I Never Read The Economist

I am always trying to make myself smarter. Seems like I rarely gain much ground.  For example, this week I tried to watch two highly acclaimed movies. These were;

Carol - with Cate Blanchett and Rooney Mara, 

By the Sea - with Brad Pitt and Angelina Jolie Pitt. 

On both movies I ended up waking up in a puddle of my own drool.  

Another exercise that I have performed (to be smarter) was to attempt to read The Economist.

I'm sure everyone knows this magazine but for my Gonzales crew that I know don't know, it's a magazine that helps you understand how the world works (I think).   Anyway, don't bother because you will never get it.

If you do happen to read it though, you are supposed to be seen by other people as being most enlightened. In fact, you get automatic bonus IQ points in the minds of those other Economistas that see you reading it.  It's like a way of advertising that, (in a Thurston Howell III accent) "yes, I'm in the secret club too!". I'm surprised that you don't need a special ID in order to buy it. Like a Mensa card.

Seriously, this has got to be the most boring magazine (uh uhm, periodical) on planet earth.  But there is no doubt that there is some sort of status or mystique that I’m convinced makes people actually buy this magazine for over $10.

To be fair, I've tried several times to read The Economist.  I’ve always used a stolen copy and on every occasion I’ve ended up in full-on daydream mode before finishing a single page.  On pages that I paid close attention, I could still not understand what I’ve read. 

I am finally at the point in my life that I understand and am very comfortable with the fact that I’m a very happy simple guy.  In fact, I think being quite simple is a core reason to why I’m so happy.

Full disclosure though - one time I actually held the magazine up in front of my face to pretend that I was reading it. I can't remember where I was but it was really funny. That lasted for about 87 seconds.

So just give me the remote control for the TV a "King of Queens" marathon and I couldn't be happier!!!  
That Arthur just kills me!!

Oh and one more thing...I've never seen The Economist sold in Gonzales County.  I think there is an ordinance against it.

The Unlikely Samaritan

I’m making my through the Dubai airport;, hot, thirsty and out of breath.  I see a small bar next to my gate and hope that I can find some relief.  I empty my pockets and set my 5 dirhams on the counter (the equivalent of $1.36 USD) just hoping that I will have enough...

Three hours earlier…

I wake up in my hotel room and realize that I lied to myself after I turned off my alarm and said, “it’s okay, you will wake back up in just a few minutes”.  It’s panic time now and I know that there's only enough time to either, A) pack my stuff or, B) take a shower, but I don't have time to do both.  The choice is obvious so I throw my stuff in my bag and then go through an excruciating check out of the hotel.  I find a taxi pretty quickly, jump in and pray that I have enough money to pay when I get to the airport.

After finally getting to the counter, the agent looks at my passport and begins to type what seems like a novel into her keypad.  She finally tells me that there is no record of my ticket.  'Why does it possibly take that much typing to find out I'm not in the system!!'.  My adrenaline shoots up and I scramble to find anything that shows my booking reference number.  I finally find it, show the agent and she calls her supervisor over to help her look.  The supervisor finds the ticket and all is good (I guess they were looking under the wrong “Larry Hudson”).

I grab my stuff and rush off to the passport and security area.  After a long walk, I get there but am blocked by a young aspiring Middle East dictator who tells me that he must weigh my bag.  I know it's going to be over the limit and plead with him that they already did it up at the counter.  He grabs it, puts it on the scale and proudly points out that it is 2.5kg over the limit.  He tells me that I must check the bag.  I argue with him and tell him that I never check this bag.  He says, “Sorry, they are getting very strict about it and rules ARE rules”.  He points back to the counter and I just can't believe it.  It's obviously that this guy is new.  'Does he not know who I am and that I operate around the rules?!  The rules are for the common guy, not me!!'  That thought makes me laugh a little and lightens my mood as I walk back.

Finally getting back to the counter, get my bag checked and start back to the immigration again. As I walk past the “new guy” I’m sure to give him an double-snarky look that I'm sure will ruin the rest of his day...hahaha.

I forget all about him when I look up to see the insanely long queues at the immigration area.  I quickly do some profiling and decide on the one that has the least amount of people that will be problems.  It doesn’t take long to figure out that I’ve picked the absolute worst queue because all the other queues are moving rather quickly.  I look up to see who’s causing the hold up and see family of six surrounded by about four immigration officers.

The family includes everyone from tiny-infant-baby to grandma-in-wheelchair and everyone in between.  The brand of luggage they have is by Pakistani designer "stuff-wrapped-in-blankets-and-tied-up-with-rope".  Apparently, this is a very popular brand in Pakistan and surrounding countries.  The only thing missing from this family were their live chickens and livestock.  How did I miss this group when I was doing my profiling?  Oh and by-the-way, I know that “profiling” is not politically correct, but I do it anyway.  AND, I am correct about 99% of the time, so there!!
Oh and another by-the-way, how the hell does their baggage weigh less than 10kg?

After finally getting through immigration hell, I find myself repeating a similar situation in the security area.  Only this time, our line holder-uppers are a gypsy family.  They seemed to have been confused about the “forbidden” substances sign and thought that those were materials that you MUST pack in your bags.  I think to myself, 'why must this be the day that I’m picking the lines with all the troublemakers?'  Aye Yai Yai!!! 

I finally get through the security and am screaming through the airport to make it to my gate.  The journey includes long walks, endless down escalators, just missing the train, long wait for the next train, long wait on the train, endless up escalators and more long walks.  As I finally have my gate in sight, I notice that there are no people waiting.  As I’ve learned from experience, unless you are super early, it is not a good thing for your boarding gate to be empty.  And I’m not super early.

 

As I make my way, I realize how incredibly thirsty I am.  I haven’t had a sip of water all morning and I must get something before getting on that plane.  I forget about how late I am for my flight and look around for a place to get some water.  All the stores are packed with people and I see a small bar by my gate.  I duck into the bar, get the attention of the sleepy bar tender and ask him for some water.

As he’s putting an ice cold bottle of water in front of me, I pull out my wallet and see that it’s completely empty (oh yeah, I gave all my money to the taxi man).  I look in my pockets, find 5 dirhams and ask the bartender, “can I buy a water with this?”  He looks back at me and calmly says, “NOPE, you need 15 dirhams”.  I am literally begging him for the bottle of water as I watch him put it back in the fridge.  He does end up pouring me some tap water into a small cup.  I drink it down in one gulp, slam the glass down, thank the man very much and head off.

I’m feeling like a complete loser now as I rush to see if I’ve missed my flight.  As I’m hurrying along, a young kid catches up to me.  This kid is early 20’s, clean cut and wearing an Astros ball cap.  He is chipper and as we rush along together, the kid tells me in a thick South Texas accent, “mister, I saw what happened in there and was trying to buy a water for you but you got away too quickly”.
I instantly knew where this guy came from and how he was wired because of the way he was raised.

I was touched that I had this encounter but was not surprised by what I know of the background of this kid.   This was quite an abnormal gesture for someone to make in the Dubai airport but quite the norm from a young kid from Texas.  I was truly touched by this young man's kind gesture and thought of how proud his parents would be for what he had done.  We went along our separate ways and I ended up making my flight.

Since that time, I’ve thought many times about this very short encounter.  I think about this boys confidence, his kindness and how well he was raised.  I also thought about how he was raised is not considered that exceptional from his culture.  It is simply normal and the way it should be.  When I experience these small nuggets of human kindness, it inspires me to continue to seek opportunities to do the same.  It also confirms my faith in the fact that there is a lot of goodness in this world.

The Arab Swimming Incident

Okay, I have a story that I’ve shared with many of you. It's a story about what really is right and wrong and what is perceived as right and wrong. I often think about the story and call it The Arab Swimming Incident –

A few months ago, while on a business trip on Dubai, I went to the pool for a swim after work. The only other people in the pool were these little Arab kids about five or six of them, water-wing age and a little older. Trouble already, you can see it coming.

While I was hanging out in the water, I noticed one of the kids was trying to teach himself to swim. He was flailing terribly but he was trying really hard. I mean he was just flailing! The other kids were playing with each other a little ways away.

I looked around for any parents but outside of lifeguards, no adults were around. After watching this kid for a while, it was more than I could stand. So against my better judgement, I went out to this swimmer kid and began teaching him some swimming basic.

As you can picture it, this required holding him while teaching him the basics. How to move his arms, kick his feet, breath etc.. This went on for a few minutes and we were making some good progress. As the other kids saw me, they wanted me to play too. Pretty soon, this turned from swimming lessons to full-on pool play. I was throwing the kids off my shoulders, having splash fights and normal pool roughhousing.

All of a sudden, I see this big Arab guy standing next to the pool with his hands on his hips. The guy was big, tall, wearing dark glasses and full-on Arab dress. He began shouting at us in Arabic. I mean he was shouting loudly and with much passion. My heart sank and I just knew I was about to go to jail…or worse. I imagined doing this back home in Katyland and the wrath that I would probably get from scared parents. But this is not Katyland and I don’t have the same level of rights that I would there.

The Arab dad yelled out more Arabic and then followed up with English language. What he was shouting was, “Raffi, listen carefully what the man is teaching you. He is teaching you how to swim”! He walked away just as quickly he appeared.

After I collected myself, we began our swimming lessons again.
I felt the way you feel after experiencing a really bad, near-miss traffic accident.

This incident really struck a chord with me and I’ve thought about it often. What gets me about this situation is that this is the way it should be.
So, there you go, now you know The Arab Swimming Incident.

Hamburgers in Hamburg.

...or, Valentines Day in Cardiff -

Walking the streets of Hamburg

13-Feb-2011 - Sunday: Depart Houston at 4:15PM for Cardiff, Wales. Arrive in Cardiff at 3:30PM (14-Feb) and set out to Saundersfoot. Alone, in UK rental car, driving from wrong side of the car, wrong side of the road and lanes that are the size of parking spaces.

Arrive at the St. Brides Hotel and Spa in Saundersfoot @ 6PM as the sun is going down. Have a lovely solo Valentines dinner with all the other couples. Need to get sleep.

Go to bed @ 10:30 - toss and turn - never sleep more than 1.5 hours at t a time.

Get up at 6AM

Have breakfast, review meeting agenda/notes. Leave hotel @ 8:30 - drive, get lost, arrive @ 9:45 at South Hook LNG Plant. Begin watching safety video and then begin meeting at 10AM.

Have lunch with the client in their on-site cafeteria, finish meeting and leave for Cardiff at 3PM.

Drive in miserable conditions for 120 miles, hit Cardiff at rush hour (dark, rainy, unfamiliar, wrong side of the road, jammed with traffic, ehhh).

Arrive at Marriott hotel at 7PM. Walk around the hotel, have a hamburger and a Stella, go to bed at 10:30PM. Sleep really well until the kids start rolling out of the pub outside my window. It is 1:15AM. It's very loud and I'm ticked off. Go complain, stay up until leave hotel @ 4AM for airport. Flight leaves at 6AM for Amsterdam -

Arrives @ 8AM (Amsterdam time). Connection for Hamburg departs @ 9:55AM - I don't change the time zone on my watch up an hour and mess around the airport. I arrive at my gate at 9:40 - boarding is closed - I actually think it is 8:40 and I am early.

Go to KLM service center. Get ticket reassigned. Use charm to avoid the penalty fee as the Spanish speaking woman next to me raises hell as they charge her the fee.. The rescheduled flight is for 1:15PM ---- I was so looking forward to some well needed rest.

I finalize tomorrow's presentation while waiting for the flight.

Catch the 1:15PM flight. Starting to feel nauseated on flight and "spike up" to about a 9.5 on the throw-up scale. I grab the vomit bag - hold it down (except for a little throw up in my mouth that I swallow back down). Arrive at 2:15PM

I get to the hotel at 3PM - Lay down (exhausted) and set alarm for 4:30....MUST NOT SLEEP TOO LONG OR WILL NOT SLEEP TONIGHT.

Wake up from a very deep sleep - it is everything that I can do to get up. But I know that I must. I connect with Michael (whom I've never met in person until just now). We discuss the meeting for tomorrow and he tells me the team is c oming for dinner....we are all meeting at 7:30 for dinner and drinks. Oh my!! Go back to room...watch Simpsons in German language....funny "like hell"!

Meet at 7:30...six new people in a foreign lanugage, have a beer, order a soup, finally apologize but must take off @ 9:30PM.

Hit the bed @ 10PM SO TIRED and SICK...feeling lifeless.

Wake up @ 11:30PM sweats and nausea...hot hot hot! Room is cold by temp.

Try to fight off sweats, vomiting and headache - FINALLY DRY HEAVES @ 1:30AM. SPlitting headache by this time. Take pain medicine sleep til 3:30AM - head is splitting again. Take another pill. Sleep til 5:30AM, get drink of water go to sleep til alarm rings @ 7:39AM.

Feeling oikay but VERY tired. Take a shower, get dressed, have breakfast. meet up with team at 9AM. Pre meeting prep for 10AM meeting. 9:45 they tell me, "...by the way, the meeting is all in German". SHIT!!

Meeting is attended by 12 Siemens people and 9 customers. How appropriate and consistent.

Now it's 12:24PM and my presentation is for 1:30 PM. It has all been in German...I feel like a dog...looking around and nodding without understanding shit.

3:21 PM - I'm finished with my presentation and am feeling much better.

Everyone splits and I am the only one left at the hotel. My flight is tomorrow morning.

I stroll on to the best western hotel restaurant...."Food & Fun".

there are about 4 couples there when I come in. No talking, no smiling and watching billiards on TV. They all look sad or mad...can't decide.

The waitress asks me what I want and I say, "Food and Fun". She doesn't get it and gives me a stern German snarl. I tell her that I just want a hamburger and promptly shut up. How appropriate, a hamburger in Hamburg. I think about the irony.

I go straight to bed and get a good night sleep. I leave for the airport at 5AM and the rest of the trip back to Houston is smooth sailing.

- Larry