By John Y. Brown III, on Tue Oct 16, 2012 at 12:00 PM ET
Can you relate?
You know the feeling you get when you oversleep because you were sure you would wake up early enough on your own without a wake-up call to make your flight home from a business trip in a city you’ve never been in before?
And then rush frantically getting ready only to realize you didn’t pack a fresh change of clothes for today and have to wear the same shirt you wore on Monday because it’s somehow less wrinkled than the shirts you wore Tuesday or Wednesday and you packed your Dopp kit before shaving but pull out the razor and try to shave enough so it doesn’t look like you didn’t shave?
And then you rush through the lobby hoping to find a cup of coffee but they are out and you see a guy from your conference who wants to talk and exchange business cards and you are too flustered to tell him you overslept and are rushing to the airport so you just pretend like you were getting a call just at that moment and had to take it outside and couldn’t talk to him?
And then can’t find your car for 6 minutes in the hotel parking lot because you wanted to save money by parking yourself instead of using the valet service and can’t recall where you parked last night after you had a flat tire and it took you an hour to drive 5 miles back to your hotel because you couldn’t use your GPS since your iPhone had died—again?
And then you get to the rental car drop off and are told you didn’t buy coverage for the tire and will have to pay for it and will also be charged for running about 5 tolls that you didn’t have change for because you refused to use the EZPass pre-paid service Budget offered you on Monday?
And as you watch 3 employees not be able to answer—or even try very hard to answer—a few simple question about how to deal with the toll violations you’ll be receiving you think to yourself how much time they are wasting and how they aren’t working very hard very hard at all and seem to be wasting a lot of time.. And you start to feel mad because your tax dollars are being wasted on slackers like these even though Budget Rental Car isn’t part of the federal government?
But you start to sympathize with the Tea Party movement and can see yourself being one on days like today but then think to yourself, “Wow. I guess Tea Party types feel this upset all of the time” and realize you might be able to also if things don’t improve soon.
And then you are a little rude to the driver of the rental car shuttle because you are about to miss your plane and are embarrassed when you realize you don’t know which airline you are on but “think” it’s United.
But it’s not and United takes 20 minutes to figure that out since they have no idea what you are talking about before United’s ticket agent tells you that you are actually on USAir and you rush down to the USAir ticket counter and an attractive young lady is talking on the phone to another customer while you impatiently wait to tell her your flight departs at 9:19 and it is already 9:02….and when she does get off the phone she decides to try out some new boundary techniques for talking to rude customers like you.
And refuses to check if your flight is running late or offering you any ticket credit since it is “You fault” that you are late—and says this several times with a smirk on her face until you snap and tell her loudly in front of another customer and a co-worker that “You are not going to put up with this anymore and that people should not treat other people like this” and you try to run down a list of things she’s done wrong but can’t think of anything, really, except that smirk, and so you finish your unintelligible mini-tirade by adding, “And doing it all with that insulting smirk on your face!” and you realize that now both the other customer and her colleague are watching you and smirking along with her and you realize that they know that even you know how ridiculous you sound and aren’t intimidating anyone and, frankly, are too old and too short for this kind of rant but that it’s too late to stop and so you just hope the “Smirk” comment at the end sounds impressive.
And then you try to buy a new ticket from United but they have no flights out but are at least nice about it since they saw the episode several counters over with USAir but you do find a ticket available on Southwest that leaves in an hour later and buy the ticket and then wait endlessly in airport security and are tempted to ask the TSA guard how many finger nail clippers and 5 oz bottles of body lotion they’ve confiscated this week from would-be terrorist but don’t because you had just made a jerk of yourself just a few minutes earlier and want to apologize to the US Air ticket agent but are already though security and really, really, really want a cup of coffee and see a Starbucks sign and walk faster until you realize there is another sign below it saying, “Coming soon?”
And then you go into a gift shop that sells coffee and are trying to write about all this to post on Facebook to relieve some of the stress you are feeling but inadvertently delete the first two paragraphs and put down your phone as an older, chipper Chinese Barista is waving funnily at you saying in her broken English “Hello, Hello, Hello, sir.”
And you smile a little because she doesn’t understand the social cues of your culture for “Do not be nice to me; I am brooding now” and then a young Indian fellow Barista is embarrassed she can’t understand your order and looks down in shame while laughing to herself—but not smirking.
And you start to feel a little lighter as you put the condiments in your coffee and walk out but notice a new book cover sporting Arnold Schwarzenegger’s mug with a contrite and humbled expression on his face but the book is titled something like, “My unbelievable real life story.” And you can hear his thick Austrian accent as you read the title to yourself and think to yourself he really does have a pretty amazing life story. And you realize that no matter how bad your morning was, your year won’t be as bad as Arnold’s was last year.
And that we are all really doing about the best we can with what we have— and that s**t does happen and sometimes happens in streams—but even then it’s really no big deal. Not really.
And you sit down at your gate and recharge your electronics and think about how nice the person at AAA was last night and how helpful the person was at Southwest and that the people at Budget Rental Car were probably on break and weren’t trying to be difficult.
And as you are board your flight you notice a prominent sign on the side of the plan saying, “Wireless Available” and that wireless service wasn’t available on the flight you booked on the original flight on USAir or United or whatever because you asked when you booked and were told no. And you think to yourself, “Maybe my luck is changing today….and despite my tumultuous morning, maybe, just maybe, today is going to be another lucky day for me after all.”
If you answered “Yes, you can relate” then all that there is left for me to do is chuckle along with you, pat you on the back (virtually) and say, “Really? Oh my gosh, me too! Just this morning!” And hope that the airborne wireless service is working.
Note: The wireless service is working. I am posting this at 10,000 feet. And am feeling like a pretty lucky guy.
By John Y. Brown III, on Mon Oct 15, 2012 at 12:00 PM ET
White water rafting… in Las Vegas.
(Or learning to improvise on father-son weekends)
When I was 13 years old my parents had recently divorced and my father decided it would be a good time to have a father-son bonding weekend and that we’d go white water rafting in Snake River Canyon Wyoming. It was the first and last time I’ve ever been to Wyoming. Or whitewater rafting, for that matter. But
I do have fond and fun memories of what developed into a rather unconventional father-son weekend.
We arrived at the and were told by the guide that the water was unusually placid and there would be no “white water rafting” but we could still navigate the river’s calm waters, fish, and have cookouts where we stopped to camp for the next four days. My father, who was once fairly described as having the attention span of a strobe light, looked horrified—like it had been announced we’d been kidnapped and wouldn’t see civilization again for a very long time—maybe ever. My attention span was slightly better. Like a strobe light running in slow motion. And although I doubt I looked horrified; I suspect I looked seriously concerned and maybe even a little ashen.
JYB Sr., JYB Jr. and JYB III circa 1972
We spent the next 8-10 hours on a raft. That’s it. Just rafting and fishing unsuccessfully. That night we set up camp and had a fire and played backgammon. That’s right, backgammon. My father and I would play backgammon for a dollar a point. I was down by a lot when we stopped playing several hours later because the dice rolling kept others with us from going to sleep. Earlier that evening our tour guide pointed out on a cave what looked like some Indian drawings. I knew my mom would find this interesting but I could tell my dad had dialed into his primitive survivalist instincts and was concocting a plan to allow us to escape. There were some things he knew he couldn’t protect me against in the wild. But boredom wasn’t one of them. I sensed that a real white water adventure was about to begin—one that wasn’t on the tour guides itinerary.
The next morning after several more hours on the raft of unsuccessful fishing and gliding along the undisturbed waters while I continued to lose more of my allowance playing backgammon, I realized my father had convinced the tour guide to go a direction that would drop us off at the first small town were close to. Suddenly there were people and a small store. We were dropped off, said good-bye, and grabbed the duffel bags I had packed for us.
I had no idea where we were going only that the waters were getting more interesting and adrenaline was on the uptick. My father asked for a ride to the nearest airport. He paid a tall Native American man $50 to allow us to drive his old pick-up truck to the nearest airport where he would pick it up later that day. So, there we were—two city boys roughing it but learning to brave the harsh outdoor elements by persuading a strangers to loan us his pick-up truck so we could get to the airport. The truck had a single 8 track tape: Seargent Pepper’s Lonely Heart Club’s Band. I had always liked “Lucy in the Sky with Diamonds” but got to listen to the entire 8 track during our drive and realized how much I really liked the entire album. Even “A Day in the Life.”
We arrived at a tiny airport with few flights and none looking to arrive in destinations more appealing than where we already were—except one. We flew to Las Vegas. As we walked into the hotel lobby in Vegas, I think it was fair to say we were the only ones checking in with duffel bags. Because I’d only packed outdoor clothing for our rafting trip—and most father-son activities in Las Vegas were geared more for indoors—we each had to buy new clothes that night. Which was fun. And we had room service where I discovered Matza Ball Soup. Something that wouldn’t have happened had we continued White Water rafting. And to this day I still order Matza Ball soup whenever I have the chance.
We stayed for a couple of days and I not only got even in backgammon, but came out a little ahead. And most important there was the father-son bonding, city style. And the ancient and important ritual tradition of father passing on important life survival skills to the son. I learned well how to improvise, adapt and think out of the box….and am rarely bored in life. Even without having to go to Vegas. And then we boarded a 747 and headed back home to Kentucky from our rugged and largely improvised—and unforgettable— white water adventure.
To most observers, Barack Obama’s poor night in Denver seems as inexplicable on reflection as it did in the moment. There is arguably nothing in presidential debate memory that matches it for improbability. Richard Nixon’s darting eyes and sweaty brow in 1960, Ronald Reagan’s distracted presence in 1984, Michael Dukakis’ mechanical dullness in 1988, Al Gore’s snide sighs in 2000 all resurrected conspicuous enough traits in their personas for even casual observers. The surprises, if any existed, were only that the mask slipped so revealingly, and with such ill timing.
But Obama’s plodding, sluggish, inert set of reflexes were a wholly unanticipated calamity. By any objective lens, Obama has been a famously intuitive performer who revels on the high wire—from the keynote in Boston in 2004 to the high risk Jeremiah Wright talk to the masterpiece victory speeches in Iowa and South Carolina in 2008 that played such an underrated role in crafting Obama’s charismatic image when large swaths of the country were just beginning to pay attention. There was none of that verve in the rambling opening answer on a thoroughly predictable question on jobs, none of that stage presence in the times Obama stood mute when Mitt Romney contradicted him on tax breaks, Medicare cuts, or the machinations around the Simpson Bowles Commission. Instead, it was the hard to disguise tentativeness of a job applicant who knows too well the gaps in his resume.
I’ll venture one theory that reconciles Obama’s past with his struggles the other night. For all of the president’s oratorical prowess, it is worth noting that Obama’s past high notes all revolved around one signature theme: a refrain against the costs of a divided culture, polarized elections, and all manner of American gridlock. It is a mantra that Obama the challenger and rising star wore very well, but it was also the cry of an outsider trying to crash the gates. The fact that Obama has not cultivated a presidential vision that is remotely as compelling as the rationale for his insurgency four years ago was on display in Denver, and a more conspicuous liability than the absence of a script or a teleprompter.
Read the rest of… Artur Davis: Obama’s Depressing Night
By John Y. Brown III, on Fri Oct 12, 2012 at 12:00 PM ET
The personal impact of movies on our lives.
I just went through the drive through at McDonalds and ordered coffee the same way I have ordered it for the past 18 years, “Lots of cream; lots of sugar.”
That’s always the way I take my coffee but not always the way I ordered it. Before seeing Pulp Fiction in 1994 I would ask for coffee “with extra cream and extra sugar.”
But this scene with Winston Wolfe changed all that. And for the past 18 years and probably the rest of my life, a small but noticeable change occurred in my life.
The coffee tastes the same, of course. But I get a little subconscious Wolfie rush every time I order coffee. And feel like I am a little more in control of the situation —because of my ordering style—than I used to me.
All throughout 2012 Missouri’s U.S. Senate race was garnering significant attention because of its implications on the outcome of the majority, but after Congressman Akin’s offensive comment on rape he has became a talking point to all political commentators, a joke to average citizens around the water cooler, and a lightning rod of sensitivity to those who have suffered rape.
Many national political observers are asking, “How did this guy get elected in Missouri?” His rise from an unnoticed conservative backbencher in the minority Missouri state legislature to the Republican U.S. Senate nominee is not that complicated.
Akin is not that well liked by the establishment of the Missouri Republican Party and has never been respected by party leaders and other elected republicans. You probably expect all Republicans to say that after his comment, but as a former Republican leader who is now out of the party I can tell you Akin never did much to help other Republicans.
Sure, most politicians take care of themselves first, but usually they do something to play ball and help the “team,” but not Todd Akin. He never needed the help of the party to win any of his primaries, and they never respected him so he never lifted a finger to help anyone unless it helped advance his principles (something hardcore conservatives admire him for).
My point is not to bash Todd Akin, he is a patriotic American whose son’s serve in the military (U.S. Marines!) and I have no doubts about his genuine commitment to our country and its founding principles. He is a hardcore conservative and proved it when he was one of the few Republicans to vote against President Bush’s Medicare expansion for prescription drugs. He has a wonderful family that anyone would be proud of and he sticks with what he believes. He also avoids negative campaigning which attracts many of his supporters. I have always said, “If you want a conservative who will vote no on everything then Todd Akin is your man. He doesn’t get many reforms passed or change things but he can always be counted on to cut spending and vote no.”
The New School Free Press recently published a feature interview on one of their newest professors, contributing RP Jeff Smith. Here’s an excerpt:
Last September, Jeff Smith’s first class as assistant professor of politics and advocacy at Milano was cut abruptly short. After explaining to the class that he had recently been released from federal prison, he received a text message informing him that his pregnant wife had gone into labor. “I told the class that I would have loved to stay, but I had to go to the hospital,” Smith says. “One of the students said, ‘Man, I think we just got Punk’d.’”
The series of events that eventually brought Smith to The New School started back in 2004. It was then that Smith narrowly lost the Democratic primary in his bid to represent his home state of Missouri in the U.S. Congress. It was the first time Smith had run for office and, though he began his campaign as an underdog, the election came down to a tight race between Smith and his opponent, Russ Carnahan. During the campaign, Smith illegally coordinated with an independent political group that ran negative advertisements about Carnahan. Smith initially denied his involvement during a federal investigation of the events and submitted a false affidavit, which turned out to be his biggest mistake. After a recording of him admitting his guilt surfaced in an unrelated investigation in 2009, Smith was sentenced to one year and one day in a federal penitentiary. He was released in 2010.
Although the incident abruptly ended Smith’s political career, he came to The New School on a quest to keep political commentary as a part of his life. He’s currently a contributor for Salon, writing recently about the Todd Akin controversy and former New School president Bob Kerrey’s U.S. Senate campaign, among other political issues. The Free Press sat down with Smith recently, just after he had returned from a sleepless night at the Democratic National Convention in Charlotte, North Carolina.
FP: How did you end up at The New School?
JS: I saw a job opening online, and while speaking to the chairman of the search committee I mentioned how much I appreciated that [the committee] was open-minded enough to consider me, given the fact that I had just got out of prison. The chairman said, “We had a lot of applications, and at least yours stood out.”
FP: Your political and criminal background has been well documented. How do you apply your experiences to your teaching?
JS: What happened to me was that I made a mistake. What I did was relatively common in politics – but the point is that I did it, I got caught, I paid the price, [and] I learned first of all that even the smallest attempt to cut corners can get you in a lot of trouble. Hopefully, in a broader perspective, I can use my experiences to help public officials around the country operate in ways that are always 100 percent ethical.
From a teaching perspective, young people are obviously very impressionable and see teachers, in many cases, as role models. I try not to make a cornerstone out of my experiences, but I’ve had good opportunities within the context of the courses I teach to explain how in any campaign, the smallest mistakes can have outsized consequences.
By John Y. Brown III, on Thu Oct 11, 2012 at 12:00 PM ET
Leadership and leaning….
If you feel at a crossroads with some worthwhile endeavor a version of the “fight or flight” instinct is about to kick in.
I call it the “lean away from” or “lean into” syndrome. It’s not so much an instinct or syndrome as much as a habit we develop over time. How people approach the “check out” or “ramp it up” decision is what distinguishes, in large measure, the winners and losers in life.
Those who anticipate tough times ahead when undertaking any job worth doing and are prepared to kick it up a notch when that inevitable tough moment comes, are the people I admire most. Some say what these role models emulate for us is courage; some say it’s persistence; others say it’s a commitment to a clear vision.
I think it’s more of a habit we have developed. A habit of how we chose to lean when it counts.
By Jason Grill, on Thu Oct 11, 2012 at 10:00 AM ET
As the country — and particularly Danville, Kentucky — gets ready for tonight’s Vice-Presidential debate, contributing RP Jason Grill shares his insights on where we stand in this debate season:
Now that Congressman Todd Akin has been cemented in as the GOP candidate for the U.S. Senate in Missouri, his comments a few weeks ago about “legitimate rape” are being targeted in a series of very powerful ads run by his opponent, Senate Claire McCaskill. Check them out below:
Read the rest of… Powerful McCaskill Ads Feature Sexual Assault Survivors
By John Y. Brown III, on Wed Oct 10, 2012 at 12:00 PM ET
Funny the memories that get jogged.
On a Saturday night in the fall of my junior year in high school, I was at a friend’s house who took out an album and handled it with the reverence and care that might be expected if he were handling the Hope Diamond. Carefully, he placed the needle on the vinyl and announced we were listening to one of the greatest albums of all time…..and proceeded to read excerpts to me from a book about the Beatles and the White Album.
16 year olds aren’t supposed to be reverent about much of anything….so I wasn’t sure whether to laugh or listen with rapt attention as my friend went into this hypnotic Beatles mode. So I did neither. I finally just gave in and listened, somewhat reverently, to the music.
And got it.
“Dear Prudence” was my favorite song on album. And ever since that night I still to this day speak of the White Album in hushed tones. ; )
Can you relate?
