Weary of Technology

  Please call back,  Mr. Locksmith.

Weary of technology

The other day, as I was speeding thru a Hospital zone, steering with my knees while eating a burger and holding a large drink, I realized I was not heading in the right direction for my destination.  My automobile’s GPS device had failed me again.  ARRRGH.  I get very frustrated when electronic gizmos don’t work right. 

So, I decided to try the new directions application on my phone.  I pitted one electronic device against another, my smart phone versus the vehicle GPS, to see if at least ONE of them could find the location.   I pulled over and stopped.  I could not hold the phone and drive since both hands were occupied with the burger and drink.  I needed to pull over anyway since a cop car with its flashing lights on was right behind me.  I guessed he wanted to pass. 

I did not know how to use the map application on the phone, so I started pecking around on the tiny little keyboard.  Why are those letters and numbers so small anyway?  Does the phone maker think we have school kid sized fingers?  What school kid could afford this phone anyway?   My large manly fingers constantly hit the wrong keys, and I really struggle to type on this thing.   I tried to start over when I got to a new screen I had not seen before.   It said “Welcome to Wiri”.  Wiri?  Is this my phone’s version of Siri? 

Suddenly the phone dinged and a voice came out that startled me.  The disembodied voice said, “Hey this is Wiri.  I am s’pose to say that.  What do you want, anyway, Smuck?”   The voice on Wiri, sounded like a cranky old New York man, who could not be bothered to help me.  This was the voice response gizmo on my phone. I thought I’d try it out.

Me:  “Hello Wiri?  Do I just ask you questions?”

Wiri:  “Hey Smuck, This ain’t a good time to train you.  I am tryin to take a nap here”.

Me:  “Sorry.  But can you tell me where I am?”   

Wiri:  “You really don’t know that, Kid?  You are in Loserville. Kid.   Get used to it.  And you are a big disappointment to your muther, too”

Me:  “Whaaa?”  I was dumbfounded by this crabby voice.  “What does my mother have to do….Look, Just tell me where I am”.

Wiri:  “ Whad do I look like, anyway?  Like a @#$% encyclopedia atlas for crying out loud?  You thinks I gotta road map stuffed up my…”

Just then I heard a rapping noise on the driver’s window glass.  I looked up and saw a cop, tapping on the glass with his nightstick, and motioning me to lower the window.

Cop:  “Sir, did you know you were speeding thru a Hospital zone back there?” 

Wiri:  “Hey, what business is it of yours, anyway Bub?   I am Wiri, dammit.  Wiri!  Can’t yous see I’m trying to take a nap here?”

The police officer looked at me like I was an idiot.  Like I was the only person who had not heard about all the cop shootings and violence against them.  He was suddenly on a razors edge of sensitivity.

Cop:  “Sir, you need to step out of the car”

Me:   I suddenly knew that he thought I had said that to him.  “Officer that was not me that said that, I’m not Wiri”

. 

Cop:  “Oh so now you are suddenly awake and alert, huh?  No longer weary?  Get out of the car and put your hands on the hood”.

Wiri:  “Hands? So now you think I have hands, Smuck?   Are you blind as well as dumb?”

Cop:  “Excuse me?”

This verbal interaction with the police officer was deteriorating very quickly.  Fortunately the smart phone battery died before the Officer’s night stick interacted with my forehead.  So much for using the smart phone for navigation.  Turns out I did not need to find the location I was searching for anyway.  My plans were changed.  I was done driving for the day.  The cop gave me a ride … to the police station.  It did not matter that the battery died, since the black ink now on my fingers would have smudged that tiny little keyboard anyway.

Who knew Hospital zones had low speed limits?  And why were there wheel chairs in the cross walk I just went thru? And who knew that discussing the matter with the cop while trying to finish my meal was not conducive to a positive outcome for me?  Maybe I should have offered him some fries.  He could think of them as slender donuts.

Now I wish I had my smart phone and the charger.  I have plenty of time to play with it and learn about these aps while I am in this holding cell.  I could even have Wiri make my one phone call.  I am sure it knows a good New York lawyer.

Flying the Friendly Skies

Flying the Friendly Skies

What happened to first class air travel?  Back in the day, all air travel was a luxury When someone took a plane somewhere, it was a big deal.  Everyone got dressed up.  Even Orville and Wilbur Wright wore coat and ties when flying.  Back before enclosed gang ways, the airlines literally had a red carpet on the concrete tarmac leading from the gate to the stairs leading up to the plane’s door.  But, in the 1980’s the airline industry was de-regulated.  The airlines started chopping prices as the competition heated up.  Flying became a commodity that almost anyone could afford.  The low prices packed the planes but the seat prices plummeted.  The airlines wanted to preserve some high priced seats, so they made Coach seating as miserable as possible, and First Class as luxurious as possible.

Coach seating is really bad.  The airlines must have hired a sadist as a consultant on how to torture the unfortunates who travel in the Coach section.  The airlines like to refer to it as Economy Class, but their underlying tone is this is the cheap bastards section.  And we’ll make you wish you were not such a tightwad.

I cannot condemn the aircraft manufacturers for the seat spacing or the comfort of the seats.  It is the airlines that order the planes the way they want them fitted out.  I happen to fly United Airlines most often.  United typically flies Boeing planes made in America.  The newest planes are always touted as being the best.  But for my money, the Boeing 747, which has been around since the 1970s has much better seating than the new 777.  I hate the seats in the 777.  The head rest is too prominent and the seat is curved to make you sit too far forward for normal comfort.  During takeoff and landing, when the chair must be upright, it is like sitting in the curve of an eggshell.  It is very uncomfortable for my neck.  Considering the fact that I am tall, dark and handsome, except for the dark and handsome part, the chair may not designed for someone of my height.  And the seat cushion is really hard.  My ass cheeks go numb from sitting in that seat.

In coach, I literally cannot move my knees because they are jammed into the seat ahead of me.  And if that patron tilts his seat back on to me, it is torture.  I am very conscious of not leaning my chair back more than one position when I am flying.  I feel it is not fair to the poor smuck who is behind me.  On one recent flight, I was very careful to not tilt back, even though my head kept bobbing forward if I nodded off.  After a couple of hours into the flight, I HAD to tilt my chair further back. It was then I noticed that there was not even anyone sitting behind me.  Do’h!  I could have been stretched out all that time. 

Back when fuel prices were skyrocketing, the costs to operate aircraft really caused the industry to suffer. Several airlines either went bankrupt or merged with other carriers.  The remaining airlines would do whatever they could to lure passengers from Economy into the Premium seats of the plane.  Even so, First Class has all but disappeared from many airlines.  They got so few passengers in that section they had to reconfigure the seats, since so many were empty.  

It seems the airlines have done a lot more recently to encourage passengers to pay for Premium seats.  They offer much better food, and they serve it on real china plates, with cloth napkins and metal silverware.   The airlines ply their first class customers wine beer and liquor.   They’ll have magazines, soft lighting and lovely little zipped gift bags for every chair.  The gift bag will have a tooth brush, ear plugs, and even a blindfold.  The airlines get more creative all the time.  One trip, as I was straining to see into First Class from my pitiful coach seat, and saw a flight attendant kneeing on the floor in front of a patron.  Her head was bobbing up and down.  I could not believe what I was seeing. 

I had to check this out, so I slipped in past the privacy curtain that separates first class from scum class, past the laser beam security and past Guido, the bouncer, to get a closer look at the flight attendant’s sordid act.  Yes, just as I suspected.  The flight attendant was kneeling in front of the rich fat cat First Class patron, shining his shoes.  I was shocked.  I never thought I’d see that.  Wow, the airlines really will do anything to make First Class customers happy.  

I did get lucky once and got upgraded from coach to business class on one trip.  There was so much room between seats that I could not even touch the chair ahead of me when I was sitting down.  It does not seem fair that the expensive seats get too much room and the cheap seats don’t have enough.  Some flights even offer sleeping pods in First Class.  That just seems weird.  Too much like the movie 2001:  A Space Odyssey.  I’d be afraid the onboard computer would kill me in flight. 

I wish I could convince the management of my company that I was worth getting to fly first class.  Those flights are long, and dreary.  Maybe if I gave United a good review here in my blog, I could get some of that first class treatment.  I could use a little spit polish on my old loafers too, if you know what I mean. That would put new meaning into flying the friendly skies.

Hola ! Cuba !

Hola !  Cuba !

Photo courtesy of Lonely Planet.  Maybe a change in deodorant

would keep it from being as lonely?  Just a suggestion.

After many years, Americans are again able to travel to Cuba under a new 'people-to-people' program authorized by the U.S. Treasury Department.  The program provides an opportunity to interact with Cubans through educational exchanges concerning art, music, culture, and more. According to the Treasury dept.’s “Office of Asset Control”, you have to be part of a cultural group in order to travel to Cuba.  You have to either be there to promote our culture or to educate. 

I am certainly willing to export U.S. Culture.  I would love to take saggy pants, facial piercings, fire ants, and belly fat from the U.S. and leave all of that in Cuba.  But there still might be slivers of those elements left in the states that would re-propagate, like the creature in “The Thing” movie, so my efforts would probably be wasted.

All the travel buzz got me to thinking about making a trip to Cuba.  It is my understanding that the country is almost as if it were frozen in time, to back when the U.S. embargo took effect in the Eisenhower administration.  Due to the embargo they have not been able to get replacement parts for the American cars that were in the country or any new vehicles, so they have thousands of Cold War era cars still in day to day use. Also, much of the pre- Spanish revolutionary architecture, although crumbling, is still intact.  The time to see all this may be now, before it is too Americanized and there is a McDonalds and Starbucks on every corner.   

I started reading up on the tours that were being offered by several tour companies.  All of the tours use Miami as the starting point.  Some were all inclusive and offered five star accommodations while in Cuba.  Of course, Five Star means different things in different countries.  In Cuba, Five Star means you get your own bed, on Tuesdays.

It is only a 45 minute flight from the U.S. mainland to Havana, but they say to get to the airport 4 hours ahead of the flight.  Expect to spend a lot of time in various lines behind people bringing suitcases full of car parts, flatscreen TVs and spandex to needy relatives on the island.  It is sad to think that the lack of spandex has hurt the economic development of an entire nation.

Here is a sampling of some of the Tours that I found to be available for the American tourist:

Old Havana Tour: Here you get to visit the old haunts of Hemingway.  And see the living conditions that made him become an alcoholic which lead to his suicide.  See the way Havanans lived before Polio was cured or computers were invented.  Good luck in finding an internet connection, or for that matter a working telephone.  See what it is like to have the government tend to your every wish, as long as you are only wishing for a Soviet era cinder block one room house.  Find out firsthand what life was like without air conditioning, potable water, and septic systems.  And then realize this is the modern part of Havana you have been dropped off in. 

Dive Tour:  This is not your sissy, modern day dive trip.  Instead of proper breathing equipment, they have borrowed the concept from what they saw in a 1960’s Disney movie about Captain Nemo, and provide you a giant nautilus shell to go over your head to breathe from.  They fill your sneakers with lead weights and toss you overboard.  You will instantly be surrounded by the beautiful island coral reefs.  It is suggested not kick your feet too vigorously lest you nick a leg on the razor edged coral.  Sharks, like lawyers, can smell American blood from 2 miles away.  If you need additional air in your nautilus diving helmet, just squeeze a puffer-fish into your shell, and hope the fish does not have bad breath.  For an extra 1,000 pesos, you get a rescue rope to pull yourself back to the surface.

The “red scare” tour:  you get to revisit Havana just as it was during the Cuban Missile crisis.  Here you are escorted thru the original bomb shelter that Fidel and his minions used.  It is buried 50 meters underground with a self-contained air filtration system, fresh water supply and luxury accommodations.  The general population was also protected from nuclear war by being provided long sleeve shirts, hats and a Geiger counter. You will see the actual red hot line phone that instantly connected the Castro Government to the White House.  But, just like in 1961, the phone is not actually plugged into a phone line.  Oops.

Day one -   You get to see historic newsreel footage from those dark days when the U.S. and the Soviet Union were on the brink of war, and Cuba was right in the middle of it.  You get to relive the times by being forced at gunpoint to do an all-day duck and cover drill.

Day two -   You are given an actual Cuban Cigar.  Instructions are to hold it in an open window. If it ignites on its own then that means thermonuclear war has begun.  There will be no day three.

The President Carter Mariel boat-lift tour:  You fly from Miami to Havana (flight not included in tour price). You are immediately loaded onto a barge, at bayonet point, along with a load of convicted murderers that Fidel Castro has just “pardoned”.  These former prisoners are joined with those who were just released from the Havana insane asylum. You are all going on a spontaneous, fun filled expedition back to Florida.  Some of you will be given a complementary bottle of water and a can of used motor oil for sun screen.   With any luck, and clear skies, the U.S. Coastguard will pick you and your float mates up within a week or two.  

A special version of this trip is only offered in July thru September, during hurricane season.  You will be given your own exclusive inner tube and an umbrella.  If a hurricane does hit, with any luck you will be blown back to Miami in 24 hours.

What is legal to bring back from Cuba, other than bed bugs or sunburn?  Under the new regulations, U.S. visitors to Cuba can legally bring $100 of Cuba's coveted cigars home with them. The problem is most boxes of Cuban cigars in state-run stores sell for much more than $100, with a box of premium Cohiba cigars usually going for over $400.  You can of course buy cigars (most likely fakes according to a popular travel site) for much less from the throng of black market sellers who stake out hotels pestering tourists. But those contraband smokes typically don't come with receipts. My question is, if you are in Cuba, and they make cigars in Cuba, why would a street vender sell you fake ones?  Are they made with floor sweepings?   You are gonna burn them anyway, so what is the difference?  You can tell I am not a cigar aficionado.  Frequent travelers to Cuba say that they have brought back a box or two to the United States without experiencing any issues.  Maybe you should hide them in bundles of marijuana or explosives to get them thru U.S. Customs.

I don’t know if I will ever make the trip to Cuba. I am not sure if I am up for the challenge to be one of America’s cultural exchangers.  I am not sure I have enough luggage to do that.  But it does seem like a fast way to flit away thousands of dollars.  If I do make the trip, and if I live to write about it, you will see it here, along with an advertisement for genuine Cuban, wink, wink cigars.