Newark to NYC 2010

A couple of weeks ago, I made my annual trip to (officially) Newark, NJ with a couple of (unofficial) side trips to NYC. My plans were to get to Newark early enough in the afternoon so I'd have time to drop my bags at the hotel, train over to Penn Station in New York, and do a bit of sight-seeing before meeting someone for dinner. I'm not all that familiar with New York and wanted all the daylight I could muster for touring.

As it turns out, we landed more than 90 minutes late. Officially, we were told landings were postponed or stretched because of the heavy cloud cover and rain in the area. I do wonder, however, if perhaps we were delayed because a TSA agent was patting down the junk of the air traffic controller responsible for coaxing our aircraft in safely.

I've enjoyed my previous trips to New York. Its just that I haven't strayed too far. I've walked along Broadway and other streets and avenues from Central Park to Times Square to the Empire State Building. I've been to the Upper West Side around Riverside Church, Columbia University, and Grant's Tomb. I've had dinner one time in Little Italy, and I was driven to the World Trade Center site in 2002 where I stood in the rain...and stared...and contemplated...

On this trip, I had hoped to cover more ground and indeed did so. Once I realized the window of daytime touring had closed, I focused instead on simply getting to the Newark Penn Station so I could ride the train to New York.

While riding to Penn Station aboard the Hampton Inn van shuttle, I chatted up Tony, my driver. I asked him where I could get Schaefer beer in Newark. He said he hadn't had Schaefer in years, but he knew the old ad jingle! Schaefer, Schaefer. The one beer to have when you're having more than one. He suggested a package store a short walk from the Hampton as a good place to begin my search.

Once I hit Penn Station under Madison Square Garden, I quickly sought out the subway to get to the Upper East Side to meet my friend for dinner. He wanted to meet at the Peking Duck House on East 53rd St.

Source: www.championstamp.com/dinner.htm

The idea was to share a duck; however, the restaurant required a minimum of four people to serve it. Why? I don't know - maybe its part of some international treaty. Instead - well let's just say the sizzling rice soup, orange chicken and Shezuan shrimp more than made up for lacking a quacker.

One of the places I had wanted to go before dinner was an East Village bar I found on-line serving Schaefer beer - the Spring Lounge. The Village was one of those places I'd never been but felt it was time to try. Fortunately, my friend was willing to seek it out as well. So we headed for the 6 train which dropped us off just a couple of blocks away.

After my experience with only a handful of locals at Schaefer's Bar in Baltimore, I wasn't sure what to expect at Spring Lounge. When we got there though, it was packed. Truly a thriving, community bar that turns out to have been there for a long, long time. And sure enough - there it was. The Schaefer.

I really liked their logo on the wall too: Life Is Short, Drink Early. The Spring Lounge opens at 8AM Monday through Saturday. I left wishing I could return and be in line the next morning at 7:45 to enjoy a bit more of the atmosphere.

After quaffing a couple of Schaefers (and Brooklyn lager for my friend), we headed for the train to Newark to get ready for 2 days of presentations - the official reason for my visit.

The symposium I attended isn't a traditional sort of training conference. Some of the presentations include information for the here and now. But others are strictly recaps of academic research that don't have a lot of practical application in the near term. Coefficients, law of anomalous numbers, belief functions, kurtosis, domain specific language, Zzzzz. Drool. Thank goodness for wireless internet and Twitter during those sessions.

The subject matter of the two days is somewhat of a "cottage industry" in the area in which I work. A fairly small group of us return each year to discuss progress in the area. Getting reacquainted with several pleasant and fun folks I get to see only once a year is an enjoyable part of the trip. But you also tend to run into several others who you just never really connect with - mainly because they're just...duds. Many are about as much fun as the clap. (tip to Ozzy Nelson's old man for that succinct simile)

As I blogged a year ago, the tradition for Friday night dinner at the symposium is to go to the Spanish Pavilion. Because of something going on there this year, we went to Rio Rodizio instead.

A Brazilian restaurant...and sushi house? WTH? I've been to Fogo de Chao in multiple cities and to Churrascos in Houston. Brazilian cuisine is great - meat on a sword! Our host, however, pulled an ol' switcheroo. We got the Spanish/Portuguese menu we normally get at Spanish Pavilion instead - paella, sauteed sausage, calamari, California roll "sushi", flan, rice pudding, sangria, etc. No meat from a spit. Once again, WTH? Don't get me wrong. It was good; however, it wasn't Pavilion-quality and at the risk of being redundant - no meat on a sword. Grrrr.

Once our sessions ended Saturday afternoon, I had time for a quick Schaefer search before returning to NYC for the evening. Sure enough, I found a 30 box at the package store near the hotel. I found Tony, the hotel shuttle driver, in the lobby, thanked him for the suggestion, and tipped him a sixer for the idea. Figured it was just a neat thing to do, but he seemed to be touched by my offering. What I never saw coming was the hug he gave me! That's not something I'm accustomed to getting with my Hilton Honors membership.

Saturday night, I ventured to an area of Manhattan called Chelsea. Again, it was another new area for me, and I really enjoyed walking a bit of it. Lots of restaurants, movie theater, grocery stores, barber shops, etc. Way different than Times Square (which I've now realized all of the city is way different than Times Square).

My target destination? The Trailer Park Lounge - the perfect place for toomuchcountry if there was one.

You just have to love a place that serves big ol' hamburgers, sweet potato fries, and moon pies. And their decorations are fantastic - including this box of White Trash detergent squirreled away in a display case.

What really caught my eye about the place when I sought it out was (likely to no surprise) they served Schaefer!

So I ordered one while waiting for a table. Unbelievable! They were out - zero, nada, zilch available. George isn't happy. But my planned good time was not going to be derailed. So I ordered one of the most uniquely named beers I've ever seen: Porkslap Farmhouse Pale Ale by Butternuts Brew & Ale.

Brian Doherty and I met for dinner at the Trailer Park. He and I met earlier this year through the wonders of social media such as blogs and Twitter. Brian is a fantastic drummer and has played with bands as varied as The Silos, They Might Be Giants, XTC, Freedy Johnston, and Ben Folds. We enjoyed a conversation about family, politics, music past and present, etc. He talked some interesting moments when auditioning to replace Bill Berry when he left R.E.M. What I found really interesting is how much he enjoyed the music and personality of John Prine and Todd Snider.

After gorging ourselves on burgers, tots, sweet potato fries, and several Sam Adams and even a Rheingold (my first), we pushed away from the table and decided it was time to part ways. He headed for home, but I wasn't ready to conclude my trip.

Now having a bit of confidence about my ability to navigate the NYC subway, I hopped a line to a station on Spring St. near Avenue of the Americas. According to my Google Maps app, the previously visited Spring Lounge was a short half-mile stroll from the stop. Perfect. Great evening weather. So off I strolled.

I walked several blocks, and I was pretty sure I'd covered at least a half-mile. But instead of hipster bars all around me, I was in the shadows a lot as I walked along Spring. When I could see the Hudson River, I realize something was wrong. Sure enough, I'd walked the half-mile in the wrong direction from the station. So I turned on my heel, retraced my steps to the station, and walked the half-mile in the correct direction. So my half-mile late night stroll to get a Schaefer turned into a 1.5 mile where-the-hell-am-I-going walk. My walk took me through SoHo - again an area I'd never visited - and before long the Spring Lounge was in sight. That cold Schaefer tasted so wonderful. I then headed for Penn Station to make my train back to Newark.

I awoke Sunday morning unsure what time it was. I was traveling on eastern time. My body and watch were still calibrated to central time. Sometime early Sunday morning, the time changed from daylight savings time back to standard time. And with my head processing remnants of Porkslap Farmhouse Ale, Rheingold, Sam Adams, and Schaefer, the only state I knew I was in was the state of confusion.

A late-morning french toast breakfast at the classy Top's Diner was enough to kickstart me again. As rough an area as Newark is, this little restaurant in East Newark and a short walk from the hotel where I was staying exudes class. Great food, attentive service, hot coffee, fair price. Ahhh.....

With that, this trip was done. Bags were packed - including about a case of Schaefer - and I was shuttled to EWR to return to the normal life.

TMC

Fun times in San Antonio

I recently returned from my second trip to San Antonio, TX in a span of about 2 months. This time I went for a users conference for a software application we use at work. Its one of those rare conferences that includes plenty of practical learning opportunities and more fun than any one person should ever get to enjoy on the company nickel.

Because this is a personal blog, I'll focus on my more memorable entertaining memories:

• Remember the Alamo! - The battle cry of Texans. I remembered it as well when I arrived because I got tossed from the place for trying to drink a beer the last time I visited.
  

• Hearing a motivational speech by former Notre Dame football coach and current ESPN college football analyst, Lou Holtz. I have to admit - I wasn't the biggest Coach Lou fan going in. Much of my opinion was shaped by my University of Tennessee diggin' dad who hasn't liked him since his days as coach at Arkansas. But its not every day one gets to meet a championship-winning coach. After his presentation, I was humbled to be invited to meet him and have our photo made together. He also gave me an autograph on the back of his business card.
  

• Finding Schaefer Light beer again in another H-E-B Grocery. There it was - nestled amongst some of the top yard beers of all time: PBR, Schlitz, and the Beast. All 24 cans made it back to Tennessee safe and sound thanks to Southwest Airlines. (The whole Schaefer story is too much to explain here. Follow our Schaefer adventures at Bench Racing from the Volunteer State if you want to learn more.)
  

• Saddling up on the back of a long-horned Texas steer. I look pretty good after 8 seconds of rodeo riding, don't I? And how 'bout that dime-store cowboy hat! If I had another day or two of beard growth, I'm sure some folks would mistake me for Chuck Norris.

• Spending a few minutes with some amateur astronomers who brought their telescopes to our hotel. I got up close and personal with the crater-riddled moon. I got to see Jupiter flanked by four of its moons. A third telescope allowed me to get a closer look at Jupiter - including its amazing horizontal bands. And a fourth telescope was focused on a cluster of stars. (Supposedly I was looking at star clusters and the Andromeda galaxy. What do I know? It sounded impressive, so let's go with it.)

• Varying shades of purple, orange, and red of a Texas sunset. But more important, a pick-up loaded with all-you-could-consume Shiner Bock! (Out of frame was a second truck - just in case we put an undue hurting on this one.)
  

• Experiencing the burn of a habanero pepper-infused tequila margarita. From my lips ... down the chute ... to my pit of my stomach. Cue Johnny Cash: ... and it burns, burns, burns. The ring of fire, the ring of fire.

• Hanging with two friends from the U.K. who I met at previous years' conferences. I excel in speaking with a southern accent - even a bit 'hick' some may say (though I prefer the more sophisticated derisive term: toomuchcountry). My southernness gets more pronounced as the nights get longer and the tab grows larger. The same is true for the British brogue - and unique sayings - of my London brethren. When the hotel sports bar we were visiting closed at 2AM, one of them pleaded for them to they stay open. “Me still has a tab mate.” When the bartender insisted he had no choice, we reluctantly accepted the night was over. But the UK bloke told me he wanted to say “Ahhh, jump off ya bloody wankers”. I'm sure it would have been a true British insult yet understood by Americans as a comical PG smack down.
  

The three of us also discussed types of beer and drinking habits - both in the US and the UK. I mentioned the planned opening of Mayday Brewery in 2011 and that Ozzy Nelson had given me a growler or two of some of the brews he's begun making.

Upon mention of the word "growler", they both started laughing - snickering at first, followed by gut-busting laughs. Clearly I had missed something. I soon learned my definition of the word as a half-gallon beer bottle in the U.S. has quite a different slang meaning in the U.K. I'll spare you the alternate definition here. But if you insist on knowing, I've got two words for you: Urban Dictionary.

Who knew work-paid training could be so much fun?

TMC

Holy Rolling Halloweeners

Every few years, the calendar does its little rotational trick such that October 31 falls on a Sunday. Inevitably, all sorts of fundamentalist, holy rollin', Bible thumpin' mamas come out of the woodwork pleading Halloween be moved to Saturday, October 30.

You can always predict they'll justify their lobbying on two levels:

• Primarily - moral/theological reasons
  
• Secondarily - its a school night
  

Look, I'm a believer though I don't always walk the straight and narrow. I confidently believe Jesus Christ died for the sins of us all, and all it takes to receive his grace is to simply believe in Him. Having said that, I will not go to hell for having my children go trick-or-treating if Halloween happens to fall on a Sunday as it did this year.

The repeated mantra by the pleaders is both somewhat humorous and yet tiresome. These folks can't handle the thought of the "devil's day" falling on a Sunday. These same parents, however, are willing to embrace the dark side of Halloween and allow their little goblins to greedily gobble all the free sugar-laden snacks they can collect - provided its done on a SATURDAY night and not the Lord's day.

Huh? If you are so alarmed by the blending of the Sabbath and a potential derailing of it by kiddos in football uniforms, jack o'lantern suits, superhero tights and capes and Michael Jackson get-ups, you've likely got far more ethical dilemmas in your life than can be solved by the changing of the traditional date of Halloween. (Seriously, I saw a kid dressed as the King of Pop this year. Ridiculous. Now, that's a parent that needs help.)

As for the second rationalization when the first one fails, this just in: Halloween falls on a school night more nights than not over a six or seven year period. If as a parent you are overly concerned about school the next day, get your kid off the street, restrict their sugar intake, and get 'em into bed at a reasonable hour - just like any other school night. Bottom line: be a parent.

Look, I've got a couple of kids of my own. Both do well in school. One reason among others the do well is they get a good night's rest - and Halloween night is no different. They've always gone out with their homemade costumes and pillow case collection sack - regardless of what night All Hallows Eve occurs - drain the neighborhood of its Snickers Minis, Skittles, Laffy Taffy, and Smarties; return home at a reasonable hour; clean up; hit the rack; and then rise the next morning - whether it be for church or for school.

Personally, I don't much care for Halloween. I'm glad its over for another year. But I care even less for tard-minded folks who care more about monkeying with my life and traditions than abiding by their own "beliefs". If it rocks your world that much, then keep the kids inside, turn off the porch light, and find something for them to do more in line with your convictions.

TMC

Ah-CHOO! You got the new flu?

Once again, my employer is offering free flu shots. They are giving us plenty of opportunities to get the shot and pitching the benefits of getting it. Unlike other types of communications in our company, however, the repeated flu shot promotion is already beginning to hit fever pitch. My inbox is receiving at least 3 to 4 e-mails per week offering - emphasizing - stressing - cajoling each employee to get one.

I work at the corporate office of a healthcare organization. That's right - I'm simply an overhead cost with no patient interaction. So while there is little risk to my catching the flu and passing it to a patient, I suppose I do run the risk of making my co-workers sick or vice versa.

Yet, I'm declining the shot as I do each year. Whether I'm lucky or good, I haven't contracted the flu before. Call me superstitious, smart, or an idiot, but I'm still not planning to get it - the flu or the shot. Last year (and again this year), we were at least presented an alternative: (1) get the shot ya stinkin' conformist or (2) wear a mask if you leave the corporate office for any reason.

But I am curious what strain we'll have this year. Certainly, the U.S. will see its share of traditional flu cases - the Coke Classic if you will of the flu strain. In addition, however, the flu has gone a bit chic the last couple of years with a bonus flu.

Two years ago, we all heard rumors of the bird flu. I'm not sure it ever developed though a co-worker or two was quite certain they nearly died of the stuff at least a couple of times.

Last year, the flu everyone had to have was the Andy Warhollish, 15-minutes-of-fame Swine Flu. Remember this one? Perfectly good bacon sources were slaughtered all over the world once someone in a neighborhood caught the sniffles and bought a bottle of Tussin.

Because I've chosen not to get the flu shot, I feel a bit out of the loop. I readily admit I'm not as hip about this year's Critter Flu as folks around me flocking like lemmings to willingly get stuck. I haven't heard about FLU 2010. So I'm left wondering about what poor, helpless life form may shoulder the blame for this year's flu crisis. Will it be....

The Possum Flu - This type of flu likely hits you right about the time you cross a street at night on your way to the drug store for Tamiflu. You see the on-coming lights of a car while running a fever, and *boom* down you go. The upside of this strain is the symptoms disappear quickly. Once the car is gone, you can generally arise and continue on your merry way.

The Spider Flu - This strain has the potential to cause many folks to miss work repeatedly during the winter because the funk can settle into a pair of legs up to four times a season. Also, its rumored this strain spawns a reddish, hour-glass shaped rash on your abdomen.

The Praying Mantis Flu - If this one develops as expected, look out. This strain is slow to show its symptoms and normally only affects women. A woman harboring the PMF virus generally doesn't know she's contracted it. But after a sex session with a man, PMF becomes very apparent to her when she bites the head off her mate. Sadly, her man's final words are likely "dear, how long have you had that sniffle?"

The Ostrich Flu - A spin-off of the bird flu, this strain is a bit milder than the others. Two temporary but painful and unsightly symptoms are the elongation of the neck and rapid growth of a fat ass. Also, the stress brought on by the ostrich flu results in the patient mentally withdrawing from all reality around him or her - putting their "head in the sand" if you will.

Despite the risks of Flu 101 and Nouveau Flu, I remain committed to declining the shot. The decision about your getting one, however, can be made by only one person: YOU. Well technically if you work or are married to a woman, this isn't exactly true. Odds are against you as your wife or boss may force you to get one. But you understand the point I hope.

With apologies to John Lennon: I am the eggman. I am the walrus. Flu, flu, ah-choo!

TMC

Rush road trip: Thus endeth the bloggeth

Brought to you by the letter æ.

Sailing through the ticket scanners was no biggie. (By the way, aren't you glad all those sadists are gone - the ones who took such great delight in ripping your ticket right at the band name or venue location?) We drew a bead on our seats as Rush had now moved on to its second number, Time Stands Still. Because this is one of two songs I actually don't particularly like, I wasn't bothered to miss it as we got settled. For the record, the other one I don't like is Big Money. Its Rush's equivalent of Van Halen's Jump.

Here Again I was at a Rush concert. The crowd was clearly In The Mood, the view from our seats was really good, and the night air from the clear night sky was fantastic. I could see each of the band members pretty well - especially Geddy Lee and Alex Lifeson; however, having the three mega-screens still added a lot to the show. The camera crew was really good at zooming in on the hands and feet of Geddy and Alex during various solos. And the techs and board staff did their job to perfection with Geddy's equipment. His bass sound was impeccable - yet it didn't overpower Alex's guitars or Neil's drums.

A camera angled to the right of Neil Peart's bass drum presented some good shots. However, they also had a camera above Peart - which should have provided the best view of his chops. Unfortunately, from our seats, the lighting was terrible. The few times the overhead shot was on the screens, it was very difficult to see the details of his work. A minor inconvenience...

Source: Mucho gracias gnumoon

Upon first glance, I thought it was incredibly cool to see Ged sporting a Rush shirt with the logo from their debut album 35+ years ago. But with a second, longer look, I realized it said RASH on it. Even better! I do wonder if the long-sleeve shirt he wore was a rash guard to protect him from the Rash shirt?

Source: MSNBC

Geddy is pushing 60 - SIXTY. Yet, his bass playing skills are simply amazing. I've always listened in awe to Peart's drumming, and I had a respect for Geddy's playing - though not at the same level as I had for Peart. But he's definitely narrowed the gap. Its jaw-dropping to watch him play some incredible riffs and solos ... while working foot pedals ... while balancing bass lines with keyboard parts ... while remembering to sing the correct lyrics from about 35 years of recording.

After their first set was completed, the band took a break and so did I. Off to the bathroom, merch booth, and beer stand I went. At my age - with the exception of Rush - I now generally prefer my live music as singer-songwriters in small venues/clubs. This show reinforced a few of the reasons I've drifted that way over the last couple of decades: longer merch lines staffed by busy folks who really don't care, overpriced and uninteresting beer, and lack of interaction with the artist. Who wants to buy a $40 t-shirt and $8 Bud Light when I can buy $4 Shiners and a $15 CD autographed by Hayes Carll?

...and the meek beer shall inherit the earth...

When the Time Machine tour was announced, the big news was Rush planned to play all of Moving Pictures as part of the set list. Songs such as Tom Sawyer and Limelight have been set list staples from the get-go, but other songs such as The Camera Eye, Witch Hunt, and Vital Signs haven't historically been played nearly as often. Because I really wanted to enjoy the show free of bias from others, I refrained from reading show reviews, didn't watch any YouTube clips, and didn't download any bootlegs. Three wise decisions on my part I think.

Hearing The Camera Eye was a great treat. Listening to the lyrics with a fresh perspective and watching the big screen images of New York City and London in a post-9/11 world made the song a bit more prophetic and surreal.

Did you spot the "major award" from A Christmas Story at the :30 mark?

Hearing and watching Peart's drum solos never gets old. His performance is almost an optical illusion - frequently, I hear rhythms that quite frankly I don't see him play. One portion of his solo that's been around for a number of years simply blows me away. He rocks a 3/4 beat using his bass drum and high-hat pedals while playing multiple toms in a 4/4 time signature. The degree of difficulty puts the combo of patting your head and rubbing your belly at the same time to shame. Its simply not fair.

After playing on his more conventional, traditional set, he turned and sat on his throne facing the other direction as a 2nd drum set designed for the tour rotated around to face the audience. (Transition happens about 2 minute mark in the video below.) The bass drum was significantly smaller than his regular one. And one mounted tom seemed even to be bigger than the bass drum. The ability of the guy to continually re-invent himself, his skills, and even his drumming equipment just leaves me wondering how he does it over and over - similar to my wonderment of why people still buy Peeps at Easter.

Photo source: HoldYourFireAl's SmugMug page

The second and final encore song to close the night was Working Man - a Rush classic from their original self-titled debut album. Rather than start it as normal, the first stanza and chorus were played reggae style. I'm not a big reggae fan, and I'm a big fan of Working Man. So if you'd asked me if I'd like that combo entering the gates, I'd say no. Yet it worked. Very unconventional - but it was good. After the initial chorus, Alex led them back to the classic arrangement. Having WM as the closer was appropriate. It kind of cements why I'm still a big fan. Although Rush is not above some experimentation with musical influences, song lengths, and themes, they've stayed with a core sound from the early 1970s to present day.

During the encore of LaVilla and Working Man, I started feeling a mist. Earlier in the day, the weather forecast showed a nominal 10% chance of rain. So, surely it couldn't be raining - besides, we were in the covered seating. Initially, I convinced myself the moisture was from a misting system in the rafters of the amphitheater's covered seating area. I realize now the prophetic nature of the opening lyrics from Witch Hunt:

The night is black, without a moon
The air is thick and still

When the show ended and we turned to head for the car, it was pouring! The 10% forecast of rain suddenly became a 100% reality of us getting drenched.

Good news: Wet t-shirt contest!
Bad news: It was a Rush show. 90% of the crowd was male.

Video clips, song title drops, attempts at humor that perhaps made only me laugh, and yet you want more? How about some show photos? I found this Photobucket album tonight where some great pictures were shared.

A few show oddities - things that confused me but may be perfectly logical to those who've seen the band far more often than twice in 26 years:

• During The Camera Eye, one image shown on the screen was an ear of corn. I don't get it.
• Early in the show, a maid...pushing a shopping cart onto the stage...tossed rubber chickens...into the washing machines...that was making sausage. Completely random? Or is this some sort of metaphorical pretzel I can't untwist?
• A baby carriage made repeat appearances on the video screens during the show. Why? We came up with a couple of possible, plausible reasons, but I'm interested to hear feedback from others.
• Unless my eyes deceived me, someone dressed in a bear suit made a couple of laps on a bicycle around the stage as the band was playing. Maybe I was just Losing It at that point of the show.

Knowing I wanted to compose a blog entry or two about the show, I made a few show notes old school style - pen and paper - to supplement my tweets and texts. Guess this proves I'm still trying to balance between being The Analog Kid and a New World Man.

Did I leave wanting more? Sure, there were plenty of songs I wish they'd included in the set list. But the trio did give us two and a half hours of great rock spanning almost four decades. So In The End, to ask for more would be expecting Something For Nothing.

With the show less than 15 minutes behind us, the conversation turned to "where next?" The conventional wisdom is Rush will return to the studio to finish their in-progress album and then tour again in 2011 with an updated set list. Will I get to see them again? Who knows. I Hope so. But if not, I'll shed no Tears as I still had One Little Victory by waiting a quarter-century for my second concert.

OK, I'm Losing It. Review done. Test for Echo. Out. [white noise.....................]

TMC

Rush road trip: Part IV of a 2-part trilogy

Summer 1978 - Trader's Post classifieds in Nashville, TN:

• Ludwig 5 piece blue drum set used primarily in session work
• Zildjian 24" ride, 17" crash, and 14" high-hat cymbals
• Throne, hard shell cases, gig bag and extra hardware included
• $400 firm
  

With a few hundred dollars from mowing lawns squirreled away at Commerce Union Bank, I talked over the ad with my mother, withdrew the money from my savings account, and had her drive me to buy myself a drum kit.

I set it up in the bedroom shared with my brother. The dimensions of our room weren't that big, and I quickly claimed eminent domain over about 40 percent of the floorspace. Once assembled, I spent that evening and most afternoons the next two years jamming to LPs and 8-tracks played on my bitchin' Radio Shack stereo. KISS, Journey, Skynyrd, a new band discovered by Gene Simmons called Van Halen, ELO, Boston, Peter Frampton, Aerosmith's "Toys In The Attic", and Deep Purple.

That was my drumming M.O. until the spring of 1980 - the wrap-up of my freshman year of high school. Thrashing the skins as if I was Keith Moon - though the reality is I probably had drumming skills more like Sun Myung Moon. Then a friend of mine asked me if I'd learned the drum part to Spirit of the Radio yet. What? Who is that by? Rush man! Don't you have Hemispheres?? La Villa? buh domp, ba doomp, bon bon bommmm, bon bon bommmm.

I borrowed the 8-track of Permanent Waves from my friend, listened to it through headphones as I sat behind my bass and snare, and didn't lift a stick. Finally, I stood to clunk through channels 2, 3, and 4 so the tape would eventually loop back to channel 1 to replay Spirit. (If you ever had an 8-track, you'll understand the verb "clunk".)

I was hooked. Feeble attempts were made to mimic Neil Peart's licks - including a few impromptu Lessons from friends who thought they had them down (they didn't). I had but a Ghost of a Chance of ever actually matching his skills. Then my buying spree began:

Permanent Waves on LP. Done.
Back track to 2112. Done.
All The World's A Stage - double live LP. Done.
Then back to present (at that time): Moving Pictures, Signals, Grace Under Pressure, etc.

As I blogged last week, I finally saw them live in 1984. I would never have guess that 1984 would be the only time to see them live ... until last week. 26 years later. I have to admit it was a bit surreal making plans to see the band I began listening to 30 years ago. Yet thinking about it now, it was really only about 3.25 Dog Years since I'd last seen them. Not bad.

The Countdown to see them again began about 5 or 6 months ago. When the Time Machine tour was announced, a friend of mine and his brother immediately committed to going. Fortunately for me, he decided to Take A Friend. So the three of us left our middle Tennessee Subdivisions last Wednesday AM with a playlist of classic Rush tunes, some high-end beer wrapped to stay cold in a soft-sided cooler, stories of how we enjoyed the band over the years, and various ideas for Making Memories during this overnight trip. One thing was certain. Having a steady salary from many years as a Working Man was going to allow me to more fully enjoy the 2010 show vs. what I could afford with my meager college budget in 1984.

Once settled in Atlanta, we met up with the rest of our traveling contingent. The carpooling crew consisted of 5 of us. Four guys, 1 woman. 80/20. Yep, it was a pretty representative sample of what was expected as the male/female crowd distribution for the evening. We had:

• TMC
• Friend, Atticus
• Atticus' brother and proprietor of Food Furious, Ben
• Atticus' cousin, Aaron, by siblings from a different marriage of parents...starting to get a bit dicey here
• Ben's cousin, Leila aka gnumoon, but by yet another set of siblings from another marriage...or some sort of Circumstances like that...Bottom line: She and Ben are cousins. And Ben and Atticus are brothers. Yet, Atticus and Leila aren't cousins. Wait, the room is spinning. Can't figure this out. Confusion reigns! Mayday, mayday.

In the end, the best catch-all phrase I can now affectionately apply to all my new friends is they are all somehow related as Courthouse Cousins.

After a couple of introductory, how-are-ya? beers at our hotel, we were off to Mission number 1: dinner at The Vortex in Atlanta's Little Five Points. There we met up with two more fans - Carl and Rachel - neither of whom are related to the Courthouse Cousins. But since I had no known relatives on the trip, perhaps the two of them were my CHC.

The Vortex had some really interesting burger and beer choices. Ben settled on the Hell Burger with hot pepper cheese and a jalapeno/habanero pepper relish. Atticus downed the Coronary Bypass - a burger with a fried egg, a few strips of bacon, and several slices of cheese. And after a debate with Carl as to which one of us would get it, I finally decided to Roll The Bones and order The Elvis burger:

Source: Thanks for the snap Leila.

As a joke, I almost ordered a salad with vinaigrette dressing as my side item plus a Diet Coke. But I didn't and chose tots and a large Sweetwater IPA instead. In retrospect, I wish I had ordered what others at our table got - sweet potato tots! Somehow I overlooked this as an option - too busy I suppose scheming a bad joke vs. focusing on the matter at hand.

Source: Leila with the opportunistic timing

We likely stayed at The Vortex one beer too long. Traffic was terrible. We underestimated the time it would take in Finding My Our Way to the venue and get parked at Verizon Wireless Amphitheater at Encore Park. (For just one lousy night, couldn't they have renamed the place Lakeside Park? But I digress...)

Full of the Elvis Burger and an afternoon of Sweetwater IPAs, favoring a bum knee, but with Vital Signs peaking, we sprint-walked to the front gate. While doing so, I could hear the faint but unmistakable notes of the first song I heard by the band 30 years ago - The Spirit of Radio.



To be continued...

TMC

Continuing Education Memorable Moments: The Sequel

Last year around this time, I blogged my list of most awkward moments from our annual department continuing education seminar. This year was my fourteenth such event. Once again, all 130 or so of us spent four days together in early September off-site at a state park for training, company updates, obligatory team building activities, and late night "social festivities".

Several days ago, Ozzy Nelson (click to follow him on Twitter) blogged the details of one of his memorable moments from this year - one of his own making! I'd now like to blog a few of my most memorable moments of the week.

• One of our speakers presented on the subject of Accounting for Impaired Assets. The subject was quite appropriate considering the hungover status of much of his audience.
  

• A motivational speaker urged us to shoot for an epic failure and study lousy customer service. (Actually, the guy was quite funny AND had a meaningful point at the end of his presentation re: the aligning of failure and success.)

• Multiple 20-somethings informed me they'd never heard of Wendy’s “Where’s The Beef?” ad campaign.

• PowerPoint FAIL - by a PricewaterhouseCoopers statistician. (OK, so maybe its a double-fail. I don't know.) This fellow works for what is known as a Big 4 public accounting firm. These folks know accounting, tax, technology, economics, business and personal financial planning, etc. But one thing is clear - they don't know JACK SQUAT about composing a PowerPoint presentation. Did he really think delivering about 50 slides of 8 point font and 200 words per slide with teal-colored font on a white background for a 50 minute presentation was going to work? The only things missing were overdone animation and swishing sound effects.

• Everyone was asked to dress up for 80s night for our gathering at a local restaurant-beach club-dance hall-bar thing place joint. Two male co-workers showed up with bras on their heads a la Weird Science. This memorable moment could have become an unforgettable moment had they been able to bring Kelly LeBrock with them.

• After the bra-men worked the room a while, I then got an overview of bra shopping and fitting tips from a female co-worker. Shortly after this informative session, I inhaled, then exhaled, and nodded to our bartender to say "Another beer here please? Um, better make that two."

• The hired cover band - Rubik's Groove - kicked off Jessie’s Girl by Rick Springfield. I grimaced at the sound of 80+ people on the dance floor shrieking with glee as the band hit the opening riff. In my opinion, the song was a pretty rotten one when it was released. As far as I'm concerned, it hasn't improved with age. For crying out loud, the singer was an actor on the General Hospital soap opera! I was stunned at the number of our younger staff who not only had heard of it but screamed delightedly and danced merrily as the band played it. This poor, poor generation...
  

• A co-worker made a chest wig from hair he shaved off his dog. He had several co-workers stroke it. Sadly, a few of them believed the hair to be his own! While not explicitly saying who did this, you can discern it from... cough... namenearstartofthisblogentry... cough.

• The lead singer of the band went into the audience with his wireless mic. (If it had been a true 80s band, they would still have used corded microphones and slung them around like Roger Daltrey or Iggy Pop. But I digress.) He approached one of our female staffers who wanted less than zero part of his attention. She tried to feign interest in him - including acting like she was texting someone. But he stuck with it and yelled up at the band “Hey guys, guess what she’s doing. She’s texting someone back here.” Another co-worker - who was truly enjoying her frequent visits from our waitresses - leaned in and asked “did he just say she was tasting someone?”

• On the return shuttle trip from our 80s night event, multiple co-workers started belting out a lusty, off-key, a capella rendition of Bon Jovi’s Living on a Prayer. After making it through the chorus, the loud voice of a lone female sitting next to one of our department VPs suddenly jumped up and interrupted with "Hey mutha f*****rs, everybody sing Windows to the Wallllll!" A unison laugh resulted - followed by a noticeable pregnant pause - followed by someone thankfully kicking off Journey's Don't Stop Believing.

• During one of our late nights of "social festivities", another co-worker presented her case to me of the benefits of stripper pole exercising. It wasn't really a debate - I certainly wasn't presenting any counter-arguments. I merely listened intently, asked a few clarifying questions, agreed with every point made, and wholeheartedly supported her endeavor.

With each passing year, I realize more and more how past my prime I am in terms of hanging with the younger crowd. Yet sitting back and absorbing memorable moments such as these keeps me Forever Young (Rod Stewart - 1988 - 80s theme continuance).

For the record, my get-up for 80s night consisted of a Member's Only jacket adorned with buttons of Where's The Beef?, I Want My MTV, and the 1982 World's Fair.

For those who grew up in Nashville in the 1980s, you may also understand this one - one of Carl P. Mayfield's alter-egos:

To complete my ensemble, I snapped a SONY Walkman cassette player to my belt - complete with Synchronicity by The Police.
From time to time, I think I've had enough. Find something else to do - within or outside the company. Yet, sitting around with a smirk on my face, a willingness to observe and listen, and watch others 20 years younger than me rattle off an arsenal of career-limiting moves is generally enough to motivate me to stick around for one more year, one more year, one more year...

TMC