Back in the District

I never fashioned myself to be one of those people that goes to their college reunion. Nevertheless, a friend of mine had mentioned she was going. I had the days off, Nicole was working nearby in Richmond, and it seemed to be a reasonable enough thing to do. I went straight from my Austin trip to Orlando. I understand this is not the most direct way of getting to Washington, DC, but it was the only way that could guarantee me a seat in the back. I grow tired of sitting in the jumpseat, particularly after doing many flights at odd hours of night.

I got on a JetBlue flight from Orlando to DCA the following day. It would be about a day and a half before I would actually see Nicole, so I did a lot of wandering around the city. For the most part, I was able to navigate my way around, but a lot of my favorite places to eat were now gone. Anyway, various college reunion-related activities took place on my first full day in town, and my first event was at the building of International Affairs. It had been over a decade since I've lived on the east coast, and I never truly fit in when I did live there. As a starry-eyed 18-year old boy, I had grand visions of working in diplomacy or intelligence, being sent to exotic locales, using my language skills to infiltrate our enemies, and saving America in time for dessert. Many of the folks that went to my school, and perhaps shared these visions were so unpleasant that it sent me running west. I am in a much better fit right now in virtually all ways. California is more relaxed, calm, patient, and more accepting.

I had assumed (incorrectly) that this reunion event was a sort of casual affair and I showed up in jeans, a t-shirt that said, "Go Sports!," and a pair of Vans. Some of the other folks (pictured here) had differing ideas on the dress code. Many had their congressional badges prominently showing. This is something that drove me absolutely crazy when I went to school here. People would show up to class with their lanyards from their internship on the hill or the state department and act like they didn't have time to remove them before showing up to class. I mean I could just as easily shown up in a pilot uniform, but that wouldn't even seem right at an Embry-Riddle reunion.

Anyway, I got to showcase this culture to Nicole for a little while. We visited a friend who now owns a restaurant near Metro Center and everyone around us was basically wearing tuxedos. I think it's better to actually be somebody than to look like you're somebody, but that's the California in me. As its last act of defiance, the district tried to make our commute to Dulles airport as inefficient as possible. The Marine Corps Marathon was still going on, and despite having began at probably 7am, people were still finishing at . . . 2. Thus, the streets where we would normally have caught the bus to Dulles were blocked and the cops blocking the streets had no idea where the bus was now picking people up. It was only by me spotting it drive by from a distance that we figured it out. And no thanks to the cops, we were not allowed to cross the street in front of non-existent traffic to catch said bus . . . and it only runs once an hour. To make matters worse, I was feeling increasingly ill. I felt fatigued, congested, and by the time I got off the plane in San Francisco I was running a fever. Clearly, D.C. makes me feel ill. As one bit of silver lining, I preemptively went online to my flight schedule and just checked to see if I could drop my next redeye. For the first time in my flying career, the flight disappeared from my schedule instantly. I was shocked. And to be perfectly frank, relieved.

We Can't Stop Here! This is Bat Country!

This is a post about animals. We will start with dogs, proceed with bats, and conclude with weasels.

1) Dogs.

I have never been keen on the canine. To be clear, I don't hate them, but I am not infatuated with them like the rest of society. I was routinely harassed by the neighbor's dalmatian in my youth and my 65 lb frame was easily tackled when visiting friends or family who seemingly all had dogs. "Oh she's just excited to see you!" That may be, but I really don't like being clawed while lying on the floor paralyzed in fear. They followed me for over a mile when hiking in Greece, making me very uncomfortable. They ruined my beach time on the Cook Islands and tried to sneak into our hut. I admit it. I'm scared of dogs. Irrational? Maybe, but one of my biggest pet peeves in life are dog owners who operate under the assumption that everyone loves dogs. I think folks like me are the silent majority because American society harshly judges those who don't swoon and yell, "Awwwww" over a shaking chihuahua. Before reporting for my flight last night, I wanted to go for a relaxing walk around the neighborhood. When I got to a small park on the bluffs, there was a man walking with an empty leash in his hand. I found the dog soon enough, as it had charged me full speed from across the park, stood on its hind legs and started grabbing at me. The owner regained control and apologized. I lied and said it was ok. 10 seconds later, the dog escaped the owner's grasp and charged again, this time clawing away my headphones and knocking away my phone before being pulled away again. The owner apologized again, and once more I lied and said it was alright.

Why am I telling you all this? Well, later that night I would also have to return to the gate after a man and his massive comfort dog were becoming belligerent and swearing at the flight attendants. Well, I think to be fair it was mostly the man. I can't speak for the dog. As a result of all this, we and the remaining passengers were delayed over an hour for our red-eye flight to Austin.

2) Bats.

There are supposed to be a large number of bats hanging out under the Congress Street Bridge at dusk. I think it was too cold the last few nights and the bats have migrated south for the winter, or whatever it is that bats do. In any event, I saw no bats, just a lot of eager tourists hoping to catch a glimpse of this batty display. And that brings us to our final creature.

3) Weasels.

A few years ago, a very talented filmmaker, who I happen to acquaint myself with, created a parody trailer of the Wolf of Wall Street. The idea was simple: swap every male character with a female one. It was featured in Huffington Post, Slate, UpWorthy, Jezebel, news stations, and various international publications. So naturally everyone hated it. The comments section featured such eloquently worded statements such as, "Who was in the kitchen when this was being made?," "I'd fap to that," and "These women and their balding jew boyfriends need to stop trying." Look, I realize my forehead is large-ish, but I still have most of my hair. Hmph.

Anyway, point being, it's very difficult for a woman to say or do anything that makes a statement without intense backlash. I think it was after Nicole's video that I became very aware of how awful our society is and how demeaning it is to women in all industries. In the post-Weinstein era, perhaps people are slowly becoming more aware of the issue, albeit slowly.

With many of my friends and colleagues posting #metoo stories on facebook, it got me contemplating my role in all this. Surely there must be more that I can do beyond simply not being a dick. And I have some ideas. Within my own industry, I don't share the "office" with many women other than the flight attendants. Most of the people I fly with are respectful and professional, and I am proud of that. However...every once in a while I encounter a specimen that we shall call the weasel.

The weasel might brag of their many alleged conquests or how they are convinced a passenger was flirting with them. The weasel is arrogant, and says offensive things about the female flight attendants physical appearance or intelligence. The weasel in many respects...is really just an asshole. Now the tricky part for me in working with weasels is that I don't know how to respond. More often than not, I force a fake laugh to their absurd comments. After all, I don't want to offend the person I have to share a small closed-in space with for the next few days. And that's the root problem. The weasel doesn't really understand that they're a weasel. The weasel thinks that as long as a woman doesn't hear what they say, all is ok. And I'm allowing this "locker room talk" to occur when really what I should be doing is calling people out on their nonsense. Something as simple as, "That's not cool," may do the trick.

I don't pretend to understand what women go through on a regular basis, but if we rewind to my issues with dogs, maybe it gives me an idea. It's really not a lot of fun to be out for a walk and minding your own business only to be harassed by someone off their leash who thinks they can just follow you and start touching without permission. "But he likes you!" No. He's a weasel. And no, it's not ok.

99+ LuftBallons

Knowing that I might be in Albuquerque the same time as the famous Balloon Fiesta, I creatively packed my suitcase to fit my good camera once more. This was a challenge as I had to also pack for a 3-day trip. My telephoto lens spent most of the trip wrapped in paper towels and inside one of my shoes. Due to raging fires in Northern California, we were severely delayed and didn't arrive into ABQ until after 4am. In spite of this, I was not ready for bed. The hotel lobby was full of energy as busloads of balloon enthusiasts were gathering to go to the fiesta.

And the airline manual says, if you're not tired enough for bed, don't try and force it. It was settled then. I elected to head out to the balloon fiesta to check out a unique event called the Dawn Patrol. To my understanding, a few hot air balloons equipped with special lights survey the landing zones and analyze winds prior to the sun coming up. This information is passed on to the other balloonists who then decide if they want to go up or not. Honestly, I have no clue how any of this works. They seem like flying death traps. I tried to watch some YouTube videos on how they are controlled. I understand how they rise with the whole hot air rising and becoming less dense, but beyond that it just seems like anarchy. I watched a video on how they steer and all I took away from it is that you really can't. How hundreds of balloons at this fiesta aren't ending up in a Wal*Mart parking lot or on top of a Long John Silver's is what we pilots sometimes refer to as PFM, or Pure F-- Magic. I also imagine they collide fairly often. Fortunately this probably happens slowly.

The dawn patrol was an interesting spectacle because each time they fired their propane, the entire balloon would illuminate like a Turkish lamp. Another interesting aspect of the fiesta is that there are no ropes blocking a spectator from the action. I was able to walk freely around the grounds without anyone telling me to stop. I was close enough in many cases to feel the heat coming off the propane of balloons just beginning to rise.

Another word of note: it's really cold in Albuquerque at this time of morning. Now, I understand that I am Californian and statements like these are relative, but most people were wearing fleece jackets and sweatshirts. I'd estimate somewhere around 50 degrees is what we were dealing with and all I had was a long-sleeve t-shirt. By this point, I was anxious for the sun to come up and warm my tuchus. I went to a stand to get a green chili breakfast burrito. There were not really any tables or chairs, so I just kind of sat on the grass (also cold). By the time I finished my burrito, the sun was just starting to peer out from behind the mountains.

As the sun got higher, entire rows of balloons began to launch. Unlike an airshow where F-16s are doing high-speed passes and making everyone deaf, the only sounds were the periodic firing of the propane. This proved to be invaluable cover for the gas I too was firing thanks to the green chili breakfast burrito. By now, I was working my way toward the exit. This was easier said than done.

As a result of the very loose regulations as to where people can be, I found myself literally dodging balloons that were launching. At one point I had to scurry between two that were in the process of being inflated. If I waited too long, I would surely have been pinned in between a cow and a chicken, and nobody wants to be there.





They began launching some of the "special shapes," as they're called. Just like that, the sky was filled with balloons that presumably were totally out of control and working their way (ever so slowly) toward the roof of a Long John Silver's. I continued toward the exit, now feeling I would have better luck at sleep, but kept looking over my shoulder to make sure that I was not going to be run over by a rogue balloon. I leave you with a few of my other photos...

Photo Essay on Guanajuato

 The bloggery has really increased now that I'm actually working. I am once again in Guanajuato, Mexico. On the CRJ, we would always arrive around 7pm, and leave very early the following morning. This was not adequate time to explore since a taxi is required to actually get to the historical zone. I had a long overnight here when I was based in Houston, but it has not been repeated until now. I did my first red eye getting here. We arrived at 6am and I slept until about 1130 and went into town around 2.


Since this is a simple out-and-back trip, I only needed one change of clothes, so my bag had a lot of space. I decided to pack my fancy mirrorless camera and document the town properly. I did actually go inside the basilica this time. I tried to explore new areas as well as revisit some of the highlights from my last visit. But I feel I get too wordy on here, so I shall let the photos do the talking for once.

Lil' Side Trip to Richmond

 Since the end of last month, Nicole has been working for the show Homeland. It is filming its seventh season in Richmond, Virginia. Needless to say, it's a long way from L.A. and there are no direct flights. It was a bit of a stressful day trying to get there. The first Delta gate agent ran down to the plane (to check on pax counts I assumed). Except I looked out to see the bridge being pulled away and the plane being pushed back without her ever following up with me about the jumpseat. That's TWICE now, Delta. TWICE. I caught one 90 mins later and got a seat in the back. I was not completely free of the jumpseat, though as I ended up in an MD-88 from Atlanta to Richmond. It was my first time in the infamous "Mad Dog" as we do not see them much on the west coast. The FO jokingly commented, "Those engine start/stop switches on your plane must be nice," and then proceeded to do a 30-step process to start an engine on the mighty MD-88. After enough coal was fed into the boiler, we were on our way.

Richmond seems like a nice enough city. It feels like a small town. No traffic. Easy parking. Old architecture. In other words, nothing like Los Angeles. It has a nice network of pedestrian bridges and pathways criss-crossing a place called Belle Isle near downtown. One of them is actually hanging from an overpass. It was about 85 degrees and quite humid, which I was not expecting for this time of year. It felt like the middle of summer. We spent the rest of the day driving around places like Monument Avenue, a long street with various statues.

Being the capital of the Confederacy at one point, I suppose it was unsurprising that this avenue was full of confederate statues. Whether or not they deserve to be prominently displayed out in public is a whole different debate and I've made enough of such political rantings lately, so I'll let this one be. Robert E. Lee was our first sighting, followed by Jefferson Davis. I guessed (correctly I might add) that the next statue would be Stonewall Jackson. After that was Arthur Ashe . . . a black tennis player, who won numerous grand slams in the 60s/70s. And now he shares a street with Jefferson Davis. Only in America. We walked by the Museum of the Confederacy and the Confederate White House. It was $10 for the museum, so we didn't go in. The "White House" didn't look like anything special either. I saw much nicer homes in Richmond in an area known as "The Fan." Later in the evening, we returned to the river by downtown.

We enjoyed a nice sunset and then had dinner outside at a French restaurant in Carytown, another trendy neighborhood in Richmond. Although it was brief, I enjoyed my time in Richmond. It seems like a friendly and relaxed town that has tried to establish a new identity for itself. The next day I found myself in the jumpseat again and dodging tropical storm Nate as it moved through the Southeast. Maybe I'll be back some day when I can spend more time there.

Working the Vegas Shuttle . . .and some stuff about guns.

First off, the lack of posts is due to a lack of flying. I spent all of September on reserve and didn't get called once. I finally had my first scheduled trip and it consisted primarily of running the Vegas shuttle between various cities on the west coast. The first overnight of the trip was in San Francisco. I logged on to my tablet later in the evening and noticed I had received a notification that a couple of my facebook friends had checked in safe in Las Vegas due to an active "shooter" situation. They had been at a concert and were now barricaded in an office building near the airport.

My first source of information on this was not the news, but rather Facebook. Interesting. The next morning, there wasn't much more information available other than that hundreds were injured and 58 people were dead, the largest count in modern US history. None of it made any sense to me. I was on a deadhead to Salt Lake the following day and I caught my right-leaning seat mate (in more ways than one) reading an article that said "evidence" was found that the shooter had participated in Anti-Trump rallies. Before I even went to Snopes, I knew that was false. Though in their defense, people with beards do all look the same to me too.

Anyway, as I made repeated trips to McCarran International, I was constantly reminded of the gruesome event each time I took off. The broken window was clearly visible from my side of the aircraft, and our departure kept overflying the area where the concert was held. It was sickening. Like any human being, my thoughts went to why? And how can this kind of thing be prevented? While everyone has an opinion on this, most don't put forth practical solutions. Which got me thinking, what is a solution that will actually work? There are  currently two schools of thought on how to proceed.

Republicans said it was too soon to discuss things like gun control, which is what they say every time a mass shooting occurs. And they occur with such frequency in this country, that time to discuss them never comes. Meanwhile . . . well-intentioned, but not terribly well-informed folks on the left call for a total ban on assault rifles. It is oft mentioned that Australia successfully banned all firearms after one of their mass shootings, and have not had a mass shooting event since. But is it cause and effect? Maybe not.

About 8 years ago, I went to Kentucky to a machine gun shoot/festival/gun show. Prior to this event, I had never even held a firearm. After my visit, I had fired something like 400 rounds from fully automatic weapons including a Bren machine gun, M-16, Thompson, Galil ARM, and an M249. No, it did not change my life. It did not make me feel more powerful or tougher. I did, however, meet a lot of nice folks there who were safely and responsibly using firearms. And while I certainly think very differently from them, they're not bad people.

I was there for my graduate school thesis project - a documentary about a young lady named Samantha, who I had learned was a very prolific shooter. She had participated in target-shooting competitions with her sub-machine gun and was destroying any semblance of competition. As I spent the weekend there, I learned that she and her father were very competitive with each other and I made that the central theme of my documentary - a sort of father-daughter bond over a shared hobby. When I showed one of my advisors the rough cut, he said it needed to make more of a statement and went as far as to suggest it should be more anti-gun. I refused to change my edit, believing that this would be disingenuous. People would read into it what they wanted is how I felt. Oh, if you want to watch it, it's here.


Anyway, I liked Samantha and her dad. They were nice to me. They had the courage and heart to welcome a film school kid from Los Angeles, California into their world. What is the point of all this? Well it's this. If we go back-and-forth between "Ban all the guns!" and "Everyone should have guns!," we aren't going to get anywhere. If some kind of gun control is to succeed, it needs to have the backing of a completely divided country, and that's not easy. We need to figure out something that passes the "Samantha test" (ie does something about the gun problem in our country while allowing people like Samantha to continue their hobbies).

Meanwhile...on day 3, the captain eventually pointed out the empty window in the Mandalay Bay. I commented how eerie it was. I did voice my confusion as to what gets defined as a terrorist act, but that's as political as I wanted to get at that point. When we do briefs before departure or arrival, we label the greatest threat. On the captain's next leg from John Wayne to Vegas, he said the greatest threat was Trump. And I knew what he meant. We did not want to rush our checklists in an attempt to beat the airport closure for Trump's arrival, but just to check him, when we departed again, I said the greatest threat was still Trump. He had a very hearty laugh and concluded that Trump might very well still be the greatest threat after the trip was over.

Jokes aside, the political climate in our country is pretty much toxic to any form of sweeping gun control. Up to this point, the focus has been mostly on specific types of weapons or modifications. Examples would include large capacity magazines, silencers, anything semi-automatic, and the biggest target has been assault rifles themselves. Basically, all of those efforts have failed. For one, the NRA has a lot of politicians (and not just republicans) by the goolies. But the NRA alone is not to blame. The people who own guns themselves are very impassioned. Somewhat ironically, political efforts to limit certain guns or attachments have the undesired effect of gun enthusiasts swarming to buy up these particular items before they are removed from the market. When I was in Kentucky, there were murmurs of Obama wanting to take everyone's guns away. Sales of guns and ammo were marked up to higher prices as demand surged.

So let's just go out and say it. There is no amount of dead bodies or children massacred that will ever bring this country to ban all guns. The far right will always argue that guns don't kill people. People do. And look at all the killings in Chicago! They voted for Hillary! And finally my personal favorite . . .that such a tragedy could have been prevented if "good" people at the scene had guns too. But how do we decide who the "good" people are?

And therein lies a big component in how we can move forward. Background checks. "But Brian!, they exist already! It's sooooooo hard to buy a gun!" Is it? I researched this and I could order a factory-issue Galil semi-automatic rifle, the weapon of choice in the Israeli Defense Force, have it shipped to a licensed firearm dealer in Santa Monica (yes you read that right), and pick it up with some minor paperwork. I am then, supposed to register such a weapon with the state of California within 60 days, but as for the background check? It's instantaneous. There's a computer program called NICS that just verifies if I have any convictions, dishonorable discharges, etc. If no? Voila! I have quite the paperweight for my office. If for some reason, the state of California decided to actually enforce an assault rifle ban, I could use my Florida ID to get one in Florida where gun laws, as you might imagine are pretty lax. If that didn't work out, I could just go back to the Kentucky gun show, and buy that Galil, a silencer, a grenade launcher, and get stopped only when I run out of money. The howitzer will have to wait. Dealers are instructed to not sell to anyone they have reasonable cause to believe might be prohibited from owning such a weapon. So, what does that mean? A potential buyer approaches the dealer wearing a ski mask or proclaims, "I'm going to kill so many people with this!" as they examine it?

As you might have already deduced, an instant yes/no verification of criminal history is not a terribly effective way of doing a background check, nor is putting the vetting responsibility on the dealer who just met someone.

Just to work at an audioguide station at the National Archives in D.C., I had to undergo a pretty thorough background check, which took weeks. People I hadn't talked to in some time would text me and be like, "Ummm, someone called me and introduced themselves as Special Agent Harrison. They wanted to know if you were living on F Street in 2003 and asked the names of your roommates." As it turns out, I successfully passed the background check and was able to serve my country by telling 8th grade school trips how to use an audioguide throughout the exhibit hall. Conclusion? It's harder to handle acoustiguides than firearms. I underwent an even more extensive background check when working at National Airport and again when becoming an airline pilot.







They may have discovered that I received a congressional nomination to attend a military academy, yet participated in an anti-war march the following year. I've changed my address a lot. I have a speeding ticket and 5 parking violations. I got a Florida ID so I can get cheap tickets to DisneyWorld, and participated in a high-heels drag race in D.C. dressed as a Persian bellydancer (no photo available).

Now that we've gotten to know each other better, do you trust me with a firearm? It's not as black-and-white as a simple NICS check on convictions, and it would require lots of man/woman power and good training to vet potential buyers. Our country doesn't have the resources for that right now, but it could. The ATF, much like the VA is a well-intentioned, but basically flaccid agency, ill-equipped to handle a large volume of requests, which is why the instant background checks exist. It's really just a bad solution to a bad problem. Some would see thorough vetting as an invasion of privacy. But a lot of those same people are fine with the Patriot Act, which allows the government to spy on its own citizens. When the GermanWings pilot crashed the plane into the Alps, killing all passengers and crew, it came up after the incident that he was dealing with depression and other mental issues. This should be part of pilot medical exams and should exempt someone from flying a plane. It's the same principle. It could have saved lives. I think people would want to know if their pilot is sane. Likewise, I would like to know if the tough guy I saw in Fairbanks, Alaska, proudly carrying his sidearm into an antique car museum is stable. That Model T can be a real dick sometimes, but a gun seems highly unnecessary in that setting.

An effective background check wouldn't solve everything, but it's a start. And the problem with our country is that we never start. Tragedy happens, the president makes a speech to comfort the nation, other politicians say that they're sending thoughts and prayers, democrats call for expanded gun control, republicans/the NRA squash such calls in the name of second amendment rights, and the cycle repeats itself. We have a lot of guns in this country, but the agency tasked with overseeing them is not capable of even enforcing existing gun laws. It isn't even focused strictly on guns. Its name includes Alcohol and Tobacco as well. If we could beef up this agency and give it greater powers to vet, enforce, and even recover, maybe we'd have a start. Just a start. "But where would all the money to do this come from?" I've heard talks of a magnificent wall that's to be built on our southern border. It is estimated to cost about $70 billion just to construct. That's 4x the annual budget for NASA. Or to put in another way, $70 billion is about 70x the ATF's current budget. You could hire and train a lot of people for $69 billion. Just food for thought.

Footnote: I apologize that this blog has morphed into "Flyin' Brian and how he's coping with one national tragedy after another", but I'm tired of treating America like it can do no wrong. It does wrong a lot. But I like my country too. It just needs some fixing.