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Travel: Making You a Better Traveller, Part Two - Passenger Etiquette

If you have followed all of my previous travel advice, you have successfully booked your airline ticket, acquired an amazing seat, successfully maneuvered security and are now preparing to board.  In this episode, we will discuss how not to piss off your fellow travellers.  This is more important than, well, anything so please pay attention.

Getting onto an airplane with a hundred other travellers is one of the most extreme invasions of personal space known to man.  If my following list was mandatory reading and breaking these rules was punishable by death, this would still be an unpleasant experience at best.

Airline Passenger Etiquette - A Life Lesson

1.  Put your Overland Steamer trunk into Checked Baggage.  Those guides that the airlines provide with the carry-on baggage dimensions are meant as a maximum allowed, not a goal to be reached.  The overhead bins are for storing your fragile items and things that you may need while on the flight.  They are not meant to hold everything you are travelling with because you don't want to drag your lazy-ass to the luggage carousel following your flight.

2.  Think of the Seat Armrest as an Invisible, Impenetrable Barrier. If any of your body parts have ventured beyond this invisible line, immediately correct and apologize.  That includes, but is not limited to, shoulders, elbows, knees, feet and abdomen.  If there comes a time that you need to impose on someone's personal space because you forgot to pee before boarding and you have had a steady infusion of fluids, you must ask the victim to please excuse you.  You must never assume that the passenger on the aisle would rather remain seated and have you lap-dance your way out, even if said passenger appears to be sleeping.  Also, when standing up, use your own seat to maintain your balance not the seat and hair of the person in front of you.

3.  Shower.  Seriously.

4. Just because your Seat can Recline, does Not Mean that It Must. Fully reclining your seat is a huge intrusion into the limited amount of space that the person behind you has available.  If it is a long, overnight flight and the Flight Attendants have turned down the lights, acceptable.  Short flights, food or beverage service times, middle of the day; act like it's the middle of the day and sit up.

Exhibit A:  This picture was taken prior to taxi (yes, before the flight) around noon:

Is this really necessary?

5.  Children...*sigh*. If they are your children, they are your responsibility.  Take control!  Do not feed them every piece of airport sugar available prior to the flight.  Do not allow them to make faces and yell through the crack between the seats.  Do not allow them to touch people as they run up and down the aisles.  Do not ask your childless neighbour to hold them so you can eat your meal.  Do not fly with more children than you can handle; I strongly suggest no more than a 1:1 ratio.  Please consider flying during their regular sleep time and feel free to discuss mild sedation therapies with your family doctor.

6.  Conversation with your Flight Neighbour.  Really not mandatory.  Pleasantries are fine but, if your neighbour answers with one word, smiles politely and then goes back to her reading, you likely should not be asking about her job, children, home address and political views and it's probably safe to assume that she doesn't want to know about yours.  We are all forced together in our assigned seats so, please, do not consider a flight as a place to make business contacts or find a date.

Enjoy your flight and try to let others enjoy theirs.

F***ing Crutches!

So, I've broken my foot.

 

Dear Dutch X-Ray Techs:  FYI, this is not a natural foot position.  In my country, we administer Morphine before sending our patients to see your kind.  It does not make me feel any better to have you tell me that you know it hurts.  Morphine.  Seriously.

And, this is what you get when you break that little bone known as your fifth metatarsal:

And, these:

Seems like a bit of overkill until you accidently weight bear on that little tiny bone and feel like this:

In the two weeks preceeding this tragedy, I did many things that would have been well-deserving of some sort of injury.  I trekked around the precarious landscape of Iceland (narrowly escaping a volcanic eruption, it seems), I paraglided in the Black Forest, I wore high heels on the cobblestones of Holland, I rode my motorcycle and I did Yoga.  I came away unscathed until I did something really stupid....

I walked.  On a sidewalk.  In sport sandals.  Tevas, no less.

You know when you just twist your ankle a little and your greatest injury is the one to your pride because someone may have witnessed your floundering recovery?  I've actually done this exact move many times before but it's generally not associated with a crunching noise and a flash of lightning.

Of course, I did not go in to see a Doctor right away.  I'm a medical professional and it seemed totally stable to me so, instead, I chose to go home in a taxi for a million euros and moan about it for the night, overdose on anti-inflammatories and ice it for five hours to see if my foot would sort itself out because fractures often do that..... heal overnight.  Twelve hours later, after soliciting the opinions of everyone else in the house, I admitted that I likely needed to get it checked out... just to make sure there was nothing seriously wrong.

Denial is a powerful adversary.  Even when the Doctor stated the obvious next step, the x-ray, I told her that I was certain that it wasn't broken and it likely wasn't necessary.

Doctor:  "Can you take a few steps towards me?"

Me:  "Do you need me to go somewhere or is this a test?"

Doctor:  "It's a test."

Me:  "Okay, an x-ray then."

But, believe it or not, all of this is not the worst part.  The Crutches!

In the rational part of my brain (small part greatly removed from the words and actions part), I knew that I did not require total immobilization or a hospital admission for this injury but, really?  The medical professionals chose to turn me loose after adding 10 kg to one leg, injecting me with heparin and giving me a pair of crutches to make my way in the world after I broke my foot while walking.  Wow.  Really?

The first couple of days, or week and a half, were really frustrating!  Literally every move had to be meticulously planned out.

Morning coffee:

1.  Crutch walk to stove.  Park crutches at counter corner.  Crutches do not park well and generally topple... takes practice.

2.  Unscrew percolator, pivot and hop three hops to garbage to empty grounds from yesterday.

3.  Three hops back to sink.  Rinse.

4.  Two hops to left (hold counter) and get coffee and nutmeg.

5.  Remember to get coffee mug and spoon down while on that side of the kitchen.

6.  Left rotation and stretch to place mug and spoon on the island.

7.  Pivot back to coffee and nutmeg, pick up (in one hand if possible) and hop three times to right (hold counter).

8.  Assemble coffee percolator, right turn and lean to place on stove top.  Turn on burner.

9.  While waiting for coffee to perc, three hops to the right to get milk from fridge.

10. Right demi-pirouette and lean forward to put milk in mug on the island.  Reverse action to return milk to fridge.

11. Wait for coffee (not worth the effort to go and sit down).

12. Position body halfway between stove and island.  Use right hand to pick up coffee pot, gently turn 180 degrees counter-clockwise and pour coffee into mug.  This must be done smoothly as there is no hopping while holding liquids, especially really hot ones.

13. Return coffee pot to stove (make sure stove is turned off, lesson learned).

14. Get crutches and crutch walk to island, slightly passing the end the coffee mug is on.

15. Move both crutches in one hand and balance.

16. Slide coffee mug to the other end of the island (as close as possible to the dining table).

17. Crutch walk to the dining chair closest to the kitchen and park crutches in the corner between the cereal cabinet and the wall.  They will likely fall once the cat comes around.

18. Sit in chair.

19. Rotate upper body in chair to reach behind to island and get the coffee mug.

20. Enjoy.  That was the first fifteen minutes of your day.

I am so over that.  I can now do that whole thing in no more than twelve minutes.  Fortunately, I limit myself to one cup because the flushing of the excess fluids is almost as complex.

Here is what I have learned:

• Anything that I have forgotten upstairs, can stay there.
• I have a great bladder.
• My house needs to be cleaned.
• Small kitchens have their advantages.
• Two flights of stairs in one house is too much.
• Crutches slip on talc.
• Crutches slip on towels.
• Crutches slip on water.
• All sidewalks are uneven.
• For training purposes, I'm glad my Hubbybaby has broken his legs in the past.
• My cat fetches.
• Online tutorials can fill an entire day.
• Wine and Advil do mix.  Ok... knew that one already.
• The sixteen-year-old boy can be really useful.
• Spiders freak me out way more when I know I can't run away.
• I have no patience.
• I micro-manage waaaay more when I can't do things.

I am two weeks into a four week sentence.

Travel: Making You a Better Traveler Part One - Pre-Flight

Traveling is something that everyone should try to do at some point.  My life has been enriched and my world broadened by the few, yet noteworthy, countries I have visited, the diverse people I have met and the supercool pictures I have taken.

Having said that...

Today, and over the next few entries, I will take it upon myself to bust the illusion of glamour out of world travel and possibly give a few hints on how to make it not suck quite so much.

I travel for work, a lot, so I am getting better at it; better at handling the system, not the experience.  Despite what the airline and tourism propaganda would like us to believe, travel is no longer the glorious, awe-inspiring episode in our lives that we should feel lucky to encounter.  Because of increased security, low-ball flight prices and airline market grappling, passengers are herded into cues, rushed through intrusive security checks, touched, and then crowded onto an aircraft that has as many seats as the airlines can possibly fit into a small space.

Following are a few of my personal recommendations that will help you feel a little more in control of your glorious flying experience; all found through trial, error and survival instinct.

Flight Planning.

Book your flight online.  By doing so, you will have electronic access to your flight information including the airline’s small print, luggage rules, schedule, aircraft type and seating.

Select your seat.  If you don’t choose your own seat, you will be seated in a middle seat that doesn’t recline and is dangerously close to the toilets, I promise you.  Depending on the airline and/or flight, you can choose a seat when booking but sometimes they charge for that privilege.  Check your online information a month and a week before your flight to see if the “seat selection” option has become available.  At the latest, you can check in online 24 − 36 hours in advance and select your seat then.

Even if you have been brilliantly proactive and have selected your seat ages in advance, check back as the airline may have changed aircraft and your emergency row exit aisle seat will then have become cattle class middle seat.  It happens.

If you would like to know which seats are the best ones on your flight, check out an aircraft seating sight such as SeatGuru.  SeatGuru has layout diagrams of most airlines’ aircraft with explanations as to why certain seats are better or not so good.   When selecting my seat, my first choice is an emergency row exit seat for a few good reasons:  extra legroom, no kids allowed and I figure that someone slightly competent should be sitting there in case there actually is an emergency.

Check in online!   Select your seat, check in online and print your boarding pass at home.  If you do not, the airline can still change your seat because someone is at their counter, in their face, whining for your seat.  Secure it!  Also, some airports have a much shorter cue if you have already printed your boarding pass and only need to check your baggage.

Speaking of baggage.  Most airlines allow one check in piece with a weight limit and one carry-on piece plus a purse or small camera bag.  Pack your suitcase as though it will be thrown into a demolition derby arena in a rain storm. That would be a mere warm-up compared to what airline baggage handlers are capable of.  A small yet worthy investment:  a wrap around suitcase strap that you can purchase for under 10 euros at any luggage shop.  When your guaranteed-for-life suitcase zipper breaks on its first voyage, you will be glad that at least some of your unmentionables are still on board.

Pack your carry-on bag so that you can locate, remove and replace everything contained therein faster than a sniper can assemble his rifle in the bushes.  Start packing your bags empty so that you have no reminders of your last outing brought to your attention by airport security.  That can be an embarrassing and expensive oversight.  No liquids greater than 50 ml, no lighters, no multi-tools, no knives, no nail clippers, no scissors, no you can NOT take the bottle of water that you just purchased..... not an exhaustive list by any stretch.  You will have to take out your laptop, liquids and possibly your camera for inspection so do not bury them at the bottom of your bag.  No one in the security line up wants to see your colourful boxer-briefs and condom collection that you must remove to get at your computer.... yay, Amsterdam.

While we are on the topic of airport security....

Simple rule:  Don’t Wear Metal.  If you do, you will have to take it off.

In most airports, you will have to remove belts, shoes, jackets, all pocket contents, watches and costume jewellery.  If you have a metal plate somewhere in your body, carry a medical card stating that you have one, unless you haven’t had any action in a while and you enjoy the thorough search that you are sure to receive.  To each his own, I don’t judge.

Dear Airport Security:  Bras have underwire.  Most women over the age of consent are wearing them.  This should no longer be a surprise but, thanks for the grope, it made me feel special.

Well, I’m exhausted.  The next instalment will be a must read about the flight and passenger etiquette; feel free to quote me.

Mission Get Fit

January 15, I was told by my work physician that I was unfit.  Unfit for what, I ask.  Unfit for release into general population?  Unfit to practice?  Unfit to parent?  I would have believed all of those before the truth.... physically unfit.

Let it be known that I feel that a Dutch doctor, with his six feet of ectomorphic physique, has no idea how well I fight my non-ectomorphic Romanian genetics.  Seriously, if he came to one of my family reunions, he would give me a gold star.

Despite my excuses and a fair amount of pouting, a plan had to be made.  The plan revolves around accountability once again.  This time I am trying it with enthusiasm.  Ra-ra.

I have now been using the website livestrong.com for a couple of months to enter foods, exercise, water intake, weight, goals, etc. for the intent purpose of losing some (or all or more) of the weight I have gained since moving to Europe.  Way too easy to screw up.  Love it.

Helpfully, I am on yet another Russian mission where the food is, well, not that difficult to turn down (excepting the pouting and disapproving looks from the Russian kitchen staff).  I also have easy access to an in-house gym (small gathering of non-commercial fitness equipment) and the wine really sucks so it has been easy to cut that out as well.  When I first started this great, life-altering adventure, I was concerned as to whether I would be able to keep up these positive changes once I returned to the world of cheese and good wine.  The answer to that concern?  I could show you the weight “loss” graph but I’m just not willing to share that much at this point; it’s not pretty but I held the newly cast away kilograms at bay though not many more joined them.  Baby steps.  I've come to terms.

Speaking of wine, when I fired up the livestrong.com account I had a huge shock:  there was one recorded day, before my incarceration, that my red wine consumption constituted 50% of my caloric intake for the day.  Soooo not cool.  Please at least act surprised.

My professional dieting recommendation (because I can do that now); if you are going to drink, it is best not to eat anything.  Everything balances out better that way, trust me.

Also, speaking of wine, I do occasionally take these opportunities, while away from home, to prove to myself (and my father) that I am not an alcoholic and, I am happy to report, I am not!  Last mission I was without wine or any other alcohol for 23 days; long past the Delirium Tremors window.  Good to go.  I did, however, have a problem weaning myself off the green tea and carbonated water but that’s another issue.

Back from my digression....

I am all about the gadgets and accountability.  After a kick-ass start at the Russian sponsored Fat Farm / Rehab Clinic (also known as my work assigned accommodation), it was important to find a way to keep on the positive side of the graph once I was home.  Purchases:  one digital scale, one heart monitor, one supercool gadget that made my heart monitor talk to my iPhone and one million iPhone apps that would record, graph, play inspirational music of my choosing and email to me everything I did to gain or burn a calorie.  I am truly a puppet.

But, I am a successful puppet thus far.  How do I measure success, you ask?

Most days, the scale is no longer the enemy.  Knowing that the third floor window is dangerously close, the scale still quivers some days before giving a readout.  Those days are becoming fewer.

I have given away a few items of clothing that are too big.  Well, three to be exact but I am also fitting into things that I have had to brush dust off of.

I crave the morning work-out.  That is seriously surreal.  The trick is to make sure that the appropriate attire is closely standing by.  I am a half hour into my morning jaunt before I realize that I am out of bed; perfect.  If I had to look for a shirt, I would stay under the cozy duvet.  Knowing my limitations is key.

Hail to the cheerleaders!  I am so fortunate to have the support of my Hubbybaby and the rest of my family.  The Amazing Man tells me that I look great, sexy and all that (though, suspiciously, he didn’t tell me that I wasn’t all those things in December)... but, now I’m more so.  Yay!  Liam-the-sixteen-year-old boy has congratulated me on my 5 km time being a mere four times what his is and, my daughter quickly and quietly whisked away my slightly over-sized clothes before I could change my mind.

What are the numbers?  Better than yesterday.

Lunch with the Kids. Better than Dinner Theatre.

1.  Conversation with a sixteen-year-old boy:

Him, “Did you see that lady in the jean jacket?”

Me, “Sure.  I think she’s a little off.”

Him,  “Honestly, Mom, crazy people really freak me out.  You never know what they are going to do.  They could, like, rip their eyeball out and throw it at you.  Or, worse, they could drill their thumbs into your eyeballs, which would hurt even more.”

That conversation happened less than three minutes following a discussion on university programs.

2.  Conversation with the sixteen-year-old boy and his twenty-year-old sister, over lunch:

Her, “I will be getting an A for my forensic psychology final.  One of the questions was referring to a difficult circumstance surrounding an interview with a recovered Child Soldier.”

Me, “Excellent!”

Him, “We should get a cat.”

Her, “I love your A.D.D.”

Him, “Not A.D.D.  I thought about how the Child Soldiers were drugged to get them to cooperate and then I remembered how we drugged our cats, funny, and then I thought that we should get a cat again.”

Her, “It was cat nip."

Him,  "Not like we had her wrapping her lips around a hookah.”

Her, “Cats don’t have lips.... right?”

3.  Mid-meal revelation by the boy:

Him, “Did you know that you can get fart-blocking underwear??”

Us, “.....”

Him, “They have charcoal built into them for filtration.”

Me, “That would block the smell, not the sound.”

Him, “Of course.  Some guy invented them because his wife farted too much.”

Other memorable conversations included the future of hairlines, the fact that my eyes look Asian when I smile (observation from the boy), which countries give sucky haircuts and the amazing Spanx.

Always worth the price of admission.

Hugs??? Not Important!??

Funny thing is... I have always been one of those people who has had personal space issues and has really preferred to not be touched.  Still am.  However, I have also always understood the need for human contact; albeit, by my belief, more by others than myself.

I am sure that, during your baby rearing years, you remember the comments from the previous generations; maybe your own parents, that have sounded quite a bit like, "Don't pick him up everytime he cries.  You will spoil him." or "He will be a stronger person if you just let him cry himself to sleep."

Do you really have the right to deny anyone his or her need for human contact any more than his need for air, food, shelter or clothing?

Living in a somewhat free Western society, I will say No.

My "children" are now 16 and 19 years old and, as much as I know that I have never aspired to receive the "Parent of the Year" Award, I am proud that I can say that I never let them cry themselves to sleep nor did I ever deny them that essential human contact.  No matter what the challenge, if a hug was requested, a hug would be rendered and this still holds true to this day.  It's not like I had to give up a limb or something.  The easiest resolve to any turmoil is to melt into the arms of someone who loves you.

If one is to look up the definition of a hug, he will find that, after the obvious physical attributes, the terms that are linked to that action (hug) are words like cherish, affection, delight, comfort....

By that definition, is a hug something that one would ever want to withold or deny someone who they really have a strong affinity towards?

Is that a valuable punishiment?  Are the dishes that important?  Are you too busy?  Are you worthy of such a decision that someone in your life is not deserving of three seconds of your time?

What's the damage?  To both of you?

Fuck the whole, "smell the roses" campaign.  Value the time that you have with those who are important to you.  Tick Tock.

 

 

Decade, In Review

From the title, I am sure that most readers would assume that I am going to write about a ten year period; memorable events, weather, a career, whatever.

WRONG!

I am here today to revisit the definition of decade because I was partially wrong and had to look it up.  I looked it up in the dictionary not to learn but to prove that I was right; which as I previously established, I was not.

In my current, secret-squirrel, paycheck generating life, I am often surrounded non-native English speakers who have a requirement to generate paperwork in English.  The English speakers amongst us are often seen as the experts not because we are brilliant masters of the English language but because we have been practicing our entire lives.  It's like being quizzed all of the time. 

Today, I read a document that referred to the "first decade of February".  Though I was supposed to be reading this for content and not for grammar, I turned to my eastern European co-worker and said, "Well, that's not right."

He said, "Sure it is.  It's a group of ten meaning the first ten days of the month."

I re-read it with this in mind and again said, "Nope, that's wrong."

I continued my convincing argument with, "If you had ten chickens would you refer to them as your decade of chickens?"

He thought about it and replied, "I think I could."

Me, "No, you really couldn't."

Him, "Hmmm."

Now doubting myself just a little, I told him that it is possible that the actual dictionary account of the word decade could possibly include very traditional uses that may have included a more broad meaning of the word.  I realize that I wavered and displayed weakness but I also managed to place myself in the partially right category instead of the really wrong category.

FYI... the 1913 edition of the Webster dictionary as quoted by The Collaborative International Dictionary in English, defines decade as:

A group or division of ten; esp., a period of ten years; a decennium; as, a decade of years or days; a decade of soldiers; the second decade of Livy.

No idea what "Livy" is.... I've done my research for today.

Time for a Change of Scenery?

Parallel Universes

I received a phone call from the service dude at the bike shop today.  My motorbike is in for its annual spa day.  He told me that he was working on my bike and he had found a problem with the "front crank system".

Shawn (aka Service Dude):  "The front crank system is shot and needs to be replaced."

Me:  "Can you explain that one to me a little more?"

Shaun:  "Well, the rider would have noticed it for sure.  It would have been rattling all over the place.  The bolt that secures the front wheel to the fork was really loose and the steel shaft almost destroyed the aluminium sheath that it sits in."

Me:  "Well, I'm the rider and I haven't noticed anything.  Is this something that should have been caught on a regular service inspection?"

Shawn:  "You are the rider?"

Me:  "Yes."  I get that a lot; big bike.

Shawn:  "You should have caught this on a regular pre-ride check.  You know, ABC's.... air pressure, brakes, chains and make sure everything's tight?"

Me:  "Yes, I do all that.  Didn't notice anything.  How much to replace it?"

Shawn:  "$79.95"

Me:  "Seriously?  No brainer.  Fix it."

Shawn:  "Really?  I've tightened it up and it will be fine until it loosens off again.  Then you'll have to replace it for sure."

Me:  "Well, we don't need shit loosening off when I'm going 100 km/hr down the highway now do we.  Hellooooo.... lawsuit"

Shawn:  "Haha... 100... that's funny.  Well, I'll switch this thing out and you can pick it up tomorrow."

Me:  "Thanks.  Did the new faring come in?"

Shawn:  "Faring?  There's nothing wrong with it."

Me:  "You didn't notice the huge crack?  Are you sure you have the right bike?  2001 Suzuki Bandit?"

Shawn:  "Hmmmm.  This is Shawn from Gerrick's Cycle.....  I'm working on a Norco Bigfoot Mountain Bike.... Sound familiar?"

Pause, silence, my eyes gazed up and to the right.  I slowly lowered my hand that I had firmly placed on my hip (me being all self-righteous on the phone).  I felt a little dizzy as the blood rushed from my brain to my cheeks (wasn't being well utilized in the brain section anyway).

Shawn was talking about my son's mountain bike that I had also dropped off for a pre-season work up.

The salt in the wound?  Taryn-the-seventeen-year-old-girl was sitting across the table, witness to the entire conversation including my moment of realization, and the pathetic me as I stammered through the various excuses including English as a second language, growing up with fetal alcohol syndrome, my shoes were too tight that day, the usual.

That's right, meet the Sheepish me.

Things that Coil

The phone rang; I answered it.  It was Liam-the-thirteen-year-old-boy calling.... from the bathroom, on his cell phone.

"Hi Mom.  I'm taking a dump and there's no toilet paper in here."

We are currently renovating the bathroom so there is nothing in there except a toilet and a shower.  The extra toilet paper was out in the hall.  I looked for a Bic pen to disassemble (because that's what MacGyver would do) to pick the locked door knob.

I was quite surprised to find that most pens seem to have a thicker, ratcheting type system these days and they do not fit into a door knob.  Who knew?  So, found a nail.

Liam, waiting patiently, shouted from his post, "I can get up and come to the door."

"NO!!!  Keep your butt planted on the toilet."

"OK.... I've made a lasso!  You have to see this.  It's not quite long enough but it still looks cool."

Now, I have to ask, in the context that I have presented above, what do you think he was talking about?  I'll tell you what I thought.  I thought he was being a typical teenaged boy who was bored waiting for his Mom to break in and give him toilet paper and was, therefore, peering into the toilet to see what shape his poop had made in the toilet.  Similar to a wistful girl picking out shapes of unicorns, bunnies and Justin Timberlake in the clouds.

I did the predictable thing and threw the toilet paper at him through a six inch opening in the door and told him that he's disgusting.  Daily reminder.

Five minutes later, Liam came into the living room swinging a piece of string around above his head.  His lasso.

The voices in my head are now shouting, "Don't jump to conclusions, don't judge, don't be so cynical, don't assume............"