There was something I heard on Sunday night that made me laugh...
After the Jazz beat Denver in game 4 of their playoff series, TNT’s Marc Fein interviewed Carlos Boozer on the court. Boozer coined an awesome new word in his comments: "It was a great game, ‘Melo hit some big shots down the stretch for them, but we stayed compoised."
I'm pretty sure that means the opposite of "flustrated".
I wonder if we'll see it used in the NBA's ad series, as in "The NBA: Where Compoised Happens."
Saturday, May 1, 2010
Sunday, December 20, 2009
The Four Days of Birthday
To be sung to the tune of "The Twelve Days of Christmas"
(Never mind, just read the blog entry. I'll write you a haiku or something later.)
Three days before my birthday, I decided I wanted to treat myself to something fun. I haven't been to a hockey game yet in this season, so first I checked the Grizzlies schedule; they were out of town. Okay, maybe a trip to see the Sharks or the Avs? Nope, both of them would be playing away games in cities I had no desire to visit.
While I was checking hockey schedules, I had the Jazz game on the TV. They were in Los Angeles, playing the Lakers. (The Jazz had their worst fourth-quarter letdown ever. After the game, I realized the Jazz would be a great hockey team, because they'd only have to play three periods!) During the game there was an ad for tickets to the game against the Lakers on Saturday, my birthday. So I called and got a decent seat in the upper bowl.
Then I thought, I've never been to a 'Niners game. (Regretfully, I never got to see Steve Young play; I was planning a trip to do so during what turned out to be his final season, but he got his career-ending concussion two games before the one I was going to attend.) It soon dawned on me that because I was going to the Jazz game Saturday night, I probably wouldn't be able to get to San Francisco in time for a Sunday game. So, the only way I could go would be if they were playing the Monday night game, and there was almost no chance of that: in the previous five seasons, they'd only played three MNF games. But I checked the schedule anyway, and sure enough, guess who was playing on Monday night, and guess who started looking for a ticket!
I found a great game ticket online, but before I bought it, I checked to see if the cost of last-minute travel would be a deal-breaker. I got a terrific deal on a flight/hotel/car package, so I was all set.
On Saturday night, as a birthday present to me, the Jazz actually played the whole game and beat the Lakers! I happened to sit next to one of my mission companions and his wife at the game.
I got up early the next morning to head to the airport. When I left at 5:30 I discovered that we'd got a foot of new snow overnight, but it wasn't really snowing much in our valley. That changed as soon as I headed over the mountain. Soon I was in a total white-out, and scared out of my mind. I couldn't see the road at all, it hadn't been plowed in a long time; all I could see was a faint ridge of snow on the side of the road from the last time it had been plowed, and an occasional delineator post. I didn't dare stop, and I couldn't really turn around, so I just kept creeping along.
I eventually got over the mountain to Highway 40, followed a plow over Parley's, and finally got into Salt Lake. I was delayed enough that my flight was leaving right as I got to the airport; I could see the people on the plane pointing out the windows and laughing at me.
The airline got me onto another flight to San Fran, with a layover in Los Angeles. In L.A., I was hoping to have a few minutes to absorb some warm sunshine, and more importantly, gloat over the Jazz victory the night before. I didn't have time to do either; the plane was delayed getting off the ground in Salt Lake, and thus was late getting to L.A. Once there, I had to run to the next gate to avoid missing my flight for the second time in three hours.
I got there in time, but was at the end of the boarding line. I got to the back of the airplane and found my seat, but discovered that there was no room in the overhead bins to put my carry-on bag. A flight attendant grabbed my bag and said they would check it through to San Francisco.
Well, long story short (you wish), I got to Frisco but my bag didn't. Now, I know airlines lose luggage -- I know because they've lost mine before -- but I've never heard of them losing a carry-on!
I didn't blow up at the lady at the baggage counter, because that's really got to be one of the worst jobs in the world! While giving her the information for the missing bag report, I was calm and polite, which actually seemed to fluster her a bit. I was a little frustrated, but not angry; I guess surviving possibly the scariest driving situation of my life just a few hours earlier was helping me keep things in perspective. And I kept thinking, it's just stuff, nothing that would be devastating to lose. Also, at that point I'd been 40 years old for a whole day, and I was able to draw on the maturity and wisdom that comes along with that.
But I have to be honest with you: I'm pretty sure I would have reacted a lot differently if my game ticket had been in that carry-on. Luckily, I had put my game ticket in my laptop case, and thus didn't have to find out if the airport security guys carry tasers.
I went out and picked up my rental car. It was about 50 degrees, and I noticed everybody else had coats on (I saw more than one parka, I'm not kidding.) But having just come from Utah, the 50 degrees was a little balmy for me; good thing, too, since my jacket was in my carry-on. Sigh.
Because my original flight would have gotten me to SF early enough on Sunday morning, I was planning on going to church at the local ward I served in as a missionary. To do that I would have needed to go from the airport straight to the church, so I had worn my church clothes to travel. Well, the flight change made me miss church, but there I was in my dress clothes, with all my other clothes in my lost carry-on. Sigh.
I checked into my hotel, then went and bought some toiletries to replace the ones in my carry-on. I realized my meds were in the carry-on, which meant I was going to miss taking them for the first time since I got out of the hospital.
By mid-day on Monday, they still hadn't located my bag. So, still in my dress clothes, I spent most of the afternoon shopping for clothes and a jacket to wear to the game. (Night games in December at Candlestick Park can get a bit chilly, even to me.) I wanted some 49er gear to wear to the game, but it was surprisingly hard to find.
I wanted to spend the day driving along the coast, but I didn't end up having enough time. However, I was able to go to Pacifica for a little while. That's one of my favorite towns in the whole world, on the ocean coast just ten minutes south of San Francisco.
I headed to the game, and got there early enough to park a couple miles away from the stadium, out beyond the parking lots. I figured I'd spend the $30 parking fee on souvenirs instead.
My seat was awesome, 20 rows up from mid-field, behind the 'Niners bench. I could actually see the players better on the field than on the big stadium screen!
I had the whole Candlestick experience: bought a souvenir shirt and hat, ate Gilroy Garlic Fries, peed in the restroom trough at halftime. I would have taken pictures of the whole thing (well, not the restroom; that's frowned on, even in San Francisco), but unfortunately, my camera was in that carry-on. Sigh.
Alex Smith played good but not great, the defense forced seven turnovers, and the 'Niners upset Arizona 24-9. I had a blast, it was a fun game in a fun atmosphere.
I got back to the hotel late, and my bag was waiting for me. I was glad to have it back, even though it was just a few hours before heading home again. It wouldn't do me any good this trip, but I was relieved I wouldn't have to find out how difficult it is to get the airline to reimburse me for my stuff.
But now I had a new dilemma: how to get the new stuff I'd bought in the carry-on to get it home! It briefly crossed my mind that this whole thing was a trick by United to get me to have to pay to check a bag on the flight home, adding insult to injury. Well, I wasn't going to do that, I was determined to make everything fit in my carry-on. It was like something out of a funny commercial, me jumping up and down on my carry-on bag; but I got everything in. (When I got home, I had to stand back a little when I opened the bag.)
The next morning, I got to the airport, and managed to fly home without a flight attendent abducting my carry-on bag. In Salt Lake, as part of the final day of my birthday observance, I treated myself to a nice lunch, then a haircut / shampoo / head-neck-and-shoulder massage. And finally, I finished the last of my Christmas shopping.
Okay, so that's the four days of birthday. Guess it's haiku time:
Jazz beat the Lakers,
Airline lost my carry-on,
Forty-Niners won.
(Never mind, just read the blog entry. I'll write you a haiku or something later.)
Three days before my birthday, I decided I wanted to treat myself to something fun. I haven't been to a hockey game yet in this season, so first I checked the Grizzlies schedule; they were out of town. Okay, maybe a trip to see the Sharks or the Avs? Nope, both of them would be playing away games in cities I had no desire to visit.
While I was checking hockey schedules, I had the Jazz game on the TV. They were in Los Angeles, playing the Lakers. (The Jazz had their worst fourth-quarter letdown ever. After the game, I realized the Jazz would be a great hockey team, because they'd only have to play three periods!) During the game there was an ad for tickets to the game against the Lakers on Saturday, my birthday. So I called and got a decent seat in the upper bowl.
Then I thought, I've never been to a 'Niners game. (Regretfully, I never got to see Steve Young play; I was planning a trip to do so during what turned out to be his final season, but he got his career-ending concussion two games before the one I was going to attend.) It soon dawned on me that because I was going to the Jazz game Saturday night, I probably wouldn't be able to get to San Francisco in time for a Sunday game. So, the only way I could go would be if they were playing the Monday night game, and there was almost no chance of that: in the previous five seasons, they'd only played three MNF games. But I checked the schedule anyway, and sure enough, guess who was playing on Monday night, and guess who started looking for a ticket!
I found a great game ticket online, but before I bought it, I checked to see if the cost of last-minute travel would be a deal-breaker. I got a terrific deal on a flight/hotel/car package, so I was all set.
On Saturday night, as a birthday present to me, the Jazz actually played the whole game and beat the Lakers! I happened to sit next to one of my mission companions and his wife at the game.
I got up early the next morning to head to the airport. When I left at 5:30 I discovered that we'd got a foot of new snow overnight, but it wasn't really snowing much in our valley. That changed as soon as I headed over the mountain. Soon I was in a total white-out, and scared out of my mind. I couldn't see the road at all, it hadn't been plowed in a long time; all I could see was a faint ridge of snow on the side of the road from the last time it had been plowed, and an occasional delineator post. I didn't dare stop, and I couldn't really turn around, so I just kept creeping along.
I eventually got over the mountain to Highway 40, followed a plow over Parley's, and finally got into Salt Lake. I was delayed enough that my flight was leaving right as I got to the airport; I could see the people on the plane pointing out the windows and laughing at me.
The airline got me onto another flight to San Fran, with a layover in Los Angeles. In L.A., I was hoping to have a few minutes to absorb some warm sunshine, and more importantly, gloat over the Jazz victory the night before. I didn't have time to do either; the plane was delayed getting off the ground in Salt Lake, and thus was late getting to L.A. Once there, I had to run to the next gate to avoid missing my flight for the second time in three hours.
I got there in time, but was at the end of the boarding line. I got to the back of the airplane and found my seat, but discovered that there was no room in the overhead bins to put my carry-on bag. A flight attendant grabbed my bag and said they would check it through to San Francisco.
Well, long story short (you wish), I got to Frisco but my bag didn't. Now, I know airlines lose luggage -- I know because they've lost mine before -- but I've never heard of them losing a carry-on!
I didn't blow up at the lady at the baggage counter, because that's really got to be one of the worst jobs in the world! While giving her the information for the missing bag report, I was calm and polite, which actually seemed to fluster her a bit. I was a little frustrated, but not angry; I guess surviving possibly the scariest driving situation of my life just a few hours earlier was helping me keep things in perspective. And I kept thinking, it's just stuff, nothing that would be devastating to lose. Also, at that point I'd been 40 years old for a whole day, and I was able to draw on the maturity and wisdom that comes along with that.
But I have to be honest with you: I'm pretty sure I would have reacted a lot differently if my game ticket had been in that carry-on. Luckily, I had put my game ticket in my laptop case, and thus didn't have to find out if the airport security guys carry tasers.
I went out and picked up my rental car. It was about 50 degrees, and I noticed everybody else had coats on (I saw more than one parka, I'm not kidding.) But having just come from Utah, the 50 degrees was a little balmy for me; good thing, too, since my jacket was in my carry-on. Sigh.
Because my original flight would have gotten me to SF early enough on Sunday morning, I was planning on going to church at the local ward I served in as a missionary. To do that I would have needed to go from the airport straight to the church, so I had worn my church clothes to travel. Well, the flight change made me miss church, but there I was in my dress clothes, with all my other clothes in my lost carry-on. Sigh.
I checked into my hotel, then went and bought some toiletries to replace the ones in my carry-on. I realized my meds were in the carry-on, which meant I was going to miss taking them for the first time since I got out of the hospital.
By mid-day on Monday, they still hadn't located my bag. So, still in my dress clothes, I spent most of the afternoon shopping for clothes and a jacket to wear to the game. (Night games in December at Candlestick Park can get a bit chilly, even to me.) I wanted some 49er gear to wear to the game, but it was surprisingly hard to find.
I wanted to spend the day driving along the coast, but I didn't end up having enough time. However, I was able to go to Pacifica for a little while. That's one of my favorite towns in the whole world, on the ocean coast just ten minutes south of San Francisco.
I headed to the game, and got there early enough to park a couple miles away from the stadium, out beyond the parking lots. I figured I'd spend the $30 parking fee on souvenirs instead.
My seat was awesome, 20 rows up from mid-field, behind the 'Niners bench. I could actually see the players better on the field than on the big stadium screen!
I had the whole Candlestick experience: bought a souvenir shirt and hat, ate Gilroy Garlic Fries, peed in the restroom trough at halftime. I would have taken pictures of the whole thing (well, not the restroom; that's frowned on, even in San Francisco), but unfortunately, my camera was in that carry-on. Sigh.
Alex Smith played good but not great, the defense forced seven turnovers, and the 'Niners upset Arizona 24-9. I had a blast, it was a fun game in a fun atmosphere.
I got back to the hotel late, and my bag was waiting for me. I was glad to have it back, even though it was just a few hours before heading home again. It wouldn't do me any good this trip, but I was relieved I wouldn't have to find out how difficult it is to get the airline to reimburse me for my stuff.
But now I had a new dilemma: how to get the new stuff I'd bought in the carry-on to get it home! It briefly crossed my mind that this whole thing was a trick by United to get me to have to pay to check a bag on the flight home, adding insult to injury. Well, I wasn't going to do that, I was determined to make everything fit in my carry-on. It was like something out of a funny commercial, me jumping up and down on my carry-on bag; but I got everything in. (When I got home, I had to stand back a little when I opened the bag.)
The next morning, I got to the airport, and managed to fly home without a flight attendent abducting my carry-on bag. In Salt Lake, as part of the final day of my birthday observance, I treated myself to a nice lunch, then a haircut / shampoo / head-neck-and-shoulder massage. And finally, I finished the last of my Christmas shopping.
Okay, so that's the four days of birthday. Guess it's haiku time:
Jazz beat the Lakers,
Airline lost my carry-on,
Forty-Niners won.
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