. That's why I love Thanksgiving, it's the one day of the year we're forced to slow down and enjoy great food and time with family (or anyone else you feel comfortable slipping into a turkey coma in front of).

For some people, Thanksgiving is about tradition, but for me it seems that every Thanksgiving is different. Some years I'm at my mom and dads, and some years I'm stuck in a hotel. But whether it be you and your spouse or you and 20 cousins, the goal is the same - great food, great conversation, spending time with loved ones, and giving thanks for all we have!

It may have been a rough year for you; maybe you lost a loved one, maybe you are struggling to find a job, or maybe life's just not treating you the way it should. But you no doubt got through those rough times with loved ones by your side, that's something to be thankful for right there. Sometimes it may seem like you don't have much, but if you look around, there's probably someone less fortunate than you not too far away.

So, this Thanksgiving, be thankful for everything you have, and while you're giving thanks, don't forget those less fortunate. This year instead of ringing a bell outside a Target for 3 hours, I thought I'd start my own Red Kettle. There's a link on the right side of my blog to donate to the Salvation Army. There's no bell ringing here, just a chance to give back to those a little less fortunate this year.

Happy Thanksgiving.

Behind the Badge

2009-11-17T11:57:00.020-06:00

We've all been there; parked on the side of the road, flashing lights in your rear view mirror, a police officer walking up to your window and explaining why they pulled you over. It's not the best situation to be in, but have you ever wondered what it would be like to be on the other side of the badge?

Earlier this summer, the Rosemount Police Department began advertising for a Citizens Police Academy to be held this fall. I've always had an interest in becoming a police officer so I figured this would be the perfect fit for me. I applied for the program and shortly thereafter received my acceptance letter. Little did I know, I was one of over 50 people applying to fill the 25 open spots. So, you might be asking yourself, why was I selected? While I don't know exactly what they were looking for, I have a feeling it was because of my good looks, flawless criminal record, and ninja-like reflexes. Well that.....and it could be because I applied the year before and they had to cancel it due to lack of interest.

In all seriousness, the Citizens Academy is a program designed to give residents an in-depth knowledge of their local police department. The academy I was in consisted of newspaper reporters, a state representative, law-enforcement students, local businessmen, retired citizens, and.....me. The academy started on October 5th and class was held every Monday night for 7 weeks. Every class was supposed to last 3 hours, however they usually ran 30 minutes to an hour late because of the interest everyone had in the topic at hand.

Over the course of 7 weeks, they taught us a variety of topics. It started with an overview of department operations, a tour of the police facility and a review of typical police calls. One week they did DWI demonstrations with people that had actually been drinking (under the watchful eye of the police). An investigator came in from the Dakota County Drug Task Force for an interesting presentation on narcotics and his undercover work. The SWAT team (which is locally known as MAAG) showed us all of their cool toys, including armored vehicles and a flash-bang demonstration. A detective went through investigations and crime scene processing, kind of like the television show "CSI Miami" except without the beautiful women and computers that can translate a drop of blood into an address. We went out to a training facility to perform mock building searches, traffic stops, and felony stops. We also got a tour of the Dakota County Communication Center which is where all the 911 calls for the county get answered. An officer spent one of the nights teaching us about the use of force continuum. He then taught us some self-defense techniques including the use of an ASP baton and how to handcuff suspects. The 7 weeks went by very quickly and I was disappointed that it came to such a quick ending with last nights graduation. I learned a lot over the last 7 weeks but if there is one thing that stuck out, it's that the police are truly there to "Protect and Serve".

If you ever have the chance to attend a Citizens Police Academy in your town, I'd highly encourage it. Even if you don't have any interest in becoming a police officer, it's a great way to gain a greater knowledge and respect for what the police really do - when they're not busy pulling you over for speeding.

Special thanks to Chief Kalstabben, Officer Richtsmeier, and all the other officers of the Rosemount Police Department who went above and beyond to make this a great opportunity for the latest "grads" of the Citizens Police Academy.

The Squads

The Dakota County Communication Center

SWAT Team Toys

Field Testing DWI Subjects

Handcuffing the Perp

Building Searches

"Calling out" a felony subject

He's going to wish he hadn't hid in the trunk

Graduation

Watch the video above to see what the police have to deal with on a daily basis.

When Words Hurt

2009-11-12T13:41:00.008-06:00

It's amazing how just a few words can ruin your day; we're going to let you go, we lost the heartbeat, you have cancer, I want a divorce, you need a new transmission.

Up until earlier this week, I had been blessed not to have heard any of those said to me. That was until I received some hard-hitting news on Monday; "Paul, I've got the worst possible news I can give you, your carrier bearing is broken. Our recommendation is a new transmission." Now, I understand, that's probably not the worst news I'll ever hear in my life, but it is probably the worst thing a service advisor at the Honda dealer can tell me. The total estimate of a new transmission - $4,500! That's a lot of money to spend on a car that's worth just that. Not exactly a day-brightener.

My once-trusty Honda is almost a decade old and has enough miles on it to have driven the circumference of the world almost 5 1/2 times. Maybe it's time to put this old girl out of her misery. Maybe, but my last Honda lasted twice this long and still ran great when I sold it. Typically, Honda's are known for running a long time with a lot of miles. My car should be just entering it's mid-life crisis, not picking out burial plots.

After a little research, I discovered this particular year and model have known transmission problems. So much so, that Honda extended the warranty to 109,000 miles. Of course, this car has 134,000 miles on it. I always wonder if the warranties they provide are designed to last as long as they know the parts will, minus a few thousand miles. I don't know, call me a conspiracy theorist.

So, now I'm doing research on where to bring my sick car, because I'm pretty sure the Honda dealer isn't in the business of giving people deals. In the meantime, if you happen to be driving through my town and see me walking home from the store with a handful of groceries and a bag of rice balanced on my head - feel free to give me a ride, I'm not doing it for the exercise.

I remember when I was a kid, people used to say "Sticks and stones will break my bones, but words will never hurt me." Whoever said that was wrong. Words can hurt - but they can hurt your wallet even more.

A "Grand" Layover!

2009-10-26T16:52:00.009-05:00

I've had a lot of great layovers as an airline pilot. I've gone on ferry rides across the Puget Sound, drank wine under the Eiffel Tower, hiked around the Acropolis, partied in Times Square, and laid on the beach in Mexico. This past weekend however, I had one of the best layovers I can remember. I was on a 26 hour layover in Sin City - Las Vegas - although this particular activity didn't involve any sinning.

I called up Scenic Airlines to ask about going on a tour flight over the Grand Canyon. The reservation agent told me that they have a special rate for airline pilots. The price they quoted for the flight was too good to pass up, so I set up my reservation. I was, of course, flying on a standby basis, but if I didn't make it, I still had the rest of Vegas to explore.

They have a shuttle that picks everyone up and drives them out to the Boulder City Airport. I was picked up at 7:30 AM and had a nice chat with the other passengers during the 45 minute van ride to the airport. Once we arrived, I checked in at the ticket counter - just like one might do when flying on any other airline. The only difference I noticed during check-in was that they weigh you and your bags. Airlines like Continental, Southwest, United and Delta use an FAA approved "average passenger weight" instead of weighing each passenger individually. (For those curious, it's 190 lbs in the summer and 195 in the winter.) Because it's a smaller airplane, they need an actual passenger weight so they will have an accurate weight and balance.

After about 30 minutes of waiting in the gate area, we headed out to the airplane. We jumped in the De Havilland Canada DHC-6 Twin Otter and got a safety briefing from the first officer. The Twin Otter is a super cool twin engine turboprop that hold 19 passengers plus 2 pilots. It's a high-wing airplane which makes it great for tour flights, a lot of places use them for skydive airplanes as well because of the over sized door in the back.

We took off and within a few minutes were over the Hoover Dam. I kept hoping for the National Lampoon's Vegas Vacation, Clark Griswold quote: "Where the hell is the damn dam tour?" After we circled around the dam, we headed out over Lake Mead and towards the Grand Canyon.

They were playing an audio tour through our headphones and somewhere between the Hoover Dam and the Grand Canyon, the tour got kind of quiet. I figured there wasn't much to say about Lake Mead but when I noticed all the passengers look out the left window at the same time, I realized I might be missing something. I followed my headset cord from below my neck to the plug and realized my headset had been unplugged for about 10 minutes. I'm sure there's some great history about that part of the country that I could pass along but you'll have to go on your own flight to find out - because I missed it.

It wasn't long before we arrived at the Grand Canyon. I took a lot of pictures and video but like most pictures you've probably seen of the Grand Canyon - the pictures don't do it justice. To fly 500-1,000 feet above the canyon was just awesome! By the time I was flying it was almost mid-day but an early morning or late evening flight would be incredible! The different colors of the rocks reminded me of the changing leaves of autumn in Minnesota.

We circled around the canyon for 20-30 minutes before it was time to head back. After an hour of flying we landed back at the Boulder City airport. I chatted with the pilots after I got off to thank them for the ride and before long, I was on the bus back to my hotel.

I was flying a red-eye flight that night and normally when I do red-eyes, I try to wake up early so I can wear myself out and take a nap in the afternoon. A scenic flight over the Grand Canyon was certainly a good excuse to wake up early but when I arrived back at my hotel, I was so excited about the flight that it was hard to take a nap before we left for the airport - nothing a little Starbucks couldn't fix, however.

To see a video from my flight, click here!

It'll Stop a Bullet? It's a Booster Seat? No, It's a......

2009-10-22T14:39:00.006-05:00

I got home from the gym the other day and noticed a package on the front doorstep. After I parked the car, I hurriedly walked outside to the front door, anxious to see what had arrived. As I walked out of the garage, I glanced across the street and noticed a few neighbor's had the same packages. It was then I realized this package wasn't exclusive to my house, the whole neighborhood had received them. My heart sank, it wasn't even a coupon book, it was........phonebook day.

About once every six months another phonebook arrives on the front doorstep. I'm not sure who uses these things anymore but do we really need a new one every six months? I remember a nice summer day last year when I was able to intercept the group of people delivering them. I told the guy that I didn't need a phonebook and he could save one from being thrown out. I'm not sure that he was bilingual and it was obvious that English wasn't his first language, but when I shook my head, he understood what I meant.

You probably can't call me a "tree-hugger", but I certainly do feel bad taking this 1,956 page book and throwing it right into the recycling bin. I don't even open up the bag it came in. I guess I'd be really disappointed if I found out that I just tossed a big bundle of money that someone put in a QwestDex bag, disguising it as a phonebook.

Seriously though, when is the last time you used a phonebook? If I need a phone number, I usually use my handy dandy iPhone to look it up. If you don't have an iPhone, most people have computers with Internet access and more search engines than you know what to do with. If you don't have a computer - get one. They're really very nice and you will sound smart by saying words like; browser, RAM, hard-drive, and modem.

Phonebooks do come in handy for some things I guess. Booster seats are probably the most obvious use, who hasn't strapped their kid into the backseat sitting on a phonebook? They also make great kindling for fires, if you're ever lost in the forest and have the white pages, you could start a fire with it - provided you had matches. I've even heard they can stop a bullet, if you happen to have a phonebook handy while being shot at, be sure to hold it up - it may just save your life.

I have a feeling I'll never use a phonebook for any of those events, however. Maybe there is someone I can call and ask them to stop delivering phonebooks. That shouldn't be too hard, their phone number is probably in the..........oh crap.

Time for a Wardrobe (and Climate) Change

2009-10-11T04:59:00.003-05:00

I am not sure what the temperature is supposed to be this time of year, but it seems awfully cold here in the great tundra of Minnesota. Summer finally kicked into full swing a few weeks ago, but we seem to have skipped fall. The leaves didn't even have a chance to turn into the beautiful red's and amber's before we got our first snowfall this weekend. More proof of global warming, I guess.

So, once again it's time for Minnesotans to re-learn how to drive on ice covered roads and figure out where the snow shovels are. Time to shut off the water to garden hoses and put away the motorcycles. Time to pack up the swimsuits and bring out the snowsuits.

It's also time to stock up on hot-chocolate and logs for the fireplace. Soon we'll enjoy playing in the snow followed by those great evenings for snuggling on the couch watching classic movies and our favorite television shows.

That's what gives Minnesotans their character. We tend to make the most out of whatever the weather brings. We go to the beach when it's warm, and build snowmen when it's cold. We try not to take the weather for granted because we know the snow can fall just as quickly as the sun can shine.

So as winter approaches and the snow gets deep, remember that spring is just a few months off. It won't be long before you're back at the beach and you will have forgotten the time your car got stuck in the snowbank or the countless times your nostrils froze the second you stepped outside.

The climate is changing - get outside and enjoy it.

A Great Adventure!!

2009-10-02T12:57:00.006-05:00

Have you ever had one of those great days? A day where everything seems to be going your way, one of those days that feels like an adventure? I had one of those on Wednesday this week.

A few weeks ago I bought a ticket to the Dave Matthews Band concert in Kansas City for this past Wednesday. If you didn't know, I'm kind of a DMB fanatic, I've been to a lot of his concerts but the reason I wanted to go to this one specifically was because Willie Nelson and The Family Band were going to open up for him. I've never really followed Willie Nelson but he seems like one of those guys that you have to see before you die (or before he dies), so I thought this would be a perfect excuse to check that off my bucket list. I was going by myself because it was a school night - that didn't bother me though - I was looking at the day as an adventure! It's amazing how things work out when you really don't care how the day goes. As far as I was concerned, as long as I made it to the concert, I'd be happy.

I took a mid-morning flight down to Kansas City and the nice people at Northwest (in Delta uniforms) put me in a first class seat. After a short nap and a television show on my iPhone, I arrived in Kansas City. It was one of those beautiful days where the weather can't quite figure out if it's summer or fall yet, so it's somewhere in between - just perfect, 68 degrees, and not a cloud in the sky. I hopped on the rental car bus and went to go pick up my car.

The people at Budget were all out of the sub-compact clown cars that I had requested......so they gave me a red 2-door, Mitsubishi Eclipse convertible! When the girl working at the rental-car counter asked if a convertible for the same price would be okay, I only had to think about it for 1/2 second. I said, "Yeah, I guess that'd be okay." Inside I was doing cartwheels like a 8 year old would do when he finds out he's going to Disney Land instead of school.

I got outside to the car, put the top down, and the adventure began! I stopped by the hotel to drop off my bags and get checked in. I decided since it was such a nice day and I had a great car for cruising, I might as well go for a cruise. It's been a long time since I went for a drive with no particular place to go. I left the hotel and headed west. There's something refreshing about just driving with the top down on a beautiful day! There was no schedule, no traffic, no worries and nothing but me and the open highway! After an hour or so of cruising through the Kansas countryside, I ended up in Lawrence, KS. I stopped to get a sandwich for lunch, cruised through the University of Kansas campus, and then found another country road that would take me back to Kansas City.

I arrived back in Kansas City after a beautiful afternoon of driving and thought I'd find my great-grandparents house. My great-grandparents have been deceased since I was young but they used to live in a great neighborhood called Mission Hills, KS - a few miles south of downtown. They actually lived on State Line Road, their house was in Kansas, across the street was Missouri. I always thought that was kind of neat. After I found their house, I drove around and checked out some of the other houses in their neighborhood and then headed downtown for the evening!

I headed into the Power and Light District, which was right across the street from where the concert would be held. I found a place for dinner and saddled up to the bar. Within a few minutes a gentleman sat down next to me. As it turned out, he was going to the concert by himself as well. He's a school teacher from a Kansas City suburb, we had a great conversation and eventually a couple of his friends showed up as well. The four of us hung out for a couple hours and before I knew it, the show was about to begin. We headed into the Sprint Center and parted ways.

As I found my seat (on the floor about 20 rows back from the stage), the lights dimmed and out came Willie Nelson! Like I said, I haven't followed Willie Nelson much so I don't know many of his songs but there were a few I recognized; "Ain't It Funny (How Time Slips Away)" and "On the Road Again" were two of my favorites. After about 45 minutes, he finished his set and they started setting up for Dave Matthews. The auditorium was almost full by now and there was an indescribable excitement in the air.

As soon as the lights dimmed again, the crowd let out a deafening roar! The Dave Matthews Band came out and within minutes the concert was rocking at full volume! Their latest album, "Big Whiskey and the GrooGrux King", is a tribute to their former saxophone player LeRoi Moore. LeRoi passed away last summer, due to injuries received while riding an ATV. After his passing, the band became much stronger after they realized what they lost and what a unique friendship they all have. This is possibly one of their best albums ever.

Two and a half hours later, when they'd exhausted their set list which consisted of long jam sessions and plenty of songs, both old and new, they said their goodbyes and left the stage. Traditionally their drummer, Carter Beauford will throw drumsticks into the crowd after the show. Wednesday night was no different and I rushed closer to the front to see if I could grab one. A few got close but after about 20 sticks had been thrown, he left the stage. Although I left the auditorium empty handed, I had some great memories!

I headed back across the street and thought I'd see what was happening at the Power and Light District. I found a guy named Ryan Patrick Imming performing outside one of the bars. I got a drink and sat down to listen to him play! This guy was amazing, he plays guitar, bass guitar, drums, and harmonica! He mixes it all together live and gets some great music out of it! While I was watching him, I recognized another guy that was there with some friends. I had seen him on YouTube several times doing Dave Matthews covers and I have to say, he is probably as good, if not better than Dave Matthews! We had written back and forth a couple times so I knew what his name was. When I asked him if his name was Drew, he looked a little shocked. I told him that I recognized him from YouTube and that we had written a couple times. We hung out for a while and then I decided it was getting late and I needed to head back.

I drove back to my hotel in the rain, which I thought would make for some great sleeping weather. I was right, I was exhausted and slept great! The next morning I returned my car and caught a flight back home!

Sometimes life hands you an adventure when you least expect it, Wednesday was one of those days! A great drive through the Kansas countryside in a cool convertible, dinner and drinks with some high school teachers, a great concert, and hanging out on a patio listening to some more great music until the wee hours of the morning! It doesn't get much better than that!

Kids Say the Darndest Things

2009-09-29T11:37:00.005-05:00

I love hanging out with kids! Maybe that's one of the reasons I have a part time job driving school buses. Kids keep you young, they're full of energy, and often times they say things that most adults would never say.

My mother always reminds me of something I said when I was young. My brother Adam was just home from the hospital and was all of 5 days old. Like any highly coordinated 4 year old would have done, I decided that my 5 day old brother laying on the floor looked a lot like a hurdle, and he'd be perfect for me to jump over. I came running down the hall and hurled myself through the air and over my baby brother. About 1/8th of a second later my mom and I had this conversation:

Mom: "Paul, I don't EVER want to see you do that again!"

Me: "Well, then don't yatch me." (I had a hard time pronouncing my w's.)

Kids are so honest with their feelings and emotions, I think we can learn a lot from them. Watch the video below and meet Logan, he's only 13 years old, but he is wise beyond his years.

Merit Badges

2009-09-24T20:36:00.005-05:00

I was in the Boy Scouts when I was younger, although I'll be the first to admit that I wasn't much of a Boy Scout. I only went to den meetings because there were snacks, I never learned any cool knots, I can't start a fire with sticks, my pinewood derby cars usually came in last place, and my idea of camping is a Holiday Inn.

One of the things Boy Scouts proud themselves on is earning merit badges. There are more than 100 merit badges a scout can earn by learning something new or performing some sort of community service. There are merit badges for obvious Boy Scout activities like archery, wilderness survival, canoeing, woodworking, first aid, and rifle shooting. Then there are merit badges for activities that I never thought a Boy Scout would be involved in; railroading, salesmanship, lifesaving, and bugling for example. I don't know how many bugle playing train conductors there are, but like I said - I wasn't exactly a model Scout.

Tonight while I was out on a bike ride, I rode through a neighborhood intersection. There was a little boy standing on the corner, he was maybe 5 years old. As I rode by him I said, "Hi buddy!" He looked at me, and then shortly after I passed him I heard him exclaim, "I need help!" I stopped my bike and turned around to ask him what was wrong. He explained (in five year old speak) that he was at a friends and he was supposed to call his mom when he wanted to come home, but he kept calling and she didn't answer because she's always on the computer playing games (which is another topic in itself). So, he was trying to get home but he wasn't allowed to cross this particular street unless a grown-up helped him across. He probably didn't know that I don't qualify as a grown-up, but I asked him if he wanted me to help him across the street, he shook his head yes. As we crossed the street together I asked him where he lived. He pointed to a house that was kitty corner to where we had started this adventure, there was a dog in the yard. He told me the dogs name and then said that it was as wolf. I was confident that I had gotten him home safely - I wasn't so confident that this dog was actually a wolf. He went running inside and I continued my bike ride, happy to have helped a little boy across the street.

I don't remember what I earned merit badges for when I was a Scout, but this kid deserved one for street safety, decision making, and asking a grown-up for help. I don't think he's quite earned the Mammal Study merit badge however - because that was no wolf.

The garage door's open - and will stay that way!

2009-09-14T15:58:00.012-05:00

My wife and I live in a townhouse located in a great neighborhood in one of the cities finest suburbs. We have wonderful neighbors, kids play in the street, it's close to schools, there are plenty of trails and parks nearby - I couldn't ask for much more. Although townhouse living is great, someday a "real house" will be called for.

One of the conveniences of townhouse living is having "people" to clean the driveway in the winter, and mow the lawn in the summer. As an airline pilot, this is wonderful because I know my wife won't get stuck shoveling 4 feet of snow or cut her toes off in the lawnmower while I'm away. Don't get me wrong, I'm not the kind of guy who normally has "people" to do those things for me, and if we lived in a real house I would do those chores myself, but it's part of the deal I signed when the house was purchased. I would love to boost my cylinder index with a lawnmower, snow blower, and other loud power tools, but for the time being, it's just not necessary.

There are downsides to townhouse living however, some of these include; shared walls, no choice as to what color the outside of your house can be, and having to get a permission slip just to plant flowers. I can deal with most of these disadvantages, but recently we received a letter from the association that put me over the edge. Before I go on a rant, I'll let you read the letter:

Dear Resident:

One of the most difficult tasks of a manager's job is to inform homeowners when they are in violation of their association's governing documents. This notice to you is one of those tasks. Quite often, owners are not aware that they are in violation of their associations governing documents.

Your Board of Directors conducted a recent property inspection and noted you have been leaving your garage door open for extended periods of time.

To assist the Board of Directors in their efforts to preserve the integrity of the community, your cooperation in keeping your garage door closed when not in use would be appreciated.

Rule 8 states:

"To reduce the risk of theft, pest infestation and improve the property appearance, garage doors, must not be kept open for extended periods of time. When not in immediate use, doors must be kept closed."

Please refer to your association Rules and Governing Documents if you have concerns or would like further consideration of this matter.

I am confident that you understand the necessity of having an established Rules and Regulations program and will take the required corrective action on this issue.

Sincerely,
Tamara Eiden
Multiventure Properties, Inc
Edina, Minnesota

Are you kidding me! The association has taken the time to send us a letter explaining why the garage door should be shut! MY GARAGE DOOR!! This is the same association that did nothing after a weeks worth of phone calls when there was raw sewage flooding the lawn and floating in the street (thanks to some neighbor kids clogging the outflow line with rocks). This is the same association that calls the tow truck every time a car has been legally parked on the street for 24 hours because it doesn't look nice! Do these people have nothing better to do!?

In the letter they talk about preserving the "integrity of the community." Wouldn't the "integrity of the community" be better preserved if all the garage doors were up and people were outside talking to each other, instead of closing the door as soon as the car's bumper clears the garage door track? We have all winter to be holed up inside but when the weather is nice, the garage doors should be up and we should be outside, talking to our neighbors, keeping an eye on things, preserving the integrity of our community - whatever that means.

I wonder what's going to happen if we keep leaving the garage door open? Are they going to stop mowing the lawn or shoveling the walk? Maybe they'll send another nasty-gram, I'm really very scared. As far as I know, we still live in a free country, this isn't Nazi Germany or Communist China - leaving the garage door up is one of the many freedoms we enjoy as Americans. We have that freedom thanks to the soldiers of the United States Military, some of which are my neighbors - who I've had the opportunity to meet, only because their garage doors were up.

As far as I'm concerned, the association can send as many letters as they want, but as for me and my garage, the door will stay up until I'm ready to close it!

The Music All Around Us

2009-08-18T18:15:00.000-05:00

If you take a minute out of your day to stop and listen - what do you hear? It's very rare that you hear nothing. If you were at my house right now, you'd hear me listening to the Dave Matthews Band play a concert through my computer speakers. Earlier I was out on a bike ride, listening to my favorite workout mix on my iPhone. When I got back, you may have heard me trying to learn a new song on the piano, or maybe strumming away on my guitar. Later tonight you'd probably hear the town's state championship marching band practicing for their upcoming performances. What does it sound like where you are? Is your neighbor in the cubicle next door listening to a radio station? Maybe you're about to leave work and are looking forward to listening to a new CD on the way home. Maybe you went to a concert last weekend and are still humming some of the tunes they played. If you really stop and listen, you can hear the music all around us.

Music does so many things for different people. It expresses our emotions - love, anger, sadness, joy. You can use music to entertain guests, relax after a long day, tell someone how you feel, get pumped up for the big game, you can even use it to walk down the aisle when you get married. It's really the modern day poetry.

What's even better than listening to music in your car or on an iPod is listening to a live concert. Whether it be a huge amphitheatre with 40,000 people, a local band at the neighborhood bar, or just a few people gathered around a street musician - there's nothing I love more than watching someone play.

Recently the Washington Post did an experiment with a violin player. They put him in a Washington DC Metro Station. He played six Bach pieces for about 45 minutes. During that time, over 1,000 people passed by him. Most paid very little attention to this "street performer" that many probably thought was just trying to earn a buck. Little did the people walking by him know that this was world famous musician Joshua Bell playing some of the most intricate musical pieces ever written on a $3.5 million violin. Two days prior to this experiment, Mr. Bell had performed at a sold out theatre in Boston where the tickets averaged $100. Just the other day, I was running through an airport and heard a couple of people in the gate area playing a guitar and violin. If my flight hadn't been leaving in 2 minutes, I would love to have stopped and heard them play. Who knows, maybe it was a world famous musician and I didn't have the time to listen. Makes me wonder what else I've been missing.

Listening to music is one thing, playing it is an entirely different thing - it's an art. A little over a year ago, I started taking guitar lessons. For me, it was something that I had always wanted to learn. I soon realized that it was more than learning a new instrument though, it was almost like learning a new language. It engaged different parts of the brain and allowed me to escape from whatever was bothering me on that particular day.

Thomas Edison has said of music: "Of all the various forms of entertainment in the home, I know of nothing that compares with music. It is safe and sane; appeals to all the fine emotions; tends to bind family influences with a wholesomeness that links old and young together. If you will stop to consider how the old songs are loved in all the homes, you will realize what a deep hold music has on the affections of the people."

I don't think it could be put any better than that.

Today I Got Beat Up By a Girl

2009-08-05T15:49:00.004-05:00

It's been a while since I've worked out with a personal trainer. I guess the two main things that have been stopping me are (1) the cost, and (2) the embarrassment of passing out at the gym after lifting those little baby weights that they have in the child care area. My gym recently offered three free 1/2 hour workouts with a trainer - I figured it'd be a good time to get back and learn some new exercises, plus the price was right.

I signed up with a girl named Cassidy. Cassidy is one of those super humans that you see on television shows. She has lost over 130 pounds by - get this - eating well and exercise! No one can complain around her about how their face feels a little puffy or they just can't loose weight. She's been there, done that, and through lots of hard work is now one of the top personal trainers at the gym. She also teaches the cycling class that I take when the weather is bad. Since the weather has been so nice lately, I haven't been in her class for a while - I think our workout today was her way of getting back at me.

I showed up early to warm up on the elliptical machine. I figured that would show motivation and maybe she'd go easy on me - she didn't. We started out with some sort of lunge with one of those big balls against a wall with weights and lots of pushing and moaning and quivering legs. She said, "Wow, you're already sweating." Yeah, that's what I do when I workout for 25 seconds.

For some reason we had to run from exercise to exercise, next was burpee's with push-ups. For those of you who don't know what a burpee is - imagine standing, then squatting, then throwing your legs back into the push-up position, back to squatting, then jumping up to the standing position again. Oh, except we couldn't do just a normal burpee, we had to.....no, I had to do three or four push-ups while down in the push-up position during the burpee.

We continued through the rest of the exercises and got to one called "skull crushers". There's nothing more encouraging to a guy who hasn't lifted weights in a while to do an exercise in which, if you screw it up - you will crush your skull! While I was laying there, wondering how I got tricked into doing an exercise called "skull crushers" with a girl who clearly knows how to exercise, she said, "Don't forget to breathe." Oh gee, thanks, I almost forgot to breathe! Can you remind me to blink my eyes every once in a while too so they don't get scratchy!?

After we finished the first set of exercises, she reminded me to let her know if I was feeling lightheaded. "Okay," I said as my tunnel vision focused on the clock and I noticed that we had been working out for a whopping 13 minutes! Why is it that I can go ride my bike for two hours, yet 13 minutes of pushing weights around puts me into the flight mode of the "fight or flight" response to stressful situations.

We started out again doing the ball lunge with bicep curl and it wasn't too long after that I thought I might throw up, or pass out - or both, in which case I would probably drown in my own vomit. I told her I was feeling a little dizzy and she quickly lightened up on me, which is when I realized that I should have mentioned that much earlier. My brain must have been lacking oxygen during this period because at one point I thought I saw purple drops of sweat coming off me. I thought to myself, "It must have been that grape Gatorade I drank earlier."

We eventually worked our way through a modified version of the workout she originally had in mind and by the time we were done, I felt pretty good. It's always such a good feeling to have a good workout, get those endorphins going, and know that you're going to have that "good sore" the next day (or three).

Cassidy definitely gave me my money's worth and as long as I'm with a personal trainer, I'd rather have it be too hard than not hard enough - that's what she said!

It's a Small World After All

2009-07-16T08:47:00.020-05:00

After a month in classrooms and simulators, I've finally finished my
training on the B-757/767. The best part of training is getting back
in a real airplane and doing what I love - flying.

The culmination of ground school is a check-ride in the simulator
where the examiner puts you and the other pilot through a series of
normal and non-normal situations to see how well you handle them. Once you've passed your check-ride you are required to fly at least 25 hours in the real airplane on real flights with a check-airman whose job it is to give you instruction on normal, day to day flying. This is called Initial Operating Experience, or IOE. My IOE was scheduled for two trips, the first was Newark-Paris, and the second was Newark-Athens.

I flew out to Newark a couple days before my first flight to take care
of some re-current ground school. After I finished ground school I
headed into the city to meet an old friend that I don't get to see
very often. After dinner and people watching in New York, I headed
back to my hotel around mid-night. I stayed up until 3 AM hoping to
sleep as long as I could the next day, since I'd be staying up all
night flying to Paris.

After sleeping until noon, I took advantage of the nice workout room,
then headed over to the airport. I met up with my instructor a couple
hours before departure time to go over the flight papers.

Something new to me is the planning that goes into flying over the
ocean. Flying over land is kind of a no-brainer when it comes to an
emergency, you land at the nearest suitable airport which is generally
pretty close. Over the ocean however, we plan for the worst possible
situation - an engine failure and de-pressurization at the same time
right over the middle of the ocean. We plot where this critical point
is, where we're going to go if an emergency occurs and how much gas
it's going to take to get there at 10,000 feet with one engine shut-
down. Sounds pretty scary, but to have all that happen at once would
be highly unlikely - it's nice to know that we're prepared for that
anyhow.

After looking over paperwork, we headed out to the B-757 we were going to fly to Paris. The instructor and I headed outside to do my first pre-flight. The instructor was pointing out things like brake wear-pin indicators, oxygen blow-out discs, anti-ice vents, air conditioning exhaust, etc. I looked at him with a smile on my face and said "It's really big!" He laughed and said, "Just wait until you get on the 767, it's a lot bigger than this."

We headed back inside, set up the cockpit and before I knew it we were getting ready to push back. Before we did that however, one of the flight attendants asked if we had a chance to look at the menu yet. That was another one of the new parts of flying international, the pilots actually get menus - not leftovers.

We took off and headed up the Hudson River. As I looked out the
window, it was almost like a ride at Disney World - the city looked
like a painting, a beautiful clear night with the buildings reflecting
against the water and the streets bustling with cars.

We headed out over the Atlantic, watched a full moon rise over the
water and a few hours later, the flight attendants brought us our
meals. After about 6 hours of flying we arrived into Paris. The farm
fields looked like those of the ones in Minnesota but there was one
landmark in the distance that made me realize we had found the right city - the Eiffel Tower!

After a successful landing - which means everyone walked away and
nothing got bent - we headed to the hotel. A few flight attendants and I met in the crew lounge for celebratory champagne. I wanted to stay up and see the city so I went to the avenue des Champs-Élysées with a flight attendant. We saw the Arc de Triomphe and of course the Eiffel Tower (which was actually about a block from our hotel).

A handful of pilots (from all three Newark-Paris flights) and I headed
to dinner at a great place my captain knew of. On the menu was lots of wine, salmon, steak, french fries, and crème brûlée for dessert. After a wonderful dinner and great conversation, we headed back to the hotel for some more wine in the crew lounge.

About mid-night (Paris time) I was feeling pretty tired. Actually, to
say I was tired is to say the Atlantic Ocean is damp - I was
exhausted! No wonder why, I had been up for over 30 hours!

The next day we headed back to Newark except this time we had an
International Relief Officer (IRO) because the flight was scheduled to
be over eight hours. The nice thing about having an IRO is they do the walk-around, pre-flight the cockpit, get your drinks, and give you a couple hour break during the flight so you can go sleep in Business First. So basically you show up - and just fly.

When I showed up for the Athens flight, everything was very similar
except this time I was flying a B-767. I did the walk-around and my
first instructor was right, this airplane was huge! There are
certainly other airplanes out there that are bigger than this one, but
it is quite the sight when you walk around the outside of one. At take-off, the airplane weighed about 400,000 pounds! That's 400 times heavier than the first Cessna I ever flew back when I was 14 years old.

Our trip to Athens was about nine and one half hours so we had an IRO to give us a break during the flight. During the last part of the flight we were over the Mediterranean Sea (or "Med" as we call it). A clear day provided for some great views of the Italian, Albanian, and Yugoslavian Coast. We even saw the island where they filmed Captain Corelli's Mandolin - simply beautiful!

Once we got there, I decided a nap might be a better way to spend my first couple hours. After I woke up, the IRO and I headed over to the Acropolis to learn a small bit of Athens history. Later, we had dinner on a rooftop restaurant overlooking Athens. We finished the night on the roof of our hotel having a drink by the pool. Not a bad way to spend a day at work.

Our flight home was delayed about four hours due to a hydraulic leak
the in-bound crew found before they left Newark. After flying the
longest flight I've ever worked, we arrived 10 hours and 26 minutes
later, just in time for me to catch the last flight home to
Minneapolis for some well deserved days off.

This new type of flying will be something to get used to but great
crews, exciting destinations, and a new airplane should make for some wonderful adventures. I guess this new airplane is like Disney World, it's a small world after all.

Standing in front of the Arc de Triomphe

The view from my hotel room in Paris

A Legend Has Died

2009-06-26T08:54:00.006-05:00

As I'm sure you all have heard, the entertainment industry lost a legend yesterday. I'm sure we'll all remember his white gloves, his unusually high voice, his love for children, and his amusement park out in California. It is truly a sad day for everyone.

I remember visiting his amusement park as a child during our annual summer visits to California. I even got to sit on his lap once and have my picture taken. As you can imagine, security was tight, and I wasn't able to visit long but he seemed like the kind of friend everyone would want to have. Of course, who wouldn't want to have a friend that has his very own amusement park with rides, games, and unlimited junk food. I think that's what I'll miss the most, running around the park with him and all the other children, just laughing and enjoying the beautiful California weather.

Because he was so famous, a lot of people tried to get at his money by suing him for various accusations. I never believed any of those accusations to be true, he was just a kid at heart. Sure he had a lot of money and fame, but all he wanted was your friendship. As long as the children were happy, he was happy. That's one of the things I'll remember about him, he was the happiest when children were around.

In case you haven't heard, the man I'm talking about - is Mickey Mouse. That's right, Mickey has died. They found him in Peter Pan's Neverland yesterday - a magical place where boys never need to grow up, a place where you think you can fly, some say you can even walk across the ground like you're on the moon. It was a magical place where kids could come to get away from it all and just have fun.

We're all going to miss Mickey - oh, hold on - let me read the newspaper a little closer - oh my gosh, I can't believe I've done this - it's not Mickey that died, it's Michael. Michael Jackson died, so Mickey is okay. Wow, I'm really sorry about that. Okay, don't worry folks, there's nothing to be sad about, Mickey will still entertain your children for years to come. Phew, and I thought we all had something to worry about.

Who's Bad!?

Grab a fire extinguisher and give me a hand!

2009-06-14T21:03:00.004-05:00

Punk'd. Candid Camera. Girls Behaving Badly. What do all these television shows have in common? They're all about pulling pranks on unsuspecting people. I love a good prank, and I'm guessing I'm not the only one, otherwise those shows probably wouldn't be so popular.

I remember one prank I pulled on my girlfriend in high school. She was working hard at a local pizza place and I was sitting at home waiting for her to be done working, you know what they say about idle hands. I called her up one afternoon imitating a radio celebrity who was known for calling various businesses and making the person on the other end sound like an idiot - and you wonder why we're not still together. If I remember right, I was trying to convince her that I had run over a squirrel with my car and I wanted to bring it in so she could make a "squirrel meat pizza" for me. I think she knew it was me because about two seconds after we hung up she called me asking if I had just called. To this day I've vowed that it wasn't me - I guess the secret is out.

When my friend Mark was in high school, he was the victim of a prank. What's funny is that it wasn't the school bully or one of his buddies that got him, it was his parents! After he went to bed one night (I believe it was March 31st, the eve of the greatest day to play pranks on people), his parents set all the clocks ahead an hour - including the one on his nightstand, his wristwatch, and the clock in his car. The next morning his parents were downstairs having breakfast when he woke up, stumbled downstairs, and rushed off to school. It wasn't until he arrived at school that he realized he was an hour early.

I'd never be able to pull anything off quite like that without laughing at some point and giving it away. I've always wanted to eat five or six Oreo's as I walk into my dentist office for my regular cleaning and see what they have to say about that. I'm assuming they'd say with a serious face, "Paul, why don't you go brush your teeth real quick before we get started." Then I'd be "that guy" who showed up with Oreo teeth.

A few days ago there was a prank pulled on a Holiday Inn Express in Conway, Arkansas. Someone called the hotel around 6:00 AM and told the girl at the front desk that he was calling from the sprinkler service company. He explained to the hotel employee that there was a problem with the hotel's fire sprinklers and that she would need to pull the fire alarm in order to reset them. The hotel employee (who had probably been working all night long) decided that this sounded reasonable so she pulled the fire handle, causing the audible fire alarm to go off.

Then the prankster told her that in order to prevent the sprinklers from coming on, she would need to break all the windows in the hotel lobby. Not only did the hotel employee start to do this, but she was aided by a hotel guest armed with a fire extinguisher - which, when not being used to extinguish fires, is great for breaking windows.

The caller then advised her that she would need to break a sprinkler head in order to keep the sprinklers from activating. As I learned from an incident in my college days, that only leads to a very wet building and a lot of upset people. I guess with the hotel fire alarm going off and broken glass all over the lobby, I can see how you might think that breaking a sprinkler head would help get things back in order. Within a few minutes she had one of the sprinkler heads broken off, and thousands of gallons of water flooding the hotel.

To add insult to injury, the caller then instructed the hotel employee that she would need to reset the control panel and in order to do that she would have to shut down power to the entire hotel! Not wanting things to get worse, she found the electrical room and shut down power to the hotel.

So, within a few minutes of someone calling her hotel, the dedicated hotel employee had (1) set off the fire alarm, (2) broken all the windows in the hotel lobby, (3) set off the sprinkler system, and (4) shut down power to the hotel. By now the police and fire department were on the way. I'm sure they've seen a lot of funny things but I can't imagine they've ever seen someone cause so much damage to a hotel in so little time. The total cost of this prank - approximately $50,000!

In this economy, times are tough and jobs are hard to come by. But if you're interested in working the overnight shift at a hotel, I think I know of a place that might be hiring.

The Wild West and Player Pianos

2009-06-07T17:14:00.001-05:00

A few weeks ago, I was at my parents house playing their piano. They own an old player piano which I really enjoy playing because I feel like I'm stepping back in time when I sit down to "tickle the ivories". When I think of player pianos, I picture a few cowboys sitting around a saloon with the piano playing in the background, horses tied up out front, a few good looking ladies walking around in those big dresses, some tumbleweed rolling through the streets, the swinging doors - the wild west.

I don't know that my parents piano was ever in a saloon in the wild west but when I sat down to play that day, it got me thinking about how a player piano works. With a little research I discovered that it took several people during the late 1800's to develop a piano that could play on it's own. Basically, the notes to be played are represented by tiny perforations on interchangeable rolls of paper, while the player mechanism is powered entirely by suction, generated by the operation of two foot pedals.

The operator, or "pianolist", achieves dynamic shading of the music by varying the degree of pressure applied to the foot pedals. In addition, a set of hand-operated levers mounted just below the front of the keyboard provide accentuation, tempo control, activation of the sustain and soft pedals and selection of play and rewind modes. In the hands of an accomplished operator, a convincingly lifelike musical performance is achievable.

A player piano can of course be played by hand in the normal way, as the piano action and keyboard are entirely conventional. In fact, it is usually possible to play the keyboard while the roll mechanism is in operation, should any additional notes or harmonies be desired. The term "Pianola" was originally a trademark, first used by the Aeolian Company just over a hundred years ago, but in more recent times has become a generic reference to the self-playing piano.

The player piano was, for many, the main source of home entertainment during its peak of popularity between 1900 and 1930. You don't see too many old player pianos these days, however I've noticed a lot of hotels have player pianos that use MIDI to interface with computer equipment.

Even though I'm not a cowboy and there weren't any horses tied up out front, it sure was fun to sit down and play an old player piano for a while. To see a video of me playing my parents player piano, click here. By the way, this piano was converted to a "normal" piano years ago so if you think I was just moving my fingers to imitate the piano - think again.

Mayday, Mayday, Mayday!

2009-06-01T18:45:00.006-05:00

Today I flew from Houston, TX to Minneapolis, MN. Normally, that would be just another flight but today was different. It my last flight as a Boeing 737 first officer - well for a while anyway. I'm sure I'll be a B-737 FO again at some point, but tomorrow I start training to fly the Boeing 757/767.

The B-757 and B-767 are two somewhat different airplanes, the main difference being the B-757 is a narrow body and the B-767 is considered a wide body. However, the FAA says that since the cockpits are so similar, the pilots that are trained on one, can fly the other with a just few hours of differences training. There are actually a lot of airplane types that are different but can be flown with the same rating, even the different models of the B-737 I used to fly are dramatic. For example, the 737-500 holds only 114 passengers. The 737-300 has old analog gauges in the cockpit. However, the biggest model of the 737 is the 737-900ER (extended range), it holds 173 passengers and has a "glass cockpit", meaning the instruments are laid out on a TV type screen.

Since I've had training on all the different models, I could walk off a B-737-900ER that came out of the factory 2 months ago with satellite TV, and walk into a 30 year old 737-300. Once you get used to it however - it's like getting in a car, it doesn't matter when it was built, all the controls are basically the same. You push the throttles forward and the airplane goes faster, you pull them back and you slow down, you pull back on the yoke and the houses get smaller, you push the yoke forward and the houses get bigger - no problem. Of course, if it was that simple, training for a new airplane wouldn't be two months long.

I've been through a few training courses in my day. I went through all my "small" airplane training at a few different airports in Minnesota. My favorite place was this little grass-strip about 30 miles south of Minneapolis. Talk about the good ol' days - when I was in high school I used to paint hangars, wash airplanes, help out the mechanic, and mow the lawn in exchange for flying. There were no paychecks, I just kept track of my hours on a scrap piece of paper and turned it in to someone, who I'm pretty sure didn't even keep track of how much I worked or flew. I got a few ratings there and then got the rest while I was in college. I had a lot of fun learning to fly in college, but it wasn't the same as the grass-strip I started at - too many kids running (and flying) around. I missed the days when it was just me flying around the pattern watching the sunset over the farm fields of southern Minnesota.

I eventually got hired by an airline and spent two months in Memphis, TN getting checked out on the CRJ-200. That particular airline didn't consider you an employee until you passed the check ride so, for two months there was no paycheck and of course, no company provided lodging. In an effort to save money, my best friend Mark and I stayed together in one of those hotels that are set up for extended stays, much like an apartment. It was $30 cheaper per week to have one bed instead of two so we agreed that I would pay a little more to sleep in the bed and Mark would sleep in his sleeping bag on the floor. Mark kept pictures of his wife and I kept pictures of my girlfriend on the mirror, that way the cleaning people wouldn't get the wrong idea.

A few years later I decided that buying a type-rating in a B-737 might help me advance my career so I attended Higher Power Aviation in Dallas, TX. This had to be one of the most enjoyable training courses I've been through. I hadn't felt so at home somewhere since my days at the grass-strip where I got started. It seemed like everyday they provided us with some sort of food - pizza on one day, root-beer floats on another day, even lunch at Ranger Stadium. Since I was doing this on my own, I had to provide my own lodging. My friend Mark happened to be there at the same time as me, so we once again shared a hotel room - two beds this time!

Eventually, I was hired by my current employer and went through training again on the B-737. Even though I was already rated in the airplane, each airline is responsible for training you on their procedures. Now after a few years, I've decided to upgrade to the B-757/767. The B-737 is fun to fly and I've seen cities all over North, Central, and South America and even the Caribbean. After I finish training on the B-757/767, most of my flying will be over to Europe with an occasional Hawaii trip. There will still be some South America, Caribbean, and domestic flying but most of my trips will involve crossing the Atlantic.

So for the next month or so, I'll be spending most of my time in the classroom learning about the aircraft systems and running through all the normal, non-normal, and emergency procedures in the simulator. Some of these scenarios include engine fires and failures, electrical malfunctions, and even what to do when you have a medical emergency while you're over the North Atlantic.

I wonder if they'll teach me why a 300 lb man with a 48 pound bag pays less for weight than a 100 lb woman with a 52 lb bag??

Priceless Memories

2009-05-16T19:59:00.009-05:00

A few days ago my dad invited me to his somewhat exclusive gun range for an evening of trap shooting. I say his range is "somewhat exclusive" because there is a limited number of people that are allowed to be members and the only way for someone to become a member is if a current member quits - or dies. Right now it's about a five year wait to become a member, although there were a few WWII-era gentlemen walking around which makes me think the wait time might be coming down. Members are allowed to bring guests who want to shoot or if they are interested in joining the club. Since it takes so long to become a member, no one ever really leaves the gun club. If I were a member, I'd be a little worried about inviting potential members with their weapons to come out and play, when the only way for someone to join is for a current member to die.

I have experience with handguns but have never shot trap before so while we were driving to the range, my dad explained the etiquette of trap shooting. For those who don't know, shooting trap is when you shoot a shotgun (which sprays out hundreds of little BB's) at clay pigeons launched from a shack out in front of you. Clay pigeons look like those discs that people throw at track and field events during the Olympics. Now that I think about it, I'm not sure why they're called "pigeons". Shooting a pigeon with a shotgun is the equivalent of making hot-coco and mixing it with an electric blender. It'll get the job done but you'll be left with a mess and about half as much hot-coco had you just used a spoon from the kitchen drawer. You can shoot a pigeon with a rock from a slingshot and ruin his day, but shooting a pigeon with a 12 gauge shotgun is overkill - literally.

We arrived at the gun club on a beautiful Minnesota evening - a comfortable 65 degrees, no humidity, and no mosquitoes (which are actually the size of pigeons later in the summer). There were a few older gentlemen standing around recollecting the good ol' days when times were simpler. One gentlemen in particular had some good war stories - that's probably because he was on the beaches during the Normandy invasion on D-Day. I could have listened to his stories all day long, but the sun was approaching the horizon and I was anxious to destroy some clay pigeons, which I was about to learn is easier said than done.

My dad gave me a quick checkout on his shotgun (which I hope comes my way when he gives up his spot at the gun club). He told me how he bought this Ithaca shotgun when he was in the 10th grade from the local hardware store. Before he had saved up the $97 he needed to buy it, he'd stop by everyday after school and make sure it was still there, maybe hold it up and "shoot" as he imagined a duck flying over. Talk about good ol' days - no permit to purchase, no worry that he was going to go nuts and try to kill all the kids at school (half of which probably had shotguns too), just a 16 year old boy buying a shotgun. I'm pretty sure if a 10th grade boy walked into his local hardware store today and tried to buy a shotgun, the police would probably show up.

I didn't really think shooting clay pigeons would be that hard - well, I was wrong. Once you yell "Pull!" the pigeon comes flying out of the shack. You only have a split second to acquire the target, track it, get slightly ahead of it, and pull the trigger while still following the target. During each round there are five guys shooting from five different spots. The guy in the first spot starts and after his first shot, the person to his right gets his turn, then the person to his right, and so on. You go through that cycle five times, then everyone rotates to the next spot to the right. After each person has shot five times from the five different spots, that round of shooting is over. For those who didn't major in math, that's 25 shots for each shooter. In my first round, I hit one clay pigeon - ONE!!

My second round went a little better, I think I hit five of those elusive little discs. That being said, my dad was in charge of launching the clay targets and he noticed that I was hitting the targets that veered off to the left more often than not, so he kept firing my clay pigeons that way - gotta love a dad who makes you look good on the range.

Next was my dads turn to shoot. He told me on the drive to the club that he's not very good at trap shooting. I was beginning to doubt that statement when he hit his first five targets. I felt better once he began to miss them as he rotated through each firing position. When he hit the target he'd look over at me and pump his fist with a smile on his face, probably much in the same way he did when he first bought this weapon in the 10th grade. It was then that I realized our evening was more than just a father and son out at the range trying to destroy clay pigeons, it was more than that - it was two friends doing something that they love, spending time together.

45 year old shotgun: $97
3 boxes of shotgun shells: $30
Watching dad act like a 10th grader: Priceless

Do what your mommy says to avoid the swine flu!

2009-04-28T16:53:00.004-05:00

I'm sure you have all heard by now, there's a "scary" disease spreading around called the swine flu. It's contracted by contact with pigs that are infected but is spreadable through humans. The symptoms of swine flu in people are similar to the symptoms of regular human seasonal influenza and include fever, lethargy, lack of appetite, and coughing. Some people with swine flu also have reported runny nose, sore throat, nausea, vomiting, and diarrhea.

Wow, that is scary! I got the flu about one and a half years ago and these symptoms sound identical to what I had! I wonder if I had the swine flu before people were even aware of it. Maybe I should call the Center for Disease Control and let them know about my swine flu from over a year ago? Maybe I'm the one who spread it around? Over the last year and a half, I've flown to all the places it's popping up; New York, California, Kansas, Texas, Mexico - it's probably all my fault! I better call my counselor because I'm going to have some serious post-traumatic stress disorder over this!

Richard Besser, acting director of the federal Centers for Disease Control and Prevention, noted that although ordinary human flu accounts for 36,000 deaths every year, he was concerned by this strain. "I fully expect we will see deaths from this infection," Besser said at an Atlanta news conference.

"36,000 DEATHS FROM ORDINARY HUMAN FLU"!! Now, how many deaths have occurred from the swine flu in the United States so far - NONE! ZERO! ZILCH! NADA! Why are we so worried about a flu that hasn't killed anyone in the US when there's another flu floating around - the ordinary human flu - that kills 36,000 people a year!?

My favorite advice from the CDC on how to prevent the swine flu is this;

-Cover your nose and mouth with a tissue when coughing or sneezing. Immediately dispose of the tissue.

-Wash your hands frequently with soap and water to protect from germs, especially after you cough or sneeze. Alcohol-based hand cleaners are also effective.

-Avoid touching your eyes, nose, or mouth; this spreads the germs.

-Avoid close contact with sick persons and stay home if you are sick.

-Practice other good health habits, including getting plenty of sleep, be physically active, manage your stress, drink plenty of fluids, and eat nutritious food.

I remember when I was, ohhhhh, about five years old - my mom gave me the very same advice! I guess some people need the government to be their mommy. So boys and girls, do what your mommy says and maybe you won't get the swine flu.

Good luck.

Earth Day

2009-04-22T03:00:00.000-05:00

Today is Earth Day, a time for the tree huggers of the world to tell all their non-tree hugger friends that they should recycle more, drive less, and try not to breathe as much - you know, because of global warming. They'll tell you that the Earth is our mother and we need to respect her and what she provides for us.

Can I just say something? B as in B, S as in S! The Earth is NOT my mother. I have a wonderful mother who I have great respect for. But the Earth, well....the Earth is a place. Since when did it acquire a gender?

I hope no one was offended by the term "tree hugger." I love to give people hugs - people - not trees. One time, I almost hugged a tree accidentally. I was trying to stretch my calf muscle after a bike ride and the only thing I could prop my foot on was a nearby tree. I put my arms on the side of the tree, much like a 6th grade boy dancing with a girl for the first time would put his hands on her hips. After I started stretching my calf, I quickly stopped when I realized that it could appear to a passerby that I was literally hugging a tree. So let me just clear the air, I have never hugged a tree.

When it comes to being Earth friendly, I'm not always the friendliest. I try to avoid public transportation. I'm probably never going to drive a hybrid vehicle. I never bring my own grocery bag to the grocery store. I don't use any sort of alternative energy like solar power or wind energy. I certainly don't use fluorescent lights either, they give me a headache and remind me of high school history class.

Now don't get me wrong, I love the outdoors, I love the endorphins I get from a long bike ride, I even love my granola cereal in the morning. For those of you thinking I don't recycle - I do. As a matter of fact, the recycling bin is usually much fuller than the trash bin. I don't pour oil down the drain, but that's mostly because I don't change my own oil. I like organic fruits and veggies, I even ate a Cliff bar for breakfast yesterday.

Holy cow, now that I read all that. It makes me realize that I might be more Earth friendly than I think.

Oh well - Happy Earth Day.

It's Tough Being Famous

2009-04-13T12:54:00.009-05:00

There's a song by the Dave Matthews Band called Steady As We Go. It's one of the most beautiful love songs I've ever heard. I decided to learn how to play it on the piano over a year ago. Anybody that plays the piano probably could have sat down in an afternoon and learned this song, it wasn't so easy for me though because I don't really know how to read music all that well. When I got the sheet music I went through, note by note and actually wrote out the letters that corresponded to each note on the page. I started learning this song and practiced hour after hour, day after day, week after week, and finally I got to the point that I had it memorized. I eventually posted a video of me playing it on YouTube. It's been on YouTube now for about 7 months and has had over 1,700 views! I've had several good comments on it despite the poor sound quality and occasional mistakes.

A few weeks ago, a girl named Melanie wrote me and asked if I would record this song onto a disc to be used in her wedding! I was really surprised and humbled by this request. I couldn't believe someone actually wanted to use something that I played, in something so special as her wedding! I told her I would get it done and have it ready for her special day. All I needed to figure out was how I was going to record this onto a CD.

I started taking guitar lessons about a year ago. My guitar instructor Matt has a studio in the basement of his house. It's quite the place, mixing boards, synthesizers, four computers that all talk to each other, walls filled with speakers and sub woofers, not to mention all of his guitars. Because of this, he also has guard dog's and a high tech security system that rivals Fort Knox (so don't even think of trying to get in). I asked Matt if recording a song onto a CD would be possible. He kind of laughed, apparently that's like asking a librarian if you can apply for a library card, not really an issue. We ran over the different options of how to record and decided that I would bring my keyboard over to his studio and record it onto one of his computers.

When the time came to record, I was excited! I had never recorded anything that would be put onto a disc and actually be used in public. I arrived at the studio under tight security. After signing a few autographs on my way into the studio, we got the keyboard set up and started recording. After I finished playing the song, Matt transferred it to another computer for finishing and burning. He has the technology to fine tune the playing and fix any mistakes I might have made. In order to save time, however, we did a raw recording first and it actually turned out well enough that nothing needed to be fixed.

We're in the final phases of production (which is basically printing a picture of Melanie and her fiance onto the disc) and then it'll be shipped out to the fans. Well, it'll be shipped out to one fan anyway. I may not be a famous musician one day, but thanks to Melanie, I got to experience something that a lot of people only dream of - recording a song onto a disc in a music studio.

By the way, I'm available for public appearances and performances.

YouTube Videos

2009-04-05T08:31:00.002-05:00

With all the forms of on-line communication and entertainment out there, one of my favorites is YouTube! I can't tell you how much time I've wasted watching 30 second videos. I think I'm only going to watch one or two videos but two hours later I find myself giggling as I watch a kid with an English accent let his brother Charlie bite his finger.

I have also wasted a lot of time making YouTube videos. I guess I have always secretly wanted to be a movie producer. I don't think I'm the only one out there who's had this dream. Haven't we all wanted to be part of the glamorous Hollywood lifestyle at some point in our not-so-glamorous lives? Yesterday I made a really cool behind the scenes look at what an airline pilot gets to see on a daily basis. You won't find it on YouTube anymore though. After getting some advice from a well respected friend and collegue, I took it down. As proud of this movie as I was, it was too behind the scenes for the average YouTube viewer.

I'm getting ready to make another YouTube video soon (and yes, I realize I have too much time on my hands). Until the next video comes out, you can see other YouTube videos I've made at:

http://www.YouTube.com/SmilinPaul

Faith

2009-03-14T22:37:00.000-05:00

I read an article in the newspaper earlier this week. It explained that people are less religious than they were 18 years ago. This article was based on the American Religious Identification Survey in 2008, which consisted of 54,000 interviews and has a +/-0.5% margin of error. It indicated that the Baptist population has decreased 3.5%, the Christian population has gone down 0.6%, and the number of Catholics has declined 1.1%. Remember though, there was a 0.5% margin of error so the change in Christian population could actually only be 0.1%. This survey also said that people with "no religion" has gone up 6.8%.

Surveys can be tilted toward how the surveyor wants it to appear but even if it is correct, the results surprised me. The church I go to started in 1995 with 40 people meeting in an elementary school. They have since then become owners of their own building and just last year the church grew from 1,200 to 2,200 by year end. That's just one church but those numbers make me think the Christian population is increasing.

There's a lot of scary stuff going on in the world; drug cartels have murdered several people down in Mexico, the economy is failing, terrorist attacks continue to take place around the world, last Sunday a pastor was shot while preaching in Illinois, and just this week a man in Alabama killed 10 people before killing himself. Wouldn't all of these things make someone more religious?

I've heard people ask "How can you believe in something that you can't see?" Well, you can't see the wind, but you can see the effects of the wind....right? You would certainly feel the effects of the wind if you rode in the back of my airplane on a gusty day. It's kind of the same with faith, just because you can't see Jesus, doesn't mean He's not working in your life. Even if you don't believe, it's not like Santa. He's there whether you like it or not.

So why am I a Christian? Well, for one thing I would like to meet my maker when I…....well, when I go to meet my maker. I also have a lot of friends and family that are headed upstairs when they kick the bucket and I’d kind of like to spend the rest of forever hanging out with them. I’ve also heard the food is to die for....literally. Plus, it’s got to beat the alternative, right? I don’t know what Hell will consist of, but I’d imagine it’s not going to be like any house party I’ve ever been to.

I guess I think back to a principle one of my first flight instructors taught me. It was called the “KISS” principle. It stands for “Keep It Simple Stupid.” That’s easy enough, Heaven=Good, Hell=Bad. I choose Heaven.

I'm Seeing a Shrink

2009-03-11T11:18:00.002-05:00

This is an animated version of how visits with my psychologist go.

Doing what you love and loving what you do.

2009-03-02T11:31:00.009-06:00

It seems that a lot of people are loosing their jobs these days. It's really too bad, I've been laid off before so I know how it feels. Every day, I open the paper and read about the next big business that's forced to let people go. That always sounds funny to me, "We had to let John go." Well, where did he go? When is he going to be back? I guess it just sounds better then Donald Trump saying, "You're fired!"

From what I understand, even the Girl Scouts cookie sales are struggling. Really? You can't buy a $3 box of thin mints from the neighbor girl? That actually brings back some memories from middle school when I had to sell candy bars for a band fundraiser. I pounded the streets, going door to door trying to get people to buy an overpriced chocolate bar. Except, they didn't even get the candy right away, I had to come back later and deliver it. That would have been fine but at some point, I lost the list of people I sold to. When it came time to deliver the chocolate, I had to guess which houses I had sold to and then if I managed to be at a house that had indeed purchased a candy bar, I had to tell them that I didn't remember what they ordered. I'm sure there were a few people that got more than they ordered, and there are probably a few houses still waiting for me to deliver their candy bar. I'm pretty sure that's when I decided not to go into sales.

More seriously though, maybe you're one of the people who has lost a job. I feel bad for you, I really do. I know the struggles of finding a new job, the stress of how you're going to pay your bills, and feed your family. It's really hard. But, being the optimist I am, I think that while you look for a new job, you can spend all your extra time doing something you've always wanted to do. You could paint that room in your house that you've been putting off, learn to juggle, take up photography, write a book, or learn a new instrument.

I started flying when I was young and didn't have a job. I did it because I loved flying airplanes, not because I wanted to be an airline pilot. As it turns out, flying airplanes is a great way to make a living. Everyday, I get to go to "work" and do something that I love. Sure, some days it feels like work, but most of the time I'm having fun with great people in exotic cities.....well, cities anyway.

Paul Harvey, legendary news broadcaster, died on Saturday. This man woke up early every morning, to bring us his take on the news that he thought we should know, and the news he thought we would want to know. He fell in love with words, and it's his words that we will remember.

So, in your quest to get back on your feet, you never know when that hobby you start, that thing that you love to do, well, it might just turn into your next job. And if that's the case, you are truly blessed. After all, if you love what you do, you won't have to work a day in your life.

In the words of Paul Harvey......Good Day!

Newspapers and Dead Cats

2009-02-25T11:29:00.001-06:00

This morning I sat down with my grande non-fat no-water chai tea latte and the local paper. I try to keep up with what's going on in the world, sometimes I find myself reading yesterday's paper but I figure, if you haven't read it yet, it's still news.

One article I found explained that Socks, the Clinton's White House cat had died. Okay, is that even news? Really, I mean is that what I need to be wasting my time with? Reading about a dead cat. Did I mention that I hate cats? This article (about a dead cat) was rather long and even continued onto another page in the section.

I wasn't about to go searching through the newspaper to read more about a dead cat. I got most of the information in the title of the article - "Socks the Clinton's White House cat dies." Okay, that's all I need to know, actually, that's more than I need to know. I'm kind of disappointed I even wasted my time reading the title.

When I do find myself interested in an article enough to flip through eight pages for the end of the story, I sometimes get sidetracked on the way. I'll usually stop to read the letters to the editor, oh and I always like to read the police reports to see what went down in the neighborhood yesterday, or I might find an article that's not so cocky that it was able to contain itself to one page, ohhhhh and there's a sudoku puzzle!

By the time I get to the page I was going to, I've usually forgotten what I was reading about in the first place.....oh, but there is an article about the Clinton's cat. I guess he died, poor little guy.

Do-It-Yourself Gone Bad

2009-02-19T17:59:00.007-06:00

Today I was at the grocery store buying a few items. Just some milk, cereal, and some granola bars. As much as I like talking to the cashiers, they were all busy helping the organized shoppers. You know the ones, these people plan their grocery trips so that they only have to go shopping once every six months and end up with three carts full of food. Since they were busy, I decided to use the "Self-Checkout" lane. I'm sure you've seen these, they have four lanes monitored by one cashier but you (the customer) have to ring yourself up. They save the cost of having three extra cashiers by having you do their job.

Every time I use this stupid machine it gets mad at me because if I try and set a paper bag in the bagging are, it replies "Unexpected item in bagging area." Uhhhh, yeah, it's a freaking bag!! So the cashier has to come over and enter her keys, turn them both to the right at the same time, then enter a secret code which has to be verified by her immediate supervisor. I'm pretty sure it's the same process the military uses when launching nuclear weapons. So, once that emergency is over, I start putting my groceries in the bag. Of course, the granola bars are too light for it to register as me putting something in my bag and if I set the milk on the floor so I can carry it, we go through the same process all over again. These self bagging lanes are very sensitive to how you treat the bagging areas. If you set a paper bag down, it thinks you're stealing something. Yet, if you ring something up and don't set it down, it thinks you lost it. It's really very concerned for the well-being of myself and the people around me. So now the cashier has been over to see me three or four times, and the lady with three carts is already done and walking out to her car.

We already have to bag our own groceries, even when the cashier rings you up. I miss the days of the high school kid bagging the groceries and bringing them out to your car, well, not my car but the old lady in front of me, her car......okay, my car. Now the only people bagging your groceries are kids trying to raise money. I guess I don't think you should have to ring yourself up, because what will they have you doing next? Sweeping the floors? Stocking shelves? Giving out samples of cake? Actually, maybe I could volunteer for the cake job, I like cake.

Cirrus Jet Factory Tour

2009-02-14T17:18:00.008-06:00

Yesterday my friend Marc invited me along to visit the Cirrus Jet factory in Duluth, MN. He would be flying me up there in his own Cirrus SR-22, which is a very cool single piston engine airplane. It's most widely known for having a parachute built in which will safely float the airplane to the earth's surface in the event of a tragic malfunction (like a wing falling off).

After a slight delay due to some weather, we took off around noon and headed up to Duluth. It was a quick 45 minute flight which gave us time to catch up on what was happening in our lives. Marc's airplane is beautiful! It comes with anti-icing capability, a 180 knot cruise speed (which means speeds over the ground of around 200 mph), low fuel burn, and a full glass cockpit (which for those who don't speak aviation, simply means all the instruments are on a "TV" screen instead of an analog display).

We arrived in Duluth and just happened to land behind the one and only Cirrus Jet. They aren't planning on The-Jet being available to the "average person" (that has an extra $1,000,000 laying around) until 2011. Since it's still in the production phase, this jet was being flown by highly skilled test pilots.

We followed the Cirrus Jet into the factory ramp and we were greeted by Kevin, who seemed delighted to show us around. I guess if they think you've even got the slightest inclination to buy one of their airplanes, they're happy to show you how they're made. Kevin brought us through the hangar and showed us the various different stations that the engineer's and mechanic's use to assemble the airplane. They're still working out flaws on a daily basis, so the people that work there are very busy.

Unfortunately, they don't allow cell phones or camera's in the building. They said it's so our cellular signal doesn't set off the "spin-chute". The "spin-chute" is found only on the airplanes they use for testing and is launched by a rocket, just in case they spin the airplane and can't recover during flight tests. I however think they don't want us using our cell phones because it's still in production and they don't want us recording anything that may be "top-secret" and selling it to their competitor. As a matter of fact, they didn't even let us within about 30 feet of the actual airplane.

After the tour, Marc and I jumped back in his Cirrus and headed home. I don't think I'll be buying a Cirrus Jet anytime soon, but spending a day with a good friend, who will let me fly his airplane, and learning how they build a new jet, isn't a bad way to spend a Friday afternoon.

The front of Marc's Cirrus SR-22.

A side view of the Cirrus SR-22.

The tail.

The Cirrus Jet, which can be yours for the low price of $1,000,000. Call now!

Faking It

2009-02-09T14:44:00.006-06:00

Have you ever faked it? I'll have to admit, there have been times when I wished I could have faked it but didn't. I'm talking about speaking or performing in front of a crowd. There are a lot of artists that use pre-recorded tracks when they perform live, especially for a big event like the Super Bowl, or the presidential inauguration.

Apparently Jennifer Hudson and Faith Hill performed to pre-recorded tracks at the Super Bowl. I guess the National Anthem has been released on iTunes. You'd think they could have released it before the Super Bowl, since it had already been recorded. That probably would have ruined the surprise though, wouldn't it? At least Bruce Springsteen and the E Street Band actually sang, but according to one report, the music was pre-recorded.

At the presidential inauguration, cellist Yo-Yo Ma played to pre-recorded music as well. I can understand that, it was below freezing that day, which isn't good for a stringed instrument. It could very easily go out of tune, and what kind of precedent would that set for the newest commander in chief? "Geez, he can't even pick a musician that can play competently, how's he going to run the country?"

Sometimes I wish I could use pre-recorded tracks when I talk. When I was about 12, I had to read a Bible verse in church. No big deal, unless you're "Smiling Paul". About half-way through the reading, I just started giggling. For no good reason at all, just uncontrollable giggling. I'm not sure anyone got anything out of that particular Bible verse. If I had pre-recorded what I was going to say, I'm sure it would have been flawless. Or, it could have gone like Milli-Vanilli's performance on MTV. They were using pre-recorded tracks with OTHER people's voices. Can you imagine if I had started "talking" with someone else's recorded voice? That would have been something to giggle about, a 12 year old kid talking in public, except he sounds like Berry White.

Obviously I would prefer if artists played live (especially when I pay big bucks to see them live). That being said, I can understand using pre-recorded music. They're on the road 4-5 nights a week, constantly playing the same music, fighting fatigue, sore throats, and cold weather that doesn't mix well with instruments.

I just wonder if I've ever been fooled by someone faking it?

T.M.I.

2009-01-29T18:04:00.009-06:00

A lot of people ask me why I'm not on MySpace or Facebook. T.M.I. Too Much Information! Actually, I'm not on MySpace because I don't want to end up on Dateline NBC talking with Chris Hansen. So why am I not on Facebook, or Linkedin, or Twitter, or Flickr or the thousand other "networking" websites out there? Well, how many websites do I really need to be managing? I've already got this blog, my YouTube page, not to mention three e-mail addresses which is enough to keep me busy for at least an hour in the morning.

Maybe I'm turning into one of those conspiracy theorists that thinks the government is watching my every move and knows where I am. No, I don't care if the government knows where I am (because I already know they're watching me). But, I do care if some psycho I've never met gets on my Facebook page and sees that I'm going on vacation for 5 days. Say you use Facebook, and you also use Whrrl, which lets you cross-post to the microblogging platform Twitter. Then Twitter gets piped to all sorts of other places. So you update your location in Whrrl, the message goes to Twitter, then to Facebook, then your blog, the next thing you know, your home address is on your Facebook page, where you just told the world you're leaving for 5 days.

My iPhone automatically embeds geodata into photos, which means each picture has the exact latitude and longitude at which it was taken. So let's say I took a picture of my new flat screen television, my new $4,0000 mountain bike, and my brand new car and uploaded them to Flickr (a popular photo sharing website). Now, if the same psycho on Facebook saw that I was leaving for 5 days, he could, with just a few clicks, get driving directions right to my place. A few more clicks and he could have a pair of gloves and some lock picking tools shipped right to my house.

One of my favorite hobbies is mountain biking. So let's say I call in sick for work in favor of enjoying a nice summer day, not that I would ever do such a thing. Then, I decide to post this cool new route I found online for others to see. Now everyone, including my boss, can see that I was out mountain biking at noon on Thursday instead of working.

I guess it's a question of privacy. I know I don't want strangers knowing that I'm going to be leaving my house unattended for a week. But do I really want everyone to know where I'm having lunch today and with whom? Not really, by the way, today I'm having lunch at home by myself. Come on over!

Global Warming, Cooling, and Cat Videos

2009-01-13T11:14:00.004-06:00

I awoke this morning to a beautiful day filled with blue sky and a lot of sunshine! If the windows hadn't been closed I'm sure I would have heard birds chirping and kids playing. Well, that's what I may have heard if it were summer. Unfortunately, in Minnesota when it's January and the skies are clear, it's usually a sign that it's cold outside. With my hair shooting off in 30 different directions, I staggered downstairs in my pajama's, grabbed a bowl of cereal, and turned on the television. I tuned into the last bit of the morning news and amidst the school delays, I noticed the temperature in the lower corner of the screen read -18 degrees Fahrenheit. I thought maybe my eyes were still blurry from just waking up. Nope, it's -18F outside! Brrrrr! It got me thinking about global warming, if the planet is warming up so much, why is it eighteen degrees below zero!?

A few weeks ago, I was talking to some co-workers and they were talking about having to get their airplanes de-iced in Houston, TX. They said it was a horrible mess with hours upon hours of delays because the Houston airport isn't set up for de-icing like cities further north are. I talked to Captains that have been with the company for 20+ years who said they have never had to get de-iced in all their years of flying in and out of Houston.

In Frazee, MN, the dogsled races they have every year have been cancelled because of too much snow! Apparently, there's so much snow that officials can't groom the trails and it poses a danger to the dogs. It makes me wonder what kind of sled dogs these are if they can't run in a lot of snow. Isn't that what they're supposed to do for people (like Eskimo's, for example) who are actually using them to get around. By the way, I like the name of that town....Frazee. It sounds a lot like those frozen juice tubes that you had has a kid, I think that's a "freezie" though. I'm sure the kids in Frazee aren't sucking down too many freezies this time of year.

An article in the Minneapolis Star Tribune reviewed the weather of 2008. They noted that Two Harbors, MN received a record 51.4" of snow and Fargo, ND received a record setting 33.5" of snow in December which has officials worried about springtime flooding. It also states that Minneapolis/St Paul had it's coldest December day since 2000. In May of 2008, after four months of below average temperatures some of the lakes were still covered with ice for the walleye fishing opener. By the time the ice melted off the lakes, June was the fifth consecutive month with below average temperatures which hasn't happened in 29 years. Hey, weren't we worried about global cooling 29 years ago? Even the summer was cold, in August the high in Worthington, MN was 93 degrees. That's pretty warm, but it was one of the three lowest readings since 1891.

I remember sitting down at a bar in New York City once talking to a scientist from Toronto, Canada about global warming. He explained to me how humans have very little effect on the earth's temperature. He said, "The earth has been in warming and cooling cycles (thanks to that big fireball in the sky) for thousands of years." I know that's "a story from a guy who heard from a guy in a bar..." but read what former NASA Advisory Council Chair Jack Schmitt wrote to the media:

"As a geologist, I love Earth observations. But, it is ridiculous to tie this objective to a 'consensus' that humans are causing global warming in when human experience, geologic data and history, and current cooling can argue otherwise. 'Consensus', as many have said, merely represents the absence of definitive science. You know as well as I, the 'global warming scare' is being used as a political tool to increase government control over American lives, incomes and decision making. It has no place in the Society's activities."

Does anyone have the records from 1492? Maybe Columbus recorded temperature on an hourly basis while he was sailing the world. I'd even be happy if our founding fathers recorded some temps from 1776 while they were signing the Declaration of Independence. Maybe the three wise-men paid attention to the temperature while they were walking to see baby Jesus.

Now, I know the earth has warmed a little bit. Approximately 0.74 degree Celsius (+/- 0.18 degree) in the last 100 years. Wow, 0.74 degrees +/- 0.18! That's a 26 percent margin of error, isn't it?? I also know that computer models are predicting global warming. But aren't computer models dependant on the humans who write the models? I'm guessing that the guys who wrote the models have an opinion about global warming as well. Plus, I'm not sure we should be basing our future on the same device that brings me to YouTube to watch videos like "Probably the Funniest Cat Video You'll Ever See."

Maybe in the future we'll be able to control global warming (you know, just like we can control the tides). In that case I'd like to request for about a 40 degree warming in the winter and maybe a 15 degree cooling in the summer. Otherwise, how am I going to have enough time to spend on my cigarette boat that I towed 3 hours to the lake with my H1 Hummer?

All I Want for Christmas is to Leave a Message!

2008-12-15T17:40:00.009-06:00

I called a friend of mine the other day, he wasn't available so my call ended up going to his voicemail. The voicemail designed by the cell phone company. Is it me or are the options you have when leaving a message becoming longer and longer? I think it's a conspiracy set up by the cell phone company to suck another minute from your plan. My call went something like this:

"Ring, ring, ring, ring. Click. 'Hi this is Bob, leave a message and I'll call ya back.'" (Lovely female computer voice) "To leave a message please stay on the line. To send a numeric page, please press two. To send a text, please press three. To send a picture of your new puppy, please press six." Ummm, what happened to four and five? What are those numbers used for?

My friend Gary's voicemail even gives me the option of sending a fax. Let me say that again, my friend's CELL PHONE asks if you want to send a FAX...to his cell phone! Cell phones are those small devices that people put in their pocket, right? Fax machines are those huge contraptions that sit on a desk and make all sorts of racket when someone sends a piece of paper, right? I know cell phones are advancing with leaps and bounds (I'm even writing this blog from my phone) but I have yet to see a cell phone spit out an 8 1/2 x 11" piece of paper. By the way, who sends faxes anymore?

Maybe the long voicemail's are the reason people have been sending text messages more often than calling someone. They don't have time to listen to all the options. Remember when answering machines used tapes to record the outgoing and incoming messages? Ahh, the good ol' days. I still remember when my family got our first answering machine, I thought we were living the high life. It's amazing how far we've come. Who knows what the next technological advancement will be. Maybe some sort of machine that allows you to record a television show without using VHS tapes. We can only hope.

Good luck.

A Celebration of Two Great People!

2008-12-08T15:01:00.006-06:00

This past weekend my family and I made our way up to Baudette, MN for a birthday party. Baudette, MN is on the Minnesota/Canada border, it's north of the middle of nowhere, west of the sticks, and just south of the boonies. It's about a 6 hour drive north of Minneapolis.....in good weather. This weekend however, northern Minnesota was blessed with sub-zero temperatures and about six inches of snow. The first three inches arrived Friday night (during the drive up to Baudette) and the last three inches arrived on Sunday afternoon (during the drive home). It ended up taking about eight hours of white knuckle driving each way. You may be asking yourself, "Why would you drive 16 hours on snow covered roads in the middle of nowhere just for a birthday?" Well, this wasn't just any birthday, it was my grandfather's 90th birthday and my grandmother will turn 87 in a couple weeks!

The big party was Saturday night at my Uncle Al's resort, Morris Point. It's a nice lodge located on Lake of the Woods designed for hunters and fishermen during both the summer and winter. As one looked out over the lake, there was already a small town beginning to sprawl out on the ice for this winters ice fishing season. All of my grandparents kids attended, a few of the grandchildren and even a great-grandchild made an appearance. My grandparents raised seven kids in a small farmhouse located on the Rainy River just east of Baudette. Those kids had kids and then there were twenty grandchildren. A few of those kids have had kids and now my grandparents have six great-grandchildren! The party was a huge success! Both my grandmother and grandfather seemed to have a great time! Plus it was fun to see some relatives that I don't get to see very often.

The next morning we went to church with my grandfather. Shortly after we walked in, one of the sound guys walked out and mentioned that the drummer who normally plays wasn't able to play and asked if anyone knew of a drummer that could fill in. For those who don't know, I used to play drums in a couple different bands so I said, "Well, it's been a while since I've played but I could probably help out." A few minutes later I was sitting up on stage behind a Yamaha electronic drum set. I did my best to play along with the band in front of a crowd of......50 people. I don't know if this counts as a "come-back" for me but it was fun to play drums again.

After the service we had a small birthday party at the church and then headed over to my grandparents house to say goodbye, because by now it had started snowing again. My grandmother was sitting in her recliner and my grandfather was sitting on the couch next to her. We shared some small talk for a few minutes and were getting ready to leave when my grandfather went over to the bathroom door and took off a post-it note that he had taped up. My grandfather is 100% Norwegian and on this piece of paper he had written "Det beste vi hat er hverandre". In a moment I'll never forget, he said, "This is Norwegian for 'The best we have is each other.'" He's right, we may love to drive a new car or have the latest gadget but when it comes right down to it, the best we have is each other.

This weekend was not only a celebration of my grandparent's birthdays, but a celebration of the lives of two wonderful people. Despite it being a cold weekend outside, it was a good weekend to warm the heart. Not knowing when I'll see my grandparents again, I said through the tears in my eyes that I loved them and I would see them again.

"The best we have is each other." Some words of wisdom from a guy who's been around for a while.

Freezing for Charity!

2008-11-20T17:31:00.005-06:00

Every year a radio station in Minneapolis called Cities 97 puts out a CD filled with songs that various artists have played in their studio throughout the year. They call this CD "The Cities 97 Sampler, Live from Studio C". It's filled with acoustic performances from some of today's best bands. They only produce 35,000 copies and all the proceeds go to various local charities. I have a great love for music, so getting these rare live performances is a great addition to my collection (plus, I feel like I'm doing a good deed).

Five years ago they had the 15th Anniversary of their Studio C disc. The radio station was doing a call-in contest and if you were the 97th caller, you could win not only that years Sampler CD, but you would also win CD's from all 15 years! Since I have that kind of time, I called in one night and ended up being the 97th caller! I won all 15 CD's, plus a trip to the Sampler Release Party where Erin and I got to mingle with a bunch of celebrities. Well, when I say we got to mingle with celebrities, I mean, the celebrities were in one room and us common folk were in another, but it was still fun.

Ever since then, I've had to continue my collection of CD's, so each year when they come out, I make a special trip to Target (which is the only store that sells them) on the Thursday before Thanksgiving. In order to keep all the proceeds going to charities, they have to limit the amount of CD's produced, which usually means they sell out within minutes of the store opening. I've done well and either myself or Erin has been standing out in the cold to collect every CD for the past 5 years.

This year I was fortunate enough to have the day off, so this morning I made a trip to Target to pick up this years CD. I arrived about an hour before opening and there were already over 100 people in line. If you can picture the typical Target store, the line extended from one of the front doors and around the side of the building. By the time the store opened, the line extended to the back of the store. The temperature this morning was about 15 degrees Fahrenheit, but fortunately the side of the building I was on was in the shade and the wind, so it only felt like 2 degrees Fahrenheit.

Outside the store this morning, people were huddled in blankets and heavy winter coats. A few people had arrived at 5 AM, they brought sleeping bags and chairs. Between people complaining about how cold it was and how crazy everyone was to stand in the cold for a CD, there was conversation of how many Sampler CD's everyone had, how people got off of work for the morning. Usually though, the conversation came back around to how cold it was and how we were all crazy for standing in line.

Once the line started moving, it was amazing how well organized everyone remained. It was similar to standing in the lunch line in elementary school. Everyone was walking in a single file line, they were very quiet because they knew if they caused too many problems, they would feel the wrath of the 19 year old security guard. Once we got into the store, there were a lot of sighs of relief as we felt the warmth of the store hit our faces. A few people got their CD and left, a few like myself had to get some groceries, a few made their way over to Starbucks.

It felt good to know that the proceeds from my purchase were going to local charities. They said that this years CD would raise over $1,000,000! That alone is worth standing in the cold for an hour.

When I finished my shopping, I left with my CD in hand. I looked over to where they were handing out the CD's and noticed that they still had some left.....and the line was gone. So, despite standing in line for an hour, I could have slept in, walked from my warm car into a warm Target at 8:05 AM and still gotten my CD. That wouldn't have made for a good story though.

Relaxing at the gym.

2008-11-07T18:10:00.003-06:00

I went to the gym this afternoon to workout and noticed they had a new contraption. I'm always anxious to check out the new equipment so I asked one of the trainers what it was. She told me it was a Water Spa. She explained that you lay down in it and it gives you a massage by blasting water against you. Actually, it blasts water against a tarp that's touching you, so you don't get wet. She also told me that for this week only, they were letting members try it out for free. Let me get this straight, I can go to the gym, lay down and get a massage for free. Sounds like I belong to the right gym.

After I got done working out, I asked her if I could try it out. She got it started and told me to take off my shoes and lay down in it. It looks like a massage table and a tanning bed combined into one. I lied down in it and there was a monitor below my face playing some very hypnotic images, actually, it kind of looked like a screen saver. Then she put some headphones on me, playing music similar to what you'd hear in a regular spa. She told me she'd set it for four minutes. I said, "Four minutes! I was thinking more like twenty." She said, "Okay, I'll set it for five." I told her she needed to work on her negotiation skills. Now that I think about it though, it's probably me that needs to work on negotiating because I was there for five minutes and not anything close to the twenty minutes that I was hoping for.

The capsule started to close and the water massage started. It actually felt pretty good. It stung my legs a little bit, but maybe that's because I had shorts on. I have to say, I've had regular massages before and they're about 1,000 times better than this. The five minutes went by pretty quickly and it was a great way to finish my workout.

I'm not sure what the cost difference will be between this and a regular massage, but I'd be willing to pay a little more for the human touch of a real massage. The cool part about this thing though.....it looks like a spaceship.

My Liquid Diet.

2008-11-03T22:18:00.000-06:00

Last month I decided to give up going to Starbucks for the month of October. I think I was becoming addicted. It got to the point that I was going almost every day, sometimes twice a day. It seemed as though I couldn't walk by a Starbucks without at least walking in to see how things were going, maybe check and see if they had any new drinks. I'm not sure if I was addicted to the caffeine or the ambiance. I think I liked the whole process; the ordering, the repeating of your order by the barista, then the delivery of your drink when they call your name and again, repeat what you ordered. I think I even liked walking around with a Starbucks cup in my hand. I guess it made me feel like one of the cool kids. There was one step of the process I didn't enjoy however, and that was paying $4 for the drink.

That was one of the reasons I wanted to give it up for a while, it was costing me about $120 per month, and that's if I didn't get yogurt or a muffin. I also thought I could maybe do without the calories and caffeine, neither of those two things were doing much for my diet. I think another reason I wanted to give it up though was to make sure if I was ever addicted to something worse than caffeine, like drugs, that I could hopefully quit. Although, I think being hooked on crack cocaine is a little different than being hooked on caffeine.

What's kind of funny about me giving up Starbucks for a month is......I don't like coffee. As a matter of fact, I hate coffee. I don't even like coffee flavored ice cream. Maybe that's kind of like a vegetarian giving up Ruth's Chris Steakhouse, pretty easy to do. I was hooked on my favorite drink though, a "grande non-fat no-water chai tea latte with a shot of sugar free vanilla". Yeah I know, it sounds like something a high maintenance girl from Malibu, CA would order. Well, I don't care, it's freakin' great! It kind of tastes like pumpkin pie. Yummmm, actually, now that I think about it, October is over. My liquid diet is done! Starbucks, here I come and this time, I'm getting a venti!

My definition of a good day!

2008-10-30T20:46:00.012-05:00

A couple days ago I had a 25 hour layover in Los Angeles, CA. I usually spend layovers relaxing, reading, working out, and laying by the pool. A long layover in Los Angeles however means one thing....motorcycles! My good friend Mark and I rented sport-bikes from a company called South Bay Sport Bike Rentals about four years ago and despite a cold ride in the rain, we had fun. The weather this time of the year in Southern California is usually perfect, so I called Mark and asked if he'd be interested in renting bikes again. Mark taught me how to ride motorcycles and it's been a passion of ours for several years, so it didn't take him very long to say yes. We called Jeff, the owner of the motorcycle rental company, and made arrangements to ride all day during my layover.

We arrived in L.A. around midnight, Mark had flown in from Minneapolis and met up with myself and the rest of my crew to ride over to the hotel. Jeff picked us up in the morning and drove us to where the bikes were. Mark elected to ride the Honda 600RR and I rode the Kawasaki Ninja ZX-6R. Both are great bikes that put plenty of power in between your legs. Our goal was Angeles Crest Highway which is world renowned for motorcycle riding. It's located in Angeles National Forest and is a beautiful escape from the hustle and bustle of the busy Los Angeles area. After a quick 30 minute ride through the freeways of L.A. we made it to Angeles Crest Highway. After a quick stop to discuss how quickly we could become a hood ornament or end up plunging to our death if we weren't careful, we started the adventure.

I can't think of words that can properly describe what an awesome road we were on. Not only were the views spectacular but the road itself was a perfect blend of curves, straight-aways, and hairpin turns. We rode about half-way down the highway and then made a stop for lunch at Newcombsranch which is a popular restaurant among bikers. While we were there, we talked with a few locals about the road and what to look out for, as well as other good roads to ride. Since we were there to ride and not eat, we finished up lunch quickly and continued toward the end of the highway. We stopped at the end to relax for a little while and talk about what a great day we were having!

Over the next few hours we explored some more of the roads located in the park and ended up riding Angeles Crest Highway a second time. After we left the forest we braved rush hour and headed over to Malibu via "the 101" and Topanga Canyon Road (which is another awesome road for riding). We met up with the Pacific Coast Highway and rode south along the ocean to Manhattan Beach and ate fish taco's at a bar overlooking the ocean. By now it was almost 9:00 PM and time to return the bikes.

After an exhausting day, we returned the bikes and headed back to the hotel (as I was to fly the red-eye from LAX back to Houston, TX). Mark, who is also an airline pilot, accompanied me in the cockpit on the way back to Houston and after arriving, we flew home to Minneapolis. I slept the afternoon away when I got home but let's see, a day riding motorcycles on one of the best roads in the world with your best friend....yeah, that's a good day.

A sign of what was ahead of us! Looks like fun to me!

The bikes, a Honda 600RR (red) and a Kawasaki Ninja ZX-6R (green).

The only restaurant on Angeles Crest Highway, Newcombsranch.

A staged photo of Mark, taken especially for his wife. Funny, huh?

A picture of me contemplating life.

It doesn't get any better than this!

Me with the bike at the end of Angeles Crest Highway. Yeah, this is a good way to spend a layover.

Football With "The Boys"

2008-10-16T09:06:00.005-05:00

Yesterday was a perfect fall day! The leaves are at their peak color, the air is cool and crisp, and I think everyone is trying to squeeze in the last of their outdoor activities before the snow flies. Fall is my favorite time of year and it’s perfect for flag football with “the boys”.

A few friends of mine and I met at a South Minneapolis park yesterday afternoon for a friendly game of flag football. We all showed up with varied skill levels. I hadn’t played football since the 3rd grade and have watched about five football games on TV since then. Most of the guys hadn’t played football in a while, but almost all of them frequently watch it on TV, so they knew the concept. One guy said he brought cleats with him, but I think when he saw another guy show up wearing jeans and sporting a beer in his back pocket, he realized it wasn’t going to be “that” kind of game.

We quickly established the rules and made up the teams. Fortunately for my sake, making the teams didn’t involve me standing there hoping someone would pick me before I was the last guy remaining. We just grabbed a flag and whatever color you grabbed meant you were on that team (although I think when some of the guys saw me grab a red flag, it wasn’t an accident that they “magically” ended up on the yellow team).

The first huddle was when I realized I know absolutely nothing about football. There were plays drawn out on people’s hands and guys covering their mouth while they talked so the other team couldn’t read our lips. I felt like I was listening to a foreign language when I heard terms like running block, sweep, trap, bootleg, and blitz. We’d usually break up the huddle by clapping our hands and yelling something like, “Go Team!”

I have to say, there were some great plays! A few long runs for touchdowns and a lot of great passes were made! At one point, I caught the ball and ran out of bounds as soon as I could to avoid getting tackled. Obviously, I didn’t trust that everyone was going after the flags.

We didn’t keep track of the score very carefully so about 15 minutes before someone had to go pick up their kid at daycare, we decided the next team to score would be the winner. Unfortunately the team I was on wasn’t the team that scored next but it didn’t matter. We all had a great time and came away with a little mud on our clothes and some sore muscles, just what you’d expect from a fall football game with “the boys”.

Pictured Above:
Standing in the back row are; Justin, Paul, Kyle, Me, Mark, Derek, and Brady.
Kneeling in the front row are; Scott, Ed, and Bob.
Not pictured is Clay who took the picture!

A Weekend With My Grandparents...And a Few Pros.

2008-09-30T14:11:00.008-05:00

I started my vacation last week and decided to spend some time out in Monterey, CA with my grandparents. I left Friday morning and flew to San Francisco, CA and was then going to drive down to my grandparents house (which is about 2 hours south of there). I arrived in San Francisco just before noon and decided to take my time getting down to Monterey. I got to San Jose, CA and veered off onto some really cool mountain road with lots of twists and turns, which is something I rather enjoy. I decided to see how well my rental car could keep up so let's just say, I was exceeding the speed limit.

I came around a corner and coming head on was one of California's finest Highway Patrolman. I knew I was way over the posted limit and the CHP quickly turned on his flashing lights and made a U-turn to come get me. I thought to myself, "I can either floor it and head for the hills, or just pull over". I've watched enough COPS episodes to know that they usually always catch up with people, and since I didn't want to be on the receiving end of a taser, I decided to pull over. I was actually pulled over before he was completely turned around. I thought that would earn some brownie points, you will soon find out, it didn't.

He came up to the car and asked for my license and registration and very nicely explained why he pulled me over. He clocked me at 53 MPH in a 35 MPH zone. I was going to explain that I'm dyslexic and am easily confused by numbers. He didn't look like the kind of guy who liked to joke around though, so I didn't mention it. He asked me why I was going so fast. Again, I wanted to tell him, "Because this is one of the coolest roads I've ever been on, and I wanted to enjoy it to it's fullest, and you're not helping." I didn't think that would go over very well so I stuck with, "I don't know." Without much discussion, he walked back to his car and wrote me a citation. Since I haven't pleaded guilty to it yet, I can use the line that the media always uses; "Paul was allegedly going 53 MPH in a 35 MPH zone." I can tell you though, I'm probably not going to fly out to California to go to court, so you can take the word "allegedly" out. Minnesota doesn't have traffic school but California does, I wonder if I can go to traffic school in California so it doesn't go on my record?

I continued my drive down this very cool road at a pace my grandma would get frustrated with, and after a quick stop for lunch in Santa Cruz, headed down the Pacific Coast Highway to my grandparents. I've always wanted to learn how to play golf and I thought since I was in the golf capitol of the world, maybe I could take a few lessons. My grandparents set some lessons up with one of the golf pros at their country club.

By the way, why do they call golf instructors "Pros"? Anyone that has a real job is probably considered a professional but that's not their title. When you ask a doctor what he does, he will probably say, "I'm an orthopedic surgeon" or "I'm a general practitioner." He's not going to say, "I'm a professional", even though he very much is a professional at what he does, that's not his title. For some reason though, a golf instructor can get away with a one word answer to what they do for a living, "I'm a pro."

Saturday morning I met one of the golf "pros" named Ryan. He was the definition of his title. He gave me some great pointers on how to swing the club with the hope that the ball will eventually go straight. When I say he gave me "some pointers", I really mean a laundry list of things to do. He didn't stop talking for 35 minutes! I literally took two pages of notes, just on how to swing the club! He did a great job (considering who he was working with) and that afternoon my grandpa and I went out to the range to hit some balls. I'm not sure if anyone has ever said this before but I'll go ahead and say it, golf is a very frustrating sport, and the more frustrated you get, the worse you hit. Like anything though, with a little effort and a lot of practice, I'll be playing with Tiger before I know it. Well, right now my goal is just to be able to play 18 holes.....period.

I took another lesson the next morning which had a lot less talking and was more about fine tuning my swing. I went out again and hit some balls that afternoon and again the next day. My grandparents have both been playing golf for more than 60 years so I think they were excited to see me finally get into it.

I love vacations and this weekend in Monterey was great! I got to spend some time in one of the most beautiful spots in the world with people I love, learning a game, that maybe someday I'll love.

Live Like You Were Dying

2008-09-19T08:34:00.003-05:00

This month marks the anniversary of the attacks of September 11th, 2001. It seems as the years go by, it becomes easier and easier to forget what happened on that tragic day. Even I had to think for a split second why the flags were at half-staff last week. I was quickly reminded later in the week as I watched a documentary on the History Channel that showed raw footage that normal people, just like you and me, filmed during that tragic day.

I don't think the severity of that day hit me until I watched this show. There were firefighters covered in soot and ash, trying desperately to call their loved ones. They knew this may be the day that daddy doesn't come home from work. There were screams from college age girls filming as the second plane hit the tower, they didn't know what to do or how many more airplanes there would be. There were cops yelling at people to move north up the island and away from the World Trade Center, trying to control the unthinkable. There was film of the clear blue sky that quickly turned into darkness as a tidal wave of debris from the collapsing buildings flooded the streets, instantly blinding and choking the hundreds of people trying to get off of deaths doorstep. Probably the most horrifying videos were of people who were jumping from the higher levels of the tower, close to where the planes had hit. They were most certainly trying to escape the fiery hell that existed in what once was their office, their home away from home.

What they thought was going to be "just another day at the office" turned into their last day at the office. All of a sudden, that fight they had with their spouse wasn't such a big deal anymore, their daughters new boyfriend with the nose piercing didn't bother them quite so much, and their sons soccer game that they missed because they were just too busy, seemed a little more important now. All they could do was try to make one last phone call, one last "I love you", and one last "good-bye".

Usually my blog is filled with lighthearted humor and funny stories. Sometimes though, the world isn't so funny. Family members pass away, bridges collapse, hurricanes hit, people get divorced, and planes run into buildings. It's easy to take everyday for granted when the next one seems to come as easily as the last. But what if tomorrow never comes? What if you were told you have six months to live? Would you do things differently? Would you spend more time with your best friend? Would you call someone you haven't spoken with in a while, just to tell them how special they are to you? Would you squeeze your kids baseball game into your busy schedule? Would you take your spouse on more dates?

What would you do, if you lived like you were dying?

Words are coming out of my mouth. PANIC!

2008-09-13T14:02:00.003-05:00

Radio stations usually have a seven second delay when they're broadcasting live on the air. That way if someone says something inappropriate they can hit the "panic button" which dumps the audio and prevents any bad words from going out on the air. Sometimes I wish I had a "panic button" for the times I say stupid things.

For example;

Me: "When is your baby due?"
Obviously overweight lady: "What baby?"

Sometimes words just come out of my mouth and they're not attached to any part of my brain or thoughts. A few months ago I was talking to a lady. She was complaining about how she was getting old. In an effort to try and make her feel younger, I thought I would use the phrase "Women are like a fine wine, they just get better with age", except I was going to use it in reverse. That was a bad idea. Don't ever take a phrase that has been proven to work time after time and try to change it. What I was trying to get across was that she was young and that phrase wouldn't apply to her. That's what I meant, what I said was, "You're like a cheap wine." That didn't go over very well.

In times like that, maybe I should think of the phrase, "Silence is golden."

Signs That Protect Your Swimsuit Area

2008-09-06T22:31:00.005-05:00

As an airline pilot, I spend a lot of time in airports. One thing that all airports have, are signs. Airports have signs directing you to baggage claim, your gate, a ticket agent, or even the airport chapel. I'm still amazed when someone asks me how to get to a gate and the sign pointing to their gate is right above their head. I like to think that airport managers try to make traveling as easy as possible and "dumb it down" for the traveler who maybe doesn't get out very much, sometimes I'm not so sure.

Today I saw a sign that made me laugh out loud. It wasn't actually in the airport, but it was on an airplane. I thought I knew all the signs that belong on airplanes. They have exit signs, seat belt signs, no smoking signs, but the sign I saw, was in the airplane lavatory. It read, "Do not flush while seated on toilet."

It got me thinking, usually those kind of signs are generated by someone who sued the manufacturer because they got hurt while performing the activity that the sign discourages. It makes me wonder, what happened to the person who flushed while they were seated on the toilet? Did their insides get sucked out? Will they ever be able to have kids? Did they loose any precious body parts from their swimsuit area?

I guess it makes me appreciate the little things in life, like being able to pee standing up. Good luck.

The i-Productivity Destroyer

2008-08-26T09:39:00.001-05:00

Well, I did it. I jumped on the bandwagon and bought an iPhone. You may be thinking it was one of those impulse buys, but it actually wasn't. When the first version came out, I thought it would be great for my use on the road since I don't carry a laptop. I could have all my music, my calendar, my address book, access to e-mail, the Internet.....oh yeah, and a phone, all in one handy device. I wanted to wait for Apple to get the kinks worked out before I bought the brand new toy. So I waited, and waited, then when I was finally ready to think about buying one, I went into my local Apple store to do some research. The kid working there told me that they're going to be coming out with a new one soon and that I should wait for the new version. More waiting. Finally, Apple announced the new and improved iPhone. All my waiting had paid off because the new version was not only faster (when it comes to Internet use), but you can download all sorts of cool applications to waste your time with, oh, and it was $300 cheaper. Kudos to the kid at the Apple store who told me to wait.

Ever since I've gotten my iPhone, I don't think I've stopped playing with it. They say it's supposed to help with productivity, I'd say it does the opposite. If anything, it's the most productive way to waste time. Now I am constantly checking my e-mail, I mean like every 10 minutes. When I get done checking my e-mail, I go on the web to look for......nothing. When I'm done looking at nothing, I'll play one of the games I downloaded. When I'm done playing a game, I'll check some stocks. What......stocks? When have I ever been interested in stocks? Well, I guess since it's one of the applications on the phone, I might as well use it. Then I'll check the weather in cities I'm not even going to, just to see how their doing. I don't know why I'm surprised when I see that every city is in the 80's and sunny......it's summer, that's how summer works.

Owning the iPhone can really drop your ego down a couple notches too. I'm not any sort of big time businessman who actually has people calling and e-mailing left and right, but the iPhone will make you realize just how many people don't need to talk to you. I still find myself pulling it out of my pocket every five minutes to see if I've gotten a text message, or maybe missed a phone call, maybe I'll check my e-mail again. Sometimes I feel my leg vibrate where my phone sits in my pocket so I'll think I've received a message and when I pull it out.....nothing. I'm having phantom leg vibrations because I think someone needs to tell me something. The other day I was home alone and I could swear I heard my phone beep with a message. Like a kid on Christmas morning I went running across the room to check it.....nothing again. Now I'm just hearing things!

When I first got the iPhone I noticed if I sent an e-mail from it, it would automatically add a signature that reads, "Sent from my iPhone." Talk about great advertising for Apple. Since I didn't want to do any advertising for Apple, I changed the signature to a link for my blog........where I just wrote a big story about how great the iPhone is and how everyone should have one. Ummmmm, I guess this is advertising for them too, isn't it?

I guess if I needed to give a one line review of my new iPhone I'd say this; "I could not love a human baby more than I love my new iPhone." Kidding of course.......kind of.

Reasons I'm Not a Mechanic

2008-08-23T16:21:00.001-05:00

A few weeks ago I went to a bike maintenance seminar at one of the local bike shops. I figured since I've been doing a lot of biking lately, I should at least know a little something about how my bike works. I know the basics, pedal, you go, pedal faster, you go faster, etc. But there are a lot of things I don't know, like chain maintenance, how to know when your headset is about to fail and turn left when you want to turn right, and the real reason I went.....how to change a flat tire.

You see, I've already had two flat tires this year. The first one occurred while I was jumping over a curb and didn't jump high enough. My back tire landed hard on the curb causing the actual tire to rip. That resulted in a 5 mile walk home in bike shoes. For those who don't have bike shoes, walking in them is kind of like walking in downhill ski boots, not pleasant. That prompted me to go and buy a pack for my bike which contained a tube, patch kit, tire irons (which aren't iron at all, they're made out of plastic), and a fancy Co2 tire inflater thing.

A few weeks after I put that pack on my bike, I was out in the middle of a field (that I probably wasn't supposed to be in) and noticed that my front tire was suddenly much rounder on the bottom than it was 5 minutes earlier. Another flat! Well, at least this time I had the tire changing kit....of course, I have know idea what to do with it. I found a nice spot to flip my bike upside down and start working on it. Since the air was already out of the tire, all I had to do was take the tire and tube off, put a new tube on, and I'd be off in a jiffy. Well, for someone who's not trained in changing tires, it's not as easy as it sounds.

I made a call to my friend Kevin, who's an avid biker, and he patiently tried to talk me through the process. I really wanted to call AAA and ask if they helped stranded bikers but I stuck it out. After 3 broken tire irons and a frustrating 45 minutes in a hot field with no shade for miles, I got the tube and tire back on, I figured out how my Co2 tire pump worked and filled the tire up with air. I started packing up my stuff and before I even had my tire back on my bike, it was flat again! Ahhhhhhhhhh! I made a phone call to a friend of the family, told them where I was, and they came to pick me up.

A week or so later, I noticed the advertisement for a class called Bike Maintenance 101 at the local bike shop. I decided it would be just the class for me. The advertisement said to bring your front bike tire so you could practice changing it hands on. I showed up and found my place in the front row (yep, I'm a nerd). The bike mechanic spent the first hour going through basic chain maintenance and explained how to tell when something on your bike needs the attention of a mechanic.

The next hour was spent on changing tires. He talked about different types of tires, valves, and brake systems. I was very proud of my bike because I was the only guy with a tread specific tire (meaning that the tread is designed to go a certain way on the wheel), I was the only guy with disc brakes, I was the only guy with a fancy presta valve which is usually only found on high pressure road tires or better mountain bike tires. I was surprised they didn't have me teaching the class at this point.

He explained how to get the tire and tube off the wheel, which was really very easy (although it didn't seem easy when I was in the sweltering sun a few weeks earlier). Once we had the tube and tire off we inspected the tire for any foreign objects like thorns, nails, railroad ties, etc. Then he explained how to put the tube back in the tire, put the tire on the wheel while using the tire iron to work it onto the rim. Before I knew it, I had the tire put back together and was ready to fill it up with air. I pumped it up and was very proud of myself, now I knew how to change a tire. I decided, since I was pretty much an expert now, I would help the girl next to me who seemed to be struggling a little bit.

After helping this other girl, we got our tires and were leaving the store. I noticed that the air in my tire was a little lower than when I had filled it up. I didn't think much of it, but by the time I got home, my tire was flat. You have to be kidding me! There wasn't even anything wrong with this tire! There's something wrong about going to a bike class and coming home and not being able to ride your bike.

I couldn't consider myself checked out on changing tires if the one I changed went flat for no apparent reason so the next night I decided I would try to change the tire again on my own. I pulled out the tube and found a small hole by putting the tube in a sink full of water and looking for bubbles.....yes, the same sink I wash dishes in. I decided since it was just a small pin sized hole, I would try my efforts at patching it. I pulled out my patch kit, patched the hole, and put the tube and tire back on my bike. Well, that was going to work great, except when I hooked the pump onto the valve, the tip of the valve broke off in the pump which let all the air out. Time for a new tube.

Fortunately, I happened to have a new tube. I took the old tube out of the tire, put the new one in, filled it up with air, and put the tire on the wheel. Alright, now we're getting somewhere. Remember how I said my tire was tread specific, meaning it needs to rotate a certain direction. Well, I wasn't paying attention to that and only after it was back on the wheel did I realize that the tire was on backwards. Okay, so now I need to take the tube and tire off again, turn the wheel over and put the tire on the right way.

I took the tire and tube off (which I was getting really good at by this point) and realized I had it on the right way the first time. I thought it was on backwards because the bike was upside down it didn't appear to be on the right way....but it was. Alright, I put the tire and tube back on wheel and installed the wheel onto my bike.

The next morning I went for a long, well deserved bike ride with my new tube! It felt nice to know that I had changed the tube myself (even though it took me 5 tries). Next time when I'm stranded in the middle of nowhere, I'll know that I can change my tire.....of course, I'll probably go through 3 tubes and a patch kit before I'm ready to ride again.

Duluth Air Show

2008-08-19T17:02:00.032-05:00

Last month Erin and I went to the Duluth, MN air show! It featured some of the best performers in the air show circuit including the Blue Angels, Patty Wagstaff, a Minnesota local named John Klatt, among many more. Some of the show highlights included small aerobatic airplanes performing, a heritage flight with an A-10 and a P-51, an A-10 tactical demonstration, and of course, the Blue Angels F-18's and their C-130 which they've named "Fat Albert".

What was supposed to be a rainy, overcast day, turned into a beautiful mostly sunny day with a few scattered clouds that made a perfect backdrop for pictures. Here are a few of the best pictures I took, not bad for a little point and shoot camera.

Free Coffee

2008-08-08T10:01:00.005-05:00

Last week in Chicago a police officer was suspended for 15 months and ordered to undergo counseling for demanding free coffee and pastries from six Starbucks coffeehouses over the last five years. Now, I know that demanding free coffee is probably illegal and immoral but I bet none of those Starbucks locations have ever been robbed. Do you think a criminal is going to rob a place that gives free coffee to cops?

Bad guys don't seem to hang out where police officers hang out. If I owned any sort of small business, especially if it was in a bad neighborhood, I'd be giving cops as much free stuff as I could. If I owned a bicycle shop - free tune ups, if I owned a quick lube - free oil changes, a dry cleaning place - free uniform cleaning.

I think police officers are the soldiers of our streets. They give us freedom and keep us safe from bad guys. For those who think cops are the bad guys....QUIT BREAKING THE LAW!!

Personally, I think cops should get free coffee. They work hard to protect us and get paid very little to do it. Now, there should be some rules about free coffee, no fufu drinks like a "grande, non-fat, no-water, sugar free vanilla, chai tea latte". (You may ask yourself why I know about that kind of drink, well, it's because I like fufu drinks and that one is my favorite.) No, cops get free coffee, maybe some cream, but no speciality drinks. Also, no $4 scones, those things are expensive and I'm sure even a monster like Starbucks can't afford to give those away to every cop in the street.

So, next time you're at your favorite coffeehouse and you see a cop starting the night shift, buy him or her a drink, then tell them where you live....those pesky neighbor kids might become less of a problem all of a sudden.

The Joys of Driving in Minnesota!

2008-08-06T15:36:00.006-05:00

There was an article in the Minneapolis Star Tribune the other day about roundabouts and how they are popping up all over the metro area to replace intersections that were once controlled by a four-way stop sign or by a traffic light. It indicated that Minnesotans were having a hard time dealing with these "new" concepts of driving. One person was even quoted as saying, "I've been driving for 30 years, and I don't really know how I'm supposed to go through it, I think a lot of people are confused".

Okay first off, WOW! How hard can it be to yield and then drive onto a curved road? I only have 14 years of driving experience but I've been through a few roundabouts in my life and I've managed to figure them out. I've actually grown quite fond of them. You have all the advantages of an intersection, you know, like turning, going straight, and most importantly....getting places, without having to come to a complete stop.

Not only do you not have to come to a complete stop but there is no worry of someone running a red light and slamming into the side of your car at 50 mph. National data shows that there are 35 percent fewer crashes and 76 percent fewer severe injuries during crashes when four-way intersections are converted to roundabouts. For those that enjoy the little things in life.....like LIVING! I would think you would appreciate a roundabout instead of getting airlifted to the nearest hospital after getting t-boned by someone text messaging their BFF.

For those who have a hard time figuring out how a roundabout works, let me explain. As you approach the intersection you should see a sign that has a bunch of arrows in a circle. That means you are approaching a roundabout. Once you arrive there is a yield sign, just like any other yield sign, it means that you should yield to other cars, once there are no other cars coming, you can enter the roundabout. Whatever you do, don't stop in the roundabout thinking you're going to let someone in from the one of the entrance lanes. You can drive around a few times to get comfortable if you'd like, you just exit on whatever road it is you want to drive on. If it's a two lane roundabout and you're going right or straight stay in the right lane, if you're going left, stay in the left lane. You can usually go straight from the left lane as well. That's it, that's all there is to it. Yield to traffic at the yield sign, drive around in a circle until you find the road you want to drive down, and you're done.

Good luck out there, and beware of people who've gone around the roundabout a few too many times, they drive like a little kid walks after spinning around in the backyard just for fun.

Full Moon? LOOK OUT!

2008-06-18T10:23:00.004-05:00

Some emergency room doctors have said that their ER's become extra busy whenever there is a full moon. Skeptical as I may be, I'm starting to believe it. Today there is a full moon and late yesterday, I had to make my own trip to urgent care.

I spent a beautiful day inside doing a bunch of paperwork that I needed to catch up on. Toward the end of the day, I needed to shred a few documents that contained some of my confidential information. I thought to myself, "I'll shred these papers, then go for a nice long bike ride."

As I often do, I tried to push the 5 sheet limit of the shredder and it became jammed. I reversed the shredder so I could retrieve the jammed paper and my plan was to put the sheets in one at a time. Well, the sensor in the middle of the shredder had somehow malfunctioned and it wasn't working at all. I figured it needed to be cleaned out so I took my pocket knife and started picking out little bits of paper. I grew more frustrated as I cleaned out the paper and the shredder still failed to work.

As I grew more and more frustrated, I started to put more "oomph" into cleaning it out and as I did, the knife slipped and before I knew it, I had cut my finger open and there was blood all over the place. I quickly rushed to the bathroom to clean it out, thinking I could just throw a band-aid on it and call it good. Once I started running water over it I noticed that I had cut a big gouge into my finger and it was pretty deep. After I finished rinsing out my finger, I put a gauze pad on it (which I had to rip open with my good hand and my teeth, just like they do in the movies). The gauze quickly became saturated with blood. It was at this point that I thought I might need to go to urgent care. I took the saturated gauze off, put on a new gauze pad and drove to the hospital (hoping that I wouldn't pass out on the way).

I made it to urgent care without any problem and got checked in. I showed the girl at the front desk my finger and said "Can you fix this?" She said she would get me right in but first she needed to see my insurance card. I wanted to say, "Ummmm, my insurance card is in my wallet, which I'll need to retrieve with my hand, which happens to be where my fingers are, and I'm not sure if I mentioned that my finger is gushing blood." I awkwardly retrieved my insurance card and handed it to her. Then she wanted $15 for my co-pay. I was thinking, "Do you think we could do this after my finger gets fixed?" I gave her my co-pay and sat down in the waiting area trying to figure out what everybody else was there for. I mean, if there's a guy who just cut his leg off in a farming accident, I may have to wait a while.

Fortunately, I was brought back within a few minutes and the nurse asked what I did to my finger. I was trying to think of a cool story that I could end with the line, "But you should see the other guy." I told her what I had done and she had me soak my finger in some hot water which felt good, she told me I would probably need stitches and then left to find the doctor. The doctor came in and again I was asked what I did to my finger. I can't figure out why they need to know what you did to cause your trauma. I mean, if I don't tell them a good story, are they not going to put the stitches in as well as they would if I told them a great story? I think they just like to hear stories from stupid people who have hurt themselves.

I told him I have never had stitches before and he said, "It's no big deal but I'm going to numb your finger with a local anaesthetic which kind of sucks." I had to laugh a little because I don't think I've ever heard a doctor say to a patient, "This is really going to suck." He was right though, it did suck. Having a needle jabbed into your finger does not feel good. He asked when my last tetanus shot was and I confidently said, "Oh, I had one in college so I think I should be good." Then he reminded me that college was 10 years ago which made me feel old. So he hooked me up with a tetanus shot.

He put the stitches in, which by the way, also sucked because the anesthetic didn't reach all the areas of my finger. Then a nurse came in and put a huge gauze pad on and I got one of those cool braces to prevent me from moving my finger. Seems like a lot of pomp and circumstance for three stitches.

I left the hospital knowing that I had been well taken care of and am now another statistic that makes doctors and nurses think that more people hurt themselves when there's a full moon. Maybe they're right?

A Really Bad Day!

2008-06-13T11:24:00.005-05:00

Earlier this week I read of a Sudanese Airbus 310 that crashed in Khartoum, Sudan. It was carrying 214 people including 11 crew members. Unfortunately a couple dozen people were killed. Apparently it veered off the runway during a thunderstorm and burst into flames. Do you think as the plane was skidding off the runway the Captain said something like "whoops-a-daisy"?

What I thought was entertaining about the article was the following paragraph:

"The Civil Aviation Authority confirmed that 103 passengers and all 11 crew members survived. But it said some other passengers may have gone home directly from the crash on the rain-soaked runway after crew members helped them through the emergency doors."

Ummmmm, what? Some of the passengers may have gone home directly from the crash? Do you think they just stood up, brushed themselves off and said, "Well, this is close enough, I think I'll walk from here. Does anyone know where I can pick up my bag? No? That's okay, I'll just stop by tomorrow and see if they find it." I picture someone like Bruce Willis walking toward the camera as the airplane blows up behind him saying something like, "I've had a really bad day."

There is a joke in the aviation world that any landing you walk away from is a good one. I don't think you're supposed to walk away from a crash. I mean, if you can literally walk away, that's good, but just a word to the wise, don't leave the scene of an accident. I'm pretty sure someone will want to make sure you're okay.

Good luck.

Fifteen Years of Great Memories!

2008-05-22T12:04:00.000-05:00

My dad called me this morning and asked if I remembered what happened fifteen years ago today. Let's see, fifteen years ago I was 14 years old. What was I doing when I was 14 years old, besides learning how to use the potty like a big boy???

He reminded me that I took my very first flying lesson on May 22nd, 1993. I can't believe I've been flying airplanes for 15 years already, it makes me feel....well....old. If you asked me back then if I thought I'd be working for a major airline in fifteen years, I'd probably say, "No, I'm going to be running a major airline in fifteen years." Okay, so I was a little....we'll say, over confident.

I've met a lot of great people and had a lot of wonderful experiences along the way. Some of my favorite experiences include pumping gas and mowing the lawn at our local airport, flying 100 miles just to have breakfast with friends, flying skydivers (and jumping out myself), flying a corporate jet while I was in college (which is a pretty good gig for a college kid), my first airline job (followed shortly by my first airline furlough), and the day I got hired at a major airline. I have had the chance to meet some celebrities such as Matthew Perry, Bill Cosby, Sly Stalone, and Bruce Willis. I've even had the opportunity to fly some "famous" people incluidng the Secretary of the Treasury, the governor of North Dakota, George Forman, and even Miss Brazil.

All of those memories are wonderful to look back on but the best thing about my aviation career is all the friends I've made along the way. Aviation wouldn't be such a close knit community if it weren't for all the great people.

It's been a wonderful journey getting to the point I'm at now. All I've wanted to do is fly airplanes since I was a kid and I am still able to do what I love. I have to say that I wouldn't have been able to do any of it without the help and $upport from both of my parents, without them I'd probably be a bum wandering the streets of Minneapolis looking for a handout.

I'm looking forward to several more years of good flying, great memories, and even better friends.

Cheers.

Hey Doc, Is exercise okay?

2008-05-20T11:25:00.004-05:00

I've been spending a lot of time at the gym lately, trying to get into "the best shape of my life." I love it when people say that. I think anyone over the age of 10 will never be in the best shape of their life because when you're 10, you're in the "best shape" of your life. You could fall out of a tree, stand up and brush yourself off and keep on playing. You fall out of a tree today, you're done for the day.

When you're 10, your whole life is exercise. "Hey, let's chase each other around the yard until we can't stand anymore, then we'll eat a cookie and bike to the next town." Not when you're a grown-up (which I'm not, but I know some grown-ups), you have to schedule time to exercise.

One thing I've noticed on almost every machine at the gym are little signs that read, "Consult your physician before beginning any exercise program." Is that a special appointment you're supposed to make? I can just picture that phone call:

Patient: "Yes I'd like to schedule an appointment to see Dr. Smith."

Operator: "Okay, what seems to be the problem?"

Patient: "Well, I was going to start exercising but I wanted to check with the doc first."

Operator: "You want to check with the doctor to see if it's okay to exercise?"

Patient: "Yes."

Operator: "Okay, he's not available until a week from Friday."

Patient: "Well, I guess I won't start exercising until then."

It always makes me wonder, what doctor in his or her right mind is going to tell someone that they shouldn't begin an exercise program? "No Bill, I think you should continue to sit on your couch and eat potato chips, that seems to be working well for you. Your arteries are only 90% clogged and your blood pressure is 800/345."

I've actually been doing a lot of biking lately in preparation for a bike ride this summer in Glacier National Park. I guess I never asked my doctor if it was okay that I exercise, hopefully it's okay....after all, I'm trying to get into the best shape of my life.

Living a Wild Life

2008-04-03T17:21:00.003-05:00

I recently read a book called “Into the Wild” about a young man named Chris McCandless who graduates from college and his whole goal in life is to escape the realities of life and live off the land in Alaska. I realized a lot of things after I watched this movie and I think we can all learn a few things from what Chris McCandless taught us by really living his life.

Chris was raised in an East Coast upper-middle class family and had plenty of money to attend college and even enough money saved up after college to attend law school with a little help from his parents. Chris drove an old Datsun. Sure it had a little rust and a lot of miles, but it always started and always got him where he needed to go. His parents offered to buy him a new car as a graduation gift. He responded, “Why would I want a new car? The Datsun runs great. Are you worried about what the neighbors might think? I don’t need a new car. I don’t need anything.” Our life isn’t defined by what we have or what kind of car we drive. It’s about who we are as people and what we make of our lives.

Before Chris headed up to Alaska he took his Datsun and headed west, set out on a great adventure. Before he left he donated his entire life savings to a charity, he cut up his drivers license, birth certificate, and social security card. He even burned the last of his cash. You see, Chris didn’t want people to judge him by where he was from or how much money he had. He made his own identity, befriending people as he met them, earning their trust and respect.

At one point in the movie Chris was eating an apple and talking to it. Sure that seems a little weird but what he was saying to the apple wasn’t weird at all. He said, “You’re really good, you’re like 1000 times better than any apple I’ve ever had. You’re so tasty, so organic and natural, you’re the apple of my eye.” Chris appreciated the small things in life. Something as simple as a good apple was the highlight of his day. I think we should learn to appreciate the small things in our life.

Chris met a lot of good people along his journey and was camping with a big group. He had met a young girl and they were really hitting it off. They had fun swimming together, reading poetry to one another, and playing music with each other. One day while the girl’s parents had run into town, she invited Chris over to her RV to be “intimate” with her. He said that he couldn’t do that because of the consequences that he might have to pay. Chris was responsible. He did the right thing, even when nobody else was watching.

One of the last people he met was an older gentleman named Ron Franz. The last of Ron’s family had been killed by a drunk driver so he brought Chris into his home and treated him like the grandson he never had. Ron stuck close to home despite Chris’ attempts to encourage him to travel. Chris brought him to a hill that the two had attempted to climb in the past. Ron was sitting at the bottom of the hill while Chris had climbed to the top. The two were talking about Chris’ trip to Alaska when Ron asked, “What are you running from?” Chris responded, “You know, I could ask you the same question. You gotta get back out in the world Ron. Get out of that lonely house. You’re going to live a long time. You should make a radical change in your lifestyle. The core of man’s spirit comes from new experiences and there you are, sitting on your butt.” This inspired Ron to get off his butt and climb up to the top of the hill, once he reached the top, he realized what he had been missing. We need to get off our butts, get out of our routine, and realize what we’ve been missing.

The two of them were sitting at the top of the hill talking about life when Ron told Chris something that I thought was very insightful. He said, “When you forgive, you love, and when you love, God’s light shines on you.” We all need to be able to forgive one another so that we can love each other and let God’s light shine.

Chris finally made his way up to Alaska and started living in an old broken down bus, deep in the Yukon Territory. He made this bus his home for over 100 days. He survived on a big bag of rice that he had brought and an occasional squirrel that he killed with his rifle. Eventually though, he ran out of rice and wasn’t able to kill any animals. Then he accidentally ate a poisonous plant that led him to starve to death. On one of his last days, before he went out to collect berries, he posted a plea for assistance on the bus in the unlikely event that someone might come upon the bus. He wrote: S.O.S. I NEED YOUR HELP. I AM INJURED, NEAR DEATH, AND TOO WEAK TO HIKE OUT OF HERE. I AM ALL ALONE, THIS IS NO JOKE, IN THE NAME OF GOD, PLEASE REMAIN TO SAVE ME. Sometimes in life, you need to reach out to others for help.

Unfortunately, no one came upon Chris until about two weeks after his death. However, he died after achieving his lifelong goal, living alone in the wilderness of Alaska. What’s more important I think is what he learned, and taught others about life along the way. Chris learned that life is truly a journey, not a destination. He changed many lives and left a legacy that can truly be admired. One of the last things that I think we can all appreciate is something Chris inscribed on a piece of wood found on the bus: HAPPINESS ONLY REAL WHEN SHARED.

Happy Leap Day!

2008-02-29T14:48:00.004-06:00

Well, today is that one day that occurs only once every four years. The day that always seems to bring up office rumors, little giggles here and there, questions about why the boss is only 7 years old.......leap day. Why is there a leap day? It's kind of a long story but I'll try to sum it up for you.

Before Ancient Asians realized the earth revolved around the sun they thought the year was 340 days long. They based this year on the passage of seasons and based the month on how long it took for the moon to go from full back to full. This was about 28 days and they counted 12 months a year, just like we do today. The Babylonians figured a year was 360 days which they divided into 10 months, 36 days each. Closer, but still not quite right.

By the time Julius Caesar was in charge, people had realized that the year consisted of 365 1/4 days. Caesar decided to make the calendar conform to this and he said that a year would consist of 365 days. However, 6 hours of each year would be disregarded for three years and they would have a "make-up" day every fourth year. That's how we get an extra day every four years at the end of February.......today, February 29th.

Scientists have actually figured out that a year contains 365 days, 5 hours, 48 minutes, and 46 seconds. After some time, a lot of time, like hundreds of years, this adds up. In 1582 the calendar was 10 days out of sync with the seasons. For a quick fix, Pope Gregory XIII decided to erase 10 days from the calendar. So if you can find a calendar from 1582, the days between October 4 and October 15th should be missing.....let's hope you didn't have plans for any of those days.

The British weren't quite so quick to adapt to this idea and they clung to the Julian calendar until 1752, then they realized they were 11 days behind....oops. They had some make-up days between September 2nd and September 14th of that year. We finally got everyone on the same page in the early twentieth century and "they" are pretty sure they have it figured out. But what if they don't have it figured out.

Can you imagine if President Bush came on TV tonight and said, "Ladies and Gentlemen, ummmmm......I hate to break this to you, but.....well.......you see.......the calendar we currently use, well, it's off a little bit....so we're going to have to skip ahead 15 days. Tomorrow, it's going to be March 15th instead of March 1st. Good night, and good luck."

Sure, we'd eventually recover but what about that big meeting? What about my haircut I had scheduled? Am I going to get paid for those 15 days of work that I just missed? A lot of questions would come up. Makes me wonder a little bit about "global warming".....if 250 years ago they didn't even have the calendar figured out, how can they be sure that me driving a pickup truck is going to destroy the world?

Good luck.

Drug Dealer

2008-02-08T14:15:00.000-06:00

Last month I purchased two tickets for a concert this weekend. I purchased these tickets before I had my February schedule and to my dismay I couldn’t get the upcoming weekend off. After weeks of trying to rearrange my schedule, my efforts were futile, there was no way I was going to get this weekend off. I asked a few friends if they were interested but they all had other plans for the weekend. I finally decided to post my tickets for sale on one of those on-line classified ads.

I received an e-mail from a gentleman this afternoon, it was very simple and it read something like this; “I’ll take those tix if you still have them. I can meet you today.” He left his phone number so I called him. While I was listening to him talk, I could tell that he wasn’t going to be running for political office anytime soon. There were a lot of phrases like, “Yeah man” and “I’m rolling with my lady right now”.

He agreed that he would buy the tickets. I asked him where we could meet, and he suggested a gas station at a location that was familiar to both of us. I asked him what kind of car he had and told him what I would be driving. We agreed to meet in 20 minutes, he ended the conversation with “See ya in 20.”

I grabbed the tickets and as I headed out the door, I realized that 20 minutes was a little optimistic for me to meet him there so my driving was, let’s say, enthusiastic. I pulled into the gas station and saw him parked in a back corner of the parking lot, he flashed his lights so I pulled up to his truck. He got out with a wad of money in his hand. It was at this point that I started to feel like a drug dealer. Here I was racing across town with the “stuff” just so this guy could get a “fix”.

We talked a little bit about the band and instead of sealing the “deal” with a handshake, we ended with one of those things cool people do with their fists, where they make a fist and bump them together. I don’t know when that became the thing to do, but apparently it’s what all the cool kids are doing. I don’t know if it would be a good way to end an interview with upper level management but, apparently it’s appropriate when selling concert tickets to a guy at a gas station.

So, next time you need a quick “fix”, feel free to call me, I might have the right “stuff”.

Random Acts of Kindness

2007-12-16T13:05:00.000-06:00

Christmastime is here! The season of giving! When I was a kid, I used to think that Christmas was about eating good food and getting great gifts! Well, it's still about eating good food but somewhere along my journey to adulthood, I've realized that it's not about getting gifts, it's about giving gifts. Buying (or making) a gift for somebody, watching them open it, and seeing the expression on their face is more fun than getting a gift any day. What I've also found is that giving a gift when you can't see the person or don't even know who the person is, can also be fun! Some people refer to these gifts as "random acts of kindness".

I've always been a fan of random acts of kindness, yet I don't "walk the walk" as often as I should. This got me thinking, "What can I do to spread some Christmas cheer?" I recently read on the side of a Starbucks cup that if you were driving through a toll both you could pay for the car behind you. That's a great idea, but we don't have too many toll roads in Minnesota. Hmmmm, what else? Then it struck me, the next time I go through the drive through at Starbucks, I'll pay for the person behind me!

A few days later I found myself in the drive through at Starbucks. A car pulled up behind me and the person driving ordered a drink. When I arrived at the window I asked the cashier if I could pay for the person behind me. He looked a little shocked and said, "Ummmmmm, yeah." After he took my money, he asked, "Just out of curiosity, do you know the person behind you?" I said, "No, this is just a random act of kindness." What he said next caught me by surprise. "Wow, that's really cool. I haven't ever seen anybody do that before. That makes me want to go do a random act of kindness." I thought to myself "That's what it's all about!"

It wasn't about me performing one random act of kindness. It's about the cashier and the person behind me seeing a random act of kindness and then maybe doing something for somebody else themselves. You never know, you might perform a random act of kindness toward someone that is considering suicide and you're one little act is enough to get them to reconsider and realize that there really are good people in life.

Maybe you're saying to yourself, "That's great, but I can't afford to be driving through Starbucks or buying people lunches all the time." That's okay, random acts of kindness don't have to cost anything. Just the other day I saw a girl spill some tea at a store in the mall. The girl who spilled the tea laughed about it and walked away, leaving a puddle of tea all over the floor. A different girl walked up, grabbed some napkins and cleaned up the mess. She didn't say anything to the people working at the store, I don't even think they had noticed yet. She just cleaned it up with a smile on her face. Not only did she perform a random act of kindness to the store employee that would have to clean it up later, but she did it with a smile!

Now, I told you about the random act of kindness that I did as an example. I think it's important that you're not doing it as a bragging tool to your friends. Random acts of kindness need to be just that.....random. You don't need to tell anybody about it, just know in your heart that you've done something to brighten up somebody else's day.

It's the season of giving! Go do something random!

Merry Christmas.

My New Extreme Sport!

2007-12-04T17:57:00.000-06:00

It's officially winter in Minnesota as we got about six inches of snow on Saturday and another four to five inches already today! I know a lot of people moan and groan about how cold it's going to be and how traffic is going to be bad but I look at it as an adventure.

Earlier this summer I bought a new mountain bike and enjoyed beating myself up on the bike trails so I decided that I am going to make biking a wintertime activity as well. Today I went and bought some cold weather biking pants and a balaclava to keep my head warm under my helmet. Usually this time of year most people are running to the outdoor shops to buy new ski clothes or maybe a new snowboard so I'm sure the people at the bike and ski shop that I went to laughed a little when I came in asking if they had any bicycling pants.

I got home and put on my cold weather clothes and pulled my bike out. Keep in mind that it was still snowing and only the main roads had been plowed. It took a little getting used to constantly slipping and sliding (and a few falls) but after a while it became a lot of fun and a great workout! I got a few strange looks but I didn't care, I felt like a kid again out playing in the snow and having fun!

With another four to five months of cold weather ahead there so much to do, snowshoeing, downhill skiing, and my new favorite wintertime activity.....extreme bicycling!

The Wright Brothers Would be Proud!

2007-11-28T10:52:00.001-06:00

The new Airbus 380 stopped by the Minneapolis/St Paul Int'l Airport this week. It arrived on Monday evening. On Tuesday, it did a demonstration flight with several local media personnel and a lot of Northwest Airlines uppity ups. I'm sure Airbus had hopes that Northwest would order a few of these new airplanes. Today it left MSP at around 10 AM and headed out to Los Angeles, CA to continue it's tour.

I decided to drive out to the MSP airport today to watch it take-off. I showed up with my handheld scanner in hand and my camera around my neck. I stood out in the frigid cold with all the other aviation nerds waiting for this huge airplane to take-off. There were about 45 people standing up on a hill near the end of the runway, a lot of them brought their cameras, a few others brought scanners as well to listen to the pilots receive their take off clearance.

Although we couldn't see the body of the airplane where it was parked, at nearly 80 feet tall, we could see the tail protruding over other buildings. As the A380 taxied out to runway 30L, it finally came into full view and I have to say, it is very impressive. As you may know, it is a "double decker" airplane, much like those "double decker" tour buses you might see in Europe. Unlike the double deck tour buses though, the A380 has a roof over the second level. It weighs over 1.2 million pounds at it's maximum take-off weight and will carry about 525 people over 8,000 nautical miles.

After it taxied on to the runway we heard the tower controller on the scanner say "Airbus 380 Super, runway 30L, fly runway heading, cleared for take-off." We could see the dust start to fly behind the A380 as it started it's take-off roll. With a very light load, it lifted off about half-way down the 10,000 foot long runway. Because of it's size, it looked like it was going very slow when it was actually accelerating through over 200 MPH as it flew overhead. It turned to the west and left a cool vortex in the clouds as it was climbing out.

It's been just over 100 years since Orville and Wilbur Wright flew the first airplane and I have to say, we've come a long way since then. Although I may never get the chance to fly an Airbus 380, it sure was fun to see one of the biggest passenger planes in the world right here in my hometown.

Giving Thanks

2007-11-21T12:57:00.000-06:00

Well, if you watch TV today and turn to your favorite news station you'll probably see some 3rd chair reporter sent out to the airport to do the big "Thanksgiving Day Rush" story. He'll talk about how long the lines are at the airport. Haven't the lines been long since 9/11? He'll also talk about how it's going to snow somewhere and it's going to affect the departures and arrivals to certain airports. Well, it is November and it tends to snow in the winter time.

You may also hear stories of how bad traffic will be on the roads and how expensive gas is. As far as I can figure, most people aren't working on Thanksgiving or the day after and those same people are driving somewhere else to visit family so, it's probably going to equal out. I don't foresee any big traffic jams because there's a turkey in someones oven. As a matter of fact, Thanksgiving is probably the biggest carpooling day ever because everyone is driving around and they at least have their significant other or more likely, the whole family, in the car with them.

As far as gas goes, it's been expensive for a while, it might be an extra $0.05/gallon but what's that equal per tank, an extra $1....maybe an extra $3 if you're driving a motor home. Not a big deal.

So, if you have to travel today or tomorrow, take it from somebody who travels for a living. Don't freak out about things, show up at the airport, get on the plane, go fly somewhere. Get in your car, if traffic slows down, slow down with it. What's the hurry? When you're on your way to visit your family and you get to the gas station, be thankful that there's someone working there to take your money instead of being at home with their family.

If you're reading this blog on a computer, consider yourself blessed. Be thankful for everything you have, sure there may be some people that have more than you, but there's a lot of people that aren't nearly as blessed as you are....and they're not wasting their time reading my blog.

Happy Thanksgiving.

Banks and Grocery Stores

2007-11-14T14:20:00.000-06:00

Yesterday a TCF bank located in a South St Paul Cub Foods grocery store was robbed. What's funny about the story is that the bank was robbed twice. Not twice in the last year, not twice in the last month, it was robbed twice.......yesterday!

According to the news article it was robbed by two different people. The police investigator and FBI had literally just left the store and minutes later, a different fellow walks in with a gun and demands money. The first guy said he had a gun, apparently the second man showed them a gun.

How do you think the first robber felt when he heard that the same bank he robbed was robbed later that same day? Maybe this went through his head, "I thought I got all the money, they had more money that they didn't give me?" Should he go back to the bank and complain? "Yeah, I was the one who robbed you earlier today, I hear you gave more money to another robber this afternoon? When I said, give me all your money, I meant all of your money! I didn't mean, leave some money for the next robber. Can I see your manager?"

As I said earlier, this bank was located within a grocery store. Why are there so many banks in grocery stores? Who decided that would be a good idea? I guess they want people to get all their errands done at once. What if it were the other way around though? A grocery store inside of a bank. If someone went to a bank manger and said, "I'd like to install a grocery store in your bank, would that be okay?" I'd imagine the bank manager would just laugh as he escorted the man out of the building. Yet, a bank inside of a grocery store....that's a good idea.

As of late, they haven't found either of the robbers. Maybe the robber went to the bank at the grocery store because they needed money for groceries and they figured it was a "two birds with one stone" type of thing. Wouldn't it be funny if while the FBI is at the bank investigating the robbery, the robber is in the dairy aisle picking up some milk for dinner.

I think I'm going to stick with grocery stores without banks for a while, of course, what if someone robs the grocery store?

What Time Is It?

2007-11-05T11:00:00.000-06:00

Well, yesterday was the big test to see how well adults follow directions. I'm pretty sure "they" purposely have daylight saving times on the weekend so if you screw it up, you have all day Sunday to try and figure out why you just missed the first hour of the football game. I'm not really sure why "they" have daylight saving time. Do people know that changing the time doesn't change how long the sun shines on us during the day?

I'm sure it's published somewhere but the weekend that we all change our clocks always seems to be a rumor that's just floating around. You never see it on a calender or anything, you just hear it from random people, "Hey, don't forget to change your clock tonight." You might hear from your local weather person on the news or read it in the newspaper but you'd think something like this would be published on all the calendars. My desk calendar tells me important things like when the moon is going to be full, but not when the entire nation is going to change the current time.

Then there's the clocks that automatically change, I really hate those things. Because of the Energy Policy Act of 2005 that Bush signed into law, we're now "falling back" an entire week later so some of the clocks in my house were an hour off when I woke up last week . I wish none of the clocks changed automatically because now I have to remember which clocks I have that change automatically and change them by an hour the week before daylight saving time to accommodate for them automatically changing when they're not supposed to, then I have to change them on my own anyway a week later. What happens if you change a clock that was going to change on it's own but you didn't know it? Now you wake up and your two hours off.

When I was a kid my dad and I were going to go deer hunting the Sunday of daylight saving time. For some reason "fall back" didn't sound right but "fall forward" sounded good to us so we set our clocks forward an hour before we went to bed. We awoke and got out to the forest we were going to hunt in at 5 AM. Well, we thought it was 5 AM but when we noticed that there wasn't any hint of the sun coming up we realized it was actually 3 AM, not 5 AM.

As a pilot, we use a standard time year round. It's called UTC which stands for Universal Coordinated time. It's also known as "Zulu" time. It never changes.....ever. If I told you to call me at 1000 Zulu time, regardless of where you were in the world, it would be 1000 Zulu where I am. There's no AM/PM crap, it's a 24 hour clock, it's actually very simple. I think the whole world should use that to simplify things. Of course, your kid might be going to school at 1300 instead of 0800 but it would still be in the morning when the sun is coming up.

Well, I'm running late for an appointment.....actually, what time is it?

Who is Your Hero?

2007-09-25T12:52:00.000-05:00

According to Merriam-Webster, the definition of hero is this: a man admired for his achievements and noble qualities or one that shows great courage. So it makes me think, who are our heroes and what qualifies them as a hero?

Some people consider a hero to be their favorite musician or maybe a sports celebrity. I don't know about you but whenever I hear about how Brittney Spears hit a car and drove off or how OJ Simpson got arrested for assault with a deadly weapon it makes me wonder, are these who people are looking up to?

I don't think you have to look very far to find a hero. Walk through your neighborhood and talk to your neighbors. Are there any teachers on your street? What about a policeman or fireman? What about soldiers who are serving in the war?

I learned the other day that teachers on average spend between $500-1000 each year buying supplies for their kids. The average teacher salary in Minnesota is $49,906. That doesn't seem like a lot of money for someone who is responsible for the education of our future, yet people still teach with a passion despite their small wages. Are teachers heroes? I think so.

What about a policeman or fireman? In 2000, the starting salary for a Minnesota State Trooper was $39,396. Someone who is driving hundreds of miles everyday, standing on the side of the road with cars flying by at 70 MPH, helping someone change their flat tire, walking up to a car not knowing if the person driving is a known felon and has a gun, searching a house for a guy who is high on meth. Are these people heroes? I think so.

I learned after the I-35W bridge collapse in Minneapolis that one of the men that died was from the town I live in. I consider this man a hero, not because he died on the bridge but how he died. You see, he survived the collapse of the bridge, yet he saw some other people who were struggling and examiners believe he died trying to save someone else.

I recently read a newspaper article that talked about a soldier who threw himself onto a grenade that landed in their truck in order to soften the blow to his fellow soldiers. With a split second decision, he sacrificed his life for the life of others. Whether you agree with the war or not, this man is a hero.

Even if you don't know a teacher or a soldier. Everyone should have a hero in their life, someone to look up to. I'm fortunate to have two heroes, my mom and dad. Two people who taught me everything I need to know about life and still loved me when I screwed up. Two people who sacrificed time and money in order for me to succeed. Are these people heroes? I think so.

Who is your hero?

I Flew Under the Golden Gate Bridge!

2007-09-08T17:53:00.000-05:00

A few days ago, I was in San Francisco, CA sitting in the cockpit of the 737 I fly. We were about to take off on runway 1R. It was my leg and I was excited to go flying! The tower controller cleared us for takeoff. As we started rolling down the runway, a huge smile came over me because I knew what we were about to do.

As soon as we lifted off the ground, we put the landing gear up, retracted the flaps, and I leveled off about 400 feet above the ground and accelerated to over 300 MPH. We flew over the San Francisco Bay for a while. After that we buzzed the downtown area, coming within 100 feet of the buildings going over 300 MPH! After we got back over the bay I dropped the plane to the deck and aimed for the Golden Gate Bridge.

As we approached the bridge I got the plane down to 30 feet above the water. I was being careful not to bank too much because I didn't want the wings to hit the water as that would mean a sure disaster. As we approached one of the most famous bridges in the world, we were now going over 350 MPH! As we passed under the bridge I can only imagine what the people watching this were thinking, "Did I just see a 737 fly under the Golden Gate Bridge?" After we flew under the bridge we had a lot of built up speed (which equals energy) so I pulled back and banked to the left. Now we were climbing at over 6000 feet per minute! What a thrill! Probably something I'll never get to do again!

You may be asking yourself, "Is this legal?" No, it's not legal and I would have been fired for that little stunt had I not been in the simulator for my annual recurrent training. As you can imagine, flying under the Golden Gate Bridge is not part of recurrent training. After we had finished all the training required for the day, we had some extra time and the instructor asked us if there was anything else we wanted to do. I said, "I've always wanted to fly under the Golden Gate Bridge." So, they repositioned the "airplane" to the runway in SFO and I got to live another one of my dreams!

Play the video below to see what flying under the Golden Gate Bridge looked like!

Going to the Doctor

2007-09-06T10:49:00.000-05:00

This morning I made a visit to my favorite AME (Aviation Medical Examiner) to have my aviation medical certificate renewed for another six months. For some reason I always find trip a little amusing.

My favorite part is the urine sample you have to give. There's always so much pressure to........um.....well.......to go. You know that on the other side of the door the nurse is standing there just waiting for you to fill up the 2 ounce jar they give you. I know there's only one nurse but for some reason, when I'm in the bathroom I think that my nurse has called over all the other nurses and they have little bets going on how long it's going to take me to fill up the cup.

That brings me to another question, how much of a sample do they need? Do they want a whole jar of urine? I can give them a whole jar if they need it but that seems a bit excessive. Obviously they need more then a couple drops though. Today I split the difference and gave them half a jar. Is there anything more humiliating then walking out of a public bathroom with a cup of your own pee and handing it to the nurse? And then they get to do there own little science experiment with it, sticking all sorts of different Ph papers into it to see what kind of horrible disease I might have. You're just standing there waiting for the nurse to look at you like you're about to die.

Then they say, "You can wash your hands if you'd like to." I wonder to myself, "Does anyone ever not wash their hands at the doctors office when a nurse is watching?" My hands are never so clean as when I just finished washing my hands at the doctors office. I scrub them like I'm getting ready to perform surgery. I use soap twice, I'm lathering up my arms, after five minutes of scrubbing my hands the nurse finally says to me, "Ummmm, are you about ready?"

Then comes the hearing test, where they put you into a sound booth and give you some headphones and say, "just click the button whenever you hear three beeps." Oh, I try so hard for this test, like my life depends on it. Some of the beeps are obvious but then you start thinking, did I just hear one and by the time you think you heard one you click the button during another set of beeps. The rest of the year I couldn't care less how well I hear stuff but all of the sudden I'm trying to be the bionic man in this booth listening to a squeal so high a dog can't even hear it. Then my stomach growled and I thought I missed a beep because my stomach was louder then any of the beeps. After they tested my right ear they started testing my left ear although I could swear I could still hear beeping in my other ear.

Finally after all the testing with the nurse, it's time to see the big man, the head honcho, the doctor! When he first walks in, I put down the latest version of a magazine I'd never think of subscribing to. We have a little chit chat about life, sports, whatever, trying to have a grown up conversation when all I'm thinking about is how in 5 minutes this guy is going to ask me to pull down my pants.

After a quick check with the doctor I'm on my way for another six months! I better start studying for my next hearing exam!

My Radio Debut

2007-08-24T14:15:00.000-05:00

Yesterday I made a trip to the Minnesota State Fair. My main goal was to sit and watch my favorite radio show, Garage Logic. It's an AM talk show and everybody who listens is a citizen of Garage Logic where everything that needs to discussed can be discussed in the garage. Garage Logic is the seat of Gumption County, down the road from Diversityville, but not as far as Liberal Lakes. It's a place where common sense prevails, the 2-car garage is revered and cigar smoking is allowed.

During their broadcast from the State Fair they bring in many different guests. Yesterday, one of the guests was a man named Scott Flansburg, also known as the "Human Calculator". To say this guy is quick at math is to say the Mississippi River is damp. His ability to do math problems is incredible. He is literally quicker than a calculator. You can even give him your birth date and he'll tell you in a matter of seconds what day of the week you were born on (which also gives him the nickname the "Human Calendar").

Towards the end of the segment they allowed a few audience members to ask questions, I was fortunate enough to ask the first question. To know that your voice is going out on 50,000 Watts of AM power is a little intimidating. Fortunately for myself, I had "played DJ" enough when I was a kid to not totally screw it up. If you'd like to listen to my radio debut, click here. Once you get it pulled up go to 33:57 and you'll be able to hear my question shortly thereafter. If you'd like to hear the whole segment with the Human Calculator, go to 15:10 and you can hear his incredible ability.

As much as I think being a DJ would be cool, after I heard myself on the radio, I realized that I shouldn't quit my day job.

Proud to be a Minnesotan

2007-08-06T13:49:00.000-05:00

Last week Minneapolis made national news with the collapse of the I-35W bridge that connects downtown Minneapolis to the northern suburbs. It is truly a tragedy whenever multiple people die and several others are injured. I was fortunate to not have known anybody who was on the bridge during the collapse but the people who were on the bridge and their families are in my prayers.

It's times like these when race, sex, and religion get thrown out the window and everyone helps everybody else. Times like these put other things in life into perspective. When you have to stand in line for 8 minutes at your favorite coffee shop, when the waiter at the restaurant gets your order wrong, or when your flight is delayed a couple hours. All of a sudden, things like that don't seem to matter as much.

What makes me proud about being a Minnesotan during times like these is hearing the stories of people on the bridge and others from nearby. I haven't heard any stories of people running away from the bridge after it's collapse. I have only heard of people running to help those in need. Even people who were on the bridge when it collapsed helped those who were injured worse than themselves. That's truly what "Minnesota nice" is all about. Not only does it make me proud to be a Minnesotan, but proud to be an American.

Now I'm in the big bucks!

2007-08-03T22:03:00.000-05:00

A few days ago I had an overnight in Dallas/Fort Worth, TX. The next day we had a very early departure to Newark so myself and the rest of the crew left for the airport around 0500. When we arrived, we went through the typical pre-flight duties that we all have. The captain went to operations to retrieve the paperwork, the flight attendants were pre-flighting their emergency equipment in the cabin, and I got the cockpit ready and then went outside to do a pre-flight walk-around.

I started my walk-around and noticed a police car at the back of the plane with a cop leaning against the hood. I thought this was rather odd, either there was some security concern that I wasn't aware of or our tabs were expired.

I didn't think much of it and noticed a man in dress clothes watching some cargo being loaded. I figured he was probably a manager doing a cargo audit. Then I noticed that he didn't have any sort of ID which is required to be out on the ramp. I asked him about his ID and the police officer said that he was with him.

I started looking at what they were loading into the cargo compartment and couldn't figure out exactly what it was. There were a bunch of briefcase sized packages but they were wrapped in dark packaging and I wasn't able to see what was inside. The man that was counting the packages being loaded said to me, "Here, hold one of these." He handed me one of the packages which was a lot heavier than it looked. I asked, "Well, this is neat but what is it." He said, "You're holding $880,000 in your hands."

I was pretty amazed at how much money I had in my hands but what shocked me more was how many of these cases they were loading. There was literally an entire baggage cart full of these things. I asked him how much money was being loaded he said, "$92 million in $50 bills." My jaw dropped wide open!

What I thought was funny is how he was counting each case of money being loaded. One would think they would have fancy scanners and computers ensuring that each case was accounted for. Instead, this guy had one of those cheap little mechanical counters that you might see a high school kid using at a movie theatre on a busy Friday night.

Before I finished my pre-flight I chatted with the police officer and asked him what the story was with the money. He said it came from the mint in Fort Worth, TX and was on it's way to New York, NY. Apparently New York City was running short on $50's and we were in charge of transporting them in what would be, at least for the next three hours, one of the largest armored vehicles.

When I got back in the cockpit I told the captain about all the money we had on board. We briefly discussed flying to Mexico and never coming back but decided against it. After we pushed back and started taxiing to the runway we noticed that the police car was following us with it's lights on. I felt pretty special to have a police escort to the runway.

After an uneventful flight to Newark we landed and parked at the gate where there were more police officers and guards waiting to take the money. I guess they didn't want to leave the unloading to a ramp guy making $6 an hour. I was a little disappointed that we didn't get some sort of percentage for safely transporting this valuable cargo, even 1% would have been fine with me.

Next time I have an overnight in Dallas/Forth Worth, there's a chance we might transport more money, so if you don't ever hear from me again, you might have to come look for me in Mexico. Drinks are on me!

"Breaking News"......well, almost.

2007-06-23T14:13:00.001-05:00

The other day in my hotel room I woke up and turned on the news. The "Breaking News" of the day was a helicopter shot of Paris Hilton's house. The banner on the bottom of the screen said something to the affect of "Judge sends Paris Hilton back to jail for 45 days." I think this was the second, or was it the third time, that she'd be sentenced to 45 days in jail. First, her 45 day sentence was reduced to something like 23 days. Then she got released after 2-3 days because she had some sort of rash that apparently no prison doctor has ever seen and didn't have the know how to deal with.

Then there was Anna Nicole Smith who apparently died while legally taking nine different prescription drugs. I can't tell you how saddened I was by her death, it was really hard to get up in the morning knowing that I wasn't going to see her smiley face on the television saying something like "TrimSpa baby!" Now there's a catchy slogan. Little did I know that I was going to hear about who the father of her kid was and where she should be buried for the next month and a half.

My big question is, who really cares how long Paris Hilton is going to be in jail or where Anna Nicole Smith was going to be buried? Whatever happened to real news like a firefighter jumping out of a window as the house blew up while trying to save the lives of little children inside. Or a dramatic rescue by the US Coast Guard swooping in and lifting someone off the roof of their house as it begins to flood.

Maybe a story about what the firefighters and police officers from New York City are doing now, six years after 9/11. My guess is they are still out there saving people everyday, just not quite as dramatically as they did back in 2001. I guess until then I'll sit by my television waiting to see who the next celebrity is that goes to the clink.

Flying South of the Border!

2007-06-14T14:28:00.000-05:00

Last weekend my career as an airline pilot took me to a new level. As a matter of fact, it took me to a city I have never heard of before, Guayaquil, Ecuador. A lot of people seem to think you aren't a real airline pilot unless you fly internationally. I personally don't really care where I go, as a matter of fact, I prefer to stay in the United States where I can speak the language, eat whatever I want, and be home in a couple of hours if I have to. For some reason though I was looking forward to this trip. It was my first time going south of the equator, first time to a new continent, this felt like a real international trip. Sure, I've been to the Caribbean and some of the exotic vacation destinations in Mexico but this was different.

We left the gate a little late in Houston, TX due to a weight and balance issue but after we got it figured out we were off. We made our way out over the Gulf of Mexico, passed over Merida, Mexico, then south towards Belize City, Belize, we continued toward Tegucigalpa, Honduras, right over Managua, Nicaragua, then towards Liberia, Costa Rica, finally passed over Quito, Ecuador and then crossed the equator just before we started our descent into Guayaquil.

About half-way to Guayaquil I left the cockpit to use the restroom. For security reasons we (and all airlines) have a flight attendant go into the cockpit when one person leaves so he or she doesn't get locked out. As I was about to go back into the cockpit, the flight attendant who was in there opened the door to come out. As she opened the door I heard a loud scream and then she closed the door. I couldn't figure out what had gone wrong but a few seconds later she opened the door and I entered the cockpit. In passing I asked the flight attendant what was going on, she said, "Nothing." When I got inside I noticed the captain sitting on her seat with her feet up. I asked, "What's going on?" She said, "A huge cockroach just crawled out from your seat, walked across the lower pedestal and is now under my seat." Now, I'm not a huge fan of small bugs, and I'm definitely not a fan of big bugs! I asked, "Do those things fly?" She said, "Yes, they fly, and they're huge!" Not wanting to sit down and leave myself vulnerable to an attack, I stood in the back part of the cockpit hoping I would see it and be able to kill it. I took out my flashlight and shined it down by the captains seat and then noticed it walking around by my feet. I started jumping up and down until it stopped moving. I was glad to have killed it but was still a little leery that he may have brought friends.

Once we were south of Quito we went into a non-radar environment. Being non-radar isn't a big deal, but it does make for some more work on the part of the air traffic controller and the pilots part. It involves making position reports and time estimates of your next fixes. With no one else flying into Guayaquil during our arrival time we got right in and taxied to the gate.

Our hotel van was waiting for us and we took the 15 minute ride to the hotel. Once we arrived the captain and I decided to spend some time at the hotel casino. I'm not a big gambler but I decided to donate $20 to the blackjack table. It made for about an hour of entertainment but the only thing I took away with me was the smell of smoke in my clothes.

The next morning I awoke and was anticipating the huge breakfast buffet that other pilots had told me about. I rushed downstairs and was awed by the huge spread they had, and did I mention, it was free! I spent the next hour sampling over a dozen freshly squeezed juices, tables of fruits and breads, waffles, pancakes, several different types of meat, and omelets made to order! Who says there's no such thing as a free lunch?

Since I had stayed out late and got up early, I was desperately wanting a nap but since we were doing a red-eye flight back I wanted to save my nap for later. I spent about an hour in the hotel gym and then decided to go lay out by the pool. After getting my fair share of South American sun, I went back to my room and slept for about four hours. After my nap, the captain and I decided to go to a steak restaurant across the street.

We found our way to the restaurant and I noticed that the "doorman" also happened to have a handgun on his hip. I'm a big fan of security but this guy didn't seem like security, he just seemed like someone who works for the restaurant and likes to have a gun with him. Either way, he apparently didn't see us as a threat and welcomed us to the restaurant. It was a good thing the captain I was with spoke a little Spanish because there was no English speaking people anywhere to be found. I ordered the one thing I recognized, fillet mignon. When it appeared that our waiter was asking what else I wanted with it, I heard him say "papa fritas" and I remember that being french fries from my two years of high school Spanish. The food was delicious and the bill was even better! For two pieces of fillet mignon, vegetables, and "papa fritas" the grand total was $10!

We headed back to the hotel and got ready to go back to the airport. After I put my uniform on, I walked outside to get on the hotel van. I noticed an old beat up Toyota pickup truck sitting behind the hotel van with two shady looking characters sitting inside it. I didn't think much of it until we left the hotel and the truck started following us. The hotel van had to make several U-turns on the way to the airport and this truck continued to follow us. I was starting to get worried and I told the captain, "This truck has been following us since the hotel." The captain said to me, "Yeah, that's hotel security." Why didn't someone tell me we were going to be followed by hotel security. I was thinking we were about to get blown up by one of those suicide bombers that always seem to be driving those old beat up Toyota pickup trucks.

After we arrived at the airport we cleared customs and security. Then I saw what is probably the best marketing idea I've seen in an airport. There is no way to get into the terminal after clearing security without walking through the duty free store. What a great idea! I fell for their little scheme and bought some chocolates which I thought were some sort of exotic chocolate only available in South America, turns out I could have bought them at our local Sam's Club.

We took off at 1:00 AM and arrived back in Houston at 7:00 AM. By 11:30 AM I was back in Minneapolis sleeping in my own bed! I guess you can call me a "real" airline pilot now because I've done a big international trip. I have to say it was fun, but I'll still take an Omaha overnight any day.

Commuting to Work

2007-05-24T21:02:00.001-05:00

A lot of people commute to work. As a matter of fact, if you work anywhere, odds are that you have some sort of commute to make. Some commutes are short and some are long. My dad drives about two miles to his office, my brother rides his bicycle six miles to his office every day in order to save on gas and get a little exercise. I know some people who spend one hour in their car to get to their workplace. As an airline pilot who lives in Minneapolis and is based in Newark, my personal commute involves driving twenty minutes to the airport and then hopping on a plane for a 2 1/2 hour flight to where I'm based.

Usually, flying to work is pretty easy. I show up to the airport and hop on one of several non-stop flights to my base. Of course there's more involved than just hopping on a plane. I have to check to see how many open seats there are on a flight, check to see if there's any adverse weather that would affect my flight, and of course, I have to leave a couple back up flights in case my first choice flight gets canceled or oversold. I also might have to leave the day before if there aren't any flights that get me to work on time, I may also have to come home the day after a trip if I get in after the last flight of the day back home has already left. All this along with showing up an hour or so before the flight makes commuting a very time consuming process.

My last commute to work didn't go quite how I was planning. I had to be at work on Thursday afternoon at 1:00 PM. On Wednesday night after all the passenger airline flights had left I decided to check how many open seats there were for the next days flights. I had three flights that would get me to work on time. Earlier in the day the flights had quite a few open seats and things looked good. But something must have happened after the last flight of the day because suddenly, all my flights were oversold by several people with dozens of passengers on the standby list. I also noticed that there were several other pilots listed for the flights so it was going to be a fight for the jump seats. Oh, and there were thunderstorms forecast for my departure city.

There's another airline that flies boxes late at night that we're very fortunate to be able to ride on. I called them to see if I could take a red-eye out to my base instead of worrying about the flights the next day. It would mean being up all night long and sleeping in the crew room the next day before my coast to coast flight but it would also mean an almost guaranteed seat to work. I decided to take the red-eye freight plane. Fortunately I was already packed and all I had to do was shave, throw my uniform on, and head to the airport.

It's customary to bring cookies to the pilots of this airline whenever you jump seat with them, so I stopped at a bakery (actually, it was a gas station that had a bakery section) and picked up some cookies for the crew. I actually had to pick up enough cookies for four people because my flight was going to stop in Chicago along the way and there was most likely going to be a different crew bringing me the rest of the way.

I introduced myself to the crew in the weather room and we made our way out to the plane. I felt like Tom Hanks in the movie Cast Away as I was walking up the steps to get on the plane. I was pretty sure though that we weren't going to crash in the ocean on a flight between Minneapolis and Newark.

As the pilots did their pre-flight, and the ground crew loaded all the big cargo crates, I tried to stay out of the way. I'm always amazed at what a smooth operation it is. It runs just like a passenger plane, except with boxes instead of passengers. After a quick safety demo by the first officer (yes, even cargo airplanes have to give safety demos to jump seaters on how to use everything in case of an emergency), the ground crew closed up all the cargo doors, verified everything was okay with the flight crew and we were off.

Most big cargo planes have some jump seats behind the cockpit along with a couple jump seats in the cockpit. Just like on a passenger plane, we're required to ride in the back unless those seats are full, then we're allowed to sit in the cockpit. Flying on a cargo plane is a lot like riding in the back of a semi-truck, kind of cold, loud, and there's only one small window on either side so it's very hard to figure out where you are. I was the only jump seater and there was a row of 4 jump seats where I was sitting, so after we got going I folded them all down into a makeshift bed.

I made friends with a moth that stowed away on the flight, also hoping for a free ride. We quickly became enemies though when he started buzzing around my head while I was trying to sleep. After I showed him the front page of a magazine he seemed to be content lying, very motionless, on the floor. I let the turbulence from the storms we were flying around rock me back to sleep and before I knew it, we were arriving in Chicago.

I sat up and put my shoulder harness and seat belt on before we landed. We taxied to the "gate", actually, it's more of a big parking ramp than anything. The cargo doors opened and just as quickly as the plane had been loaded, it was unloaded and on came new cargo. The crew I was with got off and went to the hotel and on came a new crew.

I asked the new crew if it was okay if I go with them. They said they would love to have me ride along but I wasn't on their paperwork so I should go inside and talk to the operations people. I walked inside, apparently the person who listed me for the Minneapolis to Chicago flight, didn't list me for the Chicago to Newark portion of my trip. You're supposed to list at least two hours in advance and the flight I wanted to be on left in less than one hour. I called the jump seat phone number and explained the situation. The person I talked to was very helpful and got me listed right away.

I walked back out to the airplane, and told the crew I was on the list now and their final paperwork should reflect that. Once again I got another safety briefing from the first officer and we were off. It was now about 1:00 AM and I was very sleepy. I looked for anymore stow away moths and quickly put the other jump seats down to make my "bed" for the next couple hours.

I slept very soundly and awoke to the landing gear coming down. I quickly sat up to put my shoulder harness and seat belt on again and we landed a few minutes later. We got into Newark around 4:00 AM but by the time I got off the plane, took the shuttle bus over to the passenger terminal, then took the train to the terminal my airline flies out of, it was 4:45 AM.

My next stop was the crew lounge where I would sleep for the next few hours. Unfortunately, the lights in the crew lounge are kept on all night long (probably so pilots don't sleep there too often) but I had an eye mask that I took from a hotel once. The eye mask, along with my ear plugs, and a semi-comfortable couch gave me another four hours of sleep. I woke up around 9:00 AM. Only four more hours until I had to be at the gate.

After I made myself presentable to the general public I found some breakfast at the employee cafeteria. Shortly thereafter I met the crew at the gate and we headed out on our four day trip.

Most of the time commuting is pretty easy and stress free but this last trip to work was not. So when you get in your car and are at work thirty minutes later, think of me and how I left for work fifteen hours before I needed to be there. Maybe it'll make you appreciate your "quick" commute.

What's with signs?

2007-05-17T00:25:00.000-05:00

Tonight I was taking the stairs from my hotel room down to the lobby. The door I used had a sign on it that read "This door to remain closed at ALL times". I thought to myself, if the door is supposed to remain closed at ALL times, why is there even a door? Shouldn't there be a sign that reads, "We were going to put a door here but instead we put a wall"? It got me thinking, there are a lot of stupid signs out there. Are there stupid signs because there are stupid people?

For example, the sign on a 7-11 gas station reads, "This door to remain unlocked during business hours". Well, aren't 7-11's open 24 hours a day? Therefore, there is never a time when the door should be locked because they are always open. Which brings me to my second question, why are there locks on the doors?

My biggest pet peeve is when people don't read the simple signs. For example, when I'm in the airport and someone asks me, "How do you get to baggage claim?" I will usually respond with a polite, "Go to the coffee shop, take a left and head downstairs." What I say is far different from what I want to say. What I would like to say is, "You see the big sign that reads 'Baggage Claim'? Follow that until you see a belt with a bunch of bags going round and round...then you've arrived in baggage claim!"

I guess what I'm trying to get at is, I thank God for stupid people. They make me laugh!

What is a 710??

2007-05-04T15:02:00.000-05:00

When it comes to my car, I'm not exactly what you'd call a "handy-man". I don't change my own oil, I don't install new tires, and I'm not afraid to admit it. I'd rather pay someone who has the correct tools and is properly trained, do it for me.

A few days ago I was having some work done at my local garage. A blond came in and asked for a seven-hundred-ten. We all looked at each other and another customer asked, "What is a seven-hundred-ten?" She replied, "You know, the little piece in the middle of the engine, I have lost it and need a new one."

She replied that she did not know exactly what it was, but this piece had always been there. The mechanic gave her a piece of paper and a pen and asked her to draw what the piece looked like. She drew a circle and in the middle of it wrote 710. He then took her over to another car which had its hood up and asked "Is there a 710 on this car?" She pointed and said, "Of course, its right there."

We all had a good laugh when this is what we saw: