Well friends. It's been fun. You may be thinking to yourself, "No!! Don't go Jimmy! I love seeing what you write about absolutely nothing of interest to me!"
Okay... but only because you put it that way. I won't give up blogging; however I am moving to a new blogging platform. I'm giving up on Blogger and switching to Wordpress. It's much nicer.
So here's my NEW blog ! Leave some comments on my new blog to let me know how it feels? Better?? Worse?! More excruciating?! Let me know.
And as the first President of our nation George Washington used to say, "So long, f*ckers!"
November 7, 2008
October 29, 2008
I Can Haz Recon?
My 11th and 12th days in Mexico were empty shells. I was still on my daily cycle of work, eat, excercise, sleep and there was no respite. Except one thing. Oh, one big thing; however I'm sure that nobody actually reading this would care. Bungie released a teaser for their next game, which we've now come to know as Halo 3: Recon. I'm not sure how many times I watched that teaser when I got back to the hotel. In fact, I may have skipped going to the Olympus Gimnasio just to sit in the dark, with the volume maxed so that I could better try and figure out what exactly they were showing us. The numerous frame-by-frame breakdowns that littered the Internets were stellar, and only helped to compound what I had already been able to decipher. All I knew was that I was excited for something, and it was most certainly a video game, and it was definitely set within the Halo universe. I could also look forward to the following day: Friday!
Friday the 13th
Okay, so the date wasn't the 13th, but it was my 13th day in Mexico, so it kinda works, right? Anyway, today marked the first day that fellow American employees would be joining me in Mexico (staying in the same hotel too!), so I was looking forward to making new friends. During my day at work they came near my desk to use an adjacent office for a conference call and I was able to touch base with them, at which point they invited me out to dinner with them. There were three of them, all who worked in procurement ("part-runners" as it was described to me by one of them). Having this event to look forward to made my day go faster... and the fact that my Guadalajaran friends and I went out for a two hour lunch didn't hurt either.
It was a beautiful day, with blue skies, lots of sunshine and a comfortable breeze to ensure we didn't get too warm. As we walked outside of IBM, the guys double-checked that I liked seafood, to which I replied, "Are you kidding me?!", I am, after all a seafood aficionado! After getting out into the parking lot, we loaded up two cars and made our way down the highway and into a dense urban area, with lots of people and street traffic. After about fifteen minutes of stop and go driving, we finally made it to our destination and parked on a side street. Immediately around the corner was a mobile food stand, taking up a spot on the street, with tables littered about the sidewalk. This sidewalk wrapped around a concrete brick wall, which was easily ten feet high, including the triple-level barbed wire on top. This wall also happened to be the attaching point for the gigantic tarp that was draped over all the tables as well as the food stand/cooking station.
There were no menus in this place and I didn't know what they had to offer, so my good friend David ordered on my behalf. For appetizers we each got seviche, which was served on a six inch corn tortilla with two fat slices of avocado on top. There was a plastic shopping bag of extra tortillas set in the center of our table, which came in handy once the mound of seviche started tumbling out all over my plate. Of course, being in Mexico there was a nice selection of hot sauces to accompany the extra tortillas, which I made ample use of, even after being warned that they would be too hot for my weak American little tongue. Hah, I laugh in the face of spiciness, and spit at its feet.
After this first delicious tasting, I wanted more... so much more! After a very short wait our main course came out. I don't know what it's called, and I don't exactly know how to describe it; but I'll try my best. Imagine a very heavy and large chalice, made of clear glass (if I had to guess I'd say its capacity was 2.5 cups, and weighed about 3 pounds, 6 ounces). Now fill this glass with a delicious, mystery liquid (shrimp and octopus stock maybe) and an assortment of seafood and vegetables including shrimp (de-tailed), thick slices of octopus tentacles, fat chunks of avocado, onions, and cucumber not to mention the spices. This was basically a cold soup, but simply calling it as such is demeaning and fails to convey the quality and taste that I experienced. I've always loved seafood and have long been a fan of sushi; however this takes the cake for the most joy that I've ever received from eating a seafood dish. It was served cold, and after adding the hot sauces along with some Heinz ketchup and freshly squeezed lime it was like an explosion of glory within my mouth.
I lost track of the entire world around me as I devoured every last bite of octopus, shrimp and avocado with nothing but joy and wonderment. As I sipped the last remnant of splendor out of my chalice I was aware of the truth: this meal was the greatest meal I had ever had in my entire life, hands down. Just transcribing my experience right now makes my mouth water and my stomach gurgle as if I haven't eaten in days. I would pay 35 dollars for this dish in a restaurant and not even think twice about it; yet when the bill came it was merely 80 pesos. About 8 American dollars for a seviche appetizer, an amazing octopus/shrimp thing, and a Squirt for my beverage. Now that's getting your money's worth.
Going out to eat on this Friday was marvelous considering that our normal time of departure for lunch was 1:00 pm; which meant that we returned to IBM at nearly 3 in the afternoon. Talk about a short day.. Before long I was sitting in the back of a taxi doing my best not to look out the windshield for fear of having a heart attack. I met my new part-running friends in the hotel lobby around 6:30 that evening as we sat around to talk about the goings-on with the supply chain and drink beer. Before long we had received a recommendation to try a newer restaurant called de Santos, which was supposed to be very delicious; however nobody told us that it would turn out to be two adventures within such a short period of time. What kind of adventures? Only the best kind...
The four of us piled into the taxi conveniently waiting for us outside of the hotel lobby. I took the front seat as one of the part-runners handed a scrawled note to the driver with the address of 'de Santos' on it. She looked at the scrap of paper like it was a receipt that she had specifically requested not to receive; as she stuffed it into a crevice in the car's center console and pulled the taxi cab slightly forward to ask another taxi driver about the location of the restaurant. He was an older gentleman and as such was able to give her a very detailed account of how to get there, which made me nervous. Nervous because our taxi driver was a young woman, no older than 30; however what concerned me was that it didn't appear that she was really paying attention to what he was telling her. Regardless, she sped off into the night and down the street in a direction that I had never traveled before. She took a few back streets and dark alleyways as my cohorts in the back seat wondered where exactly we were going.
I kept giving the taxi driver glances to observe the look on her face, which was somewhere between clueless and worried. I knew almost immediately that she had no idea where she was going and especially where this place was. After about thirty minutes of driving we exited the highway into a large traffic circle, with high rise hotels bordering a majority of its perimeter. As she came almost full circle I thought that we were going to be turning off at the last street (ie, a "left" from our original direction); lo and behold we didn't. In fact, we didn't go anywhere, as the woman drove around the circle three or four times before I asked if she knew where the restaurant was. With a firm "No", she gave us little hope. We were growing hungrier by the minute and one of my part-running friends suggested we just go to Chili's back near the hotel, which sounded to be like the best alternative. There was no point in circling this area any longer. I instructed the taxi driver to return us home, and she obliged; however as soon as we got to the on ramp for the highway, heading back towards where we came, I looked up and saw a sign from above. It was a dimly lit purple sign that read, 'de Santos' ! We had arrived! I was awe struck. I shouted, "There it is!" as the taxi driver slammed on the brakes, lurching my torso dangerously close to the dashboard.
Thankfully, since she drove us out of the way and took up a lot of our time, the fare was only about five dollars; which is a steal considering how much distance she traveled to get where we were. Regardless, we were just happy to be so close to eating. As we walked inside, we immediately noticed the "club-like" atmosphere of the establishment. There was a DJ on a second floor that looked to feature a dance floor with tables around the perimeter, and the lights in the entire place were very dim. There was loud music pumping bass into the expanse of the bottom floor, which featured a very long bar and surprisingly few tables. The hostess greeted us and asked for our reservations. Oh dear. We were so hungry to leave the hotel we had forgotten to ask the concierge to make reservations on our behalf. I told her that we had none, to which she replied that they didn't have any tables. Noticing ample space at the bar, I asked if that was an acceptable location for dining, to which she confirmed and allowed us to proceed. I was feeling pretty good about myself being able to converse the way that I had in the Spanish language on this evening, so I wanted to celebrate; with a nice steak.
I had heard nothing but good things about the quality of beef in Mexico, since every employee in Raleigh had suggested I get a steak while I have the chance, and that it was "the best cut of meat" they had ever tasted. After a quick glance at the menu I ordered the Ribeye, which was served with some kind of mashed potato and salad greens. After translating the menu for my colleagues, we ordered some cold brews and proceeded to watch the scenery. As it turned out, we had arrived right at the beginning of the dinner rush, as there was now a long line out the door. Most of the people coming into the restaurant were dressed up like they were going to the club, either that or the beach since most of the guys had sunglasses on. Regardless, it wasn't long before our dinners came out, which is precisely the moment that I soiled myself.
My steak was quite easily the largest portion of steak that I had ever had in front of me. Not only was it large, but it was served on top of the mashed potatoes, which were in turn on top of the salad greens, which is EXACTLY how I would've eaten my meal anyway! What marvelous joy this provided me with! I didn't even need to play with my food, I could just dive in! For anybody that knows me this is a rarity; and my only complaint about this presentation was that they forgot to enclose these three layers of deliciousness between two slices of bread. Despite this fact, I began to "dig in", as they say. The steak was cooked just right, with enough blood to make me feel like a barbarian, but also cooked enough for me to not get Salmonella or E. Coli or Tape worms. It was juicy like a watermelon and tasted of pure win. The mashed potatoes were salty, with a hint of bacon and chives, and the fact that every bite of steak brought along with it a taste of creamy mashed potatoes and bacon just made my brain joygasm. It was a fantastic meal, and a spectacular steak that will not be soon forgotten. I can't say it was the "finest cut of meat" that I've ever tasted, but it certainly was the best in terms of presentation since I didn't have to do any work before devouring it. As we paid our checks I asked myself, "How could this day get any better?" Well I'll tell you how it could get better: with another adventure!
We left the restaurant and wandered out towards the street, which wasn't the best place to be standing considering it was basically a highway entry ramp; however it only took a matter of seconds to flag down a taxi. As we piled into the vehicle, I once again took the passenger seat and instructed the driver to take us to the hotel. Thankfully, every taxi driver so far knew the location of "Hotel Presidente", so explaining where we were going was never a problem. With a quick nod we were off, as the taxi driver took us on a very unexpected route, which looked nothing like the route we had used to get there. It was about ten minutes before we were in sight of the hotel, which was either impressive on his part or depressing on the first taxi lady's part; and it was about five seconds too late when I shouted "Presidente!" as we sped past the hotel at 100 kilometers per hour. The driver immediately face-palmed himself and apologized as we headed in the direction of Taco & Charley's. As the driver came around the traffic circle to head back the other way, he was very apologetic. I told him not to worry about it and quickly realized that we were now passing the hotel in the opposite direction.
Unsure whether he was more comfortable making right-hand turns into the hotel, I hesitated before asking, "Are we going to El Presidente", to which he replied with another face-palm. I felt really bad at this point and didn't know whether I had done something wrong to make this guy continually forget where we were going. Either way, he made a sharp and violent turn onto a back street as I kept my eye on the skyline. I didn't know where we were, so being at the driver's mercy, I had no choice but to watch the top of the hotel peeking out to keep my bearings. We were within two blocks of the hotel when I finally realized that once again, the driver had passed the street that the hotel was on. Now this adventure had officially become extremely ridiculous, bordering on ludicrous. As a last ditch effort I told him to look at the towering black building on the skyline, and that was our destination. Hopefully this would be the last face-palm of the evening, and it was only another minute or so before he pulled into the hotel entrance. Going the wrong way, and blocking all traffic from leaving. Spectacular. We paid the man and tried not to wonder how many shots of tequila he was on; however it was hard to imagine a sober person performing the way that he had.
That night, as I relaxed to a healthy dose of Austin Powers I thought about my amazing day. Not only did I experience two spectacular meals, but I had two adventures within two hours of each other. I felt truly blessed at that moment, and as they say in such times: Effin A, Cotton. Effin A...
Friday the 13th
Okay, so the date wasn't the 13th, but it was my 13th day in Mexico, so it kinda works, right? Anyway, today marked the first day that fellow American employees would be joining me in Mexico (staying in the same hotel too!), so I was looking forward to making new friends. During my day at work they came near my desk to use an adjacent office for a conference call and I was able to touch base with them, at which point they invited me out to dinner with them. There were three of them, all who worked in procurement ("part-runners" as it was described to me by one of them). Having this event to look forward to made my day go faster... and the fact that my Guadalajaran friends and I went out for a two hour lunch didn't hurt either.
It was a beautiful day, with blue skies, lots of sunshine and a comfortable breeze to ensure we didn't get too warm. As we walked outside of IBM, the guys double-checked that I liked seafood, to which I replied, "Are you kidding me?!", I am, after all a seafood aficionado! After getting out into the parking lot, we loaded up two cars and made our way down the highway and into a dense urban area, with lots of people and street traffic. After about fifteen minutes of stop and go driving, we finally made it to our destination and parked on a side street. Immediately around the corner was a mobile food stand, taking up a spot on the street, with tables littered about the sidewalk. This sidewalk wrapped around a concrete brick wall, which was easily ten feet high, including the triple-level barbed wire on top. This wall also happened to be the attaching point for the gigantic tarp that was draped over all the tables as well as the food stand/cooking station.
There were no menus in this place and I didn't know what they had to offer, so my good friend David ordered on my behalf. For appetizers we each got seviche, which was served on a six inch corn tortilla with two fat slices of avocado on top. There was a plastic shopping bag of extra tortillas set in the center of our table, which came in handy once the mound of seviche started tumbling out all over my plate. Of course, being in Mexico there was a nice selection of hot sauces to accompany the extra tortillas, which I made ample use of, even after being warned that they would be too hot for my weak American little tongue. Hah, I laugh in the face of spiciness, and spit at its feet.
After this first delicious tasting, I wanted more... so much more! After a very short wait our main course came out. I don't know what it's called, and I don't exactly know how to describe it; but I'll try my best. Imagine a very heavy and large chalice, made of clear glass (if I had to guess I'd say its capacity was 2.5 cups, and weighed about 3 pounds, 6 ounces). Now fill this glass with a delicious, mystery liquid (shrimp and octopus stock maybe) and an assortment of seafood and vegetables including shrimp (de-tailed), thick slices of octopus tentacles, fat chunks of avocado, onions, and cucumber not to mention the spices. This was basically a cold soup, but simply calling it as such is demeaning and fails to convey the quality and taste that I experienced. I've always loved seafood and have long been a fan of sushi; however this takes the cake for the most joy that I've ever received from eating a seafood dish. It was served cold, and after adding the hot sauces along with some Heinz ketchup and freshly squeezed lime it was like an explosion of glory within my mouth.
I lost track of the entire world around me as I devoured every last bite of octopus, shrimp and avocado with nothing but joy and wonderment. As I sipped the last remnant of splendor out of my chalice I was aware of the truth: this meal was the greatest meal I had ever had in my entire life, hands down. Just transcribing my experience right now makes my mouth water and my stomach gurgle as if I haven't eaten in days. I would pay 35 dollars for this dish in a restaurant and not even think twice about it; yet when the bill came it was merely 80 pesos. About 8 American dollars for a seviche appetizer, an amazing octopus/shrimp thing, and a Squirt for my beverage. Now that's getting your money's worth.
Going out to eat on this Friday was marvelous considering that our normal time of departure for lunch was 1:00 pm; which meant that we returned to IBM at nearly 3 in the afternoon. Talk about a short day.. Before long I was sitting in the back of a taxi doing my best not to look out the windshield for fear of having a heart attack. I met my new part-running friends in the hotel lobby around 6:30 that evening as we sat around to talk about the goings-on with the supply chain and drink beer. Before long we had received a recommendation to try a newer restaurant called de Santos, which was supposed to be very delicious; however nobody told us that it would turn out to be two adventures within such a short period of time. What kind of adventures? Only the best kind...
The four of us piled into the taxi conveniently waiting for us outside of the hotel lobby. I took the front seat as one of the part-runners handed a scrawled note to the driver with the address of 'de Santos' on it. She looked at the scrap of paper like it was a receipt that she had specifically requested not to receive; as she stuffed it into a crevice in the car's center console and pulled the taxi cab slightly forward to ask another taxi driver about the location of the restaurant. He was an older gentleman and as such was able to give her a very detailed account of how to get there, which made me nervous. Nervous because our taxi driver was a young woman, no older than 30; however what concerned me was that it didn't appear that she was really paying attention to what he was telling her. Regardless, she sped off into the night and down the street in a direction that I had never traveled before. She took a few back streets and dark alleyways as my cohorts in the back seat wondered where exactly we were going.
I kept giving the taxi driver glances to observe the look on her face, which was somewhere between clueless and worried. I knew almost immediately that she had no idea where she was going and especially where this place was. After about thirty minutes of driving we exited the highway into a large traffic circle, with high rise hotels bordering a majority of its perimeter. As she came almost full circle I thought that we were going to be turning off at the last street (ie, a "left" from our original direction); lo and behold we didn't. In fact, we didn't go anywhere, as the woman drove around the circle three or four times before I asked if she knew where the restaurant was. With a firm "No", she gave us little hope. We were growing hungrier by the minute and one of my part-running friends suggested we just go to Chili's back near the hotel, which sounded to be like the best alternative. There was no point in circling this area any longer. I instructed the taxi driver to return us home, and she obliged; however as soon as we got to the on ramp for the highway, heading back towards where we came, I looked up and saw a sign from above. It was a dimly lit purple sign that read, 'de Santos' ! We had arrived! I was awe struck. I shouted, "There it is!" as the taxi driver slammed on the brakes, lurching my torso dangerously close to the dashboard.
Thankfully, since she drove us out of the way and took up a lot of our time, the fare was only about five dollars; which is a steal considering how much distance she traveled to get where we were. Regardless, we were just happy to be so close to eating. As we walked inside, we immediately noticed the "club-like" atmosphere of the establishment. There was a DJ on a second floor that looked to feature a dance floor with tables around the perimeter, and the lights in the entire place were very dim. There was loud music pumping bass into the expanse of the bottom floor, which featured a very long bar and surprisingly few tables. The hostess greeted us and asked for our reservations. Oh dear. We were so hungry to leave the hotel we had forgotten to ask the concierge to make reservations on our behalf. I told her that we had none, to which she replied that they didn't have any tables. Noticing ample space at the bar, I asked if that was an acceptable location for dining, to which she confirmed and allowed us to proceed. I was feeling pretty good about myself being able to converse the way that I had in the Spanish language on this evening, so I wanted to celebrate; with a nice steak.
I had heard nothing but good things about the quality of beef in Mexico, since every employee in Raleigh had suggested I get a steak while I have the chance, and that it was "the best cut of meat" they had ever tasted. After a quick glance at the menu I ordered the Ribeye, which was served with some kind of mashed potato and salad greens. After translating the menu for my colleagues, we ordered some cold brews and proceeded to watch the scenery. As it turned out, we had arrived right at the beginning of the dinner rush, as there was now a long line out the door. Most of the people coming into the restaurant were dressed up like they were going to the club, either that or the beach since most of the guys had sunglasses on. Regardless, it wasn't long before our dinners came out, which is precisely the moment that I soiled myself.
My steak was quite easily the largest portion of steak that I had ever had in front of me. Not only was it large, but it was served on top of the mashed potatoes, which were in turn on top of the salad greens, which is EXACTLY how I would've eaten my meal anyway! What marvelous joy this provided me with! I didn't even need to play with my food, I could just dive in! For anybody that knows me this is a rarity; and my only complaint about this presentation was that they forgot to enclose these three layers of deliciousness between two slices of bread. Despite this fact, I began to "dig in", as they say. The steak was cooked just right, with enough blood to make me feel like a barbarian, but also cooked enough for me to not get Salmonella or E. Coli or Tape worms. It was juicy like a watermelon and tasted of pure win. The mashed potatoes were salty, with a hint of bacon and chives, and the fact that every bite of steak brought along with it a taste of creamy mashed potatoes and bacon just made my brain joygasm. It was a fantastic meal, and a spectacular steak that will not be soon forgotten. I can't say it was the "finest cut of meat" that I've ever tasted, but it certainly was the best in terms of presentation since I didn't have to do any work before devouring it. As we paid our checks I asked myself, "How could this day get any better?" Well I'll tell you how it could get better: with another adventure!
We left the restaurant and wandered out towards the street, which wasn't the best place to be standing considering it was basically a highway entry ramp; however it only took a matter of seconds to flag down a taxi. As we piled into the vehicle, I once again took the passenger seat and instructed the driver to take us to the hotel. Thankfully, every taxi driver so far knew the location of "Hotel Presidente", so explaining where we were going was never a problem. With a quick nod we were off, as the taxi driver took us on a very unexpected route, which looked nothing like the route we had used to get there. It was about ten minutes before we were in sight of the hotel, which was either impressive on his part or depressing on the first taxi lady's part; and it was about five seconds too late when I shouted "Presidente!" as we sped past the hotel at 100 kilometers per hour. The driver immediately face-palmed himself and apologized as we headed in the direction of Taco & Charley's. As the driver came around the traffic circle to head back the other way, he was very apologetic. I told him not to worry about it and quickly realized that we were now passing the hotel in the opposite direction.
Unsure whether he was more comfortable making right-hand turns into the hotel, I hesitated before asking, "Are we going to El Presidente", to which he replied with another face-palm. I felt really bad at this point and didn't know whether I had done something wrong to make this guy continually forget where we were going. Either way, he made a sharp and violent turn onto a back street as I kept my eye on the skyline. I didn't know where we were, so being at the driver's mercy, I had no choice but to watch the top of the hotel peeking out to keep my bearings. We were within two blocks of the hotel when I finally realized that once again, the driver had passed the street that the hotel was on. Now this adventure had officially become extremely ridiculous, bordering on ludicrous. As a last ditch effort I told him to look at the towering black building on the skyline, and that was our destination. Hopefully this would be the last face-palm of the evening, and it was only another minute or so before he pulled into the hotel entrance. Going the wrong way, and blocking all traffic from leaving. Spectacular. We paid the man and tried not to wonder how many shots of tequila he was on; however it was hard to imagine a sober person performing the way that he had.
That night, as I relaxed to a healthy dose of Austin Powers I thought about my amazing day. Not only did I experience two spectacular meals, but I had two adventures within two hours of each other. I felt truly blessed at that moment, and as they say in such times: Effin A, Cotton. Effin A...
October 27, 2008
The Dash Don't Be Silent
Before I get back to my adventures, let me share a lol with you. This came from drunkcyclist.com and I just don't know what to say...
Day 10, Tuesday.
I fell into a nasty habit of watching fire ants while waiting for my taxi after work. There was a concrete block that I would sit on, which was surrounded by a few inches of dirt in every direction. The first few days of sitting on that spot I noticed an ant or two, but never really cared to pay them any attention. After a few days I noticed something peculiar about the ants. What drew my attention was that there were multiple kinds of ants, and they weren't fighting. They would walk up to each other, sniff, and continue working together to carry food back to their nest, which they shared. Some of these ants had gigantic, bulbous, bright red heads, with a dark brown body. Others were long, red, and skinny, while others still were standard black carpenter ants. After the first time that I noticed this, I went home to research the ants that were indigenous to Mexico and learned a neat fact.
Fire ants are aggressive creatures, yet they don't always kill their enemies. Many times they will "recruit" other species of ants after a decisive win against their colony. After enough death has been extolled onto the opposing nest, they round up the survivors and use recruitment pheromones to force their newfound friends into working for their colony. These new "recruits" are enslaved and forced into labor camps, where they will eventually expire and are then used for food. Also, fire ants don't typically have a one-queen colony. Since their tunnels can be anywhere from 50 to 100 feet long, they'll sometimes have multiple queens, each with their own dedicated throne room. Once a queen dies, the colony does not go batshit insane, they simply reallocate the dead queen's food to another chamber. Then they eat her...
I heard the familiar sound of cheap tires on the cobble stone parking lot, and looked up from my fascinating foray into the secret lives of ants. My taxi had arrived, and the driver looked way too excited to be stuck in a car all day when it was 80 degrees and humid. As we made our way out of the technology campus and barreled down the highway towards a wall of parked vehicles the driver started squawking on his CB radio. After a few exchanges with dispatch he turned around to face me and said, "Traffic accident!" in the way that you announce that your friend is coming over with a bottle of Maker's Mark after the kegs are all tapped.
After nearly 30 minutes of stop and go driving we finally got to the scene of the accident, which was only about 10 miles away from our starting point. To be quite honest I don't know the full extent of the damage, or how many cars were involved. I was only able to positively ID two of the damaged cars. The first was a small, black Chevy that looked much like an Aveo. This car was resting in the middle of the highway on its driver side door. There was a policeman standing on top of the car, peering out into the mass of backed-up cars. The second suspect car was some kind of Toyota pickup. This vehicle was teetering on the edge of the highway, with its front end dangling over an off-ramp that dropped down below street level. The damage to this vehicle was minimal, and it may have just so happened to received the wrong end of the stick, if you know what I mean.
Now, why did I say that I didn't know how many cars were involved in this accident? Well, there were a number of cars parked on the side of the road, and there were people standing everywhere. Some people had walked over from buildings that lined the highway, and some were sitting in their cars peering out from the shoulders. Almost every single car that wasn't moving however, had some type of damage to the body. I don't know whether this damage was as a direct result of the accident, or if these folks simply had the misfortune of experience fender benders prior to this episode. Regardless, there was a lot of confusion and a lot of mayhem everywhere. I didn't see any people that appeared hurt, or in need of assistance so at least there was one positive. After we passed the scene, it was a quick 20 minutes back to the hotel for some quality time in the Lobby bar.
October 17, 2008
Epic Win
Sorry that I haven't been keeping up with the posts (I know you've been dying to hear about the rest of my trip), but work has been hectic as of late. Also, getting back to the States has allowed me to return to my favorite past-time, video games... With the recent release of Star Wars: The Force Unleashed and the awesomely-retro Mega Man 9, I've been pretty consumed. Recently I was admiring the work of Destructoid's craineum, who's building an amazing Mega Man costume for his son and came across the picture that's after the jump.
That picture alone inspired this blog post. I don't know why, and I'm sorry if you don't get it. It's just one of those things that brings back fond memories of playing Mega Man games with Taylor on his NES 2. Yes those were the days... The early 90's, writing video game reviews in the Abraham Lincoln school newspaper. And also Santa's Workshop. I knew that I was supposed to be a good boy and buy my family's christmas gifts there, but why did they have action figures? The sweetest action figures that you couldn't find anywhere else...
I promise that I will continue to chronicle my trip to Mexico! I have a draft post that I need to finish..... In fact I think I may have started that one on the airplane back to the US. It's coming though, don't worry. I won't play any video games until it's done :)
That picture alone inspired this blog post. I don't know why, and I'm sorry if you don't get it. It's just one of those things that brings back fond memories of playing Mega Man games with Taylor on his NES 2. Yes those were the days... The early 90's, writing video game reviews in the Abraham Lincoln school newspaper. And also Santa's Workshop. I knew that I was supposed to be a good boy and buy my family's christmas gifts there, but why did they have action figures? The sweetest action figures that you couldn't find anywhere else...
I promise that I will continue to chronicle my trip to Mexico! I have a draft post that I need to finish..... In fact I think I may have started that one on the airplane back to the US. It's coming though, don't worry. I won't play any video games until it's done :)
October 11, 2008
Friggin' Nihilists
There are few details of my trip to Mexico that are worth speaking of, and even fewer still that are worth writing about. On my first weekend I wandered around and took some photographs of the area surrounding the hotel. During the week I got into a nasty habit of work, eat, sleep; however there was one slight peculiarity that really got my heart going. Or rather my stomach...
Day 9. Realization
I hastily carried my tray back to the table. I had become quite used to not really knowing what I was eating, and just nodding and pointing through the steamy glass to pick out my meals in the cafeteria. There were plenty of people in line and I didn't want to anger anybody with my ignorance to Spanish cafeteria culture. Today was my first Monday in what I soon realized was a weekly lunch schedule, and Mondays were always a Cordon Bleu entree. As I sat down and greeted my fellow employees I couldn't help but think about work. Today I didn't have the pleasure of listening intently to decipher whose butt the guys were staring at or what kind of car they wanted to race; no my mind was stuck in code. As I took the first bite of my Chicken Cordon Bleu I was delighted by the creamy cheesiness of whatever had been stuffed inside of the breast. The breading on the outside of the chicken was just light enough that it didn't make the dish taste greasy, but rather perfectly complimented the creamy innards. As I thought about context-sensitive ignore cases for the baseboard management controller's system event log I took a sip of my orange flavored pop. The cool, citrus refreshment calmed the warm and gooey feeling in my tummy and was very satisfying. I went back to cutting pieces out of my piece of chicken when my stomach lurched and I suddenly was overcome by a feeling of great horror and acute sadness.
There were only two bites of my chicken left. I had been so lost in thought that I hadn't even noticed how quickly I had been eating. In fact, I might have even been inhaling; as it's hard to say otherwise. My mouth was agape and my stomach was doing somersaults as I stared at the bright pink center of my chicken breast. It was so uncooked that I thought I could still see the intact tendons of the once living bird. I had been eating not just undercooked chicken but raw, fresh from the freezer chicken that had probably been battered and flash fried by a careless kitchen employee. I was frozen in disbelief. I was going to die; alone and scared in Mexico. From eating raw chicken, no less. What a lame way to go.
It may have been ten minutes before my brain kicked in. I ate my grape jello and wondered how quickly salmonella would destroy my very being. I wondered if I could stick it out until the end of my work day or if I'd have to leave early and curl up on the side of the highway like a deer struck by a tractor-trailer. As I took one last slurp of delicious jello I took a closer look at my chicken dish and thought I saw something familar. A piece of the raw chicken had flaked away and revealed itself to be in a perfect square shape. That was odd; how could that happen? I used my fork with a surgeon's precision to dissect the chicken only to realize my folly; Chicken Cordon Bleu has ham mixed into the cheesy, creamy stuffing. My chicken wasn't undercooked I was just stupid.
Phew. No death on this day.
After this revelation I was free to finish the delicious chicken, that had only seconds before caused me to nearly have a panic attack and run out of the cafeteria screaming like a mad man. It was very yummy in my tummy. As we all finished eating and took our lunch-time walk across the parking lot, my colleagues kept asking me if I was home sick. I guess I hadn't really been paying attention and my mind was still running cycles and visualizing recovery code execution paths. Homesick? Yes, I guess a little bit. But mostly just lost in thought. When we returned from lunch, I got to work on saving the world with my fingers. I pounded away on my laptop's tiny, cramped keyboard and didn't stop until my problems had been vanquished. At 5:30 Central time they shut the Air Conditioning off. Then at 7:00 they shut the lights off. Thankfully I had just fixed the problem, and the world would survive to see another day. Feeling pretty good about myself, I made my way to the receptionist's desk and asked her, "¿Puede llamarme un taxi?", which she complied.
We were going home. We? Yes we. As in the royal we. Don't worry; the Dude Abides. I don't know about you but I take comfort in that. It's good knowin' he's out there. The Dude. Takin' 'er easy for all us sinners. Shoosh. I sure hope he makes the finals. I guess that's the way the whole durned human comedy keeps perpetuatin' itself. In case you haven't guessed it by the nonsense at the beginning of this paragraph, The Big Lebowski was on Golden when I arrived home. So I called up room service, ordered some salad (I know, I know... bad idea) and enjoyed one of the finest films of all time.
Despite everything, this was a good day.
Day 9. Realization
I hastily carried my tray back to the table. I had become quite used to not really knowing what I was eating, and just nodding and pointing through the steamy glass to pick out my meals in the cafeteria. There were plenty of people in line and I didn't want to anger anybody with my ignorance to Spanish cafeteria culture. Today was my first Monday in what I soon realized was a weekly lunch schedule, and Mondays were always a Cordon Bleu entree. As I sat down and greeted my fellow employees I couldn't help but think about work. Today I didn't have the pleasure of listening intently to decipher whose butt the guys were staring at or what kind of car they wanted to race; no my mind was stuck in code. As I took the first bite of my Chicken Cordon Bleu I was delighted by the creamy cheesiness of whatever had been stuffed inside of the breast. The breading on the outside of the chicken was just light enough that it didn't make the dish taste greasy, but rather perfectly complimented the creamy innards. As I thought about context-sensitive ignore cases for the baseboard management controller's system event log I took a sip of my orange flavored pop. The cool, citrus refreshment calmed the warm and gooey feeling in my tummy and was very satisfying. I went back to cutting pieces out of my piece of chicken when my stomach lurched and I suddenly was overcome by a feeling of great horror and acute sadness.
There were only two bites of my chicken left. I had been so lost in thought that I hadn't even noticed how quickly I had been eating. In fact, I might have even been inhaling; as it's hard to say otherwise. My mouth was agape and my stomach was doing somersaults as I stared at the bright pink center of my chicken breast. It was so uncooked that I thought I could still see the intact tendons of the once living bird. I had been eating not just undercooked chicken but raw, fresh from the freezer chicken that had probably been battered and flash fried by a careless kitchen employee. I was frozen in disbelief. I was going to die; alone and scared in Mexico. From eating raw chicken, no less. What a lame way to go.
It may have been ten minutes before my brain kicked in. I ate my grape jello and wondered how quickly salmonella would destroy my very being. I wondered if I could stick it out until the end of my work day or if I'd have to leave early and curl up on the side of the highway like a deer struck by a tractor-trailer. As I took one last slurp of delicious jello I took a closer look at my chicken dish and thought I saw something familar. A piece of the raw chicken had flaked away and revealed itself to be in a perfect square shape. That was odd; how could that happen? I used my fork with a surgeon's precision to dissect the chicken only to realize my folly; Chicken Cordon Bleu has ham mixed into the cheesy, creamy stuffing. My chicken wasn't undercooked I was just stupid.
Phew. No death on this day.
After this revelation I was free to finish the delicious chicken, that had only seconds before caused me to nearly have a panic attack and run out of the cafeteria screaming like a mad man. It was very yummy in my tummy. As we all finished eating and took our lunch-time walk across the parking lot, my colleagues kept asking me if I was home sick. I guess I hadn't really been paying attention and my mind was still running cycles and visualizing recovery code execution paths. Homesick? Yes, I guess a little bit. But mostly just lost in thought. When we returned from lunch, I got to work on saving the world with my fingers. I pounded away on my laptop's tiny, cramped keyboard and didn't stop until my problems had been vanquished. At 5:30 Central time they shut the Air Conditioning off. Then at 7:00 they shut the lights off. Thankfully I had just fixed the problem, and the world would survive to see another day. Feeling pretty good about myself, I made my way to the receptionist's desk and asked her, "¿Puede llamarme un taxi?", which she complied.
We were going home. We? Yes we. As in the royal we. Don't worry; the Dude Abides. I don't know about you but I take comfort in that. It's good knowin' he's out there. The Dude. Takin' 'er easy for all us sinners. Shoosh. I sure hope he makes the finals. I guess that's the way the whole durned human comedy keeps perpetuatin' itself. In case you haven't guessed it by the nonsense at the beginning of this paragraph, The Big Lebowski was on Golden when I arrived home. So I called up room service, ordered some salad (I know, I know... bad idea) and enjoyed one of the finest films of all time.
Despite everything, this was a good day.
October 10, 2008
September 27, 2008
Reminding me why I didn't pursue basketball
Day Five, Assimilation.
Today would be nothing like the previous day. When my alarm sputtered into my ear at 6 a.m. I got out of bed. On this day, my first task was to shower and being that I had a couple of years to practice this task, I was quite adept. I felt bad for whoever was on the other side of the wall to my shower, but only slightly, as I was singing "Dance, Magic Dance" as made famous by David Bowie from the 1986 Jim Henson movie Labyrinth. And before you ask, yes I was even doing the "You remind me of a babe. What babe? The babe with the power..." part. At ten minutes to 7 I sat down at my hotel room's desk to attempt to figure out how to dial into a conference call using the hotel phone. My list of materials to accomplish this task was extensive: AT&T calling card, instruction sheet for said calling card, hotel binder with instructions for dialing the US, laptop with conference call phone number information, hotel phone, hard surface on which to bang forehead. As it turns out, this would be the most difficult and aneurysm-causing part of my entire trip.
First I tried the most logical of options and followed the instructions on the calling card. It instructed me to first dial my country of origin's international access line listed on the opposite side. Easy. I then dialed my patch-through number listed on the back of the calling card, and waited for the prompt. A friendly computer told me to dial the number that I was trying to reach, so I did. Not a valid number. Okay, let's try this again only this time I'll add the "001" for reaching the US, which took me to the next prompt: enter in my access code from the front of the calling card. A different, but equally as friendly computer told me that I was not authorized to do "this". How helpful and informative of an error message. So was I unauthorized to dial to the United States or unauthorized to use this card? I tried again, and again, and again using different combinations of numbers to attempt to reach the US. I even tried directly dialing the number without any calling card, which took me to a message in Spanish that while I didn't understand, I could at least make out a maniacal "Ha ha ha". Eventually I was able to figure out that repeatedly hitting zero while conversing with the helpful calling card computer took me to an operator. She said that I should not be able to reach the number that I was calling but she would put me through anyway. Ok, thanks? I think that little piece of advice may have actually been even less informative than the generic message I got from the computer. At least I made the meeting...
And that's it. No really, the rest of the day is so boring that when I try to type out any details the upper half of my body slumps over as I pass out from boredom. To avoid any cerebral damage ( for both you and I ) I'll give you the basic run down: I had my ID badge so I didn't have any problems getting into/around IBM, I knew what to expect from the taxi ride, so while it was still harrowing, I wasn't sweating bullets. I spoke a little bit of Spanish here and there, and I ended up staying at work until about 7:30 Guad time, then working from the hotel for the remainder of the night. I saved the world a few times in the process, but really no big deal. I did however find my new favorite Mexican beer while working in the Hotel lobby bar, which is called Tecate. It's a lighter beer, and it's nothing like Corona. So hooray. Anyway, let's pretend this day never happened, shall we? Excellent. Moving on...
Day Six, Friday!! Victory.
Today started out much like the day prior, as I found myself repeatedly slamming my forehead into the marble desk in my hotel room before leaving the hotel and heading to work. During the 40 minute trek across Jalisco (the state that Guadalajara is in), I thought about how much nicer the taxi rides in the morning are compared to those on the way home. I realized that the taxi drivers that wait at the hotel are much more capable of driving a standard transmission, so there is much less jerking and neck snapping during the full speed, four-way merge process. It's funny how excited I get as we pull into IBM, narrowly missing the speeding cars on the highway, as I get to pull out my badge and hold it proudly towards the guards for admittance to the technology campus. And it's also funny how not excited I was when I was quietly minding my own business, working at my desk when a very loud and obnoxious klaxon started going off. Okay, I admit, that was a dumb statement. Have you ever heard a klaxon that wasn't loud and annoying? Didn't think so.
There were blue lights flashing and I had no idea what was happening. Was the building on fire? A chemical leak? I didn't know whether I should fish the key out of my pocket and untether my laptop from its security cable in case there truly was an emergency, but since nobody else seemed to be taking their belongings, I decided against it. I followed the flow of employees out into the hallway and down a metal staircase into a parking lot where I immediately noticed that familiar, smug look of the militant snobs who hold the stop watch and mark down the time of each group of employees to see how long it takes them to get out of the building during a fire-drill. They were in fact so asinine today that they were making us line up according to how fast we made it out of the building. I was one row over from the "<2 min." sign. Yeah, they actually had signs stuck into parking cones so as to better identify the success/failure (life/death) of their employees. The sun was beating down on us, and I was profusely sweating in my jeans and polo. As I glanced around at the rest of the employees I noticed that many of them had jackets and sweaters on, and nobody seemed to be warm in the slightest. I guess living your whole life in such warm conditions slightly skews your perception of hot and cold. A number of people started moving up and down the rows to my right, giving stickers to the people who "survived" the emergency. I didn't know whether to be jealous of the stickers or appalled that they were treating their employees like fifth graders, but before I made up my mind a woman with a megaphone appeared out of thin air and started berating those of us there were too slow to deserve a sticker. I don't know exactly what she said, but the people around me were groaning as if they were being told they had to work non-stop through the rest of the weekend. After an exceedingly obnoxious amount of time standing in the sun, we were finally allowed to go back inside. The rest of the day was business as usual, except for my occasional urge to trip somebody as they walked through my cube snake flashing their sticker on their shirt like they won some kind of prize. Around one o'clock in the afternoon on the way to the cafeteria with my usual crowd, I learned that a number of years prior on this exact date a massive, terrible earthquake rocked this portion of Mexico. Every year since, on the anniversary of the quake, they have this emergency fire drill as a reminder that another quake could strike at any time. I also learned that I was lost? I don't know why, but it seems that my entire life has been plagued with people losing me. First there was Wildwood, NJ and then numerous trips to Gabriel Brothers, and now this. Apparently, nobody could find me during the fire drill, meanwhile I was walking out with the rest of the employees seated around me. The guy that sits directly behind me said that he got up to leave and did not see me sitting at my desk, yet somehow he was in the less than two minute line. So he insists that I had to have left before him, yet he made it out before me. Well somehow this sparked a chain reaction with him calling all of my IBM contacts on site to make sure somebody was taking care of me. Nobody seems to believe that I can take care of myself for some reason. When I was "lost" in Wildwood I was taking care of myself just fine eating scraps of food out of the sand and bedding down in perfectly acceptable sand dunes for rest when I needed it. I was okay then, and my family freaked out. I was okay now, and my fellow IBM employees freaked. Oh well, that will have to be a mystery left unsolved. The rest of the day was spent in anticipation of the night's activities. Earlier in the week I had been briefed that every Friday is basketball and drinking for the Guad guys, wherein they literally play basketball and then go out drinking all night. It sounded like a great time, so I had been waiting all week to play and it was finally the end of the work day. Time to venture into the unknown again... David, Daniel and I headed out into the parking lot and loaded our belongings into Daniel's hatchback Honda. We drove across the parking lot towards a secluded section of the capus that was mostly fenced off. We parked the car and headed to an employee rest area where we all changed into our basketball clothes. The entire time I couldn't help but wonder where this basketball court was, as I had only seen a soccer field on the way to the rest area. Once we were all changed and ready, we headed directly into the soccer field, or at least what remained of a soccer field. The goals were decrepid and falling apart, as their nets barely clung to their frames. The field itself was extremely unkempt and the grass itched my knees as we journeyed across the near side, behind one of the goals. There had recently been a rain storm that had passed through the area so my tennis shoes sank into the earth, and water splashed on my ankles with each soggy step. Got to the edge of the field, which was bordered by what looked to be a moat, but may just as well have been an open-air sewage or irrigation system. As we climbed through a broken piece of fence I couldn't help but wonder if what we were doing was even allowed. We followed along the moat for about 30 yards before coming to a make-shift bridge. We had to cross this bridge individually as it wobbled and shook, bringing with each step the liklihood that it would go crashing down into the stagnant water below. Upon reaching the opposite side, we went back in the direction that we had come, squeezing sideways between two fences. Once we rounded the corner of the inner fence I could see the basketball court. The weeds that we were trodding through on this leg of the journey were even higher and more irritating than the high grass on the soccer field, but eventually we were able to climb through another section of broken fence to firmly plant our feet on the basketball court. The recent rain storm had deposited three large pools of water on the court, which were hastily being swept off the court with the help of an old broom and a few bunches of palm fronds. Those that weren't helping to clear the water were practicing their shots at the side of the court nearest the area that we entered. After a quick introduction, I took my place in the rotation and tried my best to appear to have the ability to shoot a basket. This was ultimately a complete failure, and I might have made two shots out of fifteen. It had been about fourteen years since I had played a proper game of basketball, and I was having a heated internal struggle trying to mentally prepare myself for what was about to take place. The first game started poorly. At first, I was running the length of the court just to make it look like I was contributing. I didn't touch the ball in the first fifteen minutes and once I did, I wished that I hadn't. It was a direct pass from one of my teammates, which I immediately lost control of and allowed to bounce out of bounds. It was a number of plays later before I would touch the ball again, and this time I made sure to give up the ball almost immediately. After a few other touches I finally had a perfect opportunity to shoot. It would seem that the opposing team had caught on to my inabliity to do anything and left me without a blocking defender. I received a quick bounce pass, put the ball up, and tossed. I had awful form, and always have but somehow the ball managed to find its way into the basket. It was a good feeling to have scored a point, even though our team was losing. It was not so good of a feeling that for the remainder of the game, I did nothing else to positively contribute to our team. The next two games were even worse. I was failing miserably at every aspect of basketball, and our team lost three games in a row. This made me a sad panda. I was having a hard time breathing, I was ready to give up and worst of all, I felt like I had let my team down. They asked if I wanted to play once more and not wanting to look like a quitter, I agreed; however this time they had intended to switch up the teams by switching the best and worst player (me) from each team. The game started off on the wrong foot, as the opposing team scored four unanswered points. Our defense got it together and slowed their scoring down, while the faster players managed to tighten the score gap. It was looking grim for our team, especially considering my contribution as of yet, which made it seem like a game of 5 on 4, when suddenly something strange happened. We were down by two points, and somehow my quick and awkward hands managed to block a shot and take control of the ball. One of my teammates was already at half court, so I "tossed him the rock". I thought this was a sure score, but somehow their defense caught up to him and forced him to miss. Luckily, he got the rebound and after a few key passes, the ball came to me. I was wide-open and very far away from the basket, yet for some reason I took the shot. It was awkward at best, with the ball spining in directions that you don't normally see, and after a few moments of silence, there was only the swoosh of a job well done. We were only down by one now. We stopped them from scoring and drove back to their side of the court. Within a few passes I found myself open again, and in almost the exact same position. A quick bounce pass to me, and another point for our team. I was feeling pretty damn good about myself right about then. We were tied, and for the first time in all four games my team was not behind... On the next play the same set up, but this time I didn't try to shoot. Instead, I caught movement out of the corner of my eye and did a very awkward bounce pass to one of my teammates moving across underneath the basket, who thew a layup and got our team in the lead. After finally attaining a lead, our team was able to seal the deal quickly; and the best part was that I had the pleasure of knowing I actually contributed.
After basketball, we left the technology campus and headed about a mile down the highway to a little bar called Pino's, which was quite literally on the side of the highway. We odered a 20 gallon bucket full of bottled beer, and drank the rest of the night away. The waitress would bring us ramdom plates of snacks such as spiced assorted nuts, sliced cucumbers mixed with slivers of hotdogs, weird fried little funyun-type things drenched in hot sauce, and bowls full of sliced lime. After our second bucket of beer, we called it a night and I got a taxi ride back to the hotel. As I lay in bed that night, watching Golden I thought about how awesome it was to hang out with the Mexicans that evening. I had a great time playing basketball, and had lots of laughs at Pino's. Even though I couldn't understand every single thing we had talked about that night, I was quite positive that this was the most vulgar group of people I had ever been involved with. And that made me smile.
Today would be nothing like the previous day. When my alarm sputtered into my ear at 6 a.m. I got out of bed. On this day, my first task was to shower and being that I had a couple of years to practice this task, I was quite adept. I felt bad for whoever was on the other side of the wall to my shower, but only slightly, as I was singing "Dance, Magic Dance" as made famous by David Bowie from the 1986 Jim Henson movie Labyrinth. And before you ask, yes I was even doing the "You remind me of a babe. What babe? The babe with the power..." part. At ten minutes to 7 I sat down at my hotel room's desk to attempt to figure out how to dial into a conference call using the hotel phone. My list of materials to accomplish this task was extensive: AT&T calling card, instruction sheet for said calling card, hotel binder with instructions for dialing the US, laptop with conference call phone number information, hotel phone, hard surface on which to bang forehead. As it turns out, this would be the most difficult and aneurysm-causing part of my entire trip.
First I tried the most logical of options and followed the instructions on the calling card. It instructed me to first dial my country of origin's international access line listed on the opposite side. Easy. I then dialed my patch-through number listed on the back of the calling card, and waited for the prompt. A friendly computer told me to dial the number that I was trying to reach, so I did. Not a valid number. Okay, let's try this again only this time I'll add the "001" for reaching the US, which took me to the next prompt: enter in my access code from the front of the calling card. A different, but equally as friendly computer told me that I was not authorized to do "this". How helpful and informative of an error message. So was I unauthorized to dial to the United States or unauthorized to use this card? I tried again, and again, and again using different combinations of numbers to attempt to reach the US. I even tried directly dialing the number without any calling card, which took me to a message in Spanish that while I didn't understand, I could at least make out a maniacal "Ha ha ha". Eventually I was able to figure out that repeatedly hitting zero while conversing with the helpful calling card computer took me to an operator. She said that I should not be able to reach the number that I was calling but she would put me through anyway. Ok, thanks? I think that little piece of advice may have actually been even less informative than the generic message I got from the computer. At least I made the meeting...
And that's it. No really, the rest of the day is so boring that when I try to type out any details the upper half of my body slumps over as I pass out from boredom. To avoid any cerebral damage ( for both you and I ) I'll give you the basic run down: I had my ID badge so I didn't have any problems getting into/around IBM, I knew what to expect from the taxi ride, so while it was still harrowing, I wasn't sweating bullets. I spoke a little bit of Spanish here and there, and I ended up staying at work until about 7:30 Guad time, then working from the hotel for the remainder of the night. I saved the world a few times in the process, but really no big deal. I did however find my new favorite Mexican beer while working in the Hotel lobby bar, which is called Tecate. It's a lighter beer, and it's nothing like Corona. So hooray. Anyway, let's pretend this day never happened, shall we? Excellent. Moving on...
Day Six, Friday!! Victory.
Today started out much like the day prior, as I found myself repeatedly slamming my forehead into the marble desk in my hotel room before leaving the hotel and heading to work. During the 40 minute trek across Jalisco (the state that Guadalajara is in), I thought about how much nicer the taxi rides in the morning are compared to those on the way home. I realized that the taxi drivers that wait at the hotel are much more capable of driving a standard transmission, so there is much less jerking and neck snapping during the full speed, four-way merge process. It's funny how excited I get as we pull into IBM, narrowly missing the speeding cars on the highway, as I get to pull out my badge and hold it proudly towards the guards for admittance to the technology campus. And it's also funny how not excited I was when I was quietly minding my own business, working at my desk when a very loud and obnoxious klaxon started going off. Okay, I admit, that was a dumb statement. Have you ever heard a klaxon that wasn't loud and annoying? Didn't think so.
There were blue lights flashing and I had no idea what was happening. Was the building on fire? A chemical leak? I didn't know whether I should fish the key out of my pocket and untether my laptop from its security cable in case there truly was an emergency, but since nobody else seemed to be taking their belongings, I decided against it. I followed the flow of employees out into the hallway and down a metal staircase into a parking lot where I immediately noticed that familiar, smug look of the militant snobs who hold the stop watch and mark down the time of each group of employees to see how long it takes them to get out of the building during a fire-drill. They were in fact so asinine today that they were making us line up according to how fast we made it out of the building. I was one row over from the "<2 min." sign. Yeah, they actually had signs stuck into parking cones so as to better identify the success/failure (life/death) of their employees. The sun was beating down on us, and I was profusely sweating in my jeans and polo. As I glanced around at the rest of the employees I noticed that many of them had jackets and sweaters on, and nobody seemed to be warm in the slightest. I guess living your whole life in such warm conditions slightly skews your perception of hot and cold. A number of people started moving up and down the rows to my right, giving stickers to the people who "survived" the emergency. I didn't know whether to be jealous of the stickers or appalled that they were treating their employees like fifth graders, but before I made up my mind a woman with a megaphone appeared out of thin air and started berating those of us there were too slow to deserve a sticker. I don't know exactly what she said, but the people around me were groaning as if they were being told they had to work non-stop through the rest of the weekend. After an exceedingly obnoxious amount of time standing in the sun, we were finally allowed to go back inside. The rest of the day was business as usual, except for my occasional urge to trip somebody as they walked through my cube snake flashing their sticker on their shirt like they won some kind of prize. Around one o'clock in the afternoon on the way to the cafeteria with my usual crowd, I learned that a number of years prior on this exact date a massive, terrible earthquake rocked this portion of Mexico. Every year since, on the anniversary of the quake, they have this emergency fire drill as a reminder that another quake could strike at any time. I also learned that I was lost? I don't know why, but it seems that my entire life has been plagued with people losing me. First there was Wildwood, NJ and then numerous trips to Gabriel Brothers, and now this. Apparently, nobody could find me during the fire drill, meanwhile I was walking out with the rest of the employees seated around me. The guy that sits directly behind me said that he got up to leave and did not see me sitting at my desk, yet somehow he was in the less than two minute line. So he insists that I had to have left before him, yet he made it out before me. Well somehow this sparked a chain reaction with him calling all of my IBM contacts on site to make sure somebody was taking care of me. Nobody seems to believe that I can take care of myself for some reason. When I was "lost" in Wildwood I was taking care of myself just fine eating scraps of food out of the sand and bedding down in perfectly acceptable sand dunes for rest when I needed it. I was okay then, and my family freaked out. I was okay now, and my fellow IBM employees freaked. Oh well, that will have to be a mystery left unsolved. The rest of the day was spent in anticipation of the night's activities. Earlier in the week I had been briefed that every Friday is basketball and drinking for the Guad guys, wherein they literally play basketball and then go out drinking all night. It sounded like a great time, so I had been waiting all week to play and it was finally the end of the work day. Time to venture into the unknown again... David, Daniel and I headed out into the parking lot and loaded our belongings into Daniel's hatchback Honda. We drove across the parking lot towards a secluded section of the capus that was mostly fenced off. We parked the car and headed to an employee rest area where we all changed into our basketball clothes. The entire time I couldn't help but wonder where this basketball court was, as I had only seen a soccer field on the way to the rest area. Once we were all changed and ready, we headed directly into the soccer field, or at least what remained of a soccer field. The goals were decrepid and falling apart, as their nets barely clung to their frames. The field itself was extremely unkempt and the grass itched my knees as we journeyed across the near side, behind one of the goals. There had recently been a rain storm that had passed through the area so my tennis shoes sank into the earth, and water splashed on my ankles with each soggy step. Got to the edge of the field, which was bordered by what looked to be a moat, but may just as well have been an open-air sewage or irrigation system. As we climbed through a broken piece of fence I couldn't help but wonder if what we were doing was even allowed. We followed along the moat for about 30 yards before coming to a make-shift bridge. We had to cross this bridge individually as it wobbled and shook, bringing with each step the liklihood that it would go crashing down into the stagnant water below. Upon reaching the opposite side, we went back in the direction that we had come, squeezing sideways between two fences. Once we rounded the corner of the inner fence I could see the basketball court. The weeds that we were trodding through on this leg of the journey were even higher and more irritating than the high grass on the soccer field, but eventually we were able to climb through another section of broken fence to firmly plant our feet on the basketball court. The recent rain storm had deposited three large pools of water on the court, which were hastily being swept off the court with the help of an old broom and a few bunches of palm fronds. Those that weren't helping to clear the water were practicing their shots at the side of the court nearest the area that we entered. After a quick introduction, I took my place in the rotation and tried my best to appear to have the ability to shoot a basket. This was ultimately a complete failure, and I might have made two shots out of fifteen. It had been about fourteen years since I had played a proper game of basketball, and I was having a heated internal struggle trying to mentally prepare myself for what was about to take place. The first game started poorly. At first, I was running the length of the court just to make it look like I was contributing. I didn't touch the ball in the first fifteen minutes and once I did, I wished that I hadn't. It was a direct pass from one of my teammates, which I immediately lost control of and allowed to bounce out of bounds. It was a number of plays later before I would touch the ball again, and this time I made sure to give up the ball almost immediately. After a few other touches I finally had a perfect opportunity to shoot. It would seem that the opposing team had caught on to my inabliity to do anything and left me without a blocking defender. I received a quick bounce pass, put the ball up, and tossed. I had awful form, and always have but somehow the ball managed to find its way into the basket. It was a good feeling to have scored a point, even though our team was losing. It was not so good of a feeling that for the remainder of the game, I did nothing else to positively contribute to our team. The next two games were even worse. I was failing miserably at every aspect of basketball, and our team lost three games in a row. This made me a sad panda. I was having a hard time breathing, I was ready to give up and worst of all, I felt like I had let my team down. They asked if I wanted to play once more and not wanting to look like a quitter, I agreed; however this time they had intended to switch up the teams by switching the best and worst player (me) from each team. The game started off on the wrong foot, as the opposing team scored four unanswered points. Our defense got it together and slowed their scoring down, while the faster players managed to tighten the score gap. It was looking grim for our team, especially considering my contribution as of yet, which made it seem like a game of 5 on 4, when suddenly something strange happened. We were down by two points, and somehow my quick and awkward hands managed to block a shot and take control of the ball. One of my teammates was already at half court, so I "tossed him the rock". I thought this was a sure score, but somehow their defense caught up to him and forced him to miss. Luckily, he got the rebound and after a few key passes, the ball came to me. I was wide-open and very far away from the basket, yet for some reason I took the shot. It was awkward at best, with the ball spining in directions that you don't normally see, and after a few moments of silence, there was only the swoosh of a job well done. We were only down by one now. We stopped them from scoring and drove back to their side of the court. Within a few passes I found myself open again, and in almost the exact same position. A quick bounce pass to me, and another point for our team. I was feeling pretty damn good about myself right about then. We were tied, and for the first time in all four games my team was not behind... On the next play the same set up, but this time I didn't try to shoot. Instead, I caught movement out of the corner of my eye and did a very awkward bounce pass to one of my teammates moving across underneath the basket, who thew a layup and got our team in the lead. After finally attaining a lead, our team was able to seal the deal quickly; and the best part was that I had the pleasure of knowing I actually contributed.
After basketball, we left the technology campus and headed about a mile down the highway to a little bar called Pino's, which was quite literally on the side of the highway. We odered a 20 gallon bucket full of bottled beer, and drank the rest of the night away. The waitress would bring us ramdom plates of snacks such as spiced assorted nuts, sliced cucumbers mixed with slivers of hotdogs, weird fried little funyun-type things drenched in hot sauce, and bowls full of sliced lime. After our second bucket of beer, we called it a night and I got a taxi ride back to the hotel. As I lay in bed that night, watching Golden I thought about how awesome it was to hang out with the Mexicans that evening. I had a great time playing basketball, and had lots of laughs at Pino's. Even though I couldn't understand every single thing we had talked about that night, I was quite positive that this was the most vulgar group of people I had ever been involved with. And that made me smile.
September 25, 2008
The Day the Earth Stood Still
September 17, 2008. Guadalajara, Mexico. Day Four, Destiny.
Static. The alarm clock made its presence known by sputtering out distorted voices and wihte noise at well beyond the acceptable decibel level of the human ear. It was 6:00 a.m., Central Time and today was my first day to venture out to the IBM site for work. I went to bed relatively early the night before so I was feeling extremely rested and relaxed. I turned the alarm clock off and thought about what my day would be like.
The desert was beautiful. The sun was still low on the horizon and it cast long shadows before the sand dunes as I sat atop my trusty steed. I wanted to take my shirt off and wear it on my head like they do in the movies, but as I reached back to pull it over my head I was unable to feel the fabric between my fingers. Oh well, no matter: As I watched the rhythmic moveements of the muscles in the back of my horse's neck I caught a glimpse of something out of the corner of my right eye; something fast. There was a gigantic camel spider, and it was running full speed towards me. Before I had time to react it was already leaping through the air, screeching like a pterodactyl. I reached across and unsheathed the machete from the left side of my saddle. In a single motion I brought the blade across my body and down in a path that would intercept the creature. Suddenly I found myself staring at the belly of the beast as it hung, suspended in mid-air, my blade cleaving its body in two. The faint red glow emanating from its thorax read 8:00.
I leapt out of bed and shook the dream from my thoughts. It was now 8 a.m., although luckily the alarm clock was set 15 minutes fast, so I was not yet late. Speaking with the local engineers the evening prior, I learned that most people arrive on-site between 8:30 and 9:15; which gave me just enough time to throw on some clothes and head downstairs to grab a taxi, conveniently waiting in front of the hotel. The man who greeted me inside the taxi asked where I was going in English, so without hesitation I said "IBM". His response was an expression of pain and confusion on his face as he turned away from me. There was a long moment of silence while I looked around for a seatbelt, he soon turned around to face me and said, "¿A donde?". So his knowledge of English was a trick... I had to recall the Spanish alphabet as I slowly spelled out, "E, Bay, Emmay", which he understood and off we went. I still couldn't find a seatbelt...
My first taxi ride in Mexico was from the airport to the hotel. It was rather late at night and there were very few cars on the road. This, however, was an entirely different experience. As we emerged from the hotel block we immediately came to an abrupt stop amidst heavy congestion. The main road's four lanes were at a stand still with bumper to bumper traffic, and the service roads on either side were in the same condition. Since I had only been awake for approximately twenty minutes I was way too tired to pay attention to what was happening outside of the taxi, all I knew was that there were many many abrupt stops and swerving in and out of lanes. My eyes may have been closed, or I may have been in a deep haze and not noticed the taxi driver's style of driving, because honestly I don't remember thinking anything out of the ordinary.
40 minutes later we made a left turn over two lanes of highway traffic and entered the IBM/Foxconn/Sanmina-SCI/Hitachi technology campus. As we pulled up to the guard gate, the men checking badges motioned to see mine. Oh dear. I frantically searched my laptop bag, as that would be the most logical of places for me to have stored it. It wasn't there. I was horrified as I realized that in my rush to get out the door of the hotel, I forgot to look for my badge. The taxi driver was directed to the visitor's center, where I needed to get out and sort out this situation. So to the desk I proceeded, where I was met by two employees. One female, and one male. Neither of whom spoke English, and neither of whom could understand the preposterous Spanglish phrases that were spewing from my mouth. I felt like just going home and laying in bed for the rest of the day, as I felt utterly helpless.
Suddenly a golden ray of hope shone upon me as I heard, "Do you need some help?" asked of me in a Spanish accent. I looked to my left and lo and behold, my ticket inside was standing next to me. Now in retrospect, I have no idea how I would have gotten into IBM on that day without forgetting my badge, as I would never have met this man, who not only got me past the visitor's desk, but also took me to the security center to get a badge and subsequently through the catacombs of the building to the offices where my IBM contact was located, acting as my personal translator the entire way. It was hard to stop thanking him the entire way, as I was dumbfounded at my lack of preparation on my part; yet I was also amazed at my good fortune.
Once I was safely inside the IBM office area, I settled into my desk located in a long, winding continuous cube of 10 occupants, which we will refer to as a cube-snake. As if that weren't enough people to share a single space with, the "front wall" of the cube isn't even at chin-height, so you effectively share your cube-snake with the next cube-snake of residents, with your new best friend sitting across from you and staring into your soul. I found that putting my laptop in the corner of my desk allows me to avoid staring directly into the eyes of the person in front of me; however in doing so I gain two additional sideways glancing friends, always using their periphery vision to make sure you aren't concealing any weapons and in the process of launching an offensive. Boy am I glad this isn't my permanent work environment...
I ate lunch that day with a number of local employees that were a healthy mix of engineers from IBM, Sanmina-SCI, and Foxconn. They spoke completely in Spanish, were extremely vulgar, and full of jokes. We laughed almost the entire time, and my Spanish comprehension steadily grew. Furhter more, something dawned on me this first day, which explained a big mystery. Up until this point I had been eating my lunches around noon, and always found that no matter what establishment I went to, they were always completely empty. I was always utterly alone as I ate. While I may have known this as a boy, I had completely forgotten that in the Spanish culture they eat later than those of us from the United States (usually between 1 and 2 p.m.). In the very least I could declare one mystery solved... Even though I still can't figure out why people love to make out everywhere, although I have yet to see any IBM employees gratuitously making out on-site.
What I have discovered since this first day has been that eating later in the day is actually quite advantageous. Not only do you come back to work with only 3 hours ahead of you instead of 4, but you also seem to want to eat less when it comes around to be dinner time, thereby making the potential for eating something light like a salad even greater!
After my first day of work, I was feeling pretty good about myself. I got a healthy reminder-dose of Spanish, got boat loads of work done, met new friends, and learned a lot in the process. When it came time to leave, I had my IBM contact take me to the reception area so that the receptionist could call for a taxi on my behalf, which only took about ten minutes to arrive. I opened the door, sat down, and told the driver to take me to Hotel Presidente. This car did not have any seatbelts in the rear, just like the taxi from that morning, but I was not concerned as I didn't know what I was really in for. I have the feeling that if I would have relayed the information to the taxi driver of this being my first "official" taxi ride between IBM and the Hotel, he would have turned around to face me, emitted a deep, brooding laugh and then peeled out, fishtailing into two cars in the process.
As we left the IBM campus I knew something was awry. The driver's knowledge of how to drive a stick shift seemed limited, as the car jerked to and fro. As he steadied our bearing down the highway I peered through the front windshield, to bear witness to the six lanes of barely moving traffic ahead. The strange part however was that I didn't see anywhere for the highway to split from three lanes to six. As we got closer, not only did the driver not care to slow down in the slightest, but I realized that the six lanes of traffic were in fact still three marked lanes, with the cars packed so tightly together that they created their own fourth lane. Where did the other two lanes come from you may ask? Well that's simple math children, as four lanes, plus two shoulders equals six lanes of usuable space. Why let that crumbling edge of the road go to waste? I fully appreciate the fact that they are getting the most out of their tax dollars. So much so, that the next time I'm in the States and see one of those "Your tax dollars at work" signs on the highway I'm going to do donuts around it and then dig it up and mount it to my hood. If my tax dollars were used to buy that sign I think that I should own it as well as use it as a battering ram to teach cars how to drive faster.
We were well into the thick of this mess, which you could call highway grid lock, when the driver started demonstrating what I like to call the four-way merge law. Apparently, in Mexico the law is that when you are going to merge into another lane, regardless of on which side it is relative to your vehicle, and regardless of how fast you are traveling, you must only use your four way flashers to signal the merge. Any use of a single turn signal is considered weak and gutless. I guess I should have paid more attention before when I was riding in taxis so that this law didn't surprise me in the manner that it did. Now let's clear this up before anybody tries to complain: the driver was using his turn signal as we traversed and exited the IBM parking lot, so they were fully operational as we got onto the highway. This is just the law. I also began to notice that as other cars came within inches of running us off the road, they too were using their four-way flashers instead of turn signals. Nice.
Further pushing my mind into the realms of terror and shock, I found that it is completely common place to lacksidaisically drift half-way into adjacent lanes of traffic when there is an unoccupied space. Not only does this declare you as victor of two lanes at once, but it also give you twice as many opportunities to use your four-way flashers, thereby proving exaclty how gutsy you are. Any vehicle over ten feet long is also considered to be not deserving of occupying an entire lane all to itself. If a bus or tractor-trailer is mid-merge, and has yet to occupy the entirety of its recently chosen lane, it is considered good form to block the merge process by forcing at least half of your vehicle's volume into the unoccupied section of its lane. Anything less is considered to be proof of no skillz. The final law that I was given the honor of bearing witness to was the full-speed law. This law states that at any point when you are not completely stopped, you must travel at that which is considered to be full speed for your vehicle. After starting and before stopping you have exactly five seconds to get from zero to maximum speed or vice-versa. The quicker that this transition between full-speed and zero can be performed, the easier it is to prove your worth as a driver.
One final note about seat belts. While the backseats may lack the devices, the front seats retain their straps of safety. It has thus been rather common place for the taxi driver to only put their selt belt on after exiting the highway and entering the slower-moving, denser city streets. This is possibly to avoid getting eaten by dinoaurs, because when you wear your seatbelt it is a well known fact that they cannot see you. So after forty minutes of white-knuckle, teeth clenching, four-way merging, full-speed stopping and starting travel I was rather spent. I kindly paid the driver and headed back to my room. Once my body tremors had subsided and I was able to breath normally, I changed out of work clothes, put on some gym shorts and headed to the Olympus Club gimnasio. I was fully prepared to do a long and relaxing work out, which I typically like to begin by doing 30 minutes of cardio. Unfortuntaely for me, somebody else in the gym had an entirely different idea.
I was keeping to myself doing my cardio and watching CNN as a young fellow entered the gym. He looked to be in his mid to late twenties, and he was carrying a clipboard and a Nalgene bottle full of an unknown liquid. Now I've seen people like this before at ever single gym that I've stepped foot into, so I paid him no mind. With my ninja senses I observed him retrieve three sets of dumbbells, and subsequently reposition a weight bench into the exact middle of the open floor area. He then proceeded to commence his strenuous workout. He picked up his first set of dumbbells to do curls, and immediately started grunting. Actually, he wasn't grunting he was moaning. In fact, moaning doesn't even describe the noises that he was making. This was obnoxious, loud grunt/scream/moan/crying. I wish I could have recorded this guy. I mean, every single rep from his first to his last in each and every set was just ridiculous. No matter what he was doing, he kept making this terrible noise. I could not take being anywhere near this guy, who was also by the way completely in love with himself and would stand in fromt of the mirror after every set to flex. Twenty minutes into my workout and I had to leave because I just couldn't take it. I returned to my quarters to unwind by watching some riveting Golden, only to find a true gem being played. 007: You Only Live Twice. Fantastic way to spend the evening I'd say.
Static. The alarm clock made its presence known by sputtering out distorted voices and wihte noise at well beyond the acceptable decibel level of the human ear. It was 6:00 a.m., Central Time and today was my first day to venture out to the IBM site for work. I went to bed relatively early the night before so I was feeling extremely rested and relaxed. I turned the alarm clock off and thought about what my day would be like.
The desert was beautiful. The sun was still low on the horizon and it cast long shadows before the sand dunes as I sat atop my trusty steed. I wanted to take my shirt off and wear it on my head like they do in the movies, but as I reached back to pull it over my head I was unable to feel the fabric between my fingers. Oh well, no matter: As I watched the rhythmic moveements of the muscles in the back of my horse's neck I caught a glimpse of something out of the corner of my right eye; something fast. There was a gigantic camel spider, and it was running full speed towards me. Before I had time to react it was already leaping through the air, screeching like a pterodactyl. I reached across and unsheathed the machete from the left side of my saddle. In a single motion I brought the blade across my body and down in a path that would intercept the creature. Suddenly I found myself staring at the belly of the beast as it hung, suspended in mid-air, my blade cleaving its body in two. The faint red glow emanating from its thorax read 8:00.
I leapt out of bed and shook the dream from my thoughts. It was now 8 a.m., although luckily the alarm clock was set 15 minutes fast, so I was not yet late. Speaking with the local engineers the evening prior, I learned that most people arrive on-site between 8:30 and 9:15; which gave me just enough time to throw on some clothes and head downstairs to grab a taxi, conveniently waiting in front of the hotel. The man who greeted me inside the taxi asked where I was going in English, so without hesitation I said "IBM". His response was an expression of pain and confusion on his face as he turned away from me. There was a long moment of silence while I looked around for a seatbelt, he soon turned around to face me and said, "¿A donde?". So his knowledge of English was a trick... I had to recall the Spanish alphabet as I slowly spelled out, "E, Bay, Emmay", which he understood and off we went. I still couldn't find a seatbelt...
My first taxi ride in Mexico was from the airport to the hotel. It was rather late at night and there were very few cars on the road. This, however, was an entirely different experience. As we emerged from the hotel block we immediately came to an abrupt stop amidst heavy congestion. The main road's four lanes were at a stand still with bumper to bumper traffic, and the service roads on either side were in the same condition. Since I had only been awake for approximately twenty minutes I was way too tired to pay attention to what was happening outside of the taxi, all I knew was that there were many many abrupt stops and swerving in and out of lanes. My eyes may have been closed, or I may have been in a deep haze and not noticed the taxi driver's style of driving, because honestly I don't remember thinking anything out of the ordinary.
40 minutes later we made a left turn over two lanes of highway traffic and entered the IBM/Foxconn/Sanmina-SCI/Hitachi technology campus. As we pulled up to the guard gate, the men checking badges motioned to see mine. Oh dear. I frantically searched my laptop bag, as that would be the most logical of places for me to have stored it. It wasn't there. I was horrified as I realized that in my rush to get out the door of the hotel, I forgot to look for my badge. The taxi driver was directed to the visitor's center, where I needed to get out and sort out this situation. So to the desk I proceeded, where I was met by two employees. One female, and one male. Neither of whom spoke English, and neither of whom could understand the preposterous Spanglish phrases that were spewing from my mouth. I felt like just going home and laying in bed for the rest of the day, as I felt utterly helpless.
Suddenly a golden ray of hope shone upon me as I heard, "Do you need some help?" asked of me in a Spanish accent. I looked to my left and lo and behold, my ticket inside was standing next to me. Now in retrospect, I have no idea how I would have gotten into IBM on that day without forgetting my badge, as I would never have met this man, who not only got me past the visitor's desk, but also took me to the security center to get a badge and subsequently through the catacombs of the building to the offices where my IBM contact was located, acting as my personal translator the entire way. It was hard to stop thanking him the entire way, as I was dumbfounded at my lack of preparation on my part; yet I was also amazed at my good fortune.
Once I was safely inside the IBM office area, I settled into my desk located in a long, winding continuous cube of 10 occupants, which we will refer to as a cube-snake. As if that weren't enough people to share a single space with, the "front wall" of the cube isn't even at chin-height, so you effectively share your cube-snake with the next cube-snake of residents, with your new best friend sitting across from you and staring into your soul. I found that putting my laptop in the corner of my desk allows me to avoid staring directly into the eyes of the person in front of me; however in doing so I gain two additional sideways glancing friends, always using their periphery vision to make sure you aren't concealing any weapons and in the process of launching an offensive. Boy am I glad this isn't my permanent work environment...
I ate lunch that day with a number of local employees that were a healthy mix of engineers from IBM, Sanmina-SCI, and Foxconn. They spoke completely in Spanish, were extremely vulgar, and full of jokes. We laughed almost the entire time, and my Spanish comprehension steadily grew. Furhter more, something dawned on me this first day, which explained a big mystery. Up until this point I had been eating my lunches around noon, and always found that no matter what establishment I went to, they were always completely empty. I was always utterly alone as I ate. While I may have known this as a boy, I had completely forgotten that in the Spanish culture they eat later than those of us from the United States (usually between 1 and 2 p.m.). In the very least I could declare one mystery solved... Even though I still can't figure out why people love to make out everywhere, although I have yet to see any IBM employees gratuitously making out on-site.
What I have discovered since this first day has been that eating later in the day is actually quite advantageous. Not only do you come back to work with only 3 hours ahead of you instead of 4, but you also seem to want to eat less when it comes around to be dinner time, thereby making the potential for eating something light like a salad even greater!
After my first day of work, I was feeling pretty good about myself. I got a healthy reminder-dose of Spanish, got boat loads of work done, met new friends, and learned a lot in the process. When it came time to leave, I had my IBM contact take me to the reception area so that the receptionist could call for a taxi on my behalf, which only took about ten minutes to arrive. I opened the door, sat down, and told the driver to take me to Hotel Presidente. This car did not have any seatbelts in the rear, just like the taxi from that morning, but I was not concerned as I didn't know what I was really in for. I have the feeling that if I would have relayed the information to the taxi driver of this being my first "official" taxi ride between IBM and the Hotel, he would have turned around to face me, emitted a deep, brooding laugh and then peeled out, fishtailing into two cars in the process.
As we left the IBM campus I knew something was awry. The driver's knowledge of how to drive a stick shift seemed limited, as the car jerked to and fro. As he steadied our bearing down the highway I peered through the front windshield, to bear witness to the six lanes of barely moving traffic ahead. The strange part however was that I didn't see anywhere for the highway to split from three lanes to six. As we got closer, not only did the driver not care to slow down in the slightest, but I realized that the six lanes of traffic were in fact still three marked lanes, with the cars packed so tightly together that they created their own fourth lane. Where did the other two lanes come from you may ask? Well that's simple math children, as four lanes, plus two shoulders equals six lanes of usuable space. Why let that crumbling edge of the road go to waste? I fully appreciate the fact that they are getting the most out of their tax dollars. So much so, that the next time I'm in the States and see one of those "Your tax dollars at work" signs on the highway I'm going to do donuts around it and then dig it up and mount it to my hood. If my tax dollars were used to buy that sign I think that I should own it as well as use it as a battering ram to teach cars how to drive faster.
We were well into the thick of this mess, which you could call highway grid lock, when the driver started demonstrating what I like to call the four-way merge law. Apparently, in Mexico the law is that when you are going to merge into another lane, regardless of on which side it is relative to your vehicle, and regardless of how fast you are traveling, you must only use your four way flashers to signal the merge. Any use of a single turn signal is considered weak and gutless. I guess I should have paid more attention before when I was riding in taxis so that this law didn't surprise me in the manner that it did. Now let's clear this up before anybody tries to complain: the driver was using his turn signal as we traversed and exited the IBM parking lot, so they were fully operational as we got onto the highway. This is just the law. I also began to notice that as other cars came within inches of running us off the road, they too were using their four-way flashers instead of turn signals. Nice.
Further pushing my mind into the realms of terror and shock, I found that it is completely common place to lacksidaisically drift half-way into adjacent lanes of traffic when there is an unoccupied space. Not only does this declare you as victor of two lanes at once, but it also give you twice as many opportunities to use your four-way flashers, thereby proving exaclty how gutsy you are. Any vehicle over ten feet long is also considered to be not deserving of occupying an entire lane all to itself. If a bus or tractor-trailer is mid-merge, and has yet to occupy the entirety of its recently chosen lane, it is considered good form to block the merge process by forcing at least half of your vehicle's volume into the unoccupied section of its lane. Anything less is considered to be proof of no skillz. The final law that I was given the honor of bearing witness to was the full-speed law. This law states that at any point when you are not completely stopped, you must travel at that which is considered to be full speed for your vehicle. After starting and before stopping you have exactly five seconds to get from zero to maximum speed or vice-versa. The quicker that this transition between full-speed and zero can be performed, the easier it is to prove your worth as a driver.
One final note about seat belts. While the backseats may lack the devices, the front seats retain their straps of safety. It has thus been rather common place for the taxi driver to only put their selt belt on after exiting the highway and entering the slower-moving, denser city streets. This is possibly to avoid getting eaten by dinoaurs, because when you wear your seatbelt it is a well known fact that they cannot see you. So after forty minutes of white-knuckle, teeth clenching, four-way merging, full-speed stopping and starting travel I was rather spent. I kindly paid the driver and headed back to my room. Once my body tremors had subsided and I was able to breath normally, I changed out of work clothes, put on some gym shorts and headed to the Olympus Club gimnasio. I was fully prepared to do a long and relaxing work out, which I typically like to begin by doing 30 minutes of cardio. Unfortuntaely for me, somebody else in the gym had an entirely different idea.
I was keeping to myself doing my cardio and watching CNN as a young fellow entered the gym. He looked to be in his mid to late twenties, and he was carrying a clipboard and a Nalgene bottle full of an unknown liquid. Now I've seen people like this before at ever single gym that I've stepped foot into, so I paid him no mind. With my ninja senses I observed him retrieve three sets of dumbbells, and subsequently reposition a weight bench into the exact middle of the open floor area. He then proceeded to commence his strenuous workout. He picked up his first set of dumbbells to do curls, and immediately started grunting. Actually, he wasn't grunting he was moaning. In fact, moaning doesn't even describe the noises that he was making. This was obnoxious, loud grunt/scream/moan/crying. I wish I could have recorded this guy. I mean, every single rep from his first to his last in each and every set was just ridiculous. No matter what he was doing, he kept making this terrible noise. I could not take being anywhere near this guy, who was also by the way completely in love with himself and would stand in fromt of the mirror after every set to flex. Twenty minutes into my workout and I had to leave because I just couldn't take it. I returned to my quarters to unwind by watching some riveting Golden, only to find a true gem being played. 007: You Only Live Twice. Fantastic way to spend the evening I'd say.
September 21, 2008
On the Verge of Driving the Porcelain Bus
I can't believe I did that. As I sit in the lobby bar anxiously awaiting the Steelers game, I whipped out my laptop to write my next entry for the "Chronicles of a Mexican Legend" story. At this moment I realized a glaring omission from my last chapter. In fact, it would be impossible to detail the events of the following day without this very important detail. So let us return to my day of Discovery...
Day Two, Discovery - Errata.
El Presidente features two restaurants: Las Frutas y Floras, and Alfredo di Roma. Up until this point I had avoided Alfredo as it was the more expensive of the two, but today was a day for celebration! Now I'm not a gambling man, in fact I might just be the worst person to ever attempt to gamble as I ignore the basic facets of success in the game. I think my biggest problem is that I don't know how to walk away when I'm up. Like Frederick Jung told his son George, "Sometimes you're flush and sometimes you're bust, and when you're up, it's never as good as it seems, and when you're down, you never think you'll be up again, but life goes on". Powerful, I know.
So I took a gamble and headed into Alfredo's, hoping that I would hit jackpot twice in one day. The first thing that I noticed when I sat down was the three-picture frame hanging next to me (I'm not sure if it was hung using Scotch tape or not, but it was on marble...). This piece featured three Presidents of the United States, each sitting at a table with a stereotypical Italian chef next to them: mustachioed, portly, and smiling ear to ear while holding a gigantic portion of Fettuccine Alfredo aloft in the air on a pasta spoon. Apparently, the three Italian gentlemen were successive generations of the Alfredo family, the presidents were John F. Kennedy, a young Jimmy Carter, and the venerable George H.W. Bush. Apparently from what I could make out of the signage around me, this particular Alfredo family was the original inventor of the famous dish (Fettuccine Alfredo).
So as I sat admiring the try something as exotic as the Shrimp and Scallop Risotto. As I sat awaiting my food I was delighted by the spread of different breads that was displayed before me by my waiter. First there very long, skinny crunchy sticks that tasted like an herb-infused crouton. I was delighted by the hint of saltiness that these sticks featured, as it complemented my Margarita perfectly. Next I investigated the contents of a covered basket to see what treasures I would find within. My first pick was a cinnamon-sweet bread, with a fat slice of Italian Sausage nestled in the middle. This was by far, the most impressive piece of bread I had ever tasted. Upon my first bite, my tongue was tingling with the taste of cinnamon and sugar, which took me back to my days as a child, when my Mother would make me Cinnamon-Sugar toast on the days that I stayed home from school with a tummy ache. Almost immediately the sweetness was overtaken by the spices and oils of the sausage, which was a splendid sensation that could only be properly enjoyed with eyes closed. The most fantastic part of this journey into bread land was after each bite was swallowed, the taste of sugary sweetness remained, if not only to inspire the next bite. The remaining selection of bread was pitifully bland compared to the explosion of flavor that I discovered on my first pick, so I will spare the details of boredom.
My Risotto finally emerged from the chef's den and was placed in front of me. Now being as that I have never tried Risotto before I wasn't sure what to expect. What I laid my eyes upon was a soupy bowl of rice and scallops, with a single piece of shrimp sticking out, tail-end up in the middle of the dish. Whether Risotto is meant to be as soupy as it was, I am not sure; however in retrospect I don't believe that this particular dish should have had such a consistency. Regardless, in my ignorance I proceeded to taste the dish. There was ground basil sprinkled among the rice, and the scallops were plentiful. Every bite tasted of salty shrimp, and the warm creamy taste was comforting like a fireplace on a cold winter's night. I would be a liar if I said that I did not thoroughly enjoy every bite, yet for some reason I was unenthusiastic about finishing every last bite. The portion was not large, in fact the waiter was surprised when I did not want anything aside from this one item; yet still, I could not bring myself to clean my bowl. As I sat staring at the remainder of my dish my stomach felt full, yet a tinge of hunger remained. Without giving this sensation too much thought I paid my check and headed towards the bar area to witness the celebration of Mexican Independence day.
September 16, 2008. Guadalajara, Mexico. Day Three, Regret.
My eyes shot open. I had to double-check to make sure that the feeling of having a fifty-pound dumbbell on my chest was only in my mind. I glanced around the room. Something was wrong. It was dark, as usual, but something was definitely off. I made the effort to roll across the bed and peer into the haunting red glow of the alarm clock. 3 A.M. My stomach twisted into a knot from the movement. I had the taste of mercury in my mouth. Mercury and shrimp. All I could think about was what the risotto looked like, and what it would look like on the way out. I took deep breaths... yoga breathing, that usually helped. Laying down was painful, and sitting up was even worse. There was no helping it, I was sick. My stomach churned and bubbled. I felt like a meth head was boiling ammonia inside of my torso as my stomach cramped and turned inside out. I immediately regretted my decision to eat a seafood risotto as I paced around the room. I was helpless. After a none-too-pleasurable half hour in the bathroom I attempted to lay down. I might have closed my eyes for ten minutes before being jolted awake by the same feeling. This was the sequel. After the second trilogy was complete I was convinced that I had Montezuma's Revenge.
I spent the first half of the day wallowing in a cold sweat. What a terrible feeling: to be sick in an unfamiliar place, with nobody to provide comfort, and worst of all in a foreign land. I couldn't eat, and I could barely sleep. I felt like I had spent the previous day laying in the middle of the highway getting run over by trucks. My breathing was labored, my entire body was full of aches and pains, not to mention how sore my muscles felt. I was exhausted and battered. It is times like this when more than ever I missed the embrace of my love. While every moment apart from her is like an eternity, this was much worse. My only consolation was that today was still a holiday, so I wasn't missing any work. I was at the very least able to work out of the hotel room in the moments that I wasn't trying to sleep or being devastatingly sick. But even in those moments, I could not help but think about how sorely I missed my one and only. Her vision comforted my thoughts while I wasn't reeling in pain, and very well may have been the one thing that gave me the strength to pull through and endure the pain that I was experiencing.
Eventually my stomach settled and I was able to stay away from the bathroom for more than an hour, which was a big bonus. It was approximately 3:00 in the afternoon, at which point I ventured downstairs to eat a salad since I wanted something very light. I was able to stomach this so I knew that I was on the path to recovery. The remainder of the day was spent relaxing on the bed and watching some half-decent movies on Golden. My final act was to mentally prepare for the following day, which would be my first adventure into the unknown realms of IBM Guadalajara.
Day Two, Discovery - Errata.
El Presidente features two restaurants: Las Frutas y Floras, and Alfredo di Roma. Up until this point I had avoided Alfredo as it was the more expensive of the two, but today was a day for celebration! Now I'm not a gambling man, in fact I might just be the worst person to ever attempt to gamble as I ignore the basic facets of success in the game. I think my biggest problem is that I don't know how to walk away when I'm up. Like Frederick Jung told his son George, "Sometimes you're flush and sometimes you're bust, and when you're up, it's never as good as it seems, and when you're down, you never think you'll be up again, but life goes on". Powerful, I know.
So I took a gamble and headed into Alfredo's, hoping that I would hit jackpot twice in one day. The first thing that I noticed when I sat down was the three-picture frame hanging next to me (I'm not sure if it was hung using Scotch tape or not, but it was on marble...). This piece featured three Presidents of the United States, each sitting at a table with a stereotypical Italian chef next to them: mustachioed, portly, and smiling ear to ear while holding a gigantic portion of Fettuccine Alfredo aloft in the air on a pasta spoon. Apparently, the three Italian gentlemen were successive generations of the Alfredo family, the presidents were John F. Kennedy, a young Jimmy Carter, and the venerable George H.W. Bush. Apparently from what I could make out of the signage around me, this particular Alfredo family was the original inventor of the famous dish (Fettuccine Alfredo).
So as I sat admiring the try something as exotic as the Shrimp and Scallop Risotto. As I sat awaiting my food I was delighted by the spread of different breads that was displayed before me by my waiter. First there very long, skinny crunchy sticks that tasted like an herb-infused crouton. I was delighted by the hint of saltiness that these sticks featured, as it complemented my Margarita perfectly. Next I investigated the contents of a covered basket to see what treasures I would find within. My first pick was a cinnamon-sweet bread, with a fat slice of Italian Sausage nestled in the middle. This was by far, the most impressive piece of bread I had ever tasted. Upon my first bite, my tongue was tingling with the taste of cinnamon and sugar, which took me back to my days as a child, when my Mother would make me Cinnamon-Sugar toast on the days that I stayed home from school with a tummy ache. Almost immediately the sweetness was overtaken by the spices and oils of the sausage, which was a splendid sensation that could only be properly enjoyed with eyes closed. The most fantastic part of this journey into bread land was after each bite was swallowed, the taste of sugary sweetness remained, if not only to inspire the next bite. The remaining selection of bread was pitifully bland compared to the explosion of flavor that I discovered on my first pick, so I will spare the details of boredom.
My Risotto finally emerged from the chef's den and was placed in front of me. Now being as that I have never tried Risotto before I wasn't sure what to expect. What I laid my eyes upon was a soupy bowl of rice and scallops, with a single piece of shrimp sticking out, tail-end up in the middle of the dish. Whether Risotto is meant to be as soupy as it was, I am not sure; however in retrospect I don't believe that this particular dish should have had such a consistency. Regardless, in my ignorance I proceeded to taste the dish. There was ground basil sprinkled among the rice, and the scallops were plentiful. Every bite tasted of salty shrimp, and the warm creamy taste was comforting like a fireplace on a cold winter's night. I would be a liar if I said that I did not thoroughly enjoy every bite, yet for some reason I was unenthusiastic about finishing every last bite. The portion was not large, in fact the waiter was surprised when I did not want anything aside from this one item; yet still, I could not bring myself to clean my bowl. As I sat staring at the remainder of my dish my stomach felt full, yet a tinge of hunger remained. Without giving this sensation too much thought I paid my check and headed towards the bar area to witness the celebration of Mexican Independence day.
September 16, 2008. Guadalajara, Mexico. Day Three, Regret.
My eyes shot open. I had to double-check to make sure that the feeling of having a fifty-pound dumbbell on my chest was only in my mind. I glanced around the room. Something was wrong. It was dark, as usual, but something was definitely off. I made the effort to roll across the bed and peer into the haunting red glow of the alarm clock. 3 A.M. My stomach twisted into a knot from the movement. I had the taste of mercury in my mouth. Mercury and shrimp. All I could think about was what the risotto looked like, and what it would look like on the way out. I took deep breaths... yoga breathing, that usually helped. Laying down was painful, and sitting up was even worse. There was no helping it, I was sick. My stomach churned and bubbled. I felt like a meth head was boiling ammonia inside of my torso as my stomach cramped and turned inside out. I immediately regretted my decision to eat a seafood risotto as I paced around the room. I was helpless. After a none-too-pleasurable half hour in the bathroom I attempted to lay down. I might have closed my eyes for ten minutes before being jolted awake by the same feeling. This was the sequel. After the second trilogy was complete I was convinced that I had Montezuma's Revenge.
I spent the first half of the day wallowing in a cold sweat. What a terrible feeling: to be sick in an unfamiliar place, with nobody to provide comfort, and worst of all in a foreign land. I couldn't eat, and I could barely sleep. I felt like I had spent the previous day laying in the middle of the highway getting run over by trucks. My breathing was labored, my entire body was full of aches and pains, not to mention how sore my muscles felt. I was exhausted and battered. It is times like this when more than ever I missed the embrace of my love. While every moment apart from her is like an eternity, this was much worse. My only consolation was that today was still a holiday, so I wasn't missing any work. I was at the very least able to work out of the hotel room in the moments that I wasn't trying to sleep or being devastatingly sick. But even in those moments, I could not help but think about how sorely I missed my one and only. Her vision comforted my thoughts while I wasn't reeling in pain, and very well may have been the one thing that gave me the strength to pull through and endure the pain that I was experiencing.
Eventually my stomach settled and I was able to stay away from the bathroom for more than an hour, which was a big bonus. It was approximately 3:00 in the afternoon, at which point I ventured downstairs to eat a salad since I wanted something very light. I was able to stomach this so I knew that I was on the path to recovery. The remainder of the day was spent relaxing on the bed and watching some half-decent movies on Golden. My final act was to mentally prepare for the following day, which would be my first adventure into the unknown realms of IBM Guadalajara.
September 19, 2008
To the Victors Go the Spoils
September 15, 2008. Guadalajara, Mexico. Day Two, Discovery.
The TV was on. The channel? Golden. The movie? Nick of Time (1995) starring Christopher Walken and Johnny Depp. I had never seen it, but I'd watch anything with Christopher Walken. Unfortunately, today I had more important matters: setting out on an epic journey. My purpose was simple, to relish in the rich Mexican culture that was all around me, and in the meantime practice speaking Spanish. What I did not know however, was that by the end of this day I would be knocked unconscious by a freight train and thrown 50 meters, only to be found bleeding and face down in a pool of stagnant sewage by a roaming howler monkey...
Okay so I lied about the freight train part, but you clicked the link didn't you? I'm sorry it was a dirty trick. It won't happen again...
This day started much like the day before. I threw on some clothes and headed across the jungle bridge to arrive at Plaza del Sol. Being that the previous day was a Sunday, many of the stores were unavailable for my perusal. So I decided to spend some time carefully scanning each nook and cranny, with the hopes that I would discover a diamond in the rough. I started by scanning the shops located along the perimeter of the Plaza. During this initial phase of my investigation I witnessed a handful of young couples in love. Fiercely making out... In fact, I was disturbed and quickly walked past as each time I stumbled upon a make out session, it became increasingly more bizarre. After a single lap I had not discovered anything spectacular, so I proceeded inward, towards the shops that were sandwiched between the outer perimeter and the main courtyard area.
This leg of my journey left me extremely disappointed. Nowhere could I find a single interesting shop. It seemed like the shops were in a pattern: baby clothes, shoes, textiles, cell phone provider. I quickly grew bored and prematurely moved onto the final objective: the Courtyard. This was the bread and butter of Plaza del Sol. At approximately one quarter mile long there were enough shops here to keep me busy all day. I moved with a hurried pace, entering only those shops that inspired curiosity. The first shop that I entered was a super market, wherein lied a most peculiar scene.
I was strolling down the center aisle towards the foods section when I noticed something very familiar to me. A couple, making out in the middle of the aisle. I hesitated only for a moment, so as not to startle them. On a second glance I noticed that they were both wearing similar outfits, nay, identical outfits. Their loving embrace dissolved as they interlocked fingers and casually strode towards the back of the store. They were about ten paces ahead of me when I noticed something else peculiar about their matching dress: they were wearing smocks. This is when it hit me; these two were employees of this store. There were other people wearing the same outfit stocking shelves and giving out samples of mystery meat. I was severly confused and didn't know whether I should be concerned or delighted that such an event was not uncommon in the public eye.
My mind was bloated with questions, and I had yet to practice any Spanish. I quickly darted into a few more shops before deciding that shopping was not my cup of tea, and decided to find something delicious to eat for lunch. I had been warned about a few of the eateries within Plaza del Sol, which led me to traverse back across the foot bridge and begin walking. I didn't know where I was going, and I had no idea what I would find; but some unknown force guided me. I walked past block after block of boarded up buildings and thick, overgrown parking lots that had been long-since chained off to the passing cars. Most people would not continue as long as I did, but something told me I was about to discover something. I came around a slight bend in the road and gazed upon what I thought was a forest.
As it turned out, I was looking at a park-like area. This area was encircled by a three lane traffic circle, which was connected to the highway in front of El Presidente. I don't know how long it had been since anybody had cut the grass, or trimeed any of the trees but the entire area was in terrible condition. I noticed sporadic benches, and piles of litter next to the over flowing trash cans. I followed the flow of traffic around the circle, passing rows of houses and the occasional broken down Volkswagen Beetle. Before I had even traversed half of the circle I saw a sign and immediately recognized the name: "Tacos & Charleys". I had been informed of this place, but had never learned the location. Somehow I knew that this was the true purpose of my journey. I moved under the over hang and sat at a table right inside the open-air restaurant. I was the only customer, and it was exactly noon. I uttered my first poorly-pronounced phrase of Spanish and ordered a Modelo and the "Especial Charleys".
I had no idea what to expect, but I didn't care. I had walked for so long that my stomach was burning with hunger. A bus boy brought me a bowl of tortilla chips, followed by fresh pico de gallo. He came back with guacamole, and a bowl of freshly chopped onions. He came back once again with two bowls of liquid, which appeared to be hot and mild sauces. "Now this is service", I thought as I watched the cars zip past. Suddenly, to the left something caught my eye. There was a bench in the park area that had one side half sunken into the earth. On this bench two people were seated. They were making out. I was absolutely positive at this point that I was in fact, in the Twilight Zone. How can so many people need to make out in public? Strange indeed, but I didn't have time to ponder, as my food was ready. To this day I'm still not entirely positive what it was that I had ordered. I received a basket of tiny flour tortillas, and a large plate of assorted meats covered in a thick layer of cheese.
I didn't hesitate to figure out what I was about to eat, I simply shoveled a spoonful onto a tortilla and devoured it. My senses were delighted with the juicy flavor of steak, coupled with the salty sweetness of ham and the bitterness of sauteed onion, followed by the gooey warmth of sharp and mild cheddar cheeses. On my next helping I added Pico de Gallo, then Guacamole. I tried one with the raw onion, and another with the hot sauce. My tastebuds exploded with pleasure as I downed helping after helping. I was in utter bliss. Suddenly I was overcome by a great sadness. My hunger had subsided, been satiated, and had transitioned to the feeling of being full. I could not eat any more, and I realized my great folly: I didn't know how to ask for the remainder of my plate to go. :(
I should've googled that before I left, but the thought had never crossed my mind. My waiter friend came to the table and asked if I was done. I panicked, terrified at the thought of that wonderful meal going to waste. The waiter saw the terror on my face and briskly walked away from the table. I didn't need to say anything, for we had connected on another level. He knew that deep inside my soul, I was broken down by allowing this food to be taken away. I polled the back of my mind, reaching deep into the catacombs trying to think of how to say "box" in Spanish. If I could just think of that one word I would be able to mutter something that he could understand. After thirty minutes of staring longingly at my half-finished plate I came up with nothing. I motioned to the waiter for my check, and took one last glance at my food so as to remember its glory.
I paid my check and walked back towards my hotel, lamenting my food with a song of mourning. I felt defeated and lost; as if I had abandoned my own kin. As I sulked through the Hotel lobby and towards the elevator I made a pledge to myself that I would never again let such a splendid thing go to waste. I finally made it back to my room and collapsed onto my bed, weeping for three hours...
Eventually I was able to pull myself together as I headed downstairs to the Olumpus Club Gym on the second floor (11). There were a number of very elderly Mexican gentlemen riding the cardio bikes in the front room. They each wore a pair of white/cream colored slacks, dress shoes, dress belt, and no shirt. Very excellent. Now I know exactly what I'm going to do when I get to be that age. So I did my workout, returned to my room to shower, and proceeded downstairs to catch the evening's festivities. Mexican Independence day was upon us!
There was a gazebo that had magically replaced the lobby furniture, and behind it stood a marching band. Quietly, they conversed amongst themselves. I could tell that they were rife with excitement, as there seemed to be a buzzing of energy among everybody present. As the clock struck 10:00, a tremendous roar came over the lobby sound system that had been hastily thrown together. It was the noise of a crowd in downtown Guadalajara, being broadcast on the television sets. A priest came out of the bar area followed by two robed men bearing Mexican flags, and they proceeded up the steps into the center of the Gazebo. As the priest turned around to face the small crowd that had shambled away from their drinks the background noise subsided.
He began to speak. He spoke phrases in Spanish that I didn't full understand, but every phrase began with "Viva ...". The crowd would answer back after every call with "¡Viva!". Finally, the call-and-answer session ended with three chants of "¡Viva Mexico!". It was all very moving and powerful. The band started playing and suddenly there were two bar maids, traversing the crowd handing out scotch glasses full of tequila. Not wanting to look like an outsider I eagerly grabbed a glass and held it high above my head. There was something about the energy amongst these people that made the hair on the back of my neck stand up. These people truly loved their country, and relished in their culture. As I stood there contemplating the meaning behind this day's journey I couldn't help but think to myself: Viva Mexico.
The TV was on. The channel? Golden. The movie? Nick of Time (1995) starring Christopher Walken and Johnny Depp. I had never seen it, but I'd watch anything with Christopher Walken. Unfortunately, today I had more important matters: setting out on an epic journey. My purpose was simple, to relish in the rich Mexican culture that was all around me, and in the meantime practice speaking Spanish. What I did not know however, was that by the end of this day I would be knocked unconscious by a freight train and thrown 50 meters, only to be found bleeding and face down in a pool of stagnant sewage by a roaming howler monkey...
Okay so I lied about the freight train part, but you clicked the link didn't you? I'm sorry it was a dirty trick. It won't happen again...
This day started much like the day before. I threw on some clothes and headed across the jungle bridge to arrive at Plaza del Sol. Being that the previous day was a Sunday, many of the stores were unavailable for my perusal. So I decided to spend some time carefully scanning each nook and cranny, with the hopes that I would discover a diamond in the rough. I started by scanning the shops located along the perimeter of the Plaza. During this initial phase of my investigation I witnessed a handful of young couples in love. Fiercely making out... In fact, I was disturbed and quickly walked past as each time I stumbled upon a make out session, it became increasingly more bizarre. After a single lap I had not discovered anything spectacular, so I proceeded inward, towards the shops that were sandwiched between the outer perimeter and the main courtyard area.
This leg of my journey left me extremely disappointed. Nowhere could I find a single interesting shop. It seemed like the shops were in a pattern: baby clothes, shoes, textiles, cell phone provider. I quickly grew bored and prematurely moved onto the final objective: the Courtyard. This was the bread and butter of Plaza del Sol. At approximately one quarter mile long there were enough shops here to keep me busy all day. I moved with a hurried pace, entering only those shops that inspired curiosity. The first shop that I entered was a super market, wherein lied a most peculiar scene.
I was strolling down the center aisle towards the foods section when I noticed something very familiar to me. A couple, making out in the middle of the aisle. I hesitated only for a moment, so as not to startle them. On a second glance I noticed that they were both wearing similar outfits, nay, identical outfits. Their loving embrace dissolved as they interlocked fingers and casually strode towards the back of the store. They were about ten paces ahead of me when I noticed something else peculiar about their matching dress: they were wearing smocks. This is when it hit me; these two were employees of this store. There were other people wearing the same outfit stocking shelves and giving out samples of mystery meat. I was severly confused and didn't know whether I should be concerned or delighted that such an event was not uncommon in the public eye.
My mind was bloated with questions, and I had yet to practice any Spanish. I quickly darted into a few more shops before deciding that shopping was not my cup of tea, and decided to find something delicious to eat for lunch. I had been warned about a few of the eateries within Plaza del Sol, which led me to traverse back across the foot bridge and begin walking. I didn't know where I was going, and I had no idea what I would find; but some unknown force guided me. I walked past block after block of boarded up buildings and thick, overgrown parking lots that had been long-since chained off to the passing cars. Most people would not continue as long as I did, but something told me I was about to discover something. I came around a slight bend in the road and gazed upon what I thought was a forest.
As it turned out, I was looking at a park-like area. This area was encircled by a three lane traffic circle, which was connected to the highway in front of El Presidente. I don't know how long it had been since anybody had cut the grass, or trimeed any of the trees but the entire area was in terrible condition. I noticed sporadic benches, and piles of litter next to the over flowing trash cans. I followed the flow of traffic around the circle, passing rows of houses and the occasional broken down Volkswagen Beetle. Before I had even traversed half of the circle I saw a sign and immediately recognized the name: "Tacos & Charleys". I had been informed of this place, but had never learned the location. Somehow I knew that this was the true purpose of my journey. I moved under the over hang and sat at a table right inside the open-air restaurant. I was the only customer, and it was exactly noon. I uttered my first poorly-pronounced phrase of Spanish and ordered a Modelo and the "Especial Charleys".
I had no idea what to expect, but I didn't care. I had walked for so long that my stomach was burning with hunger. A bus boy brought me a bowl of tortilla chips, followed by fresh pico de gallo. He came back with guacamole, and a bowl of freshly chopped onions. He came back once again with two bowls of liquid, which appeared to be hot and mild sauces. "Now this is service", I thought as I watched the cars zip past. Suddenly, to the left something caught my eye. There was a bench in the park area that had one side half sunken into the earth. On this bench two people were seated. They were making out. I was absolutely positive at this point that I was in fact, in the Twilight Zone. How can so many people need to make out in public? Strange indeed, but I didn't have time to ponder, as my food was ready. To this day I'm still not entirely positive what it was that I had ordered. I received a basket of tiny flour tortillas, and a large plate of assorted meats covered in a thick layer of cheese.
I didn't hesitate to figure out what I was about to eat, I simply shoveled a spoonful onto a tortilla and devoured it. My senses were delighted with the juicy flavor of steak, coupled with the salty sweetness of ham and the bitterness of sauteed onion, followed by the gooey warmth of sharp and mild cheddar cheeses. On my next helping I added Pico de Gallo, then Guacamole. I tried one with the raw onion, and another with the hot sauce. My tastebuds exploded with pleasure as I downed helping after helping. I was in utter bliss. Suddenly I was overcome by a great sadness. My hunger had subsided, been satiated, and had transitioned to the feeling of being full. I could not eat any more, and I realized my great folly: I didn't know how to ask for the remainder of my plate to go. :(
I should've googled that before I left, but the thought had never crossed my mind. My waiter friend came to the table and asked if I was done. I panicked, terrified at the thought of that wonderful meal going to waste. The waiter saw the terror on my face and briskly walked away from the table. I didn't need to say anything, for we had connected on another level. He knew that deep inside my soul, I was broken down by allowing this food to be taken away. I polled the back of my mind, reaching deep into the catacombs trying to think of how to say "box" in Spanish. If I could just think of that one word I would be able to mutter something that he could understand. After thirty minutes of staring longingly at my half-finished plate I came up with nothing. I motioned to the waiter for my check, and took one last glance at my food so as to remember its glory.
I paid my check and walked back towards my hotel, lamenting my food with a song of mourning. I felt defeated and lost; as if I had abandoned my own kin. As I sulked through the Hotel lobby and towards the elevator I made a pledge to myself that I would never again let such a splendid thing go to waste. I finally made it back to my room and collapsed onto my bed, weeping for three hours...
Eventually I was able to pull myself together as I headed downstairs to the Olumpus Club Gym on the second floor (11). There were a number of very elderly Mexican gentlemen riding the cardio bikes in the front room. They each wore a pair of white/cream colored slacks, dress shoes, dress belt, and no shirt. Very excellent. Now I know exactly what I'm going to do when I get to be that age. So I did my workout, returned to my room to shower, and proceeded downstairs to catch the evening's festivities. Mexican Independence day was upon us!
There was a gazebo that had magically replaced the lobby furniture, and behind it stood a marching band. Quietly, they conversed amongst themselves. I could tell that they were rife with excitement, as there seemed to be a buzzing of energy among everybody present. As the clock struck 10:00, a tremendous roar came over the lobby sound system that had been hastily thrown together. It was the noise of a crowd in downtown Guadalajara, being broadcast on the television sets. A priest came out of the bar area followed by two robed men bearing Mexican flags, and they proceeded up the steps into the center of the Gazebo. As the priest turned around to face the small crowd that had shambled away from their drinks the background noise subsided.
He began to speak. He spoke phrases in Spanish that I didn't full understand, but every phrase began with "Viva ...". The crowd would answer back after every call with "¡Viva!". Finally, the call-and-answer session ended with three chants of "¡Viva Mexico!". It was all very moving and powerful. The band started playing and suddenly there were two bar maids, traversing the crowd handing out scotch glasses full of tequila. Not wanting to look like an outsider I eagerly grabbed a glass and held it high above my head. There was something about the energy amongst these people that made the hair on the back of my neck stand up. These people truly loved their country, and relished in their culture. As I stood there contemplating the meaning behind this day's journey I couldn't help but think to myself: Viva Mexico.
September 17, 2008
Zorro's horse only speaks Spanish
Here's the deal; on Saturday September 13th, I was in need of a taxi to the airport. I was embarking on a journey. This journey would be my first solo adventure into a foreign land, and possibly the most interesting one. For this reason I am chronicling the events of my trip into this blog. I will try to dedicate one post to each day; however I make no promises. In case you couldn't guess from yesterday's post, I am in Mexico. Guadalajara to be exact, mira:
When I arrived here Saturday evening, I checked into the Presidente Intercontinental Hotel, witnessed the Guadalajaran Soccer team take over the Hotel lobby, and went to bed...
September 14, 2008. Guadalajara, Mexico. Day One, Exploration.
Awake. First day in a foreign land, and I had nothing to do. I sat up groggily from my king sized bed and turned on the lamp within arms reach. The curtains in this room were the standard hotel issue: triple-ply canvas laminated in a mystery wax-like substance. Somehow, they always have the ability to defy the very laws of physics by resisting all light penetration, even when slightly parted. It was impossible to intuitively grasp what time it was, so I used every ounce of energy left in my aching body to roll all the way across the bed and flop face-first into the stack of unused pillows. From this vantage point I had a clear view of the alarm clock, which read [:18:88]. I took that as an omen, closed my eyes, and tumbled from atop pillow mountain into white sheet valley below.
I opened my eyes once more. I wasn't sure if I had slept any longer, but the room was definitely darker than last I saw it. Was it still night time? Was it even Sunday anymore? "Am I really in Mexico?", I wondered. Forcing myself out of bed, I stumbled to the non-Newtonian curtains and threw them open, letting the harsh sun stab me in the eyes like a bad scene out of Nightmare on Elm Street. It certainly appeared to be mid-day, but there was no way of being sure without a working clock, so I turned on my laptop. It was barely past 10 in the morning, which was a plus since I had no intention of sleeping through my day of relaxation. After nearly ten minutes of absently staring at my background image of Aurora Borealis my brain functions activated like a Particle Accelerator. I'm in a new time zone. It's actually 9 AM. While updating my timezone information I logged into my company's network and checked my email. I already had email from the local Guadalajara folks, which was somewhat of a comforting sign... but what's this? "Tomorrow is Mexican Independence day? The plant is closed until Wednesday?!". Suddenly my day of rest and relaxation was turned into a three day marathon of unpredictability and self-discovery.
It had been a long time since I had even thought about the Spanish language, and I figured it was time to dive-in. Face first. Engulfed in flames. Covered in salt. And dripping with bleach. Throwing my cares to the wind, I threw on my shorts and a tee-shirt and headed out the door. I had been briefed by my colleague/mentor about the Plaza del Sol, located conveniently across the street from El Presidente; so that was my destination. In order to cross the "street", which is really a 4-lane highway with regards to how fast people drive on it, I had to cross a pedestrian bridge. As soon as I stepped onto the decrepid metal monstrosity I was transported to a set prop from LOST. I felt like I was in a tunnel going into an abandoned Dharma facility, where I would be met by a gaggle of Raptors. With guns. And machetes. Alas, there were no Raptors and no Dharma facility. Just a gigantic shopping area that was like the Voltron of strip malls. An outdoor strip mall for the legs, with an indoor shopping mall area as the torso. There were large banks and department stores on opposite sides (there were the arms). And finally there was a long, and festive courtyard with three fountains and lots of kiosks for the head. Yes, I got lost walking around this area, but I didn't really care. I had nothing better to do really.
Four hours later, and nothing to show for it except for a tube of toothpaste that I almost left at the counter when I bought it, I decided it was time to return to my lodgings and grab some lunch. This is the boring part, so I'll skip ahead a bit... It's now late afternoon. Aware of the impending Steelers game, I frantically asked around the hotel if any local places carried American Football. They assured me that the Hotel bar would, but the Guadalajaran soccer team that I saw in the Hotel Lobby the night before was on. There was no way that they would switch their futbol for American Football, which made me a very sad panda. So I proceeded to eat dinner at the restaurant next to the Lobby bar, and longingly stared across the hallway towards the televisions.
7:15 Central Time. Kickoff. Did mine eyes deceive me or did I just see a flash of Black and Gold? Yes! My Steelers were on! I missed their first regular season game because of the Panthers game conflict, so what sweet, sweet retribution this was. I hurried to scarf the rest of my dinner and ran over to the bar, so that I could relish in the majesty of the Black and the Gold. There I sat, alone. Whooping and screaming with nobody else around but the barman. A few hours later and a second regular-season victory for my Steelers. Could this day get any better? Yes. Yes it could, as upon retiring to bed I turned the TV on, only to discover the holy grail of television channels. Golden, a movie channel that plays all American movies with Spanish subtitles; however there was a catch: the movies are censored... in the subtitles. Yes, unedited American movies. They had me at Lethal Weapon. They had me at Lethal Weapon.
When I arrived here Saturday evening, I checked into the Presidente Intercontinental Hotel, witnessed the Guadalajaran Soccer team take over the Hotel lobby, and went to bed...
September 14, 2008. Guadalajara, Mexico. Day One, Exploration.
Awake. First day in a foreign land, and I had nothing to do. I sat up groggily from my king sized bed and turned on the lamp within arms reach. The curtains in this room were the standard hotel issue: triple-ply canvas laminated in a mystery wax-like substance. Somehow, they always have the ability to defy the very laws of physics by resisting all light penetration, even when slightly parted. It was impossible to intuitively grasp what time it was, so I used every ounce of energy left in my aching body to roll all the way across the bed and flop face-first into the stack of unused pillows. From this vantage point I had a clear view of the alarm clock, which read [:18:88]. I took that as an omen, closed my eyes, and tumbled from atop pillow mountain into white sheet valley below.
I opened my eyes once more. I wasn't sure if I had slept any longer, but the room was definitely darker than last I saw it. Was it still night time? Was it even Sunday anymore? "Am I really in Mexico?", I wondered. Forcing myself out of bed, I stumbled to the non-Newtonian curtains and threw them open, letting the harsh sun stab me in the eyes like a bad scene out of Nightmare on Elm Street. It certainly appeared to be mid-day, but there was no way of being sure without a working clock, so I turned on my laptop. It was barely past 10 in the morning, which was a plus since I had no intention of sleeping through my day of relaxation. After nearly ten minutes of absently staring at my background image of Aurora Borealis my brain functions activated like a Particle Accelerator. I'm in a new time zone. It's actually 9 AM. While updating my timezone information I logged into my company's network and checked my email. I already had email from the local Guadalajara folks, which was somewhat of a comforting sign... but what's this? "Tomorrow is Mexican Independence day? The plant is closed until Wednesday?!". Suddenly my day of rest and relaxation was turned into a three day marathon of unpredictability and self-discovery.
It had been a long time since I had even thought about the Spanish language, and I figured it was time to dive-in. Face first. Engulfed in flames. Covered in salt. And dripping with bleach. Throwing my cares to the wind, I threw on my shorts and a tee-shirt and headed out the door. I had been briefed by my colleague/mentor about the Plaza del Sol, located conveniently across the street from El Presidente; so that was my destination. In order to cross the "street", which is really a 4-lane highway with regards to how fast people drive on it, I had to cross a pedestrian bridge. As soon as I stepped onto the decrepid metal monstrosity I was transported to a set prop from LOST. I felt like I was in a tunnel going into an abandoned Dharma facility, where I would be met by a gaggle of Raptors. With guns. And machetes. Alas, there were no Raptors and no Dharma facility. Just a gigantic shopping area that was like the Voltron of strip malls. An outdoor strip mall for the legs, with an indoor shopping mall area as the torso. There were large banks and department stores on opposite sides (there were the arms). And finally there was a long, and festive courtyard with three fountains and lots of kiosks for the head. Yes, I got lost walking around this area, but I didn't really care. I had nothing better to do really.
Four hours later, and nothing to show for it except for a tube of toothpaste that I almost left at the counter when I bought it, I decided it was time to return to my lodgings and grab some lunch. This is the boring part, so I'll skip ahead a bit... It's now late afternoon. Aware of the impending Steelers game, I frantically asked around the hotel if any local places carried American Football. They assured me that the Hotel bar would, but the Guadalajaran soccer team that I saw in the Hotel Lobby the night before was on. There was no way that they would switch their futbol for American Football, which made me a very sad panda. So I proceeded to eat dinner at the restaurant next to the Lobby bar, and longingly stared across the hallway towards the televisions.
7:15 Central Time. Kickoff. Did mine eyes deceive me or did I just see a flash of Black and Gold? Yes! My Steelers were on! I missed their first regular season game because of the Panthers game conflict, so what sweet, sweet retribution this was. I hurried to scarf the rest of my dinner and ran over to the bar, so that I could relish in the majesty of the Black and the Gold. There I sat, alone. Whooping and screaming with nobody else around but the barman. A few hours later and a second regular-season victory for my Steelers. Could this day get any better? Yes. Yes it could, as upon retiring to bed I turned the TV on, only to discover the holy grail of television channels. Golden, a movie channel that plays all American movies with Spanish subtitles; however there was a catch: the movies are censored... in the subtitles. Yes, unedited American movies. They had me at Lethal Weapon. They had me at Lethal Weapon.
September 15, 2008
¡Viva Mexico!
What is it about Mexico that makes it so special? As I see it, there are two very differing views when it comes to this issue. The former being that Mexico's rich culture and vibrant celebrations set it apart from the rest of the world, while the latter will insist that the abundance of fresh fruits and vegetables, along with the diverse culmination of flavors within any particular dish are the key facets to the country's unexplainable charm. I however, have an entirely different view. Allow me to elucidate...
This past evening I was enjoying a beverage at the bar, while the hotel staff was setting up for a raucus celebration. You see, today is the beginning of Mexico's celebration of their Independence from tyrannical Spanish rule, so it is a big deal (almost as big a deal as Ron Burgundy). While I was quietly observing the preparations for tonight's celebration, I witnessed something that embodies the very essence of what I believe makes Mexico one of the most endearing places on this planet.
A manager brought a stack of framed pictures out of an unknown location and set them on the bar while he returned to said location to retrieve something, which I assumed was a tool to assist in the process of hanging the pictures. I was somewhat correct in my assumptions, as he did retrieve a tool; however not exactly the same type of tool I would have chosen. I will spare the theatrics and tell you that what he returned with was a spool of scotch tape. He then proceeded to take the picture frames and tape each of them to marble pillars in the way that a child would tape a note to the inside of their locker. A long strip, pulled taut on each corner. You cannot make these kinds of things up. ¿Mexico? Me encantada.
This past evening I was enjoying a beverage at the bar, while the hotel staff was setting up for a raucus celebration. You see, today is the beginning of Mexico's celebration of their Independence from tyrannical Spanish rule, so it is a big deal (almost as big a deal as Ron Burgundy). While I was quietly observing the preparations for tonight's celebration, I witnessed something that embodies the very essence of what I believe makes Mexico one of the most endearing places on this planet.
A manager brought a stack of framed pictures out of an unknown location and set them on the bar while he returned to said location to retrieve something, which I assumed was a tool to assist in the process of hanging the pictures. I was somewhat correct in my assumptions, as he did retrieve a tool; however not exactly the same type of tool I would have chosen. I will spare the theatrics and tell you that what he returned with was a spool of scotch tape. He then proceeded to take the picture frames and tape each of them to marble pillars in the way that a child would tape a note to the inside of their locker. A long strip, pulled taut on each corner. You cannot make these kinds of things up. ¿Mexico? Me encantada.
September 2, 2008
Google Chrome!
I'm in a real pickle right now. My last post was about Ubiquity; which, after plenty of testing, I can say that I do not want to go back to browsing without. But the interwebs has just learned that Google is now entering the browser wars with their own google-spin on web browsers. My pickle lies in the fact that Ubiquity is Firefox-only as of yet, which means I will not be able to use Google Chrome and Mozilla Ubiquity in harmony; however Chrome does sound and look swanky... So what do I do?
I guess since the aptly named Google Chrome is an early beta yet, I will not be able to rely on it for full-time browsing; however I know that once I get into it I'm going to hit Ctrl+Space and start typing away without realizing that Ubiquity is sorely missing. :( <-- Sad panda. I wonder if Chrome has anything assigned to Ctrl + Space.. and I hope it doesn't break anything when I do it!
I guess since the aptly named Google Chrome is an early beta yet, I will not be able to rely on it for full-time browsing; however I know that once I get into it I'm going to hit Ctrl+Space and start typing away without realizing that Ubiquity is sorely missing. :( <-- Sad panda. I wonder if Chrome has anything assigned to Ctrl + Space.. and I hope it doesn't break anything when I do it!
August 27, 2008
Ubiquity is amazing.
So Mozilla Labs recently announced Ubiquity. The wow factor of this Firefox add-on is off the charts. It's very hard to describe exactly what it is but the closest thing that I've seen so far is "a command-line interface for web 2.0 mash-ups", if that makes any sense... It would be best if you simply go to the link above and watch the video created by the man who is taking ownership for Ubiquity, as he does a very nice job demonstrating the different things that can be done with it. Keep in mind that it is still in alpha stage (that's pre-beta), so there are many issues to hammer out and lots of things that are left to incorporate, but the concept is awesome. My favorites after the jump...
So far I love the in-page editing features, such as calculate and translate. I also love the fact that any changes you make persist over reloads and can even be directly sent through an email. I also love the mapping capability. I think that the map-these command is very awesome I just wish it would work in more places than craigslist. Being able to add events to your calendar on the fly is very exciting also (I just wish it worked!!), as well as being able to delete an element from a page. There's plenty more that I have yet to play with and I cannot wait to see what the next iteration of Ubiquity brings!
So far I love the in-page editing features, such as calculate and translate. I also love the fact that any changes you make persist over reloads and can even be directly sent through an email. I also love the mapping capability. I think that the map-these command is very awesome I just wish it would work in more places than craigslist. Being able to add events to your calendar on the fly is very exciting also (I just wish it worked!!), as well as being able to delete an element from a page. There's plenty more that I have yet to play with and I cannot wait to see what the next iteration of Ubiquity brings!
August 26, 2008
Today my Seester provided me with a link to an article, which asks "Are you on the right career path?". Okay, so it may be on the Oprah website and it may be slightly more geared towards women, but so what? It's still got some great inspirational ideas within. My favorite quote after the jump.
"drop the perceptual lens that says, 'Impressing others will make me happy.' A joyful life isn't about others; it's about the brightness that is associated with being alive"
How true. This is something that I am certainly doing on a day-to-day basis, and I know that I've seen others doing as well. We try to impress everybody else in our lives but at the end of the day, the only person that really matters (ourselves) is left feeling unfulfilled. So I guess it validates living life to the fullest and taking advantage of every opportunity. To party!
"drop the perceptual lens that says, 'Impressing others will make me happy.' A joyful life isn't about others; it's about the brightness that is associated with being alive"
How true. This is something that I am certainly doing on a day-to-day basis, and I know that I've seen others doing as well. We try to impress everybody else in our lives but at the end of the day, the only person that really matters (ourselves) is left feeling unfulfilled. So I guess it validates living life to the fullest and taking advantage of every opportunity. To party!
August 19, 2008
Randy Pausch - Last Lecture
Wow. You want to watch something that might change the way you live your life? Hit the jump...
Wow.
Wow.
Yay for Android and Strong Winds!!
Yay for Android! Let's hope T-Mobile's claim that they'll release an Android-powered phone (the HTC Dream) before Xmas this year are true. The FCC already cleared the hardware, so let's just hope that the new Andriod SDK will allow those courageous folks to finish their product on-time. Perhaps I'll switch back to T-Mobile after all? Hit the jump for a funny video showcasing a real idiot.
*~*
Apparently some local news cameras were set up capturing some video of Tropical Storm Fay; however they captured something else that nobody was expecting:
Why anyone would try to go wind surfing during a tropical storm is beyond me. Pretty Extreme I guess... Pretty extreme way to end up in the hospital like this guy. He not only was slammed into the sand repeatedly and dragged through a parking lot, but he ended up face first in the side of a building. He's in critical condition ATM. Could he potentially have won a Darwin Award? I guess we'll have to wait and see.
*~*
Apparently some local news cameras were set up capturing some video of Tropical Storm Fay; however they captured something else that nobody was expecting:
Wow, what an idiot, no?
Why anyone would try to go wind surfing during a tropical storm is beyond me. Pretty Extreme I guess... Pretty extreme way to end up in the hospital like this guy. He not only was slammed into the sand repeatedly and dragged through a parking lot, but he ended up face first in the side of a building. He's in critical condition ATM. Could he potentially have won a Darwin Award? I guess we'll have to wait and see.
August 7, 2008
Darwinism and the Flood
*~*
Something else that I read about yesterday was an article written by David Quammen, [Contagious cancer: The evolution of a killer via Harper's Magazine], which really got me thinking. It brought up some dormant thoughts that I used to toss around about Darwinism and the effect that our civilization has had on this process. Evolution is a funny thing; what I find particularly ponder-worthy revolves around the two basic elements necessary for the process that Darwin laid out: genetic diversity among the individuals of a population and competition among those individuals for limited resources. With these elements present, the door is left open for natural selection, which says that the "more fit" individuals of the species will thrive, and reproduce. I have always stood by the fact that we, as humans, have stunted the process of evolution among our species while the rest of the world continues to evolve and grow. How? Allow me to explain...
There is indeed genetic diversity among humans, and there are definitely limited resources; however we have eliminated the need to compete for these resources. We as a society strive towards actually replenishing our resources, which is not in and of itself the reason that the unrelenting, cold hand of natural selection has loosened its grip on our species. Combined with the idea of helping those in need, those too sick to carry on, or those that cannot support themselves eliminates the cruel course of evolution. Do not get me wrong, I wholly support helping the human race and giving every individual the right to a long and happy life. I am not saying that helping those in need is wrong or advocating against it; I am simply saying that in doing so we have stopped the process of natural selection, thereby stunting our species' evolution.
I was further spurred by [this blurb via H.B.O] that somehow takes the idea of a contagious cancer from the Quammen article and relates it to the Flood Infection in Halo (I told you that I am a sucker for anything related to Halo, no matter how remote).
And I completely see the connection. If you read into the article you'll learn how the Tasmanian Devil has developed a cancer that is contagious due to the tumors' "crumbling like feta cheese", and falling into open wounds of other devils during their apparently frequent "face biting" habits. This description reminds me of the carrier form of the Flood (pictured at right). Perhaps after a few more iterations of this form of cancer, when you knock these waddling, infected Tasmanian Devils over the tumors growing all over their faces will explode into a cloud of spores, which will undoubtedly try to find their way into your body via an open wound. Or perhaps the spores will also have evolved to no longer need an open pathway into your system, but will instead develop tiny tentacles 
and the ability to penetrate your skin and inject it's mutated and offensive DNA into your own, not unlike the Flood's infection form (pictured left). Hmm. Let's hope that the army's exoskeletons become more enclosed and more like the Spartan's Mjolnir armor (with replenishing energy shield and all).
So we are not genetically evolving, but we are indeed mentally evolving. The advancements that science has made recently in the robotic world are stunning. The exoskeletons and bionic limbs that have been developed are amazing, especially when used for those that have lost the use of their legs, or even their arms. We have progressed A.I. and Voice recognition technologies by leaps and bounds. Our robots are now capable of doing almost anything imaginable, from swimming underwater like a snake, to climbing walls, to almost perfect bipedal movements, to carrying heavy loads and resisting all attempts to fall over. While the video of ASIMO running is unintentionally hilarious, that last one needs special attention; here's Lockheed's Mule robot in case you've never seen it... although a bit of advice I would suggest turning your speakers off because it makes a horrible whirring/buzzing noise that will surely be the sound heard as these robots rise up and take over the world:
Now, all that's left to do is create a bipedal robot that has the same "can't knock me over" attitude as the Mule, and the ability to swim underwater like the snake, then make sure to program it so that it knows how to destroy these infection forms so that none may escape. Perhaps then we'll have a chance once we undoubtedly, as a society, allow this infectious cancer to evolve. Of course there's always the backup plan of seven Halo constructs and a few shield worlds here and there...
Something else that I read about yesterday was an article written by David Quammen, [Contagious cancer: The evolution of a killer via Harper's Magazine], which really got me thinking. It brought up some dormant thoughts that I used to toss around about Darwinism and the effect that our civilization has had on this process. Evolution is a funny thing; what I find particularly ponder-worthy revolves around the two basic elements necessary for the process that Darwin laid out: genetic diversity among the individuals of a population and competition among those individuals for limited resources. With these elements present, the door is left open for natural selection, which says that the "more fit" individuals of the species will thrive, and reproduce. I have always stood by the fact that we, as humans, have stunted the process of evolution among our species while the rest of the world continues to evolve and grow. How? Allow me to explain...
There is indeed genetic diversity among humans, and there are definitely limited resources; however we have eliminated the need to compete for these resources. We as a society strive towards actually replenishing our resources, which is not in and of itself the reason that the unrelenting, cold hand of natural selection has loosened its grip on our species. Combined with the idea of helping those in need, those too sick to carry on, or those that cannot support themselves eliminates the cruel course of evolution. Do not get me wrong, I wholly support helping the human race and giving every individual the right to a long and happy life. I am not saying that helping those in need is wrong or advocating against it; I am simply saying that in doing so we have stopped the process of natural selection, thereby stunting our species' evolution.
I was further spurred by [this blurb via H.B.O] that somehow takes the idea of a contagious cancer from the Quammen article and relates it to the Flood Infection in Halo (I told you that I am a sucker for anything related to Halo, no matter how remote).
And I completely see the connection. If you read into the article you'll learn how the Tasmanian Devil has developed a cancer that is contagious due to the tumors' "crumbling like feta cheese", and falling into open wounds of other devils during their apparently frequent "face biting" habits. This description reminds me of the carrier form of the Flood (pictured at right). Perhaps after a few more iterations of this form of cancer, when you knock these waddling, infected Tasmanian Devils over the tumors growing all over their faces will explode into a cloud of spores, which will undoubtedly try to find their way into your body via an open wound. Or perhaps the spores will also have evolved to no longer need an open pathway into your system, but will instead develop tiny tentacles 
and the ability to penetrate your skin and inject it's mutated and offensive DNA into your own, not unlike the Flood's infection form (pictured left). Hmm. Let's hope that the army's exoskeletons become more enclosed and more like the Spartan's Mjolnir armor (with replenishing energy shield and all).So we are not genetically evolving, but we are indeed mentally evolving. The advancements that science has made recently in the robotic world are stunning. The exoskeletons and bionic limbs that have been developed are amazing, especially when used for those that have lost the use of their legs, or even their arms. We have progressed A.I. and Voice recognition technologies by leaps and bounds. Our robots are now capable of doing almost anything imaginable, from swimming underwater like a snake, to climbing walls, to almost perfect bipedal movements, to carrying heavy loads and resisting all attempts to fall over. While the video of ASIMO running is unintentionally hilarious, that last one needs special attention; here's Lockheed's Mule robot in case you've never seen it... although a bit of advice I would suggest turning your speakers off because it makes a horrible whirring/buzzing noise that will surely be the sound heard as these robots rise up and take over the world:
Now, all that's left to do is create a bipedal robot that has the same "can't knock me over" attitude as the Mule, and the ability to swim underwater like the snake, then make sure to program it so that it knows how to destroy these infection forms so that none may escape. Perhaps then we'll have a chance once we undoubtedly, as a society, allow this infectious cancer to evolve. Of course there's always the backup plan of seven Halo constructs and a few shield worlds here and there...
Thoughts on marriage and time travel.
Wedding Update:
After much proliferation, Allie and I have confirmed and booked our date and location for the Reception! So the official date is September 5, 2009. The location is Stephany's Catering in Erie, PA:
Next is the [sarcasm]simple[/sarcasm] matter of figuring out where the ceremony should be. Hopefully, with Allie heading to Erie this process will actually be easier. Granted, I'm sure Nancy (my soon-to-be Mother-in-law) would have been a tremendous help in finding a suitable location; however, when their powers combine... Sorry, I didn't mean for that to turn into a Captain Planet reference, it just kind of happened. Anyway, here's a preview of the 'Save the Date' magnets that we'll be sending out to our loved ones soon:
*~*
For those of you who know who John Titor is; it would seem that perhaps he was correct(is? will be??? How do you refer to a time traveler?). For those of you who don't who I'm talking about: I would suggest reading about him. What you'll find is a rather chilling mystery that could very well be unraveled sometime soon.
The reason why I bring this up is because yesterday, I read about the theory that the LHC (Large Hadron Collider) will in fact create a singularity, and in doing so allow the alteration of time prior to its activation, thereby never actually allowing it to be activated [Time to go Backwards via G4]. Of course there are also theories proposed by Russian Mathematicians that say that the opening of this Singularity will simply allow time travelers from the future to come back to our time. Perhaps this is the event that John spoke of when he mentioned 'a singularity event around 2007' that allowed for the development of time travel. He also confirmed that the multiple worlds theory was in fact the correct theory in relation to quantum physics, which would explain why the ambiguity of 'around 2007' was not correct. He did at least get the CERN part of the prediction right (or at least we'll find out once and if this thing ever gets activated). "Wait a second", you may be saying, "if this thing never gets activated, then he would be wrong! Because time travel would never be created since no singularity ever spawned!". Well yes, not in our world/universe/dimension/whatever you want to call it. Let me explain:
When thinking about the accuracy of his theory we must consider the effect that the multiple worlds (MW) theory has. I usually like to think of the idea of MW as a tree structure. Allow me to elucidate: let us take a point of reference for this discussion, which we will define as t0 (that's "tee-zero"), and will place this event at the base, or trunk, of the tree. Given t0, you have a considerably infinite number of possibilities for events that could happen to progress to the next point of time, which we will call t1. Since t1 can be any number of possible events, we will populate these events on our tree as the leaves (or children) of the base (parent) node, and refer to this point of time as t1 regardless of which possibility occurs. Now each of these leaves becomes its own base event, which in turn would each have its own infinite number of possibilities (infinity squared) labeled as t2. This pattern would continue ad nauseum. Starting from t0 and selecting one node at t1, then selecting a child of t1 at t2, and so on and so forth would give us a path from t0 to t(N - 1) (the last selected event), which we could consider a time-line, or essentially a "world", of which there are multiple worlds (infinite ^ (N - 1) to be "exact"). This is where the name Multiple Worlds" comes in, as for any given event there are multiple worlds where this event either did or did not happen, which is basically the idea of parallel dimensions, just less science-fiction and more quantum physics (ie, less Bizarro Superman, and more Schroedinger's Cat).
Now if we consider the activation of the LHC at CERN to be our t0, then let us entertain the thought of a singularity being created at t1. At some point in the future after the process is replicated and controllable to the point where time travel is possible, coupled with a dilemma that is directly related to the possibility of time travel getting into the wrong hands (Terminator-style). This point of time we will let be t(N-1). So the progression from t0 to t(N-1) is one possible world. A inhabitant of this world decides that the creation of time travel should be thwarted, so he utilizes time travel to follow the timeline backwards to some event t(0-M), where there is enough time prior to t0 to prevent the activation (or at least delay it, which has been the case multiple times) of the LHC. Suddenly we, the observers of our current world have a "path" altering event, which guides us down an alternate path than the one that the time traveler came from, which was supposed to be our path had he/she/it not changed it.
Perhaps this is exactly what happened with the Superconducting Super Collider (SSC), which was the last particle accelerator of this scope, and was cancelled before completing. Only time will tell, as the activation of the LHC is scheduled for sometime tomorrow!!! Oh wait. It got pushed back till next month... Hmm. Looks like another win for the time-altering citizens of the future.
After much proliferation, Allie and I have confirmed and booked our date and location for the Reception! So the official date is September 5, 2009. The location is Stephany's Catering in Erie, PA:
Next is the [sarcasm]simple[/sarcasm] matter of figuring out where the ceremony should be. Hopefully, with Allie heading to Erie this process will actually be easier. Granted, I'm sure Nancy (my soon-to-be Mother-in-law) would have been a tremendous help in finding a suitable location; however, when their powers combine... Sorry, I didn't mean for that to turn into a Captain Planet reference, it just kind of happened. Anyway, here's a preview of the 'Save the Date' magnets that we'll be sending out to our loved ones soon:
*~*
For those of you who know who John Titor is; it would seem that perhaps he was correct(is? will be??? How do you refer to a time traveler?). For those of you who don't who I'm talking about: I would suggest reading about him. What you'll find is a rather chilling mystery that could very well be unraveled sometime soon.
The reason why I bring this up is because yesterday, I read about the theory that the LHC (Large Hadron Collider) will in fact create a singularity, and in doing so allow the alteration of time prior to its activation, thereby never actually allowing it to be activated [Time to go Backwards via G4]. Of course there are also theories proposed by Russian Mathematicians that say that the opening of this Singularity will simply allow time travelers from the future to come back to our time. Perhaps this is the event that John spoke of when he mentioned 'a singularity event around 2007' that allowed for the development of time travel. He also confirmed that the multiple worlds theory was in fact the correct theory in relation to quantum physics, which would explain why the ambiguity of 'around 2007' was not correct. He did at least get the CERN part of the prediction right (or at least we'll find out once and if this thing ever gets activated). "Wait a second", you may be saying, "if this thing never gets activated, then he would be wrong! Because time travel would never be created since no singularity ever spawned!". Well yes, not in our world/universe/dimension/whatever you want to call it. Let me explain:
When thinking about the accuracy of his theory we must consider the effect that the multiple worlds (MW) theory has. I usually like to think of the idea of MW as a tree structure. Allow me to elucidate: let us take a point of reference for this discussion, which we will define as t0 (that's "tee-zero"), and will place this event at the base, or trunk, of the tree. Given t0, you have a considerably infinite number of possibilities for events that could happen to progress to the next point of time, which we will call t1. Since t1 can be any number of possible events, we will populate these events on our tree as the leaves (or children) of the base (parent) node, and refer to this point of time as t1 regardless of which possibility occurs. Now each of these leaves becomes its own base event, which in turn would each have its own infinite number of possibilities (infinity squared) labeled as t2. This pattern would continue ad nauseum. Starting from t0 and selecting one node at t1, then selecting a child of t1 at t2, and so on and so forth would give us a path from t0 to t(N - 1) (the last selected event), which we could consider a time-line, or essentially a "world", of which there are multiple worlds (infinite ^ (N - 1) to be "exact"). This is where the name Multiple Worlds" comes in, as for any given event there are multiple worlds where this event either did or did not happen, which is basically the idea of parallel dimensions, just less science-fiction and more quantum physics (ie, less Bizarro Superman, and more Schroedinger's Cat).
Now if we consider the activation of the LHC at CERN to be our t0, then let us entertain the thought of a singularity being created at t1. At some point in the future after the process is replicated and controllable to the point where time travel is possible, coupled with a dilemma that is directly related to the possibility of time travel getting into the wrong hands (Terminator-style). This point of time we will let be t(N-1). So the progression from t0 to t(N-1) is one possible world. A inhabitant of this world decides that the creation of time travel should be thwarted, so he utilizes time travel to follow the timeline backwards to some event t(0-M), where there is enough time prior to t0 to prevent the activation (or at least delay it, which has been the case multiple times) of the LHC. Suddenly we, the observers of our current world have a "path" altering event, which guides us down an alternate path than the one that the time traveler came from, which was supposed to be our path had he/she/it not changed it.
Perhaps this is exactly what happened with the Superconducting Super Collider (SSC), which was the last particle accelerator of this scope, and was cancelled before completing. Only time will tell, as the activation of the LHC is scheduled for sometime tomorrow!!! Oh wait. It got pushed back till next month... Hmm. Looks like another win for the time-altering citizens of the future.
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