Setting: a mom ‘n pop corner store near Janna’s place. Janna checks out the stuff on the counter while the clerk rings up her Orangina.

Janna: Is this pomegranate gum any good?
Clerk: Everything in the store is good.

Source: my new favorite corner of the internets, xkcd.

It is with great regret that I must inform you that my golden days of enjoying air travel are waning. With this is mind, I wish to relate to you afterthoughts from a recent experience in your airport.

• If a location exists within the airport that, theoretically, might be a place people would want to go, adequate signage is imperative. For example, if one’s goal is to reach “Terminal B”, it should be easily accessible from “Terminal A”. It is not acceptable to post several teaser signs only to have travelers arrive at a vast expanse of open space devoid of any further direction to “Terminal B”.
• All maps must include a “You Are Here” indicator.
• If “Gate 9b” exists within the elusive “Terminal B”, it is again wise to provide some guidance as to how to reach said location. This is useful in validating that the gate actually exists and is not a figment of the “Departures” screen’s imagination. It is not helpful to gleefully and repeatedly direct travelers toward “Gates 22-36″ and “Gates 37-73″ with no mention of gates 1-21.
• It is paramount that connecting travelers not be subjected to a second security check within the airport. This may result in the following: a) forgetting that one purchased a (greater than 3-ounce) bottle of juice, expecting to hold onto it until one was good and ready to drink it, and b) forgetting that one painstakingly packed toiletries in the required 3-ounce containers within the mandatory Ziploc™ bag, causing one to leave them in one’s bag and subsequently panic that one may be subjected to a Homeland Security interrogation, only to find that the security employees won’t even notice these errant items.
• It might be useful to train security check employees to be more selective about the interpretation of possibly lethal items. It is very, very frustrating to stand in Security Lane 1, which happens to be the only one open, only to hear the constant drone of “Bag check! Bag check on one!” It is also ironic when one’s potentially dangerous shampoo sails through the scanner without comment.
• Do not allow yuppie chains with names like “Curritos: Burritos WIthout Borders” to set up shop.
• Provide recycling bins.

In short, do not cause travelers to wander in circles desperately hoping that a magic trapdoor to “Gate B9b” will open, only to present the fabulous consolation prize of a second trip through security. Also, be more selective regarding dining options, and give people a non-landfill option for the disposal of plastic bottles containing juice rapidly chugged before the unexpected security visit.

Janna
Resigned Traveler

Much of life is conducted online these days, at least in my demographic. I won’t ponder the positive and negative aspects of this (that’s a different post altogether), but I will say that I’ve recently had some weird experiences thanks to the internet.

The first issue involved a swipe at my own reputation. I’m officially over living alone, and looking into a roommate scenario. Thanks to rent-controlled existing leases and a skyrocketing market, the cheapest way to do this is to be the replacement roomie in an apartment that’s already occupied. Enter the world of endless emails to anonymous craigslist posters. Links to Facebook or MySpace profiles are considered a) useful; b) mandatory; or c) not required but “you might as well because we’ll look you up anyway”.

Under these circumstances, I’m assuming a Google search is likely as well. With this in mind, I decided to do a quick check on my own name. I was unhappy to discover that hit #1 was a blog post titled “Getting in Under 21″, in which the author had used one of my Flickr photos to illustrate a detailed explanation of how to evade various liquor-related laws. He had actually credited me for the image, which I greatly appreciate, but I’m not that interested in contributing to a crusade enabling underage drinking. I am also really, really not interested in having potential roommates think that’s my defining characteristic. With this in mind, I contacted the author, explained my situation, and he removed the photo credit.

Another recent experience involved someone else’s problem – a woman contacted me with a carefully veiled request to remove from Yelp my unflattering portrait of her business. As it happens, my description of a distasteful experience I had at her clothing boutique stands as my token scathing review. I described the situation in fairly objective terms (I was ignored by the owner while the only person in her small shop; she then fawned over a regular customer that walked in a bit later). I then described my feelings on the matter (angry; why do snobby people think they can make money trying to sell stuff?) and gave a low star rating.

The aloof owner herself messaged me, profusely apologizing and asserting that no one is ever treated that way in her store. She also said that she had never heard of Yelp, and that she was appalled to see such a bad review. I had a moment of guilt, and contemplated removing the post or adding an acknowledgment of her apology. However, the truth is that word of mouth has always been a crucial part of the success of a business. Treating customers badly comes back to haunt you. The difference here is that word of mouth is now searchable by anyone with an internet connection, and may stick around for years.

If there’s any moral to this post, I guess it is to Google your name and/or your business every once in a while. If you once made a habit of posting about your experiences on acid, you may find that you’ll need to change your name.

R + J run into the Amtrak station, numerous heavy bags in tow. They have ten minutes to pick up previously reserved tickets, find their train, and board. R runs toward the electronic ticket booth; J stands in the real-person line. An ominous sign reading “No tickets issued five minutes before departure” is posted everywhere.

R: (Weaving madly through line-directing ribbon and other Amtrak customers.) I got to the front of the electronic ticket line, but I didn’t have the confirmation number! (Pulls out laptop; starts scrolling through email.)
J: Ack! There are a million people at the electronic booths now!
R: This line is moving pretty fast, maybe you’ll get to the front first. Remember this confirmation number: AFGT51644076HY1245.
J: Great! No problem.

R + J advance in their respective lines painfully slowly. Six minutes prior to departure, Janna reaches the front of her real-person line. She triumphantly rattles off the confirmation number, only to find out that she needs both passengers present with photo IDs. She scans the crowd for R, who is 100 yards away. As she pulls out her cell phone, he runs toward her.

R: Let’s go! Now! I got the tickets! The clock changed to 5 minutes before departure exactly one second after I hit “Print.”
J: Thank God, because I didn’t have your ID and that woman and all the other customers were glaring at me …

R + J wind through Union Station, discovering along the way that they are leaving from Track 16. Upon arriving, they it’s unclear how to enter the track.

R: You go that way (Gestures toward what appears to be a formal boarding area, which is completely empty.), and I’ll go this way (Gestures toward more dubious entrance that looks like it’s actually part of the Chicago city rail system.)
J: (Reflecting on the fact that, while Divide and Conquer was an excellent ticket-obtaining strategy, it might result in only one person boarding the train if employed here.) Ummmm. OK.

R + J run in separate directions, with approximately two minutes to spare. R discovers that, upon explaining that he is due on a train literally about to take off, his unorthodox route is easily forgiven. Janna, on the other hand, reaches a boarding area that has been roped off. She stands paralyzed behind a crowd-control ribbon as R waves frantically, gesturing for her to join him on the track.

J: (Thinks to herself.) No. No. NO. I WILL NOT GET STUCK IN CHICAGO. (Looks warily at the Amtrak employee “guarding” the entrance, then breaks through the ribbon and runs toward R.)
Amtrak Employee: (With a look of incredulity.) WHAT DO YOU THINK YOU’RE DOING!?!
J: (Still running.)I’m going to miss my train! It’s right there!
AE: Let me see your ticket!
J: I don’t have it! (Gestures toward R.) He has it! (Continues running, now followed by not one but two Amtrak employees.)

J reaches R and loses her pursuers, silently grateful that this is a train station and not an airport (Homeland Security interrogation? NOT HOT). R + J run down the track, board, and manage to find seats next to each other. The train leaves the station approximately 15 seconds later.

Act I, Scene II

After collecting several heavy bags from their hotel, R + J carefully evaluate transportation options. Upon learning that there is a bus that will take them directly to the train station, they opt for this method. They climb onto a crowded bus on the 151 line.

R: (As the bus pulls over to the first of many stops.) Yeah, this is a good idea. A taxi would be expensive, and this will take us right there.
J: This is definitely the best option.
R: (As the bus sits idle in bumper-to-bumper holiday traffic.) So. How about that Giordano’s waiter?
J: I’m really glad we had enough plates. It’s really annoying to be at a restaurant thinking, ‘This meal would be perfect, if only we had at least seven more plates.’
R: Big plates.
J: (As the bus pulls over to a stop approximately 100 yards from the last stop.) Yeah, who needs small plates? They’re just a conspiracy on the part of dinnerware manufacturers to get us to buy more stuff.

The bus inches forward. R + J nervously monitor the time. A basic analysis of time spent traveling vs. time allotted leaves them very, very nervous.

R: I’m a little worried.
J: I’m worried too. No. I mean, that’s bad luck. I’m not nervous! Not at all! EverythingisgoingtobefineOKfineOK. Yes. Fine.

The bus continues to alternate between picking up/dropping off large amounts of people and sitting in traffic.

J: WHY ARE THERE SO MANY PEOPLE!?!
R: This is a major shopping district, and it’s 2 days before Christmas.
J: WHY DIDN’T THEY SHOP EARLIER? DON’T THEY PLAN AHEAD?
R: We don’t have any presents, either. We didn’t plan ahead.
J: STOP SAYING THINGS THAT MAKE SENSE.

Time slips away more and rapidly, as R + J become increasingly worried. R alternately monitors Amtrak’s projected departure time and Google’s map of the bus route. Finally, the bus stops at Union Station. R + J dash out and run toward the ticket counter.

To be continued …

Setting: Chicago. R + J are at Giordano’s, a popular local pizza chain. They have almost three hours to eat lunch, gather luggage from a hotel a few blocks away, travel one mile to the Amtrak station, pick up tickets, and get on a train.

Waiter: Are you ready to order?
R: I’ll have personal pizza X.
J: I’ll have pasta Y, and we’ll have Appetizer Z.
W: Soup or salad with the pasta?
J: Salad.

Approximately 47 years pass, while R + J try to remember what people do in restaurants, aside from talk (since, after all, that can be done anywhere). Tap dance? Look up random subjects on iPhones? It certainly can’t involve eating food, though the chosen activity of the customers at other tables challenges this hypothesis. Finally, W places four dinner-sized plates on the table, then returns.

W: Here’s the appetizer. (Makes a rapid exit.)
J: (To R.) Please. Have a large plate.
R: Thanks! I’m so glad we don’t have appetizer-sized plates. They would take up so little room on the table.
J: Yeah, that waiter is really on top of our spatial needs.

Ten minutes pass.

W: (Bearing an entree and a side salad, each complete with its own plate.) Here you go. (Disappears with an almost audible whoosh.)
J: I vaguely remember restaurant etiquette dictating that salad should be presented before all of the entrees are served.
R: I don’t really remember. I lost so many brain cells after that earlier period of starvation that I’m lost on that subject.
J: (A few minutes later.) Hmm, this plastic cup of salad dressing is leaking a bit.
R: You could put it on one of the extraneous dinner plates.
J: Hey, good idea. (Places tiny cup of dressing on enormous dinner plate.)

Ten minutes pass.

J: (To waiter.) Excuse me. How long do you think the pasta will take? We have a train to catch.
W: They’re working on it.

Ten minutes pass.

W: (Presenting the entree, complete with its own plate). Here’s the pasta.
J: Fabulous!

J eats her pasta. R checks the time.

R: It’s 3:20! Our train leaves in 45 minutes!
J: (After a quick mental calculation determining that this may not be enough time to traipse through holiday shoppers, pick up bags, and get through holiday traffic en route to the station, frantically waves to the waiter.)WE NEED OUR CHECK RIGHT NOW PLEEEEASE!!!

R + J pay the bill and dash out of Giordano’s.

To be continued …

I kept walking, figuring that it was none of my business, until I noticed something. Oblivious Guy’s car had escaped without any damage. Despite the fact that Faultless Guy was driving a decent sized pickup, Oblivious Guy’s Mercedes had maintained that “fresh off the lot” look that people with expensive cars tend to cultivate.

Impossible, I thought. I discreetly walked a little closer. Even at 50 feet or so, the body of the car was flawless. Not even a scratch, let alone the predictable dent. It was like the car was made out of some disturbing but highly effective combination of Teflon® and depleted uranium.

My thoughts? 1) Why do people who are totally oblivious to the rest of the world always have amazing luck? It’s not that I wanted someone to get hurt, but is it right for the Powers That Be to passively validate the driving skills of a person that could eventually kill someone? 2) It is a perfectly reasonable expectation that a base-priced $127,775 car be indestructible. I now understand a formerly elusive concept: the luxury car.

This photo is from his namakarana, which is a Hindu naming ceremony. He was a pretty good sport throughout the event, which is probably due in part to the fact that he has a great name. Here’s what his dad has to say about it:

We gave him the name Dante Quinn — Dante after the poet and medieval prototype of the Renaissance man, and Quinn after the mighty Eskimo.

Click here for the Flickr set of ceremony pictures.

Actor Torino Von Jones, 32, said he was filming a Fruit of the Loom commercial down the block at the time. “We were standing over there waiting for the camera cue when we heard a big explosion,” he said. “Flames came up taller than I am, and I’m 6 foot 2. “Naturally, when you hear an explosion, you think the worst,” Von Jones said. Nevertheless, he hurried back to work. “We’re Fruit of the Loom — we’ve got to make this commercial.”