...and despite the lure of greener grass...happiness is often right in your own backyard.

Have you ever arrived at the airport at 4:35am on a Thursday, jumped out of the cab and glanced back inside the car to make sure you didn’t leave behind your cell phone only to spot one of your right-rear molars (no dental expert but I think it was #33) siting on the contaminated leather seat? Well for your sake I’m guessing no. But believe it or not that’s what happened to me  in the wee hours yesterday morning in Fort Lauderdale… and to say it had been an unpleasant 36-hour travel experience would be putting it mildly. At least with respect to the actual travel part…this was the trip from hell.

It’s not like there weren’t early warning signs of what was to come. After teaching all day Tuesday up near Baltimore, MD, I flew out of Washington National after a 2 ½ hour weather delay down to Fort Lauderdale to do a presentation that was scheduled for the following morning at 8am. . It was supposed to be a quick trip, as the return flight back to DCA was scheduled for Wednesday afternoon at about 2pm…just a few hours after my scheduled talk was to end. Getting back home was critical, or at least it seemed that way to me, because I had committed to being back in class first thing Thursday morning to finish out the week up near Baltimore with the original group.

When I arrived at the swanky Florida beachside hotel about 11pm, I was looking forward to settling in for a few hours rest before waking at 4am for an anticipated ocean-side run and some pre-presentation prep work. At check in the front desk clerk was courteous and competent, and she warmly welcomed me back to the property as she handed me the card key and instructed me to go to room 1705. I thanked her, asked for a bottle of water and hurried up the elevator anxious to get some needed sleep.

The signs in the 17^th floor elevator lobby were very clear, but I somehow managed to turn left even though the arrow to the group of rooms where mine was located clearly pointed to the right. After wandering for a while on the wrong end of the hall, I did an about-face and headed the right direction. Finally I was standing in front of door #1705.

That was the good news. The bad news was I didn’t see anywhere on the door or the lock mechanism were you would insert or slide the key. I examined the door for a good number of minutes, and even opened my briefcase and pulled out my reading glasses to try to discern what was happening. I even looked at some of the other doors…including one with a “Do Not Disturb” sign hanging on the handle which provided me some comfort that there was indeed a way to gain entrance.

I was still stumped though, and while I’m hardly Platinum hotel status in the Hilton Honors program, it’s not like I don’t do a fair amount of traveling and I like to fashion myself as fairly adept with the latest and greatest hotel keycard technology. I finally got down on my knees…and used my cellphone light app to illuminate the lock mechanism. That’s when I spotted what looked like an small infrared eye…and it dawned on me that perhaps all you had to do was hold the key up to the eye and the door would unlock. I know what you’re thinking…and yes…I am borderline genius. So…eagerly, I held the blank key card up to the eye and like magic…I heard a faint beep.

Crap…isn’t the little light supposed to be green and not red? I tried the handle and it was still locked. So…I kept doing the exact same thing over-and-over and expecting a different result…but every time I held the key up to the eye…the door beeped and the light blinked red. Every time I tried the handle…the door was still locked. But I don’t give up easy…and I never want to let the fact that just because everything I been doing hasn’t worked force me to alter my determined course. So, like some kind of possessed moron…I kept repeating the motion over-and-over-and –over somehow hoping things would be different and that if I just tried long enough…the door would eventually open. That’s not how things usually work though, and just like the unmistakable wake of experience in my life that has proven this over time, I eventually concluded that no matter how many times I tried this same operation, I probably wasn’t getting in this room…with this keycard.    

Believe it or not my already sunny disposition was starting to deteriorate, so I hopped back on the elevator and went to the front desk…promising to keep my cool and to try to be polite. As I approached the desk the woman that had checked me in said… “oh I’m so sorry…was there a problem?” I politely responded that it was no big deal, but that the key simply didn’t work. She called over a supervisor that seemed generally perplexed, and  she checked the key several times to verify that it indeed worked just fine on her stupid little front desk machine.

She then asked if I was contending that someone was already in the room…to which I responded that I didn’t know…but that the key simply didn’t work. Remarkably I kept fairly cool and even managed to smile. I finally did get impatient, and pointed out to her that I needed to get into my room, not into the computer at the front desk. I explained it might be easier for her to understand if she’d simply  accompany me to the door and see for herself how the key worked on 1705. She smiled and said she’d be happy to…but that after we tried that it might be smarter to try the key on my actual room…which was 1708. She then pointed at the little envelope that holds the card which was clearly marked with 1708…not 1705. I then accused them of swapping out the number on the envelope (which I did look at upstairs), but they weren’t buying it.

I know what you’re thinking…maybe I’m not a genius. Well…you’re right…and this was just the start of a trip that except for the presentation part, deteriorated into a travel hell which included; a six-hour mechanical return flight delay, eight hours inside the airport on an otherwise gorgeous South Florida afternoon, an eventual cancellation, a night in a flea infested flop house operated by Comfort Suites and an alarmingly bland Filet-of-Fish sandwich from a McDonald’s on Federal Highway just north of the A1-A.

Then there’s the whole rear tooth thing…but I’m going to stop right here because you wouldn’t believe me if I told you. And just for the sake of truth in advertising, it wasn't the actual tooth...it was the crown for tooth #33.

It’s Friday, and if you’re ever stuck overnight in Fort Lauderdale, don’t stay at a hotel near the airport on Federal Highway (at least not the Comfort Suites) and don’t take a walk down to McDonald’s for a combo #16 (I didn’t even know they went that high). Oh yeah…if you do go to McDonald’s and order any one of their 16 healthy combos, quickly scream no when they inquire if you want to “go large.”

Have a great weekend, and if you don’t have to travel, be happy and take in all of the comforts of being at home.

There are multiple versions of this old gem and perhaps the most popular one is by Brenda Lee. Bing Crosby, Sammy Davis Jr. and North Dakota's Peggy Lee took a stab at it too...but for some reason, this version might be the one I like the best.

You'll see your castle in Spain through your window pane

...and this phone thing is getting out of hand.

One of the toughest things about trying to write a blog here each Friday morning, is coming up with something worthy of sharing. If you’re a frequent visitor to this site, or if you unexplainably receive these Friday missives via email as a willing subscriber, you already know the pitfalls of putting fingertips to keyboard absent anything worthwhile to say. This week strikes me as yet another example of the virtue in remaining silent on such occasions, but it’s early Friday morning and I’m a slow learner…so here you go.

There have been more than a few postings here over the years that attempted to deal with the astonishing deterioration of manners proliferated by people’s almost frightening preoccupation with mobile devices. Actually, much of what’s been written here has been about my own etiquette decay in that area, but recently I attended a meeting and several associated social events that convinced me that things really are coming off the rails.

There were probably about 150 people at this meeting when it started, and though folks were mildly engaged when it began, it wasn’t long before people’s faces were illuminated by the antiseptic cool-white glow of their iPhones, Galaxy 4 mini flat screens and even some Blackberrys. It wasn’t much longer before the tablets, netbooks and even small laptops broke out…and by the end of the meeting,  I think several bored participants actually set up Desktop computers and laser printers on their classroom-style tables.  At one point I walked about the room and counted 116 people that were looking at some sort of device rather than engaging in the discussion. There may have been more…but I only spotted six people that appeared to be looking up, with no device to distract them from the presentations and what was supposed to be an interactive experience.  

A good buddy of mine shared  what he called his “Blackberry Rule” with me more than a couple of years ago when the once unthinkable practice of pulling your phone out to stare at it while in the company of another human started to catch on. I was lamenting my wife’s frustration with my practice of checking my phone within the first few minutes of our evening conversation after a 12-hour work day, when my friend passed along the guidelines of the rule. Essentially, it states that you shouldn’t pull out your phone to check it in any situation where you wouldn’t otherwise open the paper and start doing a crossword puzzle. In essence, if you’re sitting across from another human being having a conversation, you probably wouldn’t open the newspaper (remember those) and start solving the puzzle...so…don’t pull out and stare at our phone.  

Now that may be too much to ask for in a meeting where people are speaking to you or sharing a presentation they’ve worked on, but certainly it has some merit when you’re sitting with an individual or smaller group of people where you’d think each other’s company should be enough to hold people’s attention.

One night after the meeting, about half-a-dozen colleagues went out to dinner one evening at a nice place not terribly far from the host hotel. As we sat around the restaurant table, it was astonishing how many of the diners were looking down at their phones. Now, if you’ve ever had me for a dinner companion you can probably feel their pain, but really, why go through the rigmarole of even going out and having a meal together if everyone is just going to stare at their phones? Couldn’t you do that in the comfort of your room…or perhaps at some establishment as an individual diner where you don’t have to sweat having to divert your attention from cyberspace long enough to look someone in the eyes and have a conversation?

Listen, I’m no prince when it comes to exhibiting model mobile device etiquette, but if you even go to dinner with me, you can rest assured I’ll stare at my phone no more than 20% of the time. Some days, when I harken back to the basic manners I learned in kindergarten, you might even get me through the entire evening without me ever once checking my phone.

It’s Friday, so take a minute to look up from your mobile device long enough to connect with the people and pets around you through something other than your keyboard. Then, after you’ve burned those 10 minutes, go ahead and get back online…24/7…no matter who else is around.

...not so many years from now.

...and the next time you do something well, don't make it seem so rare

While reviewing many of the unnecessary Super Bowl tweets between workout sets in the wee hours of the morning after the game (I refuse to dilute my attention with 19 character insights  like “what an amazing game” amidst a total blowout in real time), there was one pearl of wisdom that appeared at the halftime break from an avid Bronco fan and fellow colleague that actually seemed worth retweeting. It said simply… “Maybe I shouldn’t have talked so much smack…”  Maybe?

Like so many people that don’t know when to stop, her apparent early tweet profundity was quickly offset with the unfortunate addition of several more words. Not knowing when to quit is one of my greatest faults (pretty much prove it here every week)…so I’m particularly sensitive to it. In her case, she included the dreaded word “but” and here’s what followed… “I refuse to believe this is really over… #unitedinorange.”

Really… maybe we were watching two different games.  The Broncos had to find out the hard way that a high-powered offense usually works fine until you run into a better skilled team that puts even a higher priority on defense. Throw in a privileged star-craved quarterback (who is admittedly sensational) needlessly drawing attention to himself on every play by moving around like whack job on crystal meth screaming “Omaha,” and well, the old-fashioned shellacking (which included the poetic justice of an opening safety due to his antics) couldn’t have been any sweeter.

Aside from all that though, the “maybe I shouldn’t have talked so much smack” halftime revelation amidst a 140 character culture that is convinced the world cares what they think about every single thing at every single moment,  really does strike me as interesting. Other than the fact that the Broncos were getting the living crap beat out of them, I wondered what caused my friend to second-guess the wisdom of talking up her team’s perceived superiority heading into the contest? Was it the embarrassment of being so wrong? Or could it be it dawned on her that there’s a downside to talking smack in general…regardless of the outcome? I mean really, if you had special powers that would allow you to accurately predict the outcome of a sporting contest, would you spend your time bragging or calling your bookie?

I’ve worn enough adult diapers to remember a time when trash talk, at least in competitive sports, was pretty rare…maybe even non-existent. At the very least, it certainly wasn’t revered.  I actually recall as a kid being horrified by a young, talented, and brash prize fighter named Cassius Clay running his mouth incessantly about how great he was. You can actually google "trash talk" and you see a reference to this otherwise gifted athlete…pretty much being credited with initiating the practice.  

Others seemed to love him…but I was immediately (and perpetually) turned off by what I viewed as the highly unattractive narcissism. Sadly, Clay (now Muhammed Ali), has a lot of egocentric company. If you google "Top 25 Cocky Athletes," it’s a literal who’s who of self-absorbed competitors that I cannot stand. Jeff Gordon (remind me…who is the athlete in NASCAR?), Lance Armstrong, Kobe Bryant…and 22 others. You can pretty much guess who will be on the list and they’ve managed to cover most sports (but they also went outside and included NASCAR). Serena Williams appears to be the only woman on the list…and I couldn’t help notice under her picture that it noted that there “aren’t too many cocky female athletes.”  What is it about us guys that makes us feel the need to have something other than the results of our work and the final score on the board tell the story?

In a world where we strive to get the entire planet to “follow” us, it’s hard to imagine there  was a time before fist pumps, self-centered celebratory end zone stunts, sack dances, and post-game interviews lambasting losing opponents, when humility and winning (and losing) with grace were considered a true virtue. I’m not sure what happened to make drawing attention yourself so in vogue, but for me it’s hard not to wax nostalgic about a time when folks like Marcus Allen and Barry Saunders could dominate the gridiron and repeatedly cross the goal line with all the cool of a cat that behaved as though he’d been there before.

Thankfully, there’s a list of the "Top 25 Most Humble Athletes" too. It includes people like Annika Sorenstam, Lolo Jones, Priscilla Lopez-Shliep,  Jackie Joyner Kersee,  and Kim Clijsters. Hey…what is this…a list of women athletes? No…there are some guys on there too…just a lot less (think about that for a minute).  People like Walter Payton, Hank Aaron, David Robinson, Kurt Warner, Wayne Gretzky and Rafa Nadal. Barry Saunders is on the list too…and here’s what it says under his picture…

“One of the greatest running backs to ever play in the NFL. His moves were unbelievable which made him untouchable. He never celebrated or show-boated when he scored a touchdown and every time just handed the ball back to the ref…”

So, the next time you cross the goal line, pin your opponent to the mat, sink the winning jump shot, finish a project on time at work, exhibit good parenting skills or even just unload the dishwasher when it’s not your turn, try not to draw attention to your extraordinary achievement by gyrating around like a jackass. Even if you have to act, see if you can pretend it’s not a new experience. Act like you’ve been there before, and just “hand the ball back to the ref” like it happens all the time.

It’s Friday…so please take some time to think about the people and pets that mean the most to you. When you do get to the end of this game and glance up at the scoreboard, it’s the time you’ve spent doing the things that matter that will be reflected by the chap keeping score.

So…go ahead, kick back, relax, and start the weekend with a little Friday music.

Imported from Detroit