My Grandmother Drank Beer

I was in a bar recently and noticed a guy ordering a beer. It was not an ordinary beer. The beer he ordered triggered a powerful memory. It reminded me of my grandmother. When I was a kid my grandmother (my mother’s mother) lived with us. My mother was an only child and my grandfather passed away in his early fifties. She needed a place to stay and it made sense for her to move in.

My grandmother grew up in a small town in Mississippi. She lived through the world wars and the depression. She had many life experiences. I now know that what she really had was wisdom. She taught me a lot of things. Things like how to save and manage money, the value of hard work, the importance of religion and morality, and most importantly how to eat good southern food. She had a way of knowing when to scold you but also knowing when to allow you to “live a little”. She passed away at the age of 87 in 1998. I miss her and think about her influence in my life often.

One thing I remember about my grandmother was that she drank beer. It was the same kind of beer the guy ordered a few weeks ago. She did not always drink beer, but when she did she drank PBR. Pabst Blue Ribbon. She drank Pabst Blue Ribbon from a can. These cans were found in our refrigerator, hidden in the back, on one of the lower shelves. These were not just any cans, however. My grandmother drank “tall boys”, the 16 “ouncers”. These were the old style beer cans. They were made from tin and had the pop top throw away pull tabs. The opening on the can was not round but had kind of a tear drop shape. The logo below was proudly displayed on every one of them.

Pabst Blue Ribbon is actually a great beer. It 1893, it won the award for the best beer at the Chicago World’s Fair. It was a “blue ribbon. In 2006, at the Great American Beer Festival, it won the Gold Medal for American Style Lager Beers. When I was about 12 or so she gave me a sip of her Pabst Blue Ribbon beer. I have drank some beer since but I can’t recall ever actually drinking a PBR. That is about to change.

My grandmother was born on January 5th, 1911. In about 2 weeks, on January 5th, 2011, she would have been 100 years old. I will use the occasion to drink PBR from a tall boy can in her honor. If you think about it, do the same. Or better yet, take a moment to recall a memory about your grandmother. Like mine, I bet she was “pretty cool”.

A Traveling Idiot

The time has gotten away from me in the last few weeks and I feel the need to post a blog. The title of this blog is “A Traveling Idiot”. The last 8 weeks have been hectic with travel, a couple of weekend golf events, and the normal activities of my rather ordinary life.

In case you have forgotten, it is time to remind you of a few basic facts.

1. My job requires me to travel.
2. I like to make fun of myself.
3. Once you get behind the curtain there is really not much there.
4. I am an idiot.

Please read, enjoy, and then decide for yourself.

August 11th , 2010 - Trip to Monterrey Mexico. I leave Atlanta carrying a bag of metal tools, many which look like they could be used as examining equipment from a proctologists office. Mexican customs does not like me or my bag of tools. It cost me $60 worth of bribes to a couple of “officials” to keep things moving through the airport. Once inside Mexico my local contact wants to take me to lunch. I let him order. How did I know that cabra meant goat in Spanish.

August 12th, 2010 – Monterrey Mexico. My Hotel was the Marriott Courtyard. I bought some bottled water and tried to make coffee in my room. The coffee maker malfunctioned while I was in the shower. I can’t be expected to read the instructions in Spanish, can I? It was not my fault. The damage was extensive. The maids and manager were now involved. I was no longer allowed to have a coffee maker in my room.

August 17th, 2010 – Ft. Lauderdale, FL. On the flight down I was busted by the flight attendant. We were about to take off. I was cited for a triple violation. My seat back was not in its upright and locked position, may tray table was down, and my bag was not properly stowed under the seat in front of me. A few minutes later I referred to the flight attendant as a “sky waitress”. I never got my bag of peanuts.

August 18th, 2010 – Miami, FL. I went out to dinner with some customers in South Beach. We stumbled upon a bar where a Rod Stewart impersonator was performing. I asked him if where the rest of the Rolling Stones were? The bouncer politely escorted me away from the stage. I am still looking for the rest of the Stones.

August 23rd, 2010 – Minneapolis, MN – I ate dinner at a sushi place in the Mall of America. It was called Tiger Sushi. The meat was tough and tasted a little gamey. I knew something was wrong. I thought tigers were an endangered species. I need some help here.

August 24th, 2010 – Minneapolis, MN Corporate Office. We played league softball with the Company team after work. I was warned by the umpire for drinking beer in the dugout during the game. How was I to know that players could only drink beer in stands during the game, not in the dugout. Silly local rules.

August 25th, 2010 – Minneapolis, MN. I returned the rental car to the airport. The attendant accused me of causing a scratch on the left front fender of the car. I blamed it on one of my co-workers who I had borrowed the car from the day before. We got him on the phone. He denied knowing me. I was escorted to the manager’s office for further processing. The charges were: driving a car I did not rent, attempting to blame an innocent party, and declining the extra insurance. I am no longer supposed to rent cars from Avis. I guess my name is now on “some list”.

September 2nd, 2010 – Dallas, TX. I attempted to do the “green” thing and rent a Toyota Prius. I made it to my first destination and then could not get the car to start. A Prius does not start like a normal car. So, there I am sitting in my car in 95 degree heat. I searched for the owner’s manual. None found. I called Hertz reservations, no help. I called the Hertz emergency number. They sent another car and a driver to get me. The driver happened to be the manager. The car promptly started for him. I guess there is some odd sequence of foot on the brake, push the button, put car in gear, wait, rinse and repeat to make the thing run. The manager was not happy. He asked me if I had ever had my name put on a “rental car list”.

September 15th, 2010 – Buffalo, NY. I flew to Buffalo and decided to drive the hour and a half to get to Toronto, Canada. The fares are much cheaper if you do it that way. I now rent from National Rental Car. I got my rental car and headed for the border. The Canadian crossing guard asked me if I had anything “declare”. I told him that I was an idiot. He did not think that was funny and set me aside for further processing.

October 10th, 2010 – Orlando, FL. I picked up my work associates in the rental car. They let me drive. Orlando has a lot of toll roads. I have a habit of failing to read road signs and therefore always seem to be in the wrong lane. I was in the wrong lane for the toll booth 3 times on the way from the airport. That meant that I paid no tolls. I guess I will find out if those little cameras really work.

October 11th, 2011 – Orlando, FL. I was in Orlando to attend the Hilton Hotel Franchisee TradeShow. These folks own hotels. The vast majority of them are from India and have the last name of Patel. There were lots of them with names like, Joe, Mitch, Sam, Dave, and the like. I asked one of them why everyone was named Patel. He said that the Patel’s in India were the keeper’s of property and royal goods. I thought he was making that up. I checked it out. He was right.

November 1st, 2010 – Philadelphia, PA. I ran in to Debra, a High School Classmate of mine, on the flight to Philadelphia. She was also headed to downtown Philadelphia so we shared the cab ride. We caught up on old friends and promised to stay in touch on facebook. She paid for the cab. I discretely got an extra copy of the receipt for my expenses.

November 3rd, 2010 – Atlanta, GA. I attended the Southeast Biomass Trade Show. The smell was not nearly as bad as I expected. The show was centered on the use of wood or vegetation that can be burned as a source of fuel as an alternative to coal or oil. I was relieved and will live to blog another day.

Sh*t My Dad Says

Over Labor Day weekend Lovie and I visited a friend who lives in Dallas, TX. We had a great time playing golf and hanging out at his backyard pool. While there he introduced me to a book he was reading. It was called Sh*t My Dad Says. For the record, this is a New York Time Best Seller. It is obvious that he and I were not the only ones reading this book.

The book came about from a series of Twitter posts. The story goes that the author of the book was forced to move back home after graduating from college. He could not find a job in today’s economic environment and came crawling back home to live with his parents. The origins of the book began when he started making Twitter posts about the things his Dad said about the course of everyday events. Each day he would make a post and in no time he developed over 1 million followers. He took his following and signed a book deal. If you read it, there is no doubt that the Dad in the book is quite a character.

Over the last year I have chronicled some of my favorite sayings and even taken the time to write them down. I thought it would be appropriate to save my kids the trouble of daily Twitter posts and publish my list. If you have been around me for any period of time you have probably heard me make a few of these statements. Some I have stolen from famous people, others have come from my friends or my kids, and some are just a collection of my own random thoughts. Hopefully a few of these will strike a chord with you and inspire you to laugh. If they day do, feel free to use them in your lives. I will close with one of my favorites, “Stay Hot”, and enjoy.

My Favorite Sayings in No Particular Order

1. You can lead a horse to water but that does not make him a duck.
2. It takes a smart man to know he is dumb.
3. You can’t accomplish anything on an empty stomach.
4. People eliminate themselves from success.
5. I would rather be good than lucky.
6. Weight control is like a full time job.
7. Every new beginning is some other beginnings end.
8. I may be incompetent but I am not grossly incompetent.
9. You are as happy in life as you want to be.
10. A camp fire is like outdoor TV.
11. It only takes two good shots per hole to be a great golfer.
12. This is going to be the best Christmas ever.
13. I was doing some thinking and drinking and….
14. I have a couple of different watches.
15. You better move out now while you know everything.
16. The harder you work the luckier you get.
17. Don’t be afraid to succeed.
18. Success is about showing up.
19. It is a watch collection not an obsession.
20. My body does not give up weight easily.
21. It is easy to be a social liberal when you don’t have to write the check.
22. Do these jeans make my butt look big?
23. Sleep is overrated.
24. If you look in your car’s rear view mirror you can see backwards.
25. Rub some dirt on it and get back in there.
26. I have not peaked yet.
27. Learn to know the difference between what is urgent and what is important.
28. If anyone wrote a book about your life would anyone read it?
29. Don’t become a role player in someone else’s Soap Opera.
30. There is nothing great about being the tallest dwarf in the circus.
31. I am immature beyond my years.
32. I am amphibious, and not only that I can live in or out of water.
33. That thing went up like a rocket.
34. The best people over deliver and under promise.
35. People will meet the expectations you set for them.
36. A word is like a thousand pictures.
37. People don’t plan to fail they fail to plan.
38. In marriage - Do you want to be right or do you want to be happy.
39. The best rules for life are the ones you learned in kindergarten.
40. We are all just passing through.
41. I told you I was sick.
42. We are all weird in our own special way.
43. I am not happy until you are not happy.
44. Don’t worry that we can buff that out.
45. Men & Women can’t be “just friends”.
46. You have to know the competition better than you know yourself.
47. Do you know that or are you just saying it.
48. Is it hot in here or is it just you?
49. Any landing you can walk away from is a good landing.
50. Beer is God’s way of wanting us to be happy.
51. Get above your comfort level.
52. You don’t want to see this face without makeup.
53. We are not building a Swiss watch here.
54. Never date a guy that smells better or looks better than you do.
55. Become a strategic “doer”.
56. Find time to do it right the first time not time to do it over.
57. This is the happiest day of my life.
58. I want to be thrown clear in the event of an accident.
59. We can fix it – I have an awesome set of tools.
60. If you want get to where you have never been you have to do things you have never done.
61. The definition of insanity is doing the same thing over and over again and expecting a different result.
62. Nothing worth having ever comes easy.
63. Bread is the food of the devil.
64. Tell your life story with decisions you make every day.
65. Think “yes” before you think “no”.
66. It is easy to talk yourself out of doing something difficult.
67. Sometimes the best decision is no decision.
68. Can you kill someone with your thumb?
69. Risk comes from not knowing what you are doing.
70. One of us is not as dumb as all of us.
71. I hate to lose more than I like to win.
72. If you are going to make an omelet you have to own a few chickens.
73. Only “date” someone that is way in to you.
74. Are you going to finish that?
75. Never turn down money or a free meal.
76. You only have one chance to make a first impression.
77. You don’t have to go home but you can’t stay here.
78. We’ve gotta have that play out of you.
79. If it were 10 degrees hotter it would be perfect.
80. Step up and get your name in the paper.
81. You can get a tattoo if your Grandmother approves.
82. The ultimate sign of maturity is the willingness to sacrifice for the future.
83. It’s hard to keep a good dog off you leg.
84. Things to be proud of often involve high risk.
85. Never buy anything from someone that is out of breath.
86. I am glad I did not peak in high school.
87. Life is an open book – use it.
88. Life's tough...... it's even tougher if you're stupid.
89. My definition of old is someone that is 15 years older than me.
90. Everybody is worth something.
91. Sooner or later I will be right.
92. Not all who wander are lost
93. It could be that I am part of the problem.
94. I think I am lost but am making great time.
95. Bad decisions make for great stories.
96. How many wrong turns will a man make before asking for directions
97. In the long run we are all dead.
98. It is time for me to slip into something comfortable.
99. Stay Hot
100. Good Talk

The Discovery of a Classic

Before I reveal too much about my find I will need to provide you with some of the events leading up to the discovery.

The day was Saturday July 31, 2010. Exactly 4 days after my 47th birthday. For my birthday gift my daughter invited me to the brewery tour of an Atlanta area microbrewery called the Sweetwater Brewery. Everyone that goes on a brewery tour knows that the best part of the tour centers on the sample room. In the case of the Sweetwater Brewery the sample room is really nothing more than a bar with limited drinking hours. They have a band, an outdoor patio, and for $8 a person you get a beer glass and opportunity to have it filled 6 times before you depart. It is a very good deal. The only catch is that the tours start at 2:30pm and end at 4:30pm. This short time frame is intended to limit the alcohol consumption of the patrons. It doesn’t. What is does do is force the beer drinking public to consume their 6 sample beers in a 2 hour time frame. Since it was my birthday, and since Lovie does not drink beer, I received a few extra samples and was forced to consume them in the allotted timeframe. I had a good time.

After the brewery tour the plan was to head to one of my daughters favorite Tapas dining restaurants in the Virginia Highlands section of Atlanta. Virginia Highlands is the section of Atlanta where every single person in their twenties should strive to live. It is an area of older craftsman style homes that were built in the 1920’s and 1930”s. Today it is populated with artists, musicians, hippies, and just plain old regular people. The downtown area of “The Highlands” is filled with shops, trendy restaurants, bars, and maybe one or two tattoo parlors. On this night the food was great, the company was even better, and the beer was cold.

Following dinner, and sort of on a whim, I decided that we were going to hang out for a few more hours with my daughter and her pals. We were headed to the home of one her friends that lived in the area. As it turns out, it was also time to celebrate his birthday. Being that we were showing up on short notice I quickly realized that I was ill prepared to attend the birthday party of my soon to be new friend. I panicked and swung in to action in search of an appropriate gift. As luck would have it, we arrived at his house and parked on the street next to what many would perceive to be a pile of junk. A quick study revealed that this was no ordinary pile of junk. One of the neighbors was throwing out some belongings and had piled them on the curb for pick up.

Seizing the opportunity to pick through one man’s junk I quickly found the perfect gift. As soon as I was about to claim my prize the neighbor appeared at his door. Many in my party panicked. I have been known to talk to anyone and politely asked the owner about his intentions for the pile of goods at the curb. As expected, he indicated that it was “free for the taking”. And taking I was as I needed a birthday gift. Buried deep in the pile was a portrait. From some reason this painting spoke to me. Not really as I don’t hear voices. But I saw something in the portrait that needed to come out. A story that needed to be told. About that time the now former owner of this artwork meandered to the curb. He said, “I see you have found the painting”. “My wife hates that thing”. “Please take it”, were his words.

I could tell by his words that the story was about to be told. As it turns out, the portrait was painted by a family friend. He was mental patient. An institutionalized mental patient. A full blown schizophrenic. This guy saw voices and heard colors. The man at the curb speculated that the portrait may have been a self portrait by the artist. Based on these details I knew I had stumbled upon the perfect gift. I collected my prize and proceeded to the birthday party.

Below the portrait.

At the party it sort of took on a life of its own. Clearly, it was the hit of the party. People left disturbed, others found religion, and still others went mad. I have also shown the portrait to a few friends. Words like troubling, demonic, and satanic have been used to describe the picture. Study it if you like, comment if you want, and laugh if like to read a good story.

One Degree of Separation

I was on an airplane this week and had some time to peck out a blog. I could call this one REO-Benatar or better yet, “One Degree of Separation”. I actually like the latter better.

One of my favorite things to do is to attend concerts at an outdoor amphitheatre in Atlanta. It is called Chastain Park. Chastain Park in located in a residential neighborhood in an old established part of North Atlanta. If you did not know it was there you would never find this place. I am not kidding. The amphitheatre is located inside a City of Atlanta Park. It was built in the 1930’s in what was a natural sloping valley between two hillsides. The stage is centered at the low point of the valley and the seating is aligned so that each seat perfectly faces the stage. The seating is bench style and the rows of seating gradually gets wider as you move farther away from the stage and move up the hillside. The seats are mounted on stacked stairs of thick granite slabs that are arranged along the two hillsides. The granite was quarried nearby and has now aged to look like something you might see in Ancient Rome. The oak trees that were planted around the perimeter of the seating are now fully matured and create a natural sound barrier. To say the least, this is a very cool place to see and hear a concert.

If that is not enough, the venue gets even better. It gets way better. Chastain Park has an exemption from the City of Atlanta that allows concert patrons to bring coolers to the concerts. Any cooler, picnic basket, lunchbox, knapsack or backpack is acceptable. You can bring it in. Nobody cares. No one looks inside. They do not care what you bring. You can carry in bottles, cans, canteens, casks, flasks, and even ewers. In other words you can bring anything you want in your cooler. Big or small. If you can carry it, bring it. You can bring beer, wine, liquor, iced tea, and even lemonade. You can bring food in your cooler. And people do bring food. They bring everything from chicken wings to catered gourmet meals. I have seen people eating corn dogs on a stick and people eating caviar on a cracker. I have seen people suck cheese out a can and people eating imported cheese on a silver platter. Whatever the palate desires, bring it.

I have seen no less than 100 concerts over the last 20 years at Chastain. Below are just a few of the more notable acts that I have seen. They are in no particular order, so do not try to over think the list. I could go on buy you get the idea.

- Yanni
- The Doobie Brothers
- Chicago
- The Gypsy Kings
- Heart
- Barry Manilow
- Phil Collins
- Diana Krall
- Harry Connick. Jr.
- REO Speedwagon
- Pat Benatar
- The Four Tops
- Ray Charles
- Faith Hill
- Journey
- Kansas
- Tony Bennett
- Steely Dan
- Wynonna Judd
- Allison Krauss
- The Beach Boys
- The Temptations

Last week I attended a concert at Chastain Park. It was the long awaited REO Speedwagon-Pat Benatar Show. I had purchased the tickets in late April. It was a perfect day for the concert, Thursday July 1st, 2010. In the weeks leading up to the concert I decided that I might need to take next day off (Friday) in advance of the long 4th of July weekend. In hindsight it turned out to be a good idea. So there it was, a four day weekend beginning with REO-Benatar.

The show started at 7:00pm. Being a Chastain veteran, I know the drill. I know when to leave, how to get there and avoid the traffic, and exactly where to park. The plan was to leave around 6:00pm, in plenty of time for an easy trip. I starting packing my cooler around 4 pm. I loaded some beer for me and a few friends and some wine for Lovie. I know to bring some extra beer for my friends. More on that later. Earlier in the day I seared some Ahi tuna on the grill. The tuna was now chilled and ready to be thinly sliced. It was the perfect topping for the asian fusion spinach salad that Lovie was preparing for dinner. The beer was packed and getting cold. The salad was complete. The cheese, crackers, asian fusion salad, fruit kabobs, and brownies were in the picnic basket. I was ready. It was 6:00pm.

The trip to Chastain was flawless. The show was more crowded than even I expected. We arrived in plenty of time but had to settle for what I would call an average parking spot. An average parking spot means a nice walk up a steep hill. It did not matter. The hill was steep, and being the gentleman that I am, I helped a lady and her friends carry their cooler up the hill. I did not know them.

Lovie and I settled in for the evening. The warm up act was some hippie looking guy playing an acoustic guitar. He was accompanied by this young girl that looked like Pocohantas. She played the drums and other percussion instruments while he strummed and sang. It was not that bad but not good enough for me to remember their name.

In a shocking turn of events REO Speedwagon was to open for Pat Benatar. I thought it should be the other way around. Just as REO was about to begin my seat mates arrived. My seat mates, to my right, were a group of three guys and three girls. The three guys met at Georgia Southern University and two of the three guys met their wives there. The third guy was single and on his first date with a friend of one of the girls. They were young. Young and not prepared for the concert. They had to buy beer.

I immediately bonded with the single guy on his first date. I am not sure why. You see we had nothing in common. He was 27, I am 46. He was 6 feet – 6 inches tall, I am 5 feet 8 inches tall. He was on his first date, and I have been married 26 years. He drank Budweiser from a can, and I drink import beer from a bottle. We had nothing in common until I slipped him one of the free beers from my cooler. To him I was a God and we bonded. For a 26 year old, he knew all the songs. He knew the lyrics, the guitar licks, and the drum solos. He learned them all on Guitar Hero. I tried to get him to make out with his date. He failed. According to him she had “values”. I fed him another beer.

I am a humble guy, I really am. People tell me all the time that people know me. I tell them that I somehow know a lot people. It could be that I have lived in the same area most of my life, or that I have worked in the same industry for 20 years, or that I have a knack for remembering people’s names and things about them. Whatever it is, I know a lot of people. So, I decided to test my known list of people on my new friend, Patrick. 6 foot – 6 inch Patrick. He had attended Georgia Southern University. I asked him if he remembered any of his business school Professors? He could not remember any of them. I asked him if he had any “hot” female professors? He thought for a moment and then lit up like a roman candle.

He remembered one. I asked him if he had a certain professor that I know? I knew if he had her he would have remembered. Men never forget a pretty face. He had her for some business class. He fondly remembered my friend. She was a friend of Lovie’s in high school. We had double dated when Lovie and I first met. She was at my wedding. He was in awe. She is my facebook friend. I proved it on my Droid. I was a god to him.

So here I am randomly seated next to some guy at a concert. I know somebody that knows him. “One degree of separation” as they say. “Hit me with your best shot”, I may know somebody that knows you.

I Read Cosmo

I read Cosmo. You got it right sister, Cosmopolitan the magazine. It is finally out and I am relieved. Before you judge me let me explain. I also read Vogue, Glamour, Esquire, Shape, Redbook and a few others. I read them at the grocery store checkout, the hair cut place, the doctor’s office, and even when waiting to have my car repaired. I take the sex surveys and the surveys to determine how good of a friend I am. I think about my answers with thought and feeling. I even subscribe to a few of them. If I have the time I usually read them from cover to cover.

Before you read further let’s establish one thing. I am not gay. I am not looking to get in touch with my feminine side. I am not looking for a sex change. I am not a homosexual, or a bisexual, or even a metrosexual. I am not in the closet or out of the closet. I am regular heterosexual guy and am about to answer your burning question.

Before I answer the question I will review a few facts about the history of the relationship between men and women. Since the beginning of time there has been strife between the sexes (see Genesis Chapter 2 – Adam and Eve). The world has never been the same since that very day. Civilizations have been ruined, wars have been fought, men have been tortured, mutilated, and even murdered, all for the sake of women. For the record, I love women. You can say that I am a philogynist. I will save you the look up. It means - a lover or friend of women; one who esteems woman as the higher type of humanity. And not only that I think women are great.

As part of my extensive sales training I have learned one thing. It is a simple learning, “Know the competition better than you know yourself or your Company”. That is why I read women’s magazines. I want to know the competition. These magazines are sort of like a reference guide about women. For me, I want to know how they think, what they wear, what they buy, and what motivates them. I want to be able to break it down and get to their core decision making process. In my opinion, that is the only way men will ever understand women. We have to get inside their head because we all know they can easily get inside the heads of men. Otherwise, history will repeat itself and I don’t want to be maimed or murdered for the sake of some woman.

Regardless of what you think relationships between men and women are in fact a competition. Everyday relationships are a competition. Psychologists are famous for saying, “in a relationship pick your battles”. They went to school for a bunch of years to let the average person know that they were entering a competition. They would not say it if they weren’t trying to prepare you battle. If more people read the magazines of the opposite sex the battles could simply be a few skirmishes along the way.

In an effort further the understanding of women with the masses, I will share some of my research. Last month Esquire magazine published a list of the 1,000 things that women wished that men knew about them. Guys, this your chance to gain some competitive intelligence. Women, before you react please remember that women wrote these. I am not making this stuff up. I have listed a few of my favorites.


No. 673: Even we know this: The craziest girls are the ones who seem the most normal at first.
No. 304: Yes, we moisturize and walk around the house naked with rubber gloves on when you're not around.
No. 756: We don't like guys who agree with us all the time.
No. 817: When we slam the door, it means come in.
No. 63: The most chivalrous thing a man can do is let you have the last piece of bacon.
No. 700: As long as there’s no second meal in your beard, we don’t care how long it is.
No. 855: Making us laugh is the sexiest thing you can do.
No. 617: When we're out together, and we see a tall, leggy model, remember: tall, leggy models are not your type.
No. 453: Don't ever let us win.
No. 443: When buying clothing for us, unless you know the up-to-date exact size, go one size smaller.
No. 633: You should be able to read our minds at all times.

I clearly have a lot to learn. The process continues.

You can read more at: http://www.esquire.com/women/women-issue/funny-facts-about-women-0510#ixzz0wEXRaJgD

My Germany Trip Continued

Germany Day 6 – Sandpaper, beer, and skater boy jeans.

The wash cloth situation has reached the crisis stage. The dish rag I purchased has caused the problem. It did not work. I came to realize that dish rags, especially those made in Belarus and purchased in Germany, are intended to clean dishes. They are not intended to wash sensitive areas of one’s body. Remember my reference to the 3 month old in my day 3 blog. I am getting close but not quite there.

The dish rag only compounded a festering problem. Everything in my hotel room has the surface consistency of sandpaper. It is the really gritty kind with the extra big granules of sand. It is the kind that can scratch the surface of glass, that kind of sandpaper. When I say everything has this surface, I mean critical things like toilet paper, the 20 stitch count sheets, the towels, and even the toilet seat. I will not elaborate further.

Everybody in Germany drinks beer. They drink it in the morning, at lunch, and certainly in the evening. It is legal to drink it in public. In public means everywhere. I have seen people drinking in the parks, in their cars, for breakfast, on the streets, and even riding the subway. Old people are drinking it. Young people are drinking it. Really young people like early teens are drinking it. The bottles of beer are also big. Like the size of an aquarium. In Germany, people figure if you can drink beer anywhere you might as well drink a lot. For that, I like Germany.

I have not quite figured out the dress code. These Germans have a fixation with their style of clothing. It all centers on the “skater boy” jean. Boys riding skateboards are not the only ones that wear the jeans. Girls and women wear them also. They all wear the low-waisted straight legged skinny jeans. They wear them to work, to school, to shop, and to sleep in. They never take them off. What concerns me the most is that the men wear them as well. Ordinary men wear them to work. Fat ordinary men wear them to work. Old fat ordinary men wear them.

For most, it is not a flattering look. I also know these jeans are not comfortable. This will be especially true if the Germans have not found a solution to the sandpaper problem. While I can, I am off to drink beer in public.



Germany Day 7 – Objects, the Reeperbahn, and the Sexy Angel


Today was my last full day in Germany. The morning began with a trip to the “Penny Market”. I was in search of talcum powder. It is otherwise known as baby powder. Talcum powder has been used for centuries to soothe skin. When applied It is cool and comfortable. People in Germany know this also. The shelves were fully stocked in a variety of sizes and colors. It does wonders for irritated skin in sensitive areas. I know.


Once that need was satisfied I enjoyed the Hotel breakfast. The Hotel served the same breakfast every day. Scrambled eggs, rolls, sausage, ham, and some dry granola cereals. I was most intrigued by the sausage. I had always heard that Germany was famous for the sausages. Germany is famous for meatballs with one important exception. They all taste the same. Just like the sausage at breakfast. I also sausage lunch two days and as a side one evening for dinner. I knew that taste well. It reminded me of Sweden. I have never been to Sweden but have eaten Swedish meat balls. The kind you eat at a wedding with a toothpick from a crock pot. The German sausages I had were made from this same mystery meat. I am certain of it. One additional note, nowhere did I see hamburgers for sale. Hamburg as in Hamburgers? You can get a Philly Cheese steak in Philly can’t you?

The downtown area of Hamburg was beautiful. I took dozens of pictures but won’t bore you with the photos. Below are a few of the notable ones. I am not even sure what these objects are but they struck me as odd enough to photograph them.

Another interesting photo

On my last evening we visited the Reeperbahn section of Hamburg. It is sort of the arts and bar district. It is filled with bars and restaurants and other establishments. It claims to be where the Beatles were discovered playing in a night club. The Beatles actually started in England and were a complete flop. They traveled to the Reeperbahn to play more. They were rediscovered and the rest is history.

The Reeperbahn is also filled with other establishments. I would describe it as the Bourbon Street of Hamburg but without the smell. Most everything is legal here including the oldest profession in the world, prostitution. We happened upon a side street completely lined with prostitutes. There they were in all sizes and colors. There were more than a hundred of them. They were lined up right next to the police station. Waiting to sell their goods.

After some local research I was able to piece together the story. The Hamburg city government knows that prostitution will exist whether it is legal or illegal. The police can’t stop it. Therefore, it is legal. The girls must undergo a health screening, obtain a license, and return for periodic medical checks. In their eyes the process works. Everybody makes money and the male populous remains satisfied.

Below is a picture of two of them. The girl on the left in the pink boots screamed at me when I took the picture. I found out that they do not like it if you take their pictures even if they are “Sexy Angels”. What a bunch of whores. I mean really.

All in all it was a very big day. Tomorrow I will head for home.

My Germany Trip

Recently my company sent me to Europe for some global training and relationship building with my colleagues across the pond. The following is a summary of the first 5 days of my 7 day trip.

Germany Blog Day 1

I finally made it to the Hotel after 15 hours of travel and 30 hours of no sleep. The plane trip was fine, but the 3 hour layover in the Paris airport nearly did me in. The cab ride to the Hotel was the best part of the entire trip. I was shocked to find that they have middle-eastern cab drivers in Germany, just like New York. The Pakistani cab driver spoke English. I realized at this point that it was a good thing I stopped in the Paris airport and got some Euros. Cabs and most other local places in Germany don’t take credit cards. I would have hated to be the cause an international incident.

The local hotel outside Hamburg, Germany near the office did not have my reservation, even though I had a confirmation number. I think they did it on purpose. That along with a small language barrier made for an interesting check in.

I am 6 hours ahead so it is 6:13pm or after midnight in the U. S. as I type. I am going to stay awake for a little while so I can be on a near normal schedule for tomorrow and the rest of the week.


Germany Blog Day 2

I wish I were dead. I just had dinner with my work associate, we will call him Mike. In summary, he is socially awkward, conversationally challenged, and a poor listener. I have to spend a week in Germany with him. I knew things were bad when he pulled out the English to German translation book and attempted to speak a few words. We were in an Italian restaurant in Germany down the road from our Hotel.

Our cute 23 year waitress laughed and struck up a conversation with us in fairly good English. Seizing the opportunity, I promptly ordered the “big boy” draft local beer and settled in for the duration. The food was excellent and the prices were very competitive. We were able to stay in the $30 per person range easily. After downing the first one quickly, I ordered the second “big boy”. Mike looked at me like I had 3 heads in complete disgust. The night went downhill from there.

It was finally time to ask for the check. Mike, in an awkward moment, referred to his pocket travel guide for tipping information. This man is a complete nerd. I immediately recommended the worst case strategy of leaving a 20% tip. The bill was $46, so leave a $10 tip, I suggested. No one, anywhere, would be offended.

Mike haggled over the tip and we left her $7. Turns out that in Germany most restaurants include the tip in the menu price and some people tip if they really like the cute 23 year old waitress. I did, and we left her the extra tip. I was right all along. Tip if you want.




Germany Day 3

Today was the longest day of my life, literally. The sun comes up at 5:00am and doesn’t set until just before 10:00pm. We are so far north it is like being in the land of the midnight sun. The company I was keeping makes it seem that much longer. I spent the day with Mike, Joe (a little man from China), another sales manager from Slovakia, and 2 German training leaders trying to speak English. Due to travel schedules we got in a day early and more of our colleagues from across the globe are on the way for tomorrow. Several of them are from England so I know we will have a lot to talk about.

I have also been wondering about German hygiene. Let me explain. In my hotel room there are no wash cloths. You know the little towels about 1 foot square. Apparently in Germany no one uses them. I checked with Mike and he confirmed the practice. I asked for one from the hotel maid and got a dirty look, in German of course.

Today the time change caught up with me. Getting up at 7:00am over here is like waking up for work at 1:00am. It takes awhile to get used to.



Germany Blog - Day 4

In Germany the people are very green or environmentally conscious. In most cases I like that. The company office is in a small industrial park in the village of Norderstedt, Germany. Norderstedt is about 20 miles north of Hamburgh, Germany – a city of about 3.8 million people. Hamburgh is located on the northern coast of Germany along the North Sea. Now back to the green part. Few people own cars here. Most of our employees live in the village and walk to work or ride the subway from the city and then take the bus to the office. We also could have taken the bus.

Being that we are LEED certified (Green Building Design Certified) in my business group it was decided that we were going to walk to the office this morning. Our hotel is also in the village of Norderstedt about a mile from the office. Ordinarily, I like to walk. Unless it is 45 degrees out with a nice 20 mph breeze in your face. You see, the North Sea never warms up. It is always cold here. Even in the summer it rarely gets above 75 degrees. It is so cold that there is no need for air conditioning, only heating.

I thought I was going to collapse from hypothermia on the walk to the office. I ultimately survived. So, guess what happened at the end of the day. It was decided that we were going to walk back to the Hotel. The good news is that there was no chance of getting sunburned on the walk because the clouds and cold mist had moved in. Even better, there was no chance of breaking a sweat as the wind had shifted and was blowing the mist and 25 mph wind right in our face. In summary, the weather this afternoon was raw. It was raw like a 3 month old babies’ bottom with a raging case of diaper rash. It was really raw. So raw that it hurt to move about.

Guess what we are doing for dinner? We are planning on walking to the bus station for a ride to the subway. The subway will take us to downtown Hamburg where Alan plans on drinking enough to pass out from intoxication and shoot for a ride in an ambulance to a warm bed somewhere. In general, I prefer to do my drinking on an empty stomach. It will be empty as people around here don’t’ eat until around 9:00pm. By that time I should be able to have pounded a few “big boy” beers to quell my appetite.

I have one additional note. There is a “Penny Mart” store in the village across from my Hotel. This is the German version of a dollar store. In case you were wondering, I checked and they don’t sell wash cloths. I have learned that there is no market for them in Germany. There went Plan A as I must have a washcloth. It was time to move on to Plan B. Will a dish rag work as a wash cloth? We will find out as I made the purchase. I will elaborate more on this later.

Germany - Day 5

For this blog I will call it, how do you say, kerosene? In Germenglish that is how it would sound to you. I have been hearing this translated babble all week.

For more proper English, this blog will be titled “kerosene”.

When I was 12 years old and in the Boy Scouts I accidentally drank kerosene. It was in a glass sitting on a picnic table near a lantern. I thought it was water. It was kerosene for the lamp. I WILL NEVER FORGET THE TASTE. Last night I drank Kerosene again except this time it was on purpose.

We had dinner in a Portuguese Restaurant in downtown Hamburgh. I had some sort of fish soup, with a salad and grilled fish. It was much better than it sounds. The Portuguese owner of the restaurant liked us. We bonded in some kind of American to European kind of way. He could not speak English and I do not speak German or Portuguese. It was perfect. Following the meal he wanted to treat us kindly with a complimentary after dinner drink. The man at the table next to us said in broken English that it would help with digestion of our meal. He had offered us a shot of Grappa.

I had heard of Grappa before and new for some reason that it was made from grapes, thus the name Grappa. We obliged the owner and after a few minutes I was ready for the big moment. My first shot of Grappa. Plain and simple. I found out one thing real quick. On the way down that #%&@ burns. It burned all the way down. It burned from the inside out, and then from the outside in. It burned like the Branch Davidians compound in Waco, Texas. (you may have to look that one up). It burned long and hot. Once I righted myself from being doubled over in pain it came to me. It tasted exactly like the kerosene I had drank 34 years ago. I knew I would never forget the taste.

My advice to you is to never drink Grappa. You see Grappa is in fact made from grapes. It is from the part of the grapes that no one else wants. Normal people want the grape juice. They turn that into fine wine. Grappa drinkers want what is left. What is left is the skin, the seeds, the stems, and whatever else is left after the good stuff is squeezed out. This mass is squeezed again and the juice is distilled. That is the stuff that makes finest grappa in the world.

As a world traveler one thing I know for sure is that Grappa tastes like Kerosene and burns like &^$t. No kidding. Oh, and one more thing. It does nothing to aid in digestion either. That lying *%$#@+.

Delta We Have A Problem

Welcome to my blog. For those of you that don't know me well you will soon learn that my job as the Director of Sales for a large Company requires me to travel. Killing time on airplanes is something I have learned to do. The need to kill time actually got me started writing a journal. That journal has now morphed in to my blog. A good part of my writings involve my experiences while traveling. I figured this one was a good place to start. I hope it provides you with inspiration. Simply the inspiration to laugh.


Below is my blog from my Delta Flight 1620 on June 17th, 2010 from Minneapolis to Atlanta.
The title of this blog is “Delta We Have a Problem”.

Before we begin let’s establish one thing. I do not lie. My experiences are 100% true and are real life events. That is, real life events that have occurred in my life.

Let’s begin. I have flown a lot of airplane flights in my life. Without going to the trouble of trying to look it up, I can easily say that I have flown at least 1,000 times. That is 1,000 take-off and 1,000 landings. Just in case you were not thinking, you never really want that to be an odd number.

That number is probably on the low side, but you get the picture. My Delta Skymiles account number shows that I have flown 536,408 miles. That is actual air miles on Delta. That is roughly the equivalent of flying around the world 21 times. I have flown and logged miles on many other airlines including: Northwest, Continental, American, United, USAir, Southwest, Air Canada. Airtran, PanAm, AirFrance, KLM, and AeroMexico, that are not included in this number. I have flown a lot.

I have seen and experienced many things during my many hours of air travel. In no particular order, I have listed the most memorable of those below.

1. My plane has lost an engine at 23,000 feet. We landed safely. See odd number above.
2. I have been on 2 flights that were described as the pilots “last flight”. That announcement got my attention. The pilots were retiring following the flight.
3. I have held the hand of a woman during an anxiety attack. Anxiously, we both survived.
4. I have landed and taken off in blizzards, zero visibility fog, and even thunderstorms.
5. I have flown a commercial flight that did not land on a runway. We landed on the ocean. It was planned.
6. I have even joined the mile high club. Not that particular club. The one that required me to use toilet paper at 35,000 feet. Only once and never again.
7. I have seen people get sick. I have seen people get sick and not make it to either the little bag or the bath room.
8. I have sat next to fat people where the “seat belt extender” did not work.
9. I have sat next to fat people that could not get in the seat.
10. I have sat next to talkers, stalkers, starers, and glarers. What are you looking at anyway?
11. I have sat next to people that smell and people that smell worse than people that smell.
12. Babies have thrown up on me and flight attendants have dumped drinks on me.
13. I have flown in first class and in the very last seat next to the toilet.
14. I have flown a lot.

This past week I encountered a new experience. I was on a flight from Minneapolis to Atlanta. I was in Minneapolis to attend some high tension meetings at my Company’s Corporate Office. The meetings went well and after 3 days I was headed home. The flight was a late afternoon flight and I was ready to get home. The flight began as a normal. Okay, that is a lie. It was not normal because we left the gate on time, as scheduled at 4:00pm. Other than that the flight began as normal.

Although I am a preferred frequent flier, a “Gold Medallion” to be exact, I was stuck in a window seat in the steerage portion of the plane. To be exact seat 27E. Not really where I wanted to be. We climbed out of Minneapolis headed for Atlanta. Seat 27E on this particular plane, an MD-88, is located just over the back edge of the wing. The seat and window provided me with an excellent view of all aspects of the wing including the flaps, the wing tip, the little light at the end, and the part of the wing where they access the gas tank. To bring you up to speed, the gas tanks on most commercial airplanes are embedded in the wings. I was absent that day in aeronautical engineering class when we studied why that is , but I know this to be true.

As we reached our cruising altitude of 35,000, you know I have flown a lot by even using that phrase, I began to wonder. As I surveyed the wing in what was really a blank stare, I thought for a moment. I even thought about wondering out loud. But I decided against it. Was it possible that I was seeing rain water pouring off the wing? I thought to myself, does it rain at 35,000 feet? For the record it does not, it is too high to rain at that altitude. Besides there were no clouds in the sky. Where is that liquid coming I thought? My thoughts were getting louder. WHERE IS THAT LIQUID COMING FROM THAT IS POURING OFF THE WING? After some thoughtful analysis of the wing assembly I determined that it was coming out of the top of the wing. The access port to the gas tank was leaking.

The gas tank was leaking, Holy *&%$. I know that the gas used on an air plane is called jet fuel. Jet fuel is the stuff that makes jets fly. Logic took over. I was in a jet, we were flying, and leaking jet fuel. DELTA WE HAVE A PROBLEM! My mind was racing. Below is the exact order of my thought process.

1. I thought about my wife.
2. I thought about my kids.
3. I thought about my parents and siblings.
4. I thought about my girlfriend, the one from second grade, Jenny Hayes.
5. I said a prayer.
6. I thought about inciting panic by yelling, “ We are leaking jet fuel and are all going to die”!

Calmly, I rang my flight attendant call button. The flight attendant actually responded to seat 27E. I. I quickly ordered a beer. We were at 35,000 feet. She had time to fetch me a beer I concluded. She returned. I opened it and guzzled the can before it even left her hand. I explained the situation in a quiet voice. She acknowledged the problem. A few rows back she noticed an off duty pilot in uniform. He was summoned to 27E. There was a lot of low talking and technical jargon spoken about the situation. The guy next to me and the people in the rows in front of and behind me were now involved. I felt important and a little buzzed. I felt compelled to order another beer. The flight attendant ignored me. Our in flight safety was now her biggest concern.

All of the low talking and pointing out the window did create some anxiety. People were asking about what was happening in 27E. “The off duty pilot concluded that things were fine. “Happens all the time”, he said. “The combination of temperature, altitude, and pressure was causing the leak”. “ Things were fine”, he said. People who fly are not stupid and neither am I. Temperature, altitude, and pressure were not causing the leak. Someone forgetting to tighten the cover on the access port was causing the leak. Again, I attempted to get another beer by repeatedly ringing the flight attendant call button. We were now over Nashville with 250 miles to go. I needed a beer. Never let a good crisis go to waste, I thought.

Surprisingly, things remained calm the rest of the way. The leak actually stopped somewhere over Chattanooga. Did that mean we were out of fuel, I wondered? We were not. We landed safely. The real pilots greeted us leaving the plane. They said, good day, so long, thanks for flying, and all of those other stupid phrases they use.

No one mentioned the leaking jet fuel. I plan on sending this to Delta. I hope they read It and forward it on to that flight attendant. I am still waiting on that beer I ordered.