No, a public train is not your living room

So, I was riding the train back from New York last night and was treated to this half of a cellphone conversation...

When I started listening, this guy, Jeff (never leave your ticket stub behind if you are going to be an ass...if that's not an important life rule, it should be), was telling whoever about a conversation he had with this guy who was shining his shoes that morning. Jeff told the shoeshine guy that he had two young boys (who hopefully are getting their life education from their mother), and the shoeshine guy told him that he had three girls who he had put through college, two Harvard and one somewhere else. His comment on the price of higher education was that it was too high, in fact, given that one really couldn't do anything of substance without it, that it should be free. This prompted Jeff to tell his friend how incredulous it was that he had to listen to this. He then said, "They think they elected this monkey in there, and now it's their turn."

Continuing on this theme and talking about the bailout, prompted these two bits of dialog:

"The noise is the subsidies. You and I know how to work. I can take the reins of any of these places and turn a profit."

And, "Africans didn't come here of their own accord. We drug them here, let's send them back. They can go to Liberia or whereever. Except for the 3% who are hard workers. But Obama the Messiah is going to take care of them all. "

He then talked about his next truck, which, at least, is going to be a Ford. But he didn't mention any altruistic reason like helping the auto industry or the workers.

Finally, there was a story which really shouldn't be repeated. It was offensive to women and men, for that matter, about getting wasted in a bar with his friend, Scott, who was so trashed he couldn't speak, and the situation he "orchestrated" with a "225-pound Belgian" woman who only spoke a little English.

After all this, he pulls out a travel pillow, puts his knapsack on his lap, hugs it, and takes a nap. My guess is that he spent a great deal of time in either boarding school or summer camp and was as much of a jerk back then that he had to protect himself while he slept.

Found: People out at night in Atlanta

And on the third night, there were people.

Friday night, my last night in Atlanta, I got a ticket to see Kathy Griffin at the Fox Theatre. After the conference wrapped up that day, a couple of colleagues and I went out to dinner in a place nearby (I forget the name). We drove by the theater and there were actual people heading toward the theater for the early show, and in the lounges at both hotels across the street, which had been deserted the previous two nights were packed with people.

After dinner, while waiting to head across the street myself for the late show, it was standing room only on the terrace bar where I stopped to have a drink. I became engrossed listening to this conversation amongst these women also on their way to the theater. Either some people shouldn't drink at all, or I should drink more.

This one young woman had recently returned from India. She was talking about...well, as she put it, "It used to be called Bombay, but now that they aren't under England, they call it Bomb-eye [an attempt at her pronounciation]." I thought I just misheard her, but this went on for about five minutes, with her friends in disbelief, amazed at how a political change resulted in a pronounciation change. "Yeah, now they have to pronounce it Bomb-eye." "Bombay, Bomb-eye, tomato, tom-a-to." It was all that I could do to keep quiet. Finally, they got off that and she got all profound and serious. "It really makes you realize how lucky we are over here," she said, describing how much it cost her to take a tour somewhere, "I mean, here we get to choose to have a middle class." I wasn't that close, but I thought she had tears in her eyes. I know I did.

But, anyway, back to Kathy Griffin: The theater itself is gorgeous inside. I know who she is, but I've never seen her show on Bravo. She was extremely funny. While waiting for her to go on, this woman next to me, who had bought a T-shirt and picture, showed me the picture and said, "Isn't she beautiful?" I said yes, but that I thought she was cuter before all that plastic surgery. "Yeah, she's had a lot, but it's a different kind of beautiful now." Who could argue? The woman and her friend also had bought a couple of glasses of champagne each. The other woman dropped something in her glass and then in in her friend's. It turned out to be gummy bears.

That pretty much is as good a metaphor for Atlanta as anything: champagne with gummy bears.

Life in the big city—and Newark

I never really had an issue with Newark, until I started staying there. (To know it is to hate it.)

This past weekend, I was in New York for meetings, but stuck in Newark at night. The commute itself, a little over an hour on a good day, wouldn’t be so bad if it weren’t for the 11-hour work days.

I’ve been staying at the Robert Treat Hotel, which is a Best Western. (Not to be snobby, but that pretty much sums it up.) After having dinner with colleagues in Manhattan, I got there that night at 10:30--incredibly early by my internal clock. Since I had spent almost every waking hour that day and the day before in the company of my colleagues and I don’t like being confined in a hotel room (even though most are about as big as my apartment), I decided to go to the hotel restaurant for a drink and a change of scenery.

Well, as it turned out, there was a wedding party staying at the hotel and they had closed the restaurant for a private party. There was no other place nearby to go, and I was under strict orders not to walk around downtown Newark at night. (One warning I might have ignored, but by the time I heard the third one, I figured if I didn’t heed it I would be a prime candidate for a karmic dummy slap, so I decided to stay put.) The host-person at the restaurant told me they would serve me a drink, but I would have to drink it “over there.” I assumed that he was pointing to a lounge. So I got my drink and went “over there.” But, to my surprise, “over there” turned out to be this little room off to the side of the restaurant that had four tables set up. A waiter came over and promptly took off the settings on the table I selected, and then I was left alone to drink my drink, totally defeating the purpose of going there in the first place.

A funny thing did happen on the elevator going back to my room. I was going to the 10th floor, and this crowd of people got on the elevator with me. (It had been an African wedding, by the way, so most were dressed in traditional attire.) The mother of the bride and some members of her family got on (going to the 7th floor) and a friend of a friend of the mother got on, also going to the 10th floor. While we were waiting for everyone to get on board and all the way up, the friend effused to the mother about how beautiful her daughter was, what a wonderful couple they made, how delightful the wedding was, she barely took a breath between praises. However, as soon as the family got off the elevator and we resumed our ascent, she promptly stated, “I pray they last the year” and then laughed a humorless laugh as we reached our floor, said goodnight, and parted ways.

A walk in the park

Yesterday, I took advantage of a sunny day with no calendar obligations (rare when the two coincide) to take a walk down by the river. In addition to getting a much-needed dose of sunshine, there was plenty of other environmental stimuli as well:

Did you ever walk in front of someone having a conversation where you just have to turn around to get a glimpse at the people talking? Usually they are talking loud enough as if their intent is to entertain the world, but it's almost a little sad when you realize their conversation is serious.

For quite a ways, two young women were having a conversation sparked by a puppy playing in the grass. It went like this:
"Oh, how cute."
"Yeah."
"I want a puppy."
"You always say that."
"You know what I really want, is a baby."
"You always say that when you see a puppy."
"I know. I see a puppy and I want one to play with it, then I think, why just a puppy? If I had a baby I could be playing with that."
"But if you get tired of the puppy, you can give it away. You can't do that with a baby."
And on it went. (Believe it or not, there was more.)

As if that isn't enough, off to the side, along with all the people sitting and laying along the Charles, there strode a man who was looking for just the right spot to get a little sun. (The first nice weekend day, there was a lot of people there.) What set him apart from everyone else doing the same thing? He had stripped down to absolutely nothing but a thong. And there he was, weaving through the crowd flashing his bare butt like it was the most normal thing in the world.

The only thing I could think of was that it was a good thing these two didn't meet....