Multi-culturalism is one of those phrases that’s bandied about a lot these days, but I don't know if most people really know what it means. America is not the melting pot the Baby-Boomers were taught, but rather a tapestry of different ethnic, racial, religious and "lifestyle" backgrounds. Nowhere is that more true than in my house, where mutli-culturalism reigns supreme.
I am in what is euphemistically called "a mixed marriage." I was raised in a Reformed Jewish family and both my parents were from your basic Eastern European stock. Nobody knew exactly where the Austro-Hungarian border was, or the whether the shetle was in Lithuania, Latvia or Russia.
My wife is a Unitarian Universalist, part Sicilian, and part WASP (like she could be a member of the Daughters of the American Revolution WASP). Now, of course, by my reckoning, UUs are almost Reformed Jews but without any of the traditions or any guilt, so we have a relatively normal healthy marriage without too much religious conflict.
We adopted two terrific children, both as newborns. My wife and I are Caucasian, and the kids are both bi-racial so they clearly don't look like us. My daughter's ethnic background is Portuguese American and African; my son's is Eastern European Jewish and African. So if you're keeping score here, two religions, two races and five ethnic identities in a family of four.
We’ve always made a concerted effort to make sure the children were exposed to all elements of their heritage and we feel pretty good about how we handled it. For my kids, (Mia and Leo are adults now), being our own little tapestry of a family hasn't been too much of an issue. Our multi-cultural family hasn't been too much of an issue for our kids' friends either.
One of Leo's best friends since nursery school is Sam. By the time they were 10, the boys had easily known each other over half their lives. Yet, one night, after our families got together along with someone who hadn't met my family all together, the newcomer observed that Leo and Mia must be adopted.
"Leo and Mia are adopted?" blurted out a shocked Sam. "Why do you think they're so much darker -skinned than their parents?" was the reasoned response from Sam's older sister Emma. "Well...........that happens" he stated casually.
Over the years, there have been subtle ways in which we're reminded of just how special our household is.
For instance, when Mia was about 3 1/2 year-old, she lovingly leaned over and kissed her baby brother on the forehead and said, "Leo, ti amo. N'er shel Hanukkah." (for those of you who don’t know minimal Italian or Hebrew, that’s “Leo, I love you. Now, let’s kindle the Hanukkah lights.”) See, Mia knew how to be multi-cultural and cute all at the same time. We're just lucky she didn't feel the need to light him like a candle and blow him out too.
Which brings me to the whole issue of the holidays. Given the philosophical similarities between UUs and Reformed Jews, we decided to raise our children in both religious traditions. That's a decision we have fewer problems with than the organizers of organized religion (actually it was only one or two rabbis who were troubled; the Unitarian Universalists proudly admit they're not Organized). However, what the decision to be inclusive means is we honor all appropriate traditions (and then some) and celebrate the major holidays on both calendars. That, of course, adds a couple of dates to the holiday schedule.
Here for example is what December looks like:
8 nights of Hanukkah
The Winter Solstice (just try finding a goat to sacrifice in December)
Christmas Eve
Christmas Day
Boxing Day (an English cousin)
7 nights of Kwanzaa
New Year's Eve.
If nothing overlaps, that's a total of 20 nights to party. Bottom line: in December, if you can light it, we'll celebrate it.
That, my friends, is the story of Christmahanukwanzaka. And to all, a good night.
Saturday, November 28, 2009
Saturday, August 29, 2009
Reflections on the death of a Great Man
I spent an hour standing in a driving rain outside the gates to Hanscom Air Base to pay my respects to Sen. Ted Kennedy as his funeral cortege passed on the way back to Washington. Of course, I wasn’t alone. My daughter Mia was with me, as were several hundred people who lined the road leading to the base.
Just like the thousands who stood on overpasses and along the route from Hyannisport to Boston earlier in the week, and those who stood in line at the Kennedy Library, I felt that this was something I had to do. It was my way of thanking Ted, and the family, for giving so much to make this country a better place.
The extraordinary and appropriate outpouring of affection for Ted Kennedy has me thinking about the other big outpouring of emotion over the passing of an icon this summer, the death of Michael Jackson.
The two spectacles couldn’t have been more different. On the one hand, there was the prescription drug overdose of a narcissistic self-loathing pop star leading the news media and general public to exercise their worst habits of overindulgence and hyperbole. It was totally over the top and on some level kind of creepy. Yes, Michael Jackson was a terrific entertainer. But, ultimately, that’s the nicest thing you can say about him.
Ted Kennedy changed the lives of millions, and my fellow citizens of Massachusetts gave him a goodbye befitting a Great Man. The local news media covered this story non-stop and surprisingly, it didn’t seem like it was “too much.” Seeing Mission Church filled with the most powerful people in the country; hearing Placido Domingo, Yo-Yo Ma, Susan Graham and the Tanglewood Festival Chorus let you know this was an historic moment.
It's unfortunate that our society has such a difficult time keeping things in perspective. Why is it so hard for the news media to lead rather than pander? There is a huge difference between Ted Kennedy and Michael Jackson and the way we should honor them in death. This week the American public and media did things right. Let's try and remember this for next time.
Monday, February 23, 2009
Fairy Dust
Fairy Dust
My kids Mia and Leo were young, just 9 and 6 respectively, when I was the marketing director for a major national tour of Peter Pan starring Cathy Rigby. Yes, that’s right, I had the perfect target audience/focus group right in my very own house as we launched a 40 week multi-million dollar tour. I just forgot that my son was still an impressionable first-grader until about 6 months into the job.
The story begins in early October, about a month before the show was going to open on the West Coast. Cathy Rigby along with Wendy and the Lost Boys were scheduled to perform on NBC’s “Today” show one Sunday morning. My job, in addition to having arranged everything, was to meet the cast in New York and bring along some “fairy dust.” Since the show wasn’t in production yet, the props department hadn’t ordered the special mylar stuff, so I went to the local arts & crafts store and bought a little tube of glitter and poured some into a leather pouch and figured that would work just fine.
Through a scheduling snafu at home, both Mia and Leo had to come with me to New York while mom was at a business conference. As we were leaving home in Boston Saturday to drive to New York, Leo came running downstairs carrying his Halloween outfit (yes, a Peter Pan costume) and said “We almost forgot this.”
Fast forward to Sunday morning. It’s a 6am call at 30 Rock, so I’m hustling the kids to get dressed at the hotel. Leo’s got his costume on (green tunic over green tights with a pointy hat) and when I ask if he wants to wear something over the outfit, he says “no, I’m fine. But I wish I brought my boots instead of these sneakers.”
OK, I say, “Just put this jacket on. It’s cold out this morning.” All this time, his sophisticated older sister kept rolling her eyes.
Suffice it to say my kids were the hit of the Green Room that morning, polishing off all the fresh fruit and muffins they could handle while I was off negotiating little details between our cast and the “Today” staff. Thank goodness for my friend Laura Matalon, a great press agent who volunteered to wrangle the kids that morning. But things got interesting when we went out on the Plaza for a camera rehearsal. Within moments, a cameraman came over to Leo and said “You sit right here” pointing to a spot just to the edge of the stage.
It should come as no surprise that Leo got more face time on camera that morning than the actress playing Wendy.
When the program ended, Cathy handed me back the little leather pouch with “fairy dust” and we parted with a “see you in a couple of weeks” for the tour opening. I looked at Mia and Leo and said “It’s 9am on Sunday morning in New York. How about if we go back to the hotel, change clothes and then head up to the Central Park Zoo?” Leo said, “I don’t need to change.” Once again, “OK, then you hold on to the fairy dust, since you’ve got a little pocket there in your jacket.”
Up Fifth Avenue we went, and all along the way people commented on my son’s attire. “Ooo, are you Peter Pan” they’d ask. “Yes I am” would be his response and out would come a little fairy dust. It was so sweet I thought I’d go into insulin shock.
When we eventually got back to the hotel to check out, he looked into his pocket and the leather pouch had turned over and all the glitter had poured out. A disappointed look came over his face. “That’s all right,” I said, showing him the tube of art store glitter. “We’ve got more.”
Well, the initial look of disappointment turned to abject horror -- you’d have thought I told him there was no Santa Claus (that would come later). But, thinking quickly I said “Oh Leo. Don’t worry. This isn’t real fairy dust. We’d never use the real stuff for a PR gig.” He relaxed and I knew I had saved my son from a crushing emotional blow.
Six months later, it’s Bring Dad to Class Day in his first grade. Not only do I tell the kids what I do for a living, but I show video clips of Peter Pan (even Leo knows we call it B-roll) , and our appearance on “Today” complete with Leo’s beaming face all over the screen.
When it comes time for Q&A, one girl asks the inevitable “How does Peter Pan fly?” My son, who is well versed in public-relationsspeak says “Happy thoughts and a sprinkle of fairy dust, of course.” Trying to be helpful I add “And, we have some fairy dust at home, right Leo?”
“No Dad. All we have at home is the PR stuff.”
My kids Mia and Leo were young, just 9 and 6 respectively, when I was the marketing director for a major national tour of Peter Pan starring Cathy Rigby. Yes, that’s right, I had the perfect target audience/focus group right in my very own house as we launched a 40 week multi-million dollar tour. I just forgot that my son was still an impressionable first-grader until about 6 months into the job.
The story begins in early October, about a month before the show was going to open on the West Coast. Cathy Rigby along with Wendy and the Lost Boys were scheduled to perform on NBC’s “Today” show one Sunday morning. My job, in addition to having arranged everything, was to meet the cast in New York and bring along some “fairy dust.” Since the show wasn’t in production yet, the props department hadn’t ordered the special mylar stuff, so I went to the local arts & crafts store and bought a little tube of glitter and poured some into a leather pouch and figured that would work just fine.
Through a scheduling snafu at home, both Mia and Leo had to come with me to New York while mom was at a business conference. As we were leaving home in Boston Saturday to drive to New York, Leo came running downstairs carrying his Halloween outfit (yes, a Peter Pan costume) and said “We almost forgot this.”
Fast forward to Sunday morning. It’s a 6am call at 30 Rock, so I’m hustling the kids to get dressed at the hotel. Leo’s got his costume on (green tunic over green tights with a pointy hat) and when I ask if he wants to wear something over the outfit, he says “no, I’m fine. But I wish I brought my boots instead of these sneakers.”
OK, I say, “Just put this jacket on. It’s cold out this morning.” All this time, his sophisticated older sister kept rolling her eyes.
Suffice it to say my kids were the hit of the Green Room that morning, polishing off all the fresh fruit and muffins they could handle while I was off negotiating little details between our cast and the “Today” staff. Thank goodness for my friend Laura Matalon, a great press agent who volunteered to wrangle the kids that morning. But things got interesting when we went out on the Plaza for a camera rehearsal. Within moments, a cameraman came over to Leo and said “You sit right here” pointing to a spot just to the edge of the stage.
It should come as no surprise that Leo got more face time on camera that morning than the actress playing Wendy.
When the program ended, Cathy handed me back the little leather pouch with “fairy dust” and we parted with a “see you in a couple of weeks” for the tour opening. I looked at Mia and Leo and said “It’s 9am on Sunday morning in New York. How about if we go back to the hotel, change clothes and then head up to the Central Park Zoo?” Leo said, “I don’t need to change.” Once again, “OK, then you hold on to the fairy dust, since you’ve got a little pocket there in your jacket.”
Up Fifth Avenue we went, and all along the way people commented on my son’s attire. “Ooo, are you Peter Pan” they’d ask. “Yes I am” would be his response and out would come a little fairy dust. It was so sweet I thought I’d go into insulin shock.
When we eventually got back to the hotel to check out, he looked into his pocket and the leather pouch had turned over and all the glitter had poured out. A disappointed look came over his face. “That’s all right,” I said, showing him the tube of art store glitter. “We’ve got more.”
Well, the initial look of disappointment turned to abject horror -- you’d have thought I told him there was no Santa Claus (that would come later). But, thinking quickly I said “Oh Leo. Don’t worry. This isn’t real fairy dust. We’d never use the real stuff for a PR gig.” He relaxed and I knew I had saved my son from a crushing emotional blow.
Six months later, it’s Bring Dad to Class Day in his first grade. Not only do I tell the kids what I do for a living, but I show video clips of Peter Pan (even Leo knows we call it B-roll) , and our appearance on “Today” complete with Leo’s beaming face all over the screen.
When it comes time for Q&A, one girl asks the inevitable “How does Peter Pan fly?” My son, who is well versed in public-relationsspeak says “Happy thoughts and a sprinkle of fairy dust, of course.” Trying to be helpful I add “And, we have some fairy dust at home, right Leo?”
“No Dad. All we have at home is the PR stuff.”
Monday, February 2, 2009
Keep it Simple
35 years after Jon Landau wrote "I've seen the future of rock and roll....and it's name is Bruce Springsteen," Super Bowl halftime shows will never be the same. My teenage son told me the reason I liked Bruce's performance so much is that he didn't muck it up with lots of extras (except of course the pyrotechnics). The teenager also felt that the set was incomplete without "Born in the USA," but I had to explain that we all have mixed feelings about that song (Bruce especially) ever since the Reagan campaign of 1984.
Springsteen has always been about the basics; straightforward story-telling lyrics surrounded by good old fashioned hook-laced music, delivered with the pure energy and fun that is at the heart of rock and roll. When he's strayed from that (mid '90s without Clarence on tour, Bruce and Patti covered those sax solos with guitar......and nobody ever came to a Springsteen show to hear them play guitar), he's been much less successful.
Yes, the reason that Bruce and the E Street Band changed the game for Super Bowl half-time shows is that they kept things simple, and were true to themselves as performers. No overblown U2 power anthems; no weird phallic guitars from Prince; no wardrobe malfunctions; and no mummy-like Tom Petty (dead or Canadian?) performances this year.
Proving once again that less is usually much, much more.
Springsteen has always been about the basics; straightforward story-telling lyrics surrounded by good old fashioned hook-laced music, delivered with the pure energy and fun that is at the heart of rock and roll. When he's strayed from that (mid '90s without Clarence on tour, Bruce and Patti covered those sax solos with guitar......and nobody ever came to a Springsteen show to hear them play guitar), he's been much less successful.
Yes, the reason that Bruce and the E Street Band changed the game for Super Bowl half-time shows is that they kept things simple, and were true to themselves as performers. No overblown U2 power anthems; no weird phallic guitars from Prince; no wardrobe malfunctions; and no mummy-like Tom Petty (dead or Canadian?) performances this year.
Proving once again that less is usually much, much more.
Tuesday, January 20, 2009
A New Day
"Our long national nightmare is over." That's what Gerald Ford said to the country after replacing Richard Nixon in 1972.
January 20, 2009 marks not just the end of another nightmare, but a rebirth in our country. Has there ever been a time when the country was in so much peril, yet the people felt so optimistic?
FDR's first inaugural and Kennedy's were both times of fear. In 1933 the country was in the midst of the Great Depression and people literally didn't know if they'd have a roof over their heads or food to eat. 1961 was the height of the Cold War and school children were well practiced in what to do in case of a nuclear attack (how kneeling with our heads on the floor against the wall would protect anybody is beyond me, but that's a discussion for another day).
The inauguration of Barack Obama is entirely different. We're fighting two wars, the economy is totally in the tank and the prospect of a terrorist attack is ever-present, yet 2 million people are in Washington just so they can say they were there. The biggest fear today is that internet will be clogged with people streaming video at their desks and cell phone networks will be jammed with people in DC sending pictures back home.
I don't think it's just because Obama is the first African-American president. Yes, that's an important component of the excitement, but only part. People are desperate to believe in our own better nature, that the country is better than what we've demonstrated over the past two decades.
We've had 16 years of bitterness at the core of our national dialogue. George W. Bush came into office claiming to be a "uniter, not a divider" but in the cynicism that marks the right wing, it was all just words. Bill Clinton was hounded by Republicans for his entire 2 terms because they didn't like him or anything he stood for.
Barack Obama's transition has been marked by a nearly unbelievable willingness to engage the other side. The right looks at this with cynicism. They don't believe that Obama is serious when he reaches across the aisle. Of course they don't believe him. They're the ones who coined the term "compassionate conservatism" and then ignored the poor and give tax breaks to the rich. The right dresses up "change" by inviting half a dozen faces of color to be on screen during the Republican Convention, but continues to fight immigration reform. But we as a nation want to be better.
In September 2001, the country was waiting to be asked to sacrifice for the greater good. People would have done just about anything including paying higher taxes for the right war (how was a tax break for the top tier a good idea when launching a war?). George W. Bush asked us to go shopping and vacation at Disneyworld.
Today is another such opportunity. I believe President Obama will ask us to sacrifice for the greater good. He will appeal to our better selves. And I hope/believe the country will take up his call.
January 20, 2009 marks not just the end of another nightmare, but a rebirth in our country. Has there ever been a time when the country was in so much peril, yet the people felt so optimistic?
FDR's first inaugural and Kennedy's were both times of fear. In 1933 the country was in the midst of the Great Depression and people literally didn't know if they'd have a roof over their heads or food to eat. 1961 was the height of the Cold War and school children were well practiced in what to do in case of a nuclear attack (how kneeling with our heads on the floor against the wall would protect anybody is beyond me, but that's a discussion for another day).
The inauguration of Barack Obama is entirely different. We're fighting two wars, the economy is totally in the tank and the prospect of a terrorist attack is ever-present, yet 2 million people are in Washington just so they can say they were there. The biggest fear today is that internet will be clogged with people streaming video at their desks and cell phone networks will be jammed with people in DC sending pictures back home.
I don't think it's just because Obama is the first African-American president. Yes, that's an important component of the excitement, but only part. People are desperate to believe in our own better nature, that the country is better than what we've demonstrated over the past two decades.
We've had 16 years of bitterness at the core of our national dialogue. George W. Bush came into office claiming to be a "uniter, not a divider" but in the cynicism that marks the right wing, it was all just words. Bill Clinton was hounded by Republicans for his entire 2 terms because they didn't like him or anything he stood for.
Barack Obama's transition has been marked by a nearly unbelievable willingness to engage the other side. The right looks at this with cynicism. They don't believe that Obama is serious when he reaches across the aisle. Of course they don't believe him. They're the ones who coined the term "compassionate conservatism" and then ignored the poor and give tax breaks to the rich. The right dresses up "change" by inviting half a dozen faces of color to be on screen during the Republican Convention, but continues to fight immigration reform. But we as a nation want to be better.
In September 2001, the country was waiting to be asked to sacrifice for the greater good. People would have done just about anything including paying higher taxes for the right war (how was a tax break for the top tier a good idea when launching a war?). George W. Bush asked us to go shopping and vacation at Disneyworld.
Today is another such opportunity. I believe President Obama will ask us to sacrifice for the greater good. He will appeal to our better selves. And I hope/believe the country will take up his call.
Monday, January 19, 2009
Winter in Boston
Why is everybody in Greater Boston surprised when it snows around here. It's not like Boston Common is lined with palm trees, you know.
You'd think that the fact that we're in New England would give everyone a clue. But, nooooooo. At the first warning sign by those remarkably competent weather forecasters, the populace goes into a panic. There's a run on grocery stores as even folks who are lactose intolerant stock up on milk. I'm told it all goes back to the Blizzard of '78, but come on, that's more than 30 years ago. Get over it!
It's open season on the roads too, as native drivers, already among the worst in the country, apparently think that a little snow or ice on the pavement is a reason to channel themselves to the Autobahn. In fact, it would appear everyone thinks they're in a Ford Explorer- free to test the mettle of their four-wheel drive vehicle, even if they're behind the wheel an '98 Corolla.
And while we're at it, have you ever seen anything like the local weather forecasters. It's hard to imagine a group of people better paid to do their jobs as badly, except maybe left-handed pitchers. Earlier this winter, in the first real storm of the season (yes, it's winter kids), our intrepid meteorologists all promised that the snow would be west of Rt. 495. Well, unless the Prudential Tower was somehow transported across the international date line, they were wrong, because it snowed like a sun-of-a-gun in the Back Bay all day.
What's truly remarkable is how much time and money is spent on television weather forecasts. They've got the most sophisticated computer generated graphics, and more time than any other segment of the news, and yet, it's all still guess work. A local broadcast executive once told me that research showed that the weather was the most popular part of the news-the reason people tuned in-the ratings driver.
I had to explain that they were misinterpreting the data. People don't want a seven-minute weather report (particularly when it's rarely correct). They want seven ten-second weather reports throughout the newscast. It's like Jimmy Tingle says, "Just tell me-Do I need a coat?"
I'm convinced that's why people in California seem happier, and more spiritually enlightened than we do. It's not just that it's sunny all the time. It's that they don't have to spend ten minutes every morning standing frozen between their closet and the television waiting to be told if they should wear wool or cotton. That's ten minutes every day to sleep, seek spiritual guidance, or just roll over and.........
You'd think that the fact that we're in New England would give everyone a clue. But, nooooooo. At the first warning sign by those remarkably competent weather forecasters, the populace goes into a panic. There's a run on grocery stores as even folks who are lactose intolerant stock up on milk. I'm told it all goes back to the Blizzard of '78, but come on, that's more than 30 years ago. Get over it!
It's open season on the roads too, as native drivers, already among the worst in the country, apparently think that a little snow or ice on the pavement is a reason to channel themselves to the Autobahn. In fact, it would appear everyone thinks they're in a Ford Explorer- free to test the mettle of their four-wheel drive vehicle, even if they're behind the wheel an '98 Corolla.
And while we're at it, have you ever seen anything like the local weather forecasters. It's hard to imagine a group of people better paid to do their jobs as badly, except maybe left-handed pitchers. Earlier this winter, in the first real storm of the season (yes, it's winter kids), our intrepid meteorologists all promised that the snow would be west of Rt. 495. Well, unless the Prudential Tower was somehow transported across the international date line, they were wrong, because it snowed like a sun-of-a-gun in the Back Bay all day.
What's truly remarkable is how much time and money is spent on television weather forecasts. They've got the most sophisticated computer generated graphics, and more time than any other segment of the news, and yet, it's all still guess work. A local broadcast executive once told me that research showed that the weather was the most popular part of the news-the reason people tuned in-the ratings driver.
I had to explain that they were misinterpreting the data. People don't want a seven-minute weather report (particularly when it's rarely correct). They want seven ten-second weather reports throughout the newscast. It's like Jimmy Tingle says, "Just tell me-Do I need a coat?"
I'm convinced that's why people in California seem happier, and more spiritually enlightened than we do. It's not just that it's sunny all the time. It's that they don't have to spend ten minutes every morning standing frozen between their closet and the television waiting to be told if they should wear wool or cotton. That's ten minutes every day to sleep, seek spiritual guidance, or just roll over and.........
Tuesday, January 13, 2009
The Zen of Travel
As I was boarding a flight from Salt Lake City to the East Coast recently, I overhead the flight attendant say “Every day is a great day to fly,” and it occurred to me that was only true if you could find the silk purse in every sow’s ear you ever came across It was a sunny morning, so with the prospect of flying over the Rockies with a window seat in first class I thought I’d give her the benefit of doubt.
Some people love to travel; others hate it. I’m pretty much ambivalent. But the fact is, since I fly on average twice a month I’ve found it essential to accept everything that comes along as just part of the day (or night). Maybe I’m stupid lucky and by writing about it here have jinxed my next five years of flights, but in the past 20 years, I’ve only had two flights canceled/delayed to the point where I didn’t get to my destination the day I was scheduled. And, one of those I was with my son coming home from visiting my parents, so it was kind of a bonus anyway.
I have some personal coping mechanisms for making it a good travel day. First and foremost, unless you’re traveling with a 5 iron, NEVER check luggage. There are two reasons to do this. The first, obviously, is that the airlines will loose your bag. Of the maybe 20 times I’ve checked luggage, it hasn’t landed when I did at least a half dozen times. That’s means over 25% of the time, the airlines screwed up. Hell, once going on vacation I saw them take my golf clubs off the plane after an announcement that we were overweight and some bags were going on the next flight.
The other reason to carry-on is that you have flexibility. The airlines will almost never rebook you on a different flight if your bags are in the system. When there are flight delays and cancellations, being the passenger with only carry-ons, you’re one of the first candidates for rerouting, rather than waiting around for that long delayed flight to be canceled.
And, on certain good days, if you’ve got a connection and arrive early, you just might get on the next flight to your destination, rather than a 3-hour layover. If you get where you’re going early, that’s usually a good thing. Who wouldn’t rather be either home or at the hotel for a few hours rather than an airport lounge?
I recommend always have something to read with you. And don’t depend on finding a decent selection of books at the airport. I actually plan my reading when selecting a book from the library. If it’s a long one, I might start it a few days earlier at the gym, so that I finish in the last hour of the flight home. If push comes to shove, I’ve found that you can always get through a flight with a copy of the New Yorker or, surprisingly, Esquire, which always has a few articles worth reading.
Finding good airport food is always makes the travel day go better. Generally speaking, I try and find the local non-chain place, hoping that I know, for instance, that if I’m traveling through Austin or Charlotte somewhere in the lunch or dinner hour, there’s great BBQ in the central food court. At O'Hare down concourse E you’ll find a Greek diner that has great Gyros for lunch and a feta omelet that will start the day off right if you’ve got an early flight. On the other hand, I had an absolutely horrible breakfast sausage/egg/cheese biscuit in Memphis the other morning. But just today, the Wall Street Deli at SLC produced a perfectly balanced breakfast burrito. Add that to the sunshine over the mountains, and it’s not such a bad start to the day.
Getting a complimentary upgrade when you didn’t expect it almost always makes for a nice day, although not so much when it’s a short flight and the only benefit is your beverage in a glass and an extra bag of sun chips.
Sometimes, just a good seat is enough. Of course exit rows are great because you’ve got the extra leg room, but every now and then your seatmate is somebody who’s interesting and you have a wonderful conversation with a stranger for a couple of hours.
Of course, there’s no way to dress up a flight in a middle seat between two fat people, one of whom has a crying baby on their lap. Just put on headphones, close your eyes and hope you fall asleep fast.
Some people love to travel; others hate it. I’m pretty much ambivalent. But the fact is, since I fly on average twice a month I’ve found it essential to accept everything that comes along as just part of the day (or night). Maybe I’m stupid lucky and by writing about it here have jinxed my next five years of flights, but in the past 20 years, I’ve only had two flights canceled/delayed to the point where I didn’t get to my destination the day I was scheduled. And, one of those I was with my son coming home from visiting my parents, so it was kind of a bonus anyway.
I have some personal coping mechanisms for making it a good travel day. First and foremost, unless you’re traveling with a 5 iron, NEVER check luggage. There are two reasons to do this. The first, obviously, is that the airlines will loose your bag. Of the maybe 20 times I’ve checked luggage, it hasn’t landed when I did at least a half dozen times. That’s means over 25% of the time, the airlines screwed up. Hell, once going on vacation I saw them take my golf clubs off the plane after an announcement that we were overweight and some bags were going on the next flight.
The other reason to carry-on is that you have flexibility. The airlines will almost never rebook you on a different flight if your bags are in the system. When there are flight delays and cancellations, being the passenger with only carry-ons, you’re one of the first candidates for rerouting, rather than waiting around for that long delayed flight to be canceled.
And, on certain good days, if you’ve got a connection and arrive early, you just might get on the next flight to your destination, rather than a 3-hour layover. If you get where you’re going early, that’s usually a good thing. Who wouldn’t rather be either home or at the hotel for a few hours rather than an airport lounge?
I recommend always have something to read with you. And don’t depend on finding a decent selection of books at the airport. I actually plan my reading when selecting a book from the library. If it’s a long one, I might start it a few days earlier at the gym, so that I finish in the last hour of the flight home. If push comes to shove, I’ve found that you can always get through a flight with a copy of the New Yorker or, surprisingly, Esquire, which always has a few articles worth reading.
Finding good airport food is always makes the travel day go better. Generally speaking, I try and find the local non-chain place, hoping that I know, for instance, that if I’m traveling through Austin or Charlotte somewhere in the lunch or dinner hour, there’s great BBQ in the central food court. At O'Hare down concourse E you’ll find a Greek diner that has great Gyros for lunch and a feta omelet that will start the day off right if you’ve got an early flight. On the other hand, I had an absolutely horrible breakfast sausage/egg/cheese biscuit in Memphis the other morning. But just today, the Wall Street Deli at SLC produced a perfectly balanced breakfast burrito. Add that to the sunshine over the mountains, and it’s not such a bad start to the day.
Getting a complimentary upgrade when you didn’t expect it almost always makes for a nice day, although not so much when it’s a short flight and the only benefit is your beverage in a glass and an extra bag of sun chips.
Sometimes, just a good seat is enough. Of course exit rows are great because you’ve got the extra leg room, but every now and then your seatmate is somebody who’s interesting and you have a wonderful conversation with a stranger for a couple of hours.
Of course, there’s no way to dress up a flight in a middle seat between two fat people, one of whom has a crying baby on their lap. Just put on headphones, close your eyes and hope you fall asleep fast.
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