Business Travel

When we last left our intrepid hero (that’s me, by the way), I had just jetted my way back to Toronto from my fancy-pants vacation in Panama. After a short stint back in New Jersey to finish up my last project, I was loaded on a plane and headed all the way cross-country to land in Seattle, Washington. I’ve been up in Seattle for about a month now.

Seattle, Washington is a city of approximately 600,000 people sandwiched between the salt water of Puget Sound and the fresh water of Lake Washington. To the north is the Canadian province of British Columbia. To the west are the Olympic Mountains, to the east the Cascade Range including just off to the south-east is Mount Rainier, the highest peak in the Cascades, and easily visible on a clear day from Seattle.

Generally, I like my blogs to tell a little story, to have a beginning, a middle and an end. However, I’ve been pretty heads-down this past month on my project, and so my chances to get out and see Seattle have been sporadic. So instead of my usual story, I present just random snapshots of Seattle.

Seattle’s most famous landmark is probably the Space Needle. In 1962 Seattle hosted the world fair, and decided on a theme of Century 21, and wanted something futurist to be the visual anchor point for the fair grounds. Inspired by the Stuttgart TV tower in Germany, the architects decided on a tower, eventually topping the tower with a flying saucer to represent the Jetson-esque world that would await us in the year 2000. The fair also brought Seattle that 1960s favorite representation of “the future,” a MONORAIL.

Today, the Space Needle serves as a tourist attraction for Seattle, like many other towers around the world. Rubes like me line up to spend $14.00 to go up to the top, look around for 10 minutes, yawn and go back down. The Space Needle, at 605 feet, isn’t even the tallest structure in Seattle anymore. That honour belongs to the Columbia Center, a downtown office complex rising 967 feet into the air.

The same day I went to the Space Needle I had planned to go to the Music Experience Project, an interactive museum dedicated to all things musical, fitting for a city that brought us both Jimi Hendrix and Kurt Cobain. However, it was a beautifully sunny day, so instead I choose to skip the indoor museum and spend my time walking down along the waterfront. Seattle has a number of piers jutting out into Elliot Bay, originally built to handle Pacific sea traffic, most of the piers now house tourist attractions or cruise ships. Seattle still is the 9th busiest port in the USA, though the majority of the cargo traffic is handled away from the downtown core nowadays.

Seattle and the surrounding area does have the largest ferry system in the USA, and third largest in the world, moving more than 11 million vehicles around Washington state per year.

South of Downtown are two stadiums – Qwest Field, where the Seattle Seahawks for the NFL play, and Safeco Field, where the Seattle Mariners of Major League Baseball play. One of the star players on the Mariners is Ichiro Suzuki, a Japanese import. When I was in Japan this last summer, the only two American sports teams that most Japanese would know were the New York Yankees and the Seattle Mariners, and the games of these two teams would often be on the television so the Japanese could see how their countrymen were doing playing in America.

Even though farther north than my hometown of Toronto, Seattle has exceptionally mild winters. Just beside the ball park is the Pyramid Brew House, one of Seattle’s many “micro-brews.” People in the Pacific Northwest seem to love their beer, and there are a number of fine micro-brews out there to enjoy. Pyramid is most famous for it’s Hefeweizen, an unfiltered wheat beer usually served with a lemon, but I can attest that the Apricot Weizen is also quite excellent.

I was smart to take my walk along the waterfront when I did, for Seattle was back to it’s usual weather the following day, cloudy and drizzling. Seattle has a reputation for being a rainy place, but that’s only half right. It has only really rained a couple of time in my month in Seattle, but most days are gray with a light mist of hovering in the air, not really raining, but not dry either. And on those cold, drizzling days it becomes clear why beer, while very popular, is not Seattle’s most popular beverage. That honour goes to coffee. Seattle is the original home of the world conquering juggernaut whose green and white signs appear everywhere from Beijing to Boston and from Cairo to Korea – Starbucks. The original Starbucks is still open, and serves as both a tourist attraction and a coffee stand. The original logo of a bare-breasted mermaid on a brown background has morphed over the years to the more bible-belt acceptable green logo without breast or belly button in sight, but you can still see the logo proudly displayed in the original store.

The original Starbucks is across from Pike Place Market, a 9 acre public market in operation since 1907, selling everything from produce to tourist kitsch. The most popular attraction in Pike Place Market, however, is the Pike Place Fish Market. The fishmongers at the Pike Place Fish Market don’t hand each other fish, they toss them full force at each other. The Pike Place Fish Market has been featured on many TV shows, and you are bound to see them on any TV show featuring Seattle tossing fish out into the crowds.

Starbucks is just one of many companies to get their start in Seattle. Another was REI (Recreational Equipment Inc.), a co-operative that sells outdoor equipment. I love places like REI and the Canadian equivalent, Mountain Equipment Co-op. Besides of being a great place to get travel gear like hiking shoes, backpacks and quick dry t-shirts, underwear and socks, it also makes me feel like I’m a lot more outdoorsy and sporty than I really am. I mean, it’s cool shopping with people who are buying kayaks and carabiners. REI’s flagship store is located just a block from my hotel, built of glass, wood and steel, the store includes a climbing wall, bike test trail and a number of clocks listing the time at various mountains around the world, including my nemesis – Kilimanjaro.

I was in Seattle on February 4th of this year, which was the day that Superbowl forty-one was played in Miami. Those who are regular readers know that I had a bit of a “thing” with this “Superbowls around the world” the past 6 years, when I have watched the Superbowl (or at least attempted to watch) in 6 different cities in 5 different countries on 3 different continents. And usually I would have posted a whole entry around the Superbowl, but frankly it’s getting a little tired, this gimmick, especially seeing as for the 2nd year in the row I watched the Superbowl in the USA (though it was on different coasts). So instead I’ll just cram it in this entry, and leave it at that.

I watched Superbowl forty-one in the Fox Sports Grill on 6th. Generally A nice sports bar, there is only one story worth telling.

I arrived too late to get a seat to watch the game, so instead I stood by the bar. I was joined by a coworker of mine, Alex. At one point, the man sitting at the bar right in front of us got up and went to the washroom, leaving his half empty glass of light American beer in front of his chair to hold his place.

As my and Alex’s glasses were empty and there was a space at the bar, I took this as a good opportunity to get another round of drinks. I placed my order, the bartender returned with the two glasses and I paid her. While the bartender went to get my change, I turned around and gave Alex his drink, leaving mine on the bar. As I was handing Alex his drink, the man who had been sitting at the bar returned to his seat. He sat down, and as I turned around I saw him pick up my full glass of dark IPA (which looked nothing like his light, golden beer) and take a big chug.

I was stunned. I had no idea what to do. The bartender returned with my change, and I stammered out, “that man just drank my beer.”

The man turned around, looked at me with unfocusing eyes and said, “hey, it’s my seat. I saw a beer there, I drank it.” He stared at me for a moment as I stood dumbfounded. Finally he turned around, picked up his half-full glass of beer, and started drinking that.

The bartender chuckled, and poured me another beer, and gave my now sullied beer to the drunken beer stealer. I guess what else was she going to do with it?

As is always the case, that night hours after I had left the bar and was already back in my hotel room in bed, I came up with the perfect comeback line to have said to the drunken beer stealer. “You might want to wander down to the clinic on Monday and get tested. While it’s pretty rare for someone to catch leprosy from sharing a drink, it’s been known to happen.”

Oh well, if it ever happens to me again, I’ll have the line already prepared.

“I LOVE NEWARK AIRPORT!” Those are the first words out of my mouth as I wander into the United Airlines Red Carpet Lounge in Terminal A of Liberty International Airport, also known as EWR, also known as Newark, New Jersey, USA. The words are dripping with sarcasm.

It has not been the best of weeks for me. I am working, literally, in MON, New Jersey. MON is an acronym I just made up this week, which stands for Middle of Nowhere. It is a much more polite way of saying that I am surrounded by farmers’ fields and dense forest than the usual saying I use, which people who are familiar with the type of terrain that the phrase “squeal like a pig” was uttered in during the movie Deliverance will understand.

It’s a very, very strange area I am in. I have talked, I thought, quite lovingly about my time in New Jersey up in Rutherford in previous blog entries. Rutherford is a quiet suburban existence, close to New York City, similar to the place where I grew up outside of Toronto.

My new client in New Jersey, though, is located in space not at all like Rutherford, which isn’t to imply that I am in some rural backwater with nothing but sheep, cows and the occasionally tractor. In fact, Basking Ridge, New Jersey, where I find myself now, is probably as crowded and dense as Rutherford. However, it’s obvious that Basking Ridge used to be a rural area that has grown, rather ineloquently into its role of suburb of New York City.

On my way from my hotel, a nice Marriott off highway 78, to the client site, which is a massive complex beautifully designed by famed architect I.M Pei, I drive along twisty country roads and wide-open highways. The twisty country roads, though, are lined with large suburban houses. There are no sidewalks and no street lamps, as one might expect in the suburbs, just large, expensive houses along two-lane blacktops. The hourses are spaced not even 100 feet apart, and so traffic along these country lanes, built for occasionally tractor and pickup traffic, is bumper to bumper. In my two weeks down in Basking Ridge, I have seen many a dead deer lying by the side of the road, mowed down in a vain attempt to cross the street through the constant stream of traffic.

Once I get on the highway, the traffic is a crawl. There is nothing on either side of the highway but empty forest and farmland, and exits are spaced four to six miles apart. I finally reach the client site, and spend my entire day there, as there is nowhere to go to grab a coffee or a quick lunch other than the cafeteria on site.

I was thinking to myself, as I was driving from the client site to Newark airport on Thursday how much I miss working in a city, where I can pop out for lunch and have a million choices, where I can get by without having a car, where I can find dinner that doesn’t involve a 15 mile drive to a decent restaurant.

My mood does not improve as I arrive at the airport and find that my flight has been delayed 2 hours. Newark airport is one of three airports in the New York City area, which is the busiest air space in the United States. All three airports (JFK and La Guardia being the other two) suffer from chronic delays, even when the weather is good. Today, the weather is bad, and so the delays are even worse. I find myself with a lot of time to kill and Elite status in the Star Alliance network of airlines, which includes both Air Canada (which does not have a lounge at Newark) and United Airlines (which has the Red Carpet Lounge at Newark), so I head into the Red Carpet Lounge for a drink, a comfortable seat and a few slices of cheese.

I sit at the bar and try and work on the Suduko in the USA Today, but kind it hard to concentrate because the TV, tuned to CNN, keeps showing those ads in Australia’s so where the bloody hell are you? campaign. The ones with the beautiful shots of Australia’s coastlines and outback and charming, tanned beauties in bikinis. I look outside at the grey tarmac of Newark Airport, and watch the cold rain splatter on the pavement. Makes me wish I was somewhere else instead.

I finish the Sukudo, and flip through the USA Today’s Life Section. The USA Today and ABC’s Good Morning America are revealing the new 7 wonders of the world. Today’s entry is Chichen Itza in the Yucatan peninsula of Mexico. Chichen Itza was one of the major cities of the Mayan Empire. The Mayan civilization flourished in the area we now know as Central America from about 250 A.D. until a mysterious collapse in the 8th and 9th centuries. Chichen Itza survived as a major centre even after the collapse of the Mayan empire, but by the 13th century, the city was abandoned and left to become overgrown by the jungle.

The Mayan people didn’t disappear. They still exist in Mexico and Central America today. They just gave up on city living and decided to return to farming. The reason for the Mayan civilization collapse is debated, and many possible explanations exist, including warfare, famine, environment collapse and disease.

As I am sitting in Newark Airport, I come up with my own theory, which I call urban exhaustion. The Mayan people, living in big cities like Chichen Itza, sitting around in the cartport, waiting for a cart to take them to Tulum that had been delayed 2 hours, and finally just said, “that’s it, I deserve better than this!” They walked away from the cities, and its traffic jams of llamas and carts, and decided for a more rural existence. I must admit that it’s an attractive suggestion, walking away from this stressful urban life of travel, trading in my laptop for plowshares.

I’ve been to Chichen Itza, back in February of 2000. It was my first trip outside of either Canada or the USA, to an all inclusive resort in Cancun (Cancun, woo-hoo!). The day trip to Chichen Itza was a quick break in what was otherwise an all-inclusive drinkfest. It’s strange to think that only 6 years ago I hadn’t really been anywhere.

I’m not sure if you, dear reader, has been to Chichen Itza, but it probably wouldn’t surprise me if you had. It is very close to the resorts of Cancun, and is a very popular day trip for Cancun tourists. Even if you haven’t been to Chichen Itza, fear not, for I know that one of the new seven wonders of the world you HAVE been to.

One of the other new wonders (the one announced today, Friday, November 17) I’ve been to as well, the Serengeti in Tanzania.

There’s four wonders on the list where I haven’t travelled. Those are:

• Hawaiin Marine Monument
  
• The polar ice caps
  
• the Old city of Jerusalem
  
• Potala Palace and Jokhang Temple: Lhasa, Tibet
  

Now, observant readers or those good at math will notice that I’ve only listed 6 wonders so far. That is because, my friends, I promised that I know you have been to one of the new wonders of the world. The 7th wonder of the world is MY BLOG! Okay, maybe not my blog specifically, but the Internet, which contains my blog. So welcome to one of the 7 wonders of the world.

I must admit, choosing the Internet as a wonder of the world seems a touch of a cop-out to me. It is not a physical place, but rather a concept. It would be like picking agriculture as a wonder of the world. Sure, without agriculture we’d still all be hunting and gathering, eating berries and getting attacked by elephants and squatting in dirty, muddy huts, which means agriculture is important. So perhaps agriculture is one of the world’s greatest concepts. But it’s no hanging gardens of Babylon.

Anyway, I suppose it is ABC’s and USA Today’s game, so they can set the rules.

Sorry for the cranky and whiny entry. I’ve just in a bad mood because of the flight delays and itchy hotel sheets. I shouldn’t complain too much, really, because next week is the USA Thanksgiving holiday, which means I have a 3-day week to look forward to, and because I will be in the area of New York City on the Thursday of Thanksgiving, I have an adventure ahead of me. As a teaser, let me just say, “Balloons. Big, big Balloons.”

I haven’t written much in the blog lately, because I haven’t been travelling. My last entry ended with me running through a sun-shower in New Jersey. Three days later, I was on a plane from Newark back to Toronto, and have spent the last 5 weeks here at home in Toronto.

My time at home ends on Monday, when I get back on a plane for a new project. Ah, yes, a new project means a fun new location! So where, you are asking, am I off to next. What exotic location? Dallas? London? Dubai? Sydney?

Nope. New Jersey.

Back to New Jersey, though a different client and a different location in the state (though still within 30 minutes of Newark airport). It’s just an 8 week project, but if things go well, I could be heading back to New Jersey for the next year. Hmmm, the glamour of this job has not been evident as of late. I miss last year, with it’s San Francisco and Paris trips.

While I haven’t been travelling the last 5 weeks, I have been thinking of travelling, because I have spent much of this time shopping for travel gear. Gear is very important in travel, as you spend much of your time lugging it around. I still haven’t managed to quite get the hang of leisure trip packing, and always seem to end up carrying around 5 shirts and 3 pairs of pants that I never end up wearing, but I have business travel down to a science. I can pack for a business trip in about 3 minutes, fit everything in the carry-on space on an airplane and travel with only what I really need.

I bought some business casual slacks to replace the pairs that have holes in the pockets and frayed cuffs. I threw out a few pairs of black dress socks with holes in the heels and toes, and bought some new pairs. Replacing and updating the wardrobe is pretty standard stuff, though. I’ve been forced into a few big purchases as some of my bigger travel gear has worn out or disappeared.

First was my watch. In 2000, I bought a nice Citizen Eco-Drive watch in Denver for around $US 250. It was a manly watch with a metallic band and a blue face. It was water resistant up to 200 metres, though I always figured if I was 200 m under the water, my biggest problem wouldn’t be what time it was. Most interestingly, it was solar powered. Unlike the digital watches that were very popular when I was kid, this one had no stupid solar panel and could hold a charge for up to 60 days. The only problem I would have is every year in mid-December the watch would stop because I’d had it hidden under long-sleeves for the past three months without any sun, and I would always forget to leave it out in the sun to charge. But one sunny afternoon, and the watch would be charged again and I wouldn’t have any trouble with it.

What time is it? A freckle past a hair!

A few weeks ago, in what can be attributed to either a broken band, a light-fingered thief or drunken misplacement, my watch went missing, and after a week of searching, I have not been able to find it anywhere. So I’ve been shopping around to try and find a replacement. Unfortunately, it appears that the specific model I owned is no longer available, and none of the other watches look JUST LIKE IT. I am coming to grips with the fact that I will have to buy a watch that doesn’t look like my old one, but it’s a tough uphill climb.

I also bought a couple pairs of work shoes. Back in 2004, I was training for my Kilimanjaro climb, and would walk to and from work every day, about an hour and a quarter walk each way. Because I was going to work, I would wear my work shoes. After my climb, I continued to walk to and from work out of habit more than anything else. In April of 2005, I woke up one morning with an incredible pain in my right foot. I went to the doctor, and he said that I have Metatarsalgia, an inflammation of the balls of the feet that comes from over-use, especially if one is wearing shoes without adequate arch support.

So, after some extensive research, I went out and bought a couple pairs of shoes, both well known for their comfort and support, a pair of Eccos and a pair of Rockports. The Rockports are a bit more dressy, the Eccos a bit more casual. I’m in the process of breaking them both in, and both seem pretty decent so far. It’ll be nice to have a pair of business shoes I can walk in, as it will save me from having to lug an extra pair of shoes in my luggage. As I said, the lighter the luggage, the better off you are.

New shoes!

I also bought a 19 inch roller-bag last week, a $60 Eddie Bauer bag (regularly $120). It’s nice, though seems a big tippy when the handle is fully extended, and the colour isn’t as bright as I would have liked. Of course, I was inclined not to like the bag too much right from the start, as it is replacing a very old friend.

In 1997, when I first started travelling, I bought myself a 19 inch bright green Jaguar roller bag. While I have all manner of luggage, from suit bags to backpacks to duffle bags that could easily hold 2 dead bodies, my little green bag was my most common travel companion. It’s probably travelled close to a quarter of a million miles with me, most often sharing the overhead space of the airplanes I was on, but sometimes relegated to the luggage hold (especially recently, when liquids were banned on flights). In addition to it’s duties as a transporter of my clothes, it’s served as a camera tripod, foot rest, door stopper and dinner table.

Over time, though, it's started to fall apart. The front zipper is broken, the main zipper sticks, the foot on the bottom is barely holding on, the bag tips over all the time, the handle is almost falling off and the fabric is frayed and thining.

My little green bag (retired) on the left, my new bag on the right

I’m a little surprised that I have become so attached to my little green bag. Unlike other members of my family (you know who you are), I am not usually a pack rat and things usually go into the garbage pretty quickly once their usefulness is through. The old pairs of pants, socks and shoes have gone in the garbage already, replaced by their newly bought counterparts, but I haven’t managed to throw out the little green bag yet. I will, probably this weekend.

Before I did, though, I felt that my little green bag deserved to be remembered somehow. So I present this blog entry, as a goodbye to an old friend and travel companion. I shall miss you, my little green bag.

Ode To My Little Green Bag

Green and small, with wheels black.
A handy-dandy travel pack.
Full of clothes and toiletries,
like deodorant made by Degree.

You fit so nicely in the overhead
it makes me happy not check a bag instead.
You'll even fit underneath the seat
in a pinch, ain't that neat!

Kermit the Frog upon green did sling
the insult that it was like so many things.
And yet when I had to check, you were easy to find.
A green bag stands out against the other kinds.

So many bags of black complexion,
How could green not grab my affection?
Green with envy were the other flyers
as they saw the bag of their desires!

Green is the color associated with rookie players
But you quickly gained experience to quiet the naysayers
You travelled far and traveled wide
and soon became filled with pride.

But all of us age and grow tired
and soon you were dead and expired
and I say goodbye, my little green bag
travelling without you will be a drag.

- the end.

Lookin' back on the track for a little green bag,
Got to find just the kind or I'm losin' my mind

Out of sight in the night out of sight in the day,
Lookin' back on the track gonna do it my way.
- Little Green Bag, George Baker Selection

When I worked in California back in 2002, there was a small town just outside of San Francisco called Lodi. Whenever I saw the highway sign for it, I always thought of the song by by Credence Clearwater Revival called Lodi. I thought to myself, back in 2002, that the small town in California must be the place that John Fogerty was singing about. Recently, when driving in New Jersey, I came across another town that shares the name with the CCR classic. I don’t know which Lodi CCR got stuck in, but I like to think it’s whatever Lodi I happen to be closest too at the time.

The song contains the line, “Oh Lord, stuck in Lodi again,” which popped into my head as I arrived at Newark Liberty International Airport yesterday. It had been stormy all week, and driving in I could see streaks of lightning hitting all along the waterfront of Newark’s industrial port. I was assuming that my flight, at best, would be delayed. I arrived at the airport to find all the flights to Toronto cancelled. Toronto was getting thunderstorms, just like Newark, and no planes were going to be landing there tonight.

(An aside, as every good blog entry deserves some pictures, but I didn’t have my camera with me, I have replicated my adventure in stick figures).

”How am I getting home now?” I think, looking at the big board with the cancellations.

As the Air Canada agent told me that I had been rebooked to fly out 2 days later on Saturday morning, that is when the line from Lodi jumped into my head. Partial the reason was because I was stuck in New Jersey, and there is a Lodi in New Jersey, so it’s fitting that way. But mainly the song popped into my head because of the last word, “again.”

The previous Thursday, I spent 2 1/2 hours sitting on the tarmac of Newark Liberty Airport waiting for my hour long flight between Newark and Toronto to take off. We were delayed because of thunderstorms in between Toronto and Newark. Due to the weather, greater spacing was required between planes, and so all the planes scheduled between the New York area and places to the north-west were delayed.

I was speaking with an ex-Air Canada pilot last weekend, and he said that the system, especially in the north-east USA and Ontario/Quebec area was basically close to it's limit. There was no more space to add planes into. More airports can alleviate gate crowding and takeoff slots on the ground, but can't help getting more planes in the limited air corridors that exist today. There is talk of a more flexible situation to move away from the current "air highway" system to open up more routes, but there's limits to that to.

Eventually my flight from Newark to Toronto was cancelled, and I had to wait until Friday morning to get out. That week, Air Canada was nice enough to put me up in a hotel (something they didn’t do yesterday, as they said the cancellation was weather related and therefore not their fault). We returned to the gate, deplaned and I spent the night in beautiful downtown Newark at the 5-star luxury resort Robert Treat Hotel, complete with luke-warm running water, lumpy pillows and a view of the park in which the homeless sleep.

Beautiful downtown Newark provides multiple types of sleeping arrangements. For the business traveller, the Robert Treat Hotel. For the homeless, the sidewalk outside the Robert Treat Hotel.

In fairness, the Robert Treat hotel wasn’t actually that bad. Truth be told, I’ve certainly stayed at places that were a lot worse when backpacking. But I find that I hold my travel accommodations to a different standard when I travel for business. I want comfortable beds, free high speed internet access and a hot buffet breakfast. Strange how I demand so much more when it’s not my money.

One of the things that kept going through my head during both these events was the fact that flying from New York to Toronto with no delays is only 1 hour in the air, but takes 4 hours when you consider the time it takes from downtown New York to the airport, time to clear security, plane loading time, taxiing, the flight, and all same the stuff on the other end in Toronto. A high speed train, averaging 250 km/h from New York to Toronto via Albany and Buffalo would take a little under 4 hours. Which means it's a very viable option, if someone would build the infrastructure. It’s a hang over from my European adventures on the TGV (train à grande vitesse, French for "high-speed train").

Of course, to prove to me that even trains get delays due to weather, the same thunderstorms that have caused the delays over the past couple weeks flooded out train tracks in Pennsylvania, causing many of the Amtrak trains running in the Boston-New York-Washington corridor to be delayed. So I suppose no form of travel is perfect.

So, flipping back to yesterday and my second cancelled flight to Toronto in just a week, Air Canada didn’t offer up a hotel, so instead I called my travel agent and discussed options. I ended up getting the same hotel I usually stay in down here, the Renaissance Meadowlands in Rutherford, New Jersey.

Upon arrival to the hotel that I had just checked out of 10 hours earlier, I am given the keys to room 519, which turns out to be the Premier Fitness exercise suite. Walking in the door, I am faced with a bed, a desk, a TV and 3 pieces of exercise equipment. “In room exercise,” promises a placard that comes with the room.

Is this an exercise room, S&M bondage chamber or my hotel room?

Of late, I’ve not been keeping up with my appearance or fitness, and have put on a few pounds and rounded out around the belly. It comes from driving to and from work every day (instead of walking) and eating out at T.G.I. Friday’s and Wendy’s for dinner every night. Alternating my gaze from my expanding belly to the elliptical walker and free weights, I couldn’t help but think that Marriott’s demographic profiling really failed this time. Of all the people to put into the Premier Fitness suite, I was probably not the best choice.

To further the irony, I went out and got 10 White Castle burgers for dinner, eating them in the shadow of the weight bench. At least I was drinking a Diet Coke.

Oh, I don’t feel so good now.

So, here I am, stuck in Newark again. Driving into the office in Nutley this morning, I was flipping around the radio stations and happened upon the song “You and I” by Celine Dion on 106.7 Lite FM. The song, which contains the line, “you and I were meant to fly,” is used by Air Canada as the jingle in their commercials.

“You and I were meant to fly…”

…as long as it’s not out of Newark, New Jersey.

Oh Lord.

I haven’t updated my blog in a while, not because I haven’t been doing any travelling, but because I haven’t had much in the way of exciting events to write about. Sadly, that hasn’t changed. But I now have enough boring events to string together to make a full entry. So welcome back.

Summer in New Jersey

It seems that summer is upon us here in New Jersey. I work on a corporate campus in suburban New Jersey that has pretty, modern buildings in an idyllic grassy and treed environment. It has always reminded me of Europe, and I haven’t been able to figure out why. But it just hit me as I was walking along today – zebra crossings! The intersections within the campus have zebra crossings instead of the more standard North American double white lines to identify where humans can cross the street.

Exactly why pedestrian crossings are needed is a bit of a mystery to me, as there are few cars allowed on the campus, relegated instead of periphery parking lots. Beside for giving me some much needed exercise walking back and forth to my car every day, it provides a safe and quiet place for wildlife. I have on a few occasions seen cute little bunny rabbits hopping around in the bushes, and just the other day came across a falcon drinking water deposited in a puddle from a recent rain shower. I stood watching the falcon for a good 5 minutes before a security van, the driver interested in seeing the bird as well, drove too close and the bird took flight. The falcon flew low along the ground for about 50 feet, swooping up and landing deep in the foliage of a leafy tree.

It’s quite a shock to leave the quiet campus, get into my rental SUV and merge directly into thick traffic along one of the New Jersey highways.

Mr. Wesson Goes to Washington

The first weekend in May I travelled down to Washington D.C. from New Jersey. I drove down I-95 in my rental car, the windows down, sipping on Diet Cherry Pepsi and listening to U2 in the CD player. The drive is about 5 hours, and luckily other than just outside Newark and a few backups due to traffic construction, it was mostly open highway driving.

It’s been a long time since I took a solo road trip in a car. The last trip was probably back in 2004 when I was in Atlanta, and that was just a day trip to a nearby outlet mall to try and find a dressy linen shirt for my friend’s upcoming beach wedding. The last decent road trip probably dates back to 2002, when I would often set off on the weekend from St. Louis or San Francisco.

I’d forgotten how much I enjoy the road trip drive, which is strange, because I hate city driving. I can’t stand the stopping and starting and the constricted feeling of being surrounded by cars and constantly watching brake lights. If I can get out on the open road however, I am overtaken by a great feeling. It’s the same feeling that I have described in the past that I get sitting in airport lounges. The feeling that something new and interesting and originally is waiting for. It’s also the feeling of putting distance between myself and my weekday troubles. I don’t have to worry about due dates or project delays or resource constraints. All that can wait for Monday. All that is behind me, and each minute I put another mile between me and those issues.

Washington is a very interesting city. I’ve never been before, so it was all new for me. I stayed at the Courtyard Marriott Embassy Row at 1600 Rhode Island drive, which was about half a mile north of the Whitehouse and the National Mall, and just a few blocks away from Dupont Circle, which is a trendy area of restaurants, bars and coffee shops.

I had heard many bad things about Washington, D.C, how it was a city that had been “handed” over to the poor, and was a rough and scary place. I didn’t see any of that in my wanderings, and felt perfectly safe at night, even walking back and forth from Georgetown, 2 miles west of my hotel. It was a very pretty city, and has more photogenic buildings and monuments than any place I have ever been. I could write all about them, but instead I present a few thousands words worth of pictures.

Capitol Building, Washington, DC

Vietnam War Memorial with the Washington Monument in the background, Washington, DC

Teens from Illinois playing music in front of the Lincoln Memorial, Washington, DC

National Mall, Washington, DC

We are the Knights Who Say Ni!

Mid-month in May, I saw Spamalot in New York at the Shubert theatre. Spamalot is a musical written by Eric Idle, based on the movie “Monty Python and the Holy Grail.”

King Arthur was played by Harry Groener, who I recognized from Las Vegas (the TV show) and Star Trek, and apparently he played the mayor on Buffy the Vampire Slayer. John Cleese, in obviously a recorded bit, played God. Otherwise, I didn't recognize anyone in the cast, though they playbill said that they had all been in Law and Order. Apparently every actor in New York has been in Law and Order.

The show was good - I'd give it 3 stars our of 5. The first act stuck pretty much to the movie, with a few changes here and there. Camelot is a lot more Las Vegas, the knights actually went there, there is a role for the Lady of the Lake, and we get to see where the knights are found. The third act (second act, sire)... right second act is very different from the movie (which, of course, means a different ending), though there are still the knights who say Ni!, Hurbert in the castle in the swamp who just wants to sing (stop it, stop it... they'll be none of that!) and the killer bunny. But these recognizable elements are reconfigured into a very different plot.

The songs were up and down. On the good side, Always Look on the Bright Side of Life has somehow migrated from the Life of Brian into this show. There is a song called "The Song That Goes Like This" which I enjoyed. Nothing else really stands out - they are alright, but not the kind of song you come out of the theatre whistling. In fact, you'll probably be whistling "Always Look On the Bright Side of Life," which you could all whistle now as you all know it from a completely different movie. There are a couple times when the show is mocking traditional Broadway "show" music, but it only half comes off because they do it so much that the joke starts to become tedious. There are only so many times you can make fun of the Phantom of the Opera by aping it before you are just doing a show that is Phantom of the Opera-ish. The Lady of the Lake's part suffers the most from this, as she is supposed to be a caricature of the traditional Broadway Diva role, but by her third song I was starting to think the Lady of the Lake was just a traditional Broadway diva role. There is only so much winking and nudging one can do before the joke grows tired.

The sequence, though, with the French guards taunting the English Ki-Nig-Hits is excellent. It ends the first act, and really brings the first act to a close strongly.

So, all and all, worth seeing. However, I don't think I'll go and see it in Toronto. It's not worth seeing twice.

Final note: the Playbill has a "fake" playbill for a Finnish Moosical, "Dik Od Triaanenen Fol (Finns Ain't What They Used To Be)," which is apparently "the story, in music and song, of Finland's transformation from a predominantly rural agricultural base to one of the most sophisticated industrial and entrepreneurial economies in the world." It's definitely worth reading these pages.

Happy Towel Day, Interstellar Travellers

May 25th is Towel Day, a day to celebrate the life and works of Douglas Adams, author of The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy. Why, you might ask, is it called Towel Day? I’ll let the works of Mr. Adams explain it to you:

The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy has a few things to say on the subject of towels. A towel, it says, is about the most massively useful thing an interstellar hitchhiker can have. Partly it has great practical value—you can wrap it around you for warmth as you bound across the cold moons of Jaglan Beta; you can lie on it on the brilliant marble-sanded beaches of Santraginus V, inhaling the heady sea vapours; you can sleep under it beneath the stars which shine so redly on the desert world of Kakrafoon; use it to sail a mini raft down the slow heavy river Moth; wet it for use in hand-to-hand combat; wrap it round your head to ward off noxious fumes or to avoid the gaze of the Ravenous Bugblatter Beast of Traal (a mindboggingly stupid animal, it assumes that if you can't see it, it can't see you—daft as a brush, but very, very ravenous); you can wave your towel in emergencies as a distress signal, and of course dry yourself off with it if it still seems to be clean enough. More importantly, a towel has immense psychological value. For some reason, if a strag [non-hitch hiker] discovers that a hitchhiker has his towel with him, he will automatically assume that he is also in possession of a toothbrush, face flannel, soap, tin of biscuits, flask, compass, map, ball of string, gnat spray, wet weather gear, space suit etc., etc. Furthermore, the strag will then happily lend the hitchhiker any of these or a dozen other items that the hitchhiker might accidentally have 'lost'. What the strag will think is that any man who can hitch the length and breadth of the galaxy, rough it, slum it, struggle against terrible odds, win through, and still knows where his towel is, is clearly a man to be reckoned with.
- Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy, Douglas Adams

Boston

The first weekend of June, I decided to visit one of the other major east coast cities I have not seen, Boston. I’m glad to be working in New Jersey for the opportunity to strike all these “must-see” destinations off my list: New York, Washington and Boston.

By way of contrast to my self-driving road trip to Washington, I take the high speed Acela Express train from Newark, New Jersey to Boston. The Acela Express, while not up to the speeds of the TGV in France, has a top speed of 241 km/h, which is still pretty quick and it is the fastest train in North America measured by top speed.

Interestingly, though, The Acela Express is not that much faster than normal train service in North America, due to constraints with the track, power supply and regulations. The Acela trains can do the entire trip from Washington to Boston in 6 hours and 36 minutes, which averages to 109 km/h. The fastest portion of the trip, from Washington to New York, is covered in 2 hours and 48 minutes, averaging a speed of 143 km/h. A non-high speed train, Via Rail Canada’s train 66, an express train from Toronto to Montreal (stopping at both Montreal’s Central Station and Dorval station) covers the 520 km between the two cities in 3 hours and 44 minutes, averaging 142 km/h, only 1 km/h slower than it’s high speed brother.

Based on the speed, I would have gotten a much more “high speed” trip had I reversed my plans, driving to Boston and the train to Washington, but things worked out much better for me the way I did it. The weather for the trip down to Washington in the car was beautiful. It was sunny and warm, and I had the window down and the tunes cranked, arriving back in New Jersey with a smile on my face and a driver’s tan (left arm red, right arm pasty white). On leaving on Friday for Boston, the weather all up and down the north-east coast of the USA was horrific. The rain was pelting down, causing rivers to burst their banks and roads to flood. The 20 minute drive from my office to the station took close to an hour as I strained to see brake lights and foot deep puddles through the flap of increasingly pointless wipers. Arriving at Newark Penn Station with a sweat soaked shirt and clenched teeth, it was nice to sit back on the train and let someone else worry about the driving.

The train, while perhaps not Paris TGV fast, is very comfortable and relaxing. I wasn’t able to get a window seat for the trip from Newark to New York (about 20 minutes, mostly underground), but in New York almost all the passengers got off, allowing me to switch to a east facing window seat for the ride along the coast. There is some pretty scenery along the way, with the train sometimes running right beside the ocean and through a number of quaint, New England sea-side fishing villages. The train is comprised of 6 cars and 2 engines, one at either end of the train. There are 4 “business class” cars, 1 café car and a “first class” car. The business class seats, which I took, are very comfortable and provide enough room to cross your legs, even if the person in the seat in front of you has fully reclined. There are massive luggage compartments above your head that will fit most suitcases, and luggage racks at either end if your bag is too large. One car is designated as a quiet car, where no cell phones or conversation is allowed for those that want to get a little rest.

I alternated between reading a book and staring at the scenery passing by, and the trip passed quickly. We arrived at Boston’s South Station 15 minutes behind schedule, but I didn’t mind. The sweat on my shirt had dried, my teeth had unclenched and I was ready for a weekend of relaxing and site seeing.

I used my Marriott Rewards points to book a hotel in Cambridge, right by the MIT campus and just across the Charles River from Boston proper. The hotel was very nice, and because of my status I got an upgrade to a suite room, with a separate sitting room and a flat-panel TV. My view looked out over the Charles River towards the south end of downtown, including a view of the famous CITGO sign that is visible in all the highlight reels of baseball games at Fenway Park.

On Saturday, Peter, who is a friend of mine from my days back at Andersen Consulting and a long time Boston resident, took me on a tour of the sights of Boston. Boston is full of historical sites related to the Revolutionary War, many of the details of which Peter (who was a history major) was able to provide to me (as an Canadian educated in the exploits of fur trappers and mounted police and not about Paul Revere and Samuel Adams). The only damper was the rain, which fell in varying strengths the entire weekend.

I was prepared for the rain, though, as I had the spiffy travel umbrella I bought for 10 Euros back in September in Paris. I’m not positive that I really know how to use an umbrella. I see other people walking around with umbrella held steady and level above them, keeping them dry. I find myself struggling with keeping my umbrella above me as the wind reaches underneath the lip of the umbrella and lifts it up and away from me. I get wet, my arms get tired and the umbrella gets battered. On Saturday night, the wind took its final toll on the umbrella, snapping 3 of the arms of the umbrella, collapsing the umbrella. I deposited the umbrella in a garbage can and calculated its utility to me. I bought it in September, used it perhaps 4 times in France, a couple times in Toronto and twice in Boston. 8 days of use for 10 Euros doesn’t seem like a fantastic deal to me. I think in the future I’ll stick with raincoats.

Fenway Park and the Green Monster, Boston, USA

The Holocaust Memorial in Boston. Glass panels etched with numbers, like the Nazis tattooed on the prisioners in the death camps

Trinity church and the I.M. Pei designed Hancock Building

The bar that was used as exteriors for the T.V. Show. The inside looks nothing like the TV show, and they charge you outrageous amounts of money to eat or drink there.

On Sunday, after a lovely lunch with Peter, his live-in girlfriend Kelly and her son Will and a quick site-seeing tour around downtown Boston, I caught the Acela at 4:10 back to Newark. The train was again comfortable, and we got a good clip going through Rhode Island that made it really feel like high-speed rail travel. I even caught a glimpse of a deer standing on an embankment watching the train roll by. The sun had finally come out, and people were walking along the beaches and sea-sides, stopping to watch the train speed by.

It’s been a great month of east coast USA travel, knocking off a bunch of places I’ve never seen before, seeing a good show, snapping some nice pictures, and, perhaps most importantly, falling back in love with travel by train.