Playing Cricket in San Antonio

As I met Nicole at the Culver City Which-Wich during her lunch break on Friday, the people around us must have been confused. "Well we can get to San José, but we can't get back." "Phoenix is a no go. Overbooked." "Everyone's going to Las Vegas this weekend, so that's out." "Hotels in Monterey are too expensive." In the end, I pulled up a map on my computer and for some reason my eye was drawn to San Antonio. Seats available? Many. Hotels? Cheap enough. Alamo? Remembered.

We arrived Saturday around 2:30pm -- an awkward time for my always hungry belly. We had a late lunch / early dinner at a place called Esquire Tavern. We ate outside on the balcony on the famous riverwalk. The location was quiet and calm, elevated above the crowds of tourists below. That was one thing that became a bit stressful about this touristy part of town. The riverwalk sidewalks are not particularly wide whereas the people walking on them are. People would often stop in the middle as if to contemplate where they were going. Nicole speculates that on any given night, there are 100 people who fall into the river.

In the evening, we spent a little while watching a free concert along the river. Eventually two bold middle-aged women got up to dance and spin around. I think Nicole was hoping that they would eventually fall into the river. Sometimes we can be like the two old guys on the muppets. After a few songs, we continued on our way along the riverwalk. Earlier I had seen lights strung from trees and hanging from above. I thought it would be quite a sight at night, but none of them were illuminated. Shortly thereafter I discovered why.

Nicole was performing what appeared to be a new type of honky tonk, slapping leather, heel/toe jump kick move followed by some spastic boot scootin' boogie, but I then realized she was trying to avoid stepping on crickets. And there were easily over 100 on the small area of sidewalk in front of us. When we got back to our hotel, the neighbors next door were talking loudly, whistling, and just generally being obnoxious. To make matters worse, I found a cricket in our room. I trapped it in a styrofoam cup and dumped it humanely outside. 5 mins later I found another one. As the neighbors continued to whistle, I coaxed the cricket under the door that connected our two rooms. 20 seconds later I heard a shriek of, "Ack!!! It's another one!!!!!" We didn't hear anything from our neighbors the rest of the night. I guess the crickets got them. *Moment of silence* The third and final cricket was spotted brushing its teeth using my toothbrush. I hit it with a towel, scooped it up with a cup, and threw it over the balcony. Apparently this is common in Central Texas this time of year when crickets become horny and just swarm.

As daylight came, the crickets disappeared. In fact, the tourist crowds were gone as well. After a breakfast of chorizo tacos, we enjoyed a tourist-free walk around the riverwalk. I had a banana split for lunch and readied myself to go back to LA. All in all, a relatively easy trip. No need to even rent a car. I can't really think of anything else we would have done in San Antonio. We all learned a valuable lesson, though. Stay away from the bright lights at night...and remember the Alamo.

Hollywood Nights

Although Los Angeles is my home base and I don't technically travel to get there, I felt it was unfair to leave it out because much can be learned. After all, movies and reality tv perpetuate numerous myths about this town such as 1) LA is hot year round. 2) Celebrity sightings happen all the time, and most importantly 3) Hollywood is a nice place.

If you have never had the chance to visit Hollywood in your lifetime, you are not missing much. However, if you enjoy watching stray cats fight each other or witness coked out hookers yelling at parked cars, it might be a place to check out. When I moved from Hollywood to Long Beach, my car insurance sent me a check for almost $300 just for getting out. Two weeks later, a serial arsonist torched half of my old neighborhood.

In spite of Hollywood eroding into a place of scum and villainy, it still plays host to numerous movie premiers, the oscars, concerts, and all kinds of entertainment events. Nicole has long had an unexplained interest in Mt Everest and those that climb it. Accordingly, she had been anticipating the release of Everest which was premiering in Hollywood at the famous Grauman's Chinese Theater. Prior to the movie, we ate outside in neighboring Los Feliz at an Italian restaurant called Lil Dom's where Jon Hamm of Mad Men fame is often seen eating. Nicole, not so coincidentally, admires the "work" of Jon Hamm.

Nicole had spaghetti and meatballs, but no hamm. Walking to the Chinese Theater itself is somewhat difficult due to throngs of tourists, all looking down at the ground at the hand and footprints in the concrete. After tossing them out of the way, we finally found ourselves inside the theater. It was large, but not really what I was expecting. Here and there was a jade carving of Confucius or something that people in the 1920's thought was very Chinese looking. I was actually expecting something much more Chinesey.

Oh well. At least we can say we finally went inside. It seems that no matter what time of year, there are always huge amounts of tourists outside the Chinese theater. I don't get it. After you've seen one frumpy middle-aged man dressed up as Optimus Prime, you've seen them all. One time I saw a man dressed up as Barney walking down the street pop his head off to smoke a cigarette. On another instance, late at night, I witnessed Spiderman and Superman enjoying a cup of coffee outside a café. Ah, Hollywood. Such glitz and glamor.

Houston: Attempting to befriend a 3 year old.

When your entire family is spread across three different time zones, getting everyone together in the same spot can prove difficult. An opportunity presented itself this week, so on a whim, I hopped a plane to Houston to see my parents and my sister at the same time. As a package deal with my sister, I also got to see my three year old niece. For unexplained reasons, she is terrified of me. Last year for the winter holidays, she held my hand once, but it was by mistake. When one is 3 ft tall, everyone's hand looks the same.

As one who spends lots of time on airplanes, often with a desire to nap, small children are my natural enemy. Nevertheless, I accepted the challenge of finding some common ground. This was not dissimilar to the Camp David peace accords.

Houston is one of the fastest growing cities in the U.S., and what were empty fields just a few years ago have turned into fully developed communities with new parks and facilities. We walked to one such park where my niece proceeded to run the drive-thru at a fast food restaurant. Common ground. Surely my two years working at Culver's would now pay off, (at $6/hr they sure didn't pay off back then am I right?) I played the role of the customer the only way I knew how. I ordered a combo, but made a substitution followed by a substitution to the substitution. My niece didn't even flinch and in short order I was handed a small rock. The fast food industry and its customers should learn from this. Once you receive a rock, you know you've gone too far.

These rocks proved helpful, however, because one of the unique features of the park was a streambed and water pump. One could divert the flow of water to a different stream by damming an area with rocks. This is actually far more entertaining than it probably sounds. Even the three year old kept herself occupied with digging and damming for probably an hour. She continued to run over to me with more rocks to do some dam stuff. 

The following day we went to downtown Houston to visit the museum of natural science. The highlight was the dinosaur hall, which had lots of skeletons. My niece covered the exhibit space in about 45 seconds. "Spiky dinosaur!, big dinosaur!, flying dinosaur!, dinosaur eating another dinosaur's butt!" Her enthusiasm and energy were exhausting me. That being said, out of our original group of five, I was asked to drive home with three people passed out in the backseat. *Sidenote: the Toyota Highlander does not have the same turning radius as a Hyundai Elantra. This caused some issues. Also, everyone in Texas drives a truck. Also, gas in Houston is $1.97/gallon. These are all foreign concepts to me as an Angeleno. I had to maintain a low profile while in town, for everyone knows that Texans think everyone in California is some Hillary-loving, free-trade promoting, Prius-driving, pot-smoking, vegan munching, whole foods shopping, gun hating, coffee shop screenwriting, tree hugging pansy. I figured all of this would be masked by wearing my t-shirt that simply says "TEXAS."

San Diego

The estimated time between my checkride and my IOE (when I actually start flying the plane) is three weeks. By my best guess, I figure I won't start for another week or so. That being said, I've been out of the simulator for over a week and since I don't really have anything to do during the day other than bike, run, or hang out by the pool, I thought it would be a good idea to ride in the jumpseat and do some observing to stay fresh with all my procedures. Also, the water was scheduled to be shut off at my apartment between 10 and 3:00 today - coincidentally the exact same amount of time I intended to be gone.

I decided on a flight to San Diego because it was short and busy. The cockpit is quite small and I didn't want to be breathing on the Captain and FO for any longer than was necessary. It was a unique experience to look forward on a passenger jet. The view on the approach to San Diego is unreal. It is crazy how close the downtown high rises are to the final approach path.

I could have simply exited the plane, walked a few gates down and hopped another flight back to LA, but I felt that was not taking full advantage of flying down to San Diego. Instead, I hopped on a city bus to downtown and walked to a place called Donut Bar. One cannot go wrong with that name. This fine establishment prides itself on having unique flavors. I settled on nutella, oreo cake, honey bourbon, s'mores, butter beer, and a normal sprinkled cake donut to round out my half dozen. I needed a place to eat said donuts, so I went to the waterfront. Unfortunately I chose the muggiest day of the year to go on a 2.5 mile walk wearing a full uniform and holding a box of donuts. There was a light breeze coming off the bay which offered a slight reprieve from the heat while I enjoyed the normal sprinkled donut and part of the Nutella one.

As this was the first time I wore my uniform, I found that it has mysterious effects on people. One, and unknown to me, is that I am now an expert on everything. "Where's my gate?" "How do I get to terminal 7?" "Why is my flight delayed?" Contrary to popular belief, I do not have all gates memorized, and often one's best bet when locating terminal 7 is to follow the giant signs with the arrows pointing to "Terminal 7." While walking by the waterfront, people now thought I was some kind of sailor or ship captain, so I got a whole new set of nautical questions. Who knows what kinds of things are going to start happening once I actually wear the hat too.

Second, when you're in uniform and carrying a box of donuts, it's open season for being approached for casual conversation. The most memorable encounter, however, was from a salty looking man with a beard who appeared to be involved in selling tickets for harbor cruises...or was homeless and happened to be standing next to a place where tickets for harbor cruises are sold. In any event, he decided to tell me a joke... "Have you noticed the gulls in the bay?," he inquired. "They're not seagulls. They're bay gulls! BAY gulls! BAGELS!" . . .

For the flight back to LA, I was on one of Skywest's newer aircraft, the Embraer 170, so no benefit for me to jumpseat. Instead, I got offered a seat in first class. This was very unexpected, but it is after all, a twenty minute flight. Nevertheless, the gesture was appreciated, and it gave me more room under the seat for my box of donuts.

Kauai continued . . .

Most people we encountered seemed to fit into one of two categories: time-share owning retirees and younger couples on their honeymoon. There did not seem to be a strong contingent of 30 hour turnaround visitors.

And that's for good reason. If you are paying for a trip to Hawaii, you probably want to take your time and spend a few days exploring and relaxing. With just 30 hours, we faced a daunting task of trying to relax and yet take advantage of where we were.

Having rented a car, we were able to drive around the island (slowly). When I lived on O'ahu, I took the bus everywhere, so I never really experienced just how slow people drive. It is uncanny. To be fair, I'm not sure how many were actual locals and who was just a lost tourist, but with no opportunity to pass, it turns a 20 mile trip into an hour.


All things considered, we saw a good portion of the island in our short time there. When I took a "shortcut" around one of the main towns, I ended up overshooting our hotel. I played it off as if it was planned by making another turn and going to Opaekaa Falls. The last places we visited were Waimea Canyon and attempted to see the Kalalau Valley on the Na Pali coast. Unfortunately, despite intense sun and heat everywhere else on the island, the Kalalau valley was socked in with an intense fog. On our drive back down the hill, the canyon we had just seen 30 mins earlier was also getting fogged in.

 Luckily we were able to see a little bit of it before it faded away.  We saw just the right amount of things to feel like we took advantage of the trip without feeling too rushed. We extended the hotel reservation for a few more hours just to allow us to relax a little bit longer without driving around for 6 hours while wearing our pants in near record breaking heat and humidity. The Hawaiian islands are currently in the center of three different hurricane systems, leading to unusual surf, humidity, and flooding. Our forecast called for 100% chance of rain and overcast skies for the duration of our short trip. Luckily I had the foresight to know that Hawaiian forecasts mean absolutely nothing. It was sunny for the bulk of our stay with only a few stray cloud floating by.


It was a solid impromptu trip. In many ways, it's hard to believe that it even happened. My nonrev flights (airline lingo for non-revenue or a seat that isn't making any money) up to this point have consisted almost entirely of commuting to and from work-related training assignments. This was the first time it felt like I was taking advantage of my benefits and I hope I have the time to use them throughout my career.

30 hours in Kauai

Each time an airline pilot is given a new domicile, they are guaranteed four "moving days" to relocate to their new base city. This is really just a ruse. First, who is actually capable of uprooting their lives and getting established in a new city in four days? Second, these moving days are flexible, so I moved them to Labor Day weekend to coincide with Nicole's vacation time. As you can see by the photos here, I am in Minneapolis right now carrying a futon up the steps of a four story apartment.

Kauai was a last minute decision. Nicole was concerned that 30 hours was too short of a time to fly halfway across the ocean, but after some shrewd negotiations, she begrudgingly agreed that a free trip to Hawaii was acceptable. I am trying to take advantage of every day I have before I am actually in Minneapolis flying six legs a day, and spontaneous getaways like this are a distant memory.

Salt Lake City

It took me about two months to complete all my initial jet training as I bounced between Salt Lake City and Atlanta. From now on, I will find myself in Salt Lake once a year until I retire or change airlines. Airline pilots are continually evaluated each year and can be terminated at any time if their performance is not to standard. This is different from folks who have private or even commercial pilot certificates, who essentially have valid licenses for life as long as they do a brief review with a flight instructor every other year. As a former flight instructor, it was a huge liability to do these flight reviews for obvious reasons. The pilot's most recent flight could have been over a year ago, and as long as they perform a few token landings, they could legally carry passengers the next day. Yikes. The point is that when you board an American air carrier, your pilots are qualified and capable, and statistically the safest in the world. And now you know.

As I have not requested Salt Lake as a base, I do not expect to be here much until my next evaluation. It is a city that I have explored in just two areas: the airport vicinity and downtown. The area around the airport is not terribly exciting. I have had lunch or dinner in this area only out of desperation. The restaurants are just . . . awful. It is a simple matter of convenience...I'm looking at you Lofte's on West Temple. If you were in the middle of Utah, would you trust a restaurant whose specialty is exotic burgers like alligator or kangaroo? Exactly. Those have probably been sitting in the freezer since the Bush administration.

Fortunately, Salt Lake has a fairly clean and efficient light rail to take people from the airport to downtown so they don't have to eat ostrich burgers. The downtown has a fairly thriving bar scene, which is confusing for two reasons. One being the fact that obviously there are a lot of Mormons in the area. Second is the fact that Utah liquor laws are the most confusing in the country. Draft beer in Utah is limited to something like 3.2%, but you can order bottles or cans with the normal amount. Happy hour is illegal as are any discounts on alcohol. Now, a "bar" must also serve food and must card everyone who enters even if they don't plan on drinking. There is a workaround for this, as I saw at Bar X (the actual name of the bar). Inside the dimly lit bar, only drinks were served. But, at the far end of the bar was an open door connecting to the restaurant next door. Voila. So all in all, Salt Lake is a nice enough city, but I could never see myself living there. Being neither mormon nor meth addict, I have a feeling I would be in the minority.