Wanna know what I think? Well, I'll tell you what I think.

As you'll discover, my point of view is definitely different. Read my thoughts, learn a few things, have a chuckle.

August 5, 2003

I came across an old issue of Time magazine (July 29, 2002). There was an article on page 30 that talks about the depressed stock market and its effect on the Kafka family and their son Gene who is enrolled to start college in September. The article says: "for the Kafkas, it's a mad scramble. Gene agreed to early acceptance at Colby College in Maine, and half of his $37,000 first-year tuition, room and board is due Aug. 1. The Kafkas had saved diligently through a tax-favored college fund but their savings have fallen more than 50%, to just $16,000. The Kafkas are applying for student loans and lining up some backup plans, like arranging a home-equity line of credit and postponing a home-remodeling project. 'We're not in a negotiating position,' says Robert [the father], 54, a college administrator in Los Angeles."

The Kafkas' problem is not that they don't have enough money saved up, it's that they are simply not good at math. Let's see, their savings have fallen by 50% and they are left with $16,000. That means they had $32,000. Tuition for one year is $37,000. So why are they "scrambling" now when they never had enough money to pay for even one year's tuition? The ultimate proof that these folks are no geniuses is this: did you notice what the father does for a living? That's right, he's a college administrator. That means his son can attend that same college for free! So why are they sending the son clear across the country, getting deep into debt, and complaining about their predicament when the solution is right under their noses? Because, true to their last names, they revel in living a Kafkaesque life.

August 16, 2003

I flew on United today. The flight attendant said: "in case of a water landing, your seat cushion can be used as a flotation device."

If you're touching down on water, then it's a "watering" not a "landing."

Regardless of the semantics, I've never heard of actual water landings. Crashes, yes, landings no. Those flotation devices have never been used. Wouldn't parachutes make more sense? That would be a much more useful "flotation device." One that would allow me to float back down to earth.

The Coast Guard requires all vessels to have life jackets -- and people can swim.

Yet airplanes are not required to be equipped with parachutes -- and people can't fly.

The flight attendant insisted on handling each cup by the rim. Didn't they teach her the first day on the job that you always hold cups by the bottom?

The captain announced: "we'll be on the ground in ten minutes." It would have been more reassuring if he had said: "we'll land in ten minutes." Simply finding myself "on the ground" is not good enough for me. I'd much rather land, thank you.

United trumpets it is the "#1 On-Time Airline." I found out how it achieves this. The actual flight time for the flight I took is 45 minutes. Yet, United's schedule shows an arrival time that is an hour and a half after the departure time. We sat on the tarmac for quite a long time before we finally took off. Once we were airborne, the captain came on and said we would still arrive on time because we would make up for lost time in the air. Yeah, right. We arrived on time because United discovered that, by padding its schedules, it could claim to almost always arrive on time.

August 17, 2003

I am on vacation in Ft. Lauderdale. I took a Broward County Transit Authority bus today. You'd expect the schedule to be posted at each bus stop like I'm used to seeing in civilized cities across the world. No such luck in Ft. Lauderdale. You don't know how long it's going to be until the next bus. A man on the street told me they run every half hour. It turned out they only run once an hour on weekends and, since they don't always run on time, I ended up waiting for over an hour.

I remember when I traveled through northern Italy, there was a small village where each bus stop had an electronic display that counted down the minutes until the next bus, thanks to transponders on the buses. That would be way too advanced for the Broward County transit system. Instead they use that same technology to automatically announce on the bus the name of the upcoming stop and the connecting lines. They even repeat the information in French. The transit officials however were taken for a ride by the person who recorded the messages in French: she doesn't speak French. For example, she translates: "now approaching Commercial Street" as "now rapprocher Street Commerciale." In other words, she just pronounces the same English words with a some foreign accent that doesn't even sound French. When she does attempt to translate some word, her translations are wide off the mark. Bus "schedule" becomes "calendrier" (that means calendar, not schedule).

You'd expect the driver to know his own line's schedule. He didn't. He said to pick up a copy of the schedule from the rack behind him. The rack had every line's schedule except this very line. There's a phone number you can call to get information but it's not automated. You have to talk to a live person and one is available only during business hours so you're out of luck on weekends.

The seats were so dirty, they were black. The seats are molded plastic but they are partially covered with some sort of fabric that's glued on. Riders with wet swimsuits full of sand sit on them and they turn black in no time. Why not just forget about the fabric? The seats will be much easier to clean and the buses will look better for it.

I told the bus driver where I wanted to get off. He dropped me off two miles too far. The next day, the driver dropped me off two stops too early. Bus drivers' motto must be "close enough is good enough."

On the positive side, I've found Floridians to be real friendly. I asked a guy how to get to the bus stop. Instead, he gave me a ride in his Lexus to the exact spot where I needed to go. Thanks Scott! By the way, Scott is a nurse. He works three twelve-hour days a week, he just bought a condo by the ocean, has a new girlfriend who takes up a lot of his time, and has started going back to the gym. Why do people always say "male nurse"? It's obvious that Scott is a male. Does the fact that he's a nurse confuse people: "hmmm, on the one hand, his name is Scott so he must be a man. On the other hand, Fabricio said he's a nurse, not a male nurse, so maybe he's a she."

The next day, I was walking back to my hotel and saw an elderly gentleman loading boxes into the trunk of his car. I said hi and he said hi back. I asked him if that was fish he was loading into his car. He said it was loaves of bread. He explained that his former neighbor owns a bakery and gives him the bread that hasn't sold by the end of the day. The gentleman distributes the bread to his neighbors and also takes it to his church on Sunday to feed the homeless. The bread is completely organic and contains no preservatives. He spontaneously offered me two loaves of bread. The bread was delicious. This reminds me of the story of Jesus who multiplied the bread and the fishes. I had no bread. I asked a stranger about fishes. I ended up with two loaves of bread.

On a different topic, when I checked into my hotel, I asked for a quiet room, away from the street, ice machines, elevators, etc. I got what I asked for but not quite. Each room is equipped with an air conditioning unit. The unit is my room was old, dirty, and noisy. It was like sleeping next to a motorcycle.

The hotel would cut its electricity bill for air conditioning in half if it replaced those old units with new, quieter, energy-efficient ones. Guests' satisfaction would increase markedly once they start being able to sleep through the night.

Another bright idea: hotel employees should check with their guests a day or two after they check in to see if they are satisfied. That way, if they uncover any problems, they can fix them before the guest leaves unhappy, never to return again.

They say here in south Florida that manatees are endangered. They are being killed by boat propellers.

I'd like to propose a simple solution: put a metal "cage" around the propellers of all boats (similar to the way room-fan blades are shielded). That way, the water will still flow but manatees will not be cut by the propeller blades.

August 18, 2003

I had to call SBC today due to trouble with my Internet connection. They make you go through menu after menu then you find yourself in a dead end with the only options being recorded messages. If you press zero to talk to a live person, they make you listen to the recorded messages all over again with still no way to talk to someone. I had to try other, unrelated menus until I finally found a way to get someone on the line. He had to verify all my account information before I could ask him my question. He said he would put me on hold while he investigated the problem. Instead, he dumped me back into the menu from the hell. I had to contend with dead ends all over again until someone finally answered. When I told him what had happened with my the previous rep, he said:

"OK, what can I do for you?"

I was flabbergasted. I answered:

"it's not OK. You could at least say you're sorry for what happened."

If he was properly trained or at least had some empathy, he would said without being prompted:

"I apologize for what happened. I will do my best to make sure I resolve your problem."

I asked for his name and extension so I could call him back if we got disconnected. He said:

"My name is Brian and I am in an East Coast city." I said:

"and if I call back and ask for Brian in an East Coast city, do you think they'll connect me to you?"

He laughed. I added:

"Can you give me your complete phone number and extension or your operator number or at least your last name?"

He replied:

"We're not allowed to give out any of that information... Well, I'll give you my employee number."

After that I explained to him the problem I needed help with. He said there was nothing he could do to help. I said:

"At least can you do something about the fact that when someone calls and selects the correct option to get help with an Internet connection problem, there is no option to talk to a live person?"

He said there was nothing he could do about that either but he would connect me to a supervisor. After ten minutes on hold, I hung up. Total time spent on the phone: 50 minutes. Problems solved: 0. Thanks SBC!

August 22, 2003

I called the city of Lauderdale-by-the-Sea to complain about the litter on the beach and to find out why their sand sifting machines are not running. The receptionist said I had to talk to the Public Works Department but "they are out to lunch." I shot back: "they sure are." I told her there were several dead birds and fishes along the beach. She said she would have given me the Health Department's phone number but it's disconnected. She suggested I call the animal rescue center instead but I don't think they would be too eager to rescue dead carcasses.

I later found out that the sand sifting machines only rake the sand. They don't pick up any litter. In other words, they're just for window dressing. They think if the sand is nicely raked, people won't notice the garbage. I decided to take matters into my own hands and clean up the beach myself. I got some garbage bags and gloves from the hotel's front desk and set out to clean the beach. A guy said there used to be trash cans all along the beach but they were removed for some unknown reason. There are no fines against those who litter. This is an area that owes its existence to the vacationers who come from all over the world to go to the beach, but the people of Lauderdale-by-the-Sea are not capable of doing anything to keep their beaches clean. That's so inepto!

I walked over a mile along the water and filled four garbage bags with everything from beer bottles and cans to plastic cups, forks, bags, and cigarette butts. A lot of people stopped to offer praise and encouragement, but, strangely enough, none would pitch in. Actually, one guy pitched his cup into my garbage bag. At least it's a start.

August 23, 2003

I had dinner with friends: a couple and their two young sons. I was describing the ideal woman I'd like to marry when six-year old Jake enthusiastically exclaimed: "my mom has all those qualities, why don't you marry her?" Kids really do say the darndest things.

August 24, 2003

In today's edition of the South Florida Sun-Sentinel, in an article about a museum exhibit on the Vatican, a woman is quoted as saying after having placed her hand on a bronze replica of the hand of the Pope: "how can a man revered by so many have such small hands?" My question is: "how can a woman with such a small brain be quoted by a newspaper that is read by so many?"

This picture appeared in the same edition of the paper. When I saw it, I did a double take. Why is this woman jumping on another woman's back and savagely attacking her with an iron pipe? Find out next month.

mystery.jpg (79462 bytes)

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