48,012 miles…that’s what the account balance showed when I logged onto my U.S. Airways Dividend Miles account back in early December. This posed more than a minor problem, because with 2012 coming like a freight train, I was still roughly 2,000 miles short of the coveted Gold Preferred frequent flyer status I’ve managed to rack up on largely personal travel since moving from California to the East Coast back in 2005. With no planned business meetings in December, this meant a discretionary trip would need to be taken sometime before the New Year. Unfortunately, it also meant the excursion would need to take place during the busy holiday travel period…but if you’ve suffered the indignity of boarding in Zones 2 through 5, or if you’ve had to check your carry-on luggage due to the lack of remaining overhead space, you’re willing to go the extra mile. BTW…wasn’t that a better than average  use of the often overused “extra mile” cliché?

After a mediocre year of flying around the country (Gold status is pretty paltry compared to the more elite Platinum and Chairman classifications of big time travelers), I really didn’t have the need to visit any particular person or place. So, this meant that other than the typical restrictive bustling holiday schedule we all have to deal with and the minimum 2,000 mile criteria, there was really no limitation on the any number of possible exotic destinations from which to choose. I had colleagues and friends traveling to such places as Cambodia, Thailand, Paris, Mexico, New Orleans, and Colorado, so the bar was pretty high. I thought about Fort Lauderdale, the Bahamas, and even a quick trip to Southern California, but at the end-of-the-day I decided to really live it up, and I went ahead and booked tickets to Fargo, North Dakota (my fifth trip to the region this year).

Now, I know what you’re thinking…you’re thinking about the movie Fargo. But you’re also probably contemplating other things…like consulting me about your next vacation, wondering whether or not I’m married, or my undoubtedly impressive SAT score (930…and I got caught cheating). You also may be pondering what kind of pretentious jerk would be so concerned about something as pretentious (straight out of the Department of Redundancy Department) as frequent flyer status that they would take an unnecessary trip in the midst of a hellacious holiday travel season? Well, I wish I knew what to tell you, but I guess the best suggestion I have for you is to reference the SAT score (BTW…not sure they calculate them the same way now, but back in the day 1600 was really good…930…not so much).

There is however a more defendable reason…and it has to do with the exponential decline of service and civility of air travel in general.  The Southwesternization of the airline industry has resulted in a Walmart-like approach to the overall flying experience, and flying first class (I get upgraded about 65% of the time if I travel at off-peak times) makes the now mostly unpleasant exercise almost tolerable. Sure, I suspect it would be better not to be so wrapped up in such superficial things as one’s frequent flyer status, but it would also help to be four-foot two inches tall and have fantasies about living life in a sardine can.

I’ve had to humbly walk past all those smug faces with their pre-flight beverages in First Class looking at me like they’re better than me…and I’ve sat in First Class arrogantly sipping a glass of red wine while sneering at the pillow toting peasants meekly filing by to the lower decks. I’d like to tell you it doesn’t matter, but B is better. It’s not like it’s better by just a little bit either…scenario B is markedly superior.

So, I’m sitting in First Class right now on the trip from Charlotte to my next stop in Minneapolis (had to fly to NC first from DC to rack up enough miles. Again…check the college entrance scores). I finished my second bag of Kettle Chips and had a couple glasses of OJ while the scrunched peons back in steerage shelled out 7 bones for a freaking cheese and snack plate (presuming there was one even available). Hey…it’s almost 7am and here comes the flight attendant again. “Pardon me, but may I have a black coffee with a splash of Jack Daniels please?” Oh yeah…it matters.

Most of you are probably off work relaxing this holiday week, so chances are you might not even need (or want) a Friday morning song. However if you do, and if you yearn to cling to that holiday feeling just a little while longer, take a few minutes to listen to this soothing seasonal gem. It’s a version you don’t always hear, and if you like holiday music,  it might just be a nice way to wrap up the year.

Happy New Year…and if I know or work with you, thank you for enriching my year…and my life.

Happy New Year

...and if you're itching to take a walk...think again.

So I’m finishing up dinner at a rather swank and very popular restaurant in Georgetown last night, when one of the guys (this was a work-related event) in our group of eight guys asks me how far away I live. I respond by telling him Cleveland Park, and round out my reply by noting that I could actually “walk home from here.” Now this chap was a life-long resident of the area, and because he knew I grew up in Los Angeles, I could see that he was concerned that I wasn’t aware of just how far it would be from the eatery home. He asked how far I thought it was, and I boldly responded that I was certain it was no more than a mile-and-a-half.

At that point, he tried to suppress a laugh and repeated my answer in a tone that suggested he thought the distance was much greater. He said “listen…you’re from LA but I grew up in this area. If you’re going to walk up Wisconsin you’re going to have to go up the hill, then down, then back up again before it flattens out just before one last hill up to the Cathedral.” After that, he promised there was still about a mile to get to where I said I lived. He urged me to catch a cab…or at least to hop on a bus to ride part of the way up Wisconsin. I thanked him for his concern, but privately thought it was sad that someone that grew up in the area would know less about the surroundings than me.

So…at the end of the evening, just before 9pm, I gathered my raincoat and headed up Wisconsin through the heart of Georgetown. It was a charming evening, and the juxtaposition of holiday decorations and folks dining outdoors (it was 65 degrees on this December 15^th night and very humid to boot) made for an almost magical atmosphere. As I walked up the Avenue amidst holiday laughter, clinking glasses and the hum of animated conversation, I remember thinking it odd that someone would suggest missing this charming short stroll and recommend opting for an antiseptic taxi ride instead.   

That first hill up Wisconsin seemed longer than I recalled, but I remember welcoming the exercise after a day, ok a week, ok a month, ok…since about the Fourth, of eating as though I thought I’d need to hibernate for the coming winter. The buzz of seasonal revelry seemed to fade as I left the businesses of Georgetown and entered a quieter neighborhood. It seemed like I’d been walking forever, and I was disgusted that the earthquake construction still meant the lights were out at the Cathedral thus rendering the nearby spires unseen on the horizon ahead. As I started up a second hill, I saw a sign that read “Welcome to Maryland.” OK, that’s a lie, but after walking across what seemed like the entire District, that’s what the sign should have said. The sign actually said something about Grover Park I think…but after schlepping up an endless hill in what seemed like August humidity, I was a bit dehydrated and delirious at this point. I remember thinking it sad that my acquaintance back at the restaurant couldn’t have been more considerate by forcefully conveying just how far it was. I began looking for cabs, but all of them appeared to be heading down into Georgetown, not northward toward my destination.

After walking for over thirty minutes, and probably close to 2 miles, I finally saw the Cathedral spires. Thankfully, they appeared close enough to touch. Unthankfully, they were still about ¾ of a mile in the distance.  As I quickened my pace towards Mass Ave, my clothes were soaked with perspiration. Thankfully though, my sweat soaked clothing was almost an afterthought compared to the ragging blisters forming on both of my feet. Just as a side note, if you decide to walk home across the freakin’ United States some evening, don’t wear black dress shoes.

Well, I finally arrived home well-after after 10pm, and while I was tired, soaked with sweat and though I sported several new large blisters, at least I was in a really bad mood.  What’s the point of all this? Well, if you consider yourself a friend, and if you have special knowledge of an area you’ve lived in all your life, you have a duty to share that information with open minded folks that simply may not know the local geography as well as you. This is especially true if they are contemplating something akin to the Bataan Death March. If you do so, you just might save a friend from the unfortunate situation that I found myself in just last night.

Well, gotta go. I don’t have my car so I have to take the Metro into work. Thankfully, the temperature has plummeted during this writing, so while it won’t be a comfortable walk temperature wise, at least the rapidly approaching cold-front means the wind is now gusting about 40mph.

BTW...if you close your eyes for a few minutes before the insanity of the work day and listen to a seasonal song...you might just lower your heart beat. Close your eyes...just do it. It will only take 3:21seconds and if it doesn't work...I'll refund your money.

Happy Holidays...

and before you blink..they'll be over.

Sometime back in September, amidst the hurricane of preparing for a large work-related conference, several work colleagues and dear friends lamented the insane pace. We naively fantasized about the post-conference down time, and talked with optimism about the coming Fall season and the prospect of chilling a bit during the quiet holidays that would soon follow. During the course of the conversation we dreamed about taking the time to see hillsides covered with vibrant changing leaves, covered bridges, maple syrup and festive fall recipes which included ingredients made from things like Butternut Squash (I was mostly listening at this point).

After talk of foliage, pumpkins and Turducken (made that up…but learned about it earlier this year and wanted to work in), we segued into our plans for the month of December, and romanticized the idea of chestnuts, roaring fires, holiday music, wine, ice skating on the Mall and relaxed evenings with family and friends. We talked about the sins of previous years…especially around failing to take the time to enjoy the holidays, and promised ourselves that this year would be different. We even kind of bragged about the wisdom and clarity that comes from advancing years (OK…this was really my advancing years), and essentially made a pact that we’d slow the clock long enough to really take in the magic of the coming season.

Well, this morning at about 2:35am my eyes opened abruptly and I immediately knew that would be no return to sleep. I began thinking that Christmas Eve was fifteen days away, and I’d yet to finish writing cards, or shop for any gifts, or take the time to even send emails (let alone cards) thanking folks for the thoughtful gifts, cards, lunches, Poinsettia plants, birthday celebrations, and other incredibly thoughtful things that have already come my way.

Worse, as the fog of slumber abated and I began to really cogitate, I dwelled on all that was left to do in the next few weeks, and thought even more about all the broken promises to meet a friend for a holiday lunch, or to grab a beer with a dear former work colleague, or to just sit on the couch for 15 minutes to gaze at the beauty of the tree.

Yesterday, while hurriedly walking back to work (after a nice but still too rushed lunch with a mentor and friend), I thought about the myriad of things that needed immediate attention back at the office. I began to stress about all that had to be done that afternoon, and none of it was even mildly connected to chestnuts, open fires, or any of the other things I dreamt about with my friends back in September. I even rudely dismissed a homeless person as he held out a styrofoam cup, and accelerated the pace of my gait in hopes of gaining a few extra minutes back at the office.

 

Sometime, in a period that will pass much quicker that the hours between right now (it’s 4:39 am EST) and tomorrow morning, I’ll blink and it will be Monday morning January 5^th.  It will likely be cold (really have no way of knowing that…just makes it more dramatic), and as I scrape the ice off my driver’s side windshield (won’t have time to do the passenger side) that dark post-holiday morning, I’ll glance up at the garland on the house and silently cuss the thought of taking down the decorations (the following Saturday when it will be even colder). Hopefully when I do they’ll still be plenty of ice on the car window because I won’t want to catch a glance of the aging man that’s managed to learn nothing…and has once again let another holiday season pass in blur.

Sadly, you’re not going to get much of value in these pages…but there is one repeated nugget that you really should heed. If you’re anything like me, slow the heck down and take time to relax. Life is so incredibly fragile, and the next couple weeks should be dedicated entirely to just chilling out and spending time with the family and friends that you love. Many of you won’t…and sadly…more pathetically really…I won’t either. Maybe though, we could all take a couple of minutes, and start this holiday Friday with a song.

Can’t though…just way too busy…

Just chill for a few minutes and close your eyes

BTW…sorry about all the misspellings and poor grammar (even Word is showing this as a sentence fragment). Would have loved to proof this thing…but I simply didn’t have the time.