Archive for January, 2009
Adventures in customer service (Part 3) — American Express
Posted by: | CommentsWhat are you wearing, American boy?
I knew he wasn’t in America. His training in Midwestern Accent was good, but not good enough to fool a guy from the Ozarks. I told him what I wanted. He said he could give it to me. In the meantime, he wanted to know if the sun was shining where I was. I wondered how long it would be before he asked if I was wearing boxers or briefs. I wondered what would happen if I told him I wasn’t wearing anything.
This, of course, may require some explanation.
***
I was not an early adopter on the Phish scene. When my buddies were touring with the band, I was locked into the alt-country world, seeing shows in small venues, and using my travel time for debaucherous rolls to party towns and ski resorts. I do not regret this.
When Phish announced it was going back on tour, I approached the situation with what I hoped would be a relative level of maturity. I wasn’t a Phan when everybody else was trekking from Coventry to Japan to Deer Creek to wherever. The scene had gotten so big by then, wait times to get into the biggest shows were measured in days instead of hours. Despite my late interest in the band, I did not want to be one guy adding to a line that was already going to be painfully long. Those spots, I figured, should be reserved for the people who really wanted to see the band play again.
I have many friends who are die-hard Phisheads. They count the number of shows they have seen by the dozen. When they learned the band was going back on the road, my buddies’ normally fatalistic, existentionalist nature turned to something you might see from a 12-year-old girl when Mylie Cyrus shows up at her birthday party. I’ve never seen two malcontents so happy.
I vowed to help in any way I could.
The run-up week to Bonnaroo (a giant, insanely-good-line-up festival in Tennessee, in case you don’t know it) has Phish shows in Asheville, NC and Knoxville, TN. I’m not going to any of them (I’m going to have a new baby to take care of, and such), but my friends are. And so, I set about trying to get some tickets to the shows. As you can see on Coventry, it’s not as easy as you might think.
The ticket releases for the Phish shows start with a lottery, followed by box office and online ordering. Every one of us whiffed on the Asheville lottery. When it came time for the results of the Knoxville lottery announcement, I did not get an e-mail telling me I’d again come up short like I did for the Asheville show. One buddy suggested I check my American Express account.
That’s when I met my Indian.
***
“Hello!” he said. He was much too cheery for morning.
I jumped right to the point. I needed to know if a $229 charge had been posted to my account.
“Of course, I can do that for you,” he said. “It will take the computer just a moment.”
The guy paused. I strained to hear the sweatshop call center in the back. I heard nothing. I wondered if his cubicle was soundproofed or if he was a freelancer working out of his home.
“So!” he said. “Are you having a good afternoon?”
Strike, one, buddy. It’s morning. Don’t even try to tell me you are in Detroit Rock City.
“Oh, wait!” he said. “It’s must be morning there.”
I’ll admit, I was a little surprised. In the past, the warehouse of outsourced call center workers for American companies would pretend they weren’t in India. Apparently American Express or this particular call center had given up on that.
“Let me guess what time it is there!” the guy said. Everything he said had an exclamation point on it.
“Alright,” I answered, already regretting making the call.
“It’s, uh…8am. Very early!”
“It’s 9am,” I said. “Nice try.”
“8am is very early,” he said again.
“It’s 9am.”
“9am. Well I was close. How is the weather there?”
What? Seriously. Is this part of Small Talk 101?
I looked out the window. “It’s foggy, 41 degrees, and damp.”
“How do you do it? I wouldn’t even be able to get out of bed. I need sunshine.”
The computer must have kicked in. “Okay, sir. I see there was a $229 charge from MusicToday.com posted and approved on your account.”
“Good,” I said. “Thanks.”
The guy cut me off. “So, MusicToday.com! Do you like music?”
My transaction was complete. This was the call center equivalent of going to McDonald’s, getting a Big Mac, and then being asked how I feel about Rev. Ted Haggard trouncing around with young men.
“Uh, yeah. The charge is for tickets to see a band,” I said. Wait! What in the hell was I doing. Keep it at yes and no, man!
“What band is it?” said my new friend.
“It’s a band called Phish.” I was in this one deep and I didn’t see myself getting out soon.
“Fish. I haven’t heard of them,” he guy said. “But I saw a huge [insert impossible to understand band name here] show in India and it was great. I full-on enjoyed it!”
“Uh, cool.”
There was this moment of uncomfortable silence. I felt like I was 21 years old, standing at a bar, and fresh out of small talk with a co-ed.
“So, that it’s it then?” I asked.
“Unless there is anything else you need…?” my Indian friend offered.
“That’ll do, thanks.”
And then I hung up.
***
So, my friends got their Knoxville tickets. I’m happy for them. I got a new friend in India who might be downloading the 5/8/93 Durham show right now and wondering if he could get an extra to Deer Creek. If any of you guys see an Indian dude on Shakedown, tell him Otis said hi…and that he’s not wearing any underwear.
Adventures in customer service (Part 2) — Delta Airlines
Posted by: | CommentsIf you missed it, here’s Part 1
Do not pass Go, do not collect $200
If you had sat through Lakeview Terrance on a 10-hour flight, you would’ve probably been a little absentminded, too. I lost four IQ points during the movie alone. I sat in my middle row aisle seat thinking about the best way to tie my laceless shoes and why puppies are so cute. If a veterinarian had been on the plane, he would’ve put an upside down lampshade over my neck and told the flight attendant to make sure I didn’t hump the lavatory door too hard.
I do my best to get a seat close to the front on international flights. The quicker I get off the plane, the closer I am to the front of the customs and immigration lines. So, just ten rows back from the door on my flight from Santiago, Chile, I was itching to get out into the Atlanta air.
Once there, I walked from concourse E to my gate at concourse D. It takes eight minutes if you are walking fast. After making the trip, I remembered Hartsfield’s concourse D is run by grade school lunch ladies and a couple of well-trained monkeys. Remembering the fare in concourse E was good (and that the food court had free internet), I hiked back the eight minutes to wait out my three-hour layover. I had some breakfast and a bad smoothie. I wrote a little bit. I talked to the family and then walked the eight minutes back to D-34. With half an hour to kill before boarding, I reached into my bag to grab my digital book reader. I was nearing the end of my first book on the thing and I really, really liked the new technology.
I actually said the f-word out loud in front of some fairly reasonable looking people. I immediately remembered the reader was in the seat back of 22-E on the Delta 767-400 back at E-2. I stepped up to the guy at the gate and played nice-nice.
“Man,” he said. “That’s tough. Listen, usually you can’t handle that until your final destination, but since you’re still here, you can try. to go back to concourse E. Go to the main ticket counter. And hurry.”
And so I hurried. I turned eight minutes into five and made it–sweating–to the main Delta counter. Again, I played nice-nice.
“Nah, you have to wait until you get to your final destination,” said the lady behind the counter. She might as well have just been laid off, despite her position of obvious authority and expertise. “But, she said, if you go down to the gate…”
And off I ran to the very end of E. The only people going faster than me were the people late for the flight to Sao Paulo, Brazil. The people running onto…yes, indeed, the very same 767-400 I’d been on a couple of hours before. The book reader was still there! Right in the seat back. Twenty-two-E, I screamed.
I actually played nice-nice one more time. The Brazilian lady behind the counter smiled and told me to go have sex with myself. At first. Then, she softened and told me to just masturbate instead.
This was accomplished by sending another gate agent onto the plane while I waited for her to come out waving the book in the air like some watery tart emerging from a lake. The other lady, instead, returned a few minutes later and said, “The plane has already been swept. There is nothing we can do.”
I was told the book reader was now on its way to Lost and Found, that it would be logged in within 24 hours, and that I should call an 800 number the next morning. With that, I ran back to D-34 and got on my plane. I wished I would either die or collapse. Neither happened.
By the time I made it home, I’d been traveling for 20 hours. I slept until the following day and then called Delta. Andy Dick answered the phone. “Oh, no,” he said. “You don’t call us. You log in through Hartsfield’s website.”
I logged onto Harstfield’s website where it read, “If you left your item on the plane, contact the airline directly.”
I hate Andy Dick.
I called back the next day and got a woman who took my name, item description, and phone number and promised to pass it along to the people in Lost and Found. I got the impression she was actually twirling her chest hairs between her fingers and practicing her French kiss with a bowl of chocolate pudding.
When I hadn’t heard back by the next morning, I called again. I got another lady who obviously understood the situation and played it honest. “Listen,” she said. “They usually don’t log everything. Only way to check is to send them a note. If I send your note, they are going to look. If they don’t see your item, they will tear up the note.”
Well, at least she was honest.
We’re now going on a week from the time I was an idiot and left something behind on a plane. Since then, I’ve been told I should:
- Handle it in Greenville
- Go to the main ticket counter in concourse E in Atlanta.
- Go to gate E-2 in Atlanta
- Call the Delta Lost and Found number
- Go to the Harstfield website
- Give my name and phone number to someone who will give it to someone else who will rip it up
…all for something that was literally five minutes away from where I stood when I recognized it was gone.
I have, as you might expect, given up hope of ever seeing my stuff again. If the airlines have hard time with bags that are bar-coded and tagged, they certainly aren’t going to be able to help me find a little piece of machinery.
I only bring it up because of the contrast with the last time this happened. In 2005, I left my iPod at the Mirage in Las Vegas. I forgot about it for four days. When I called the Mirage and gave my name, somebody on the other end said, “Mr. Willis, we’ve been waiting for your call.” Two seconds later, I was talking with security. Two days later, the iPod showed up in my mailbox gratis.
Of course, comparing a Vegas hotel service to an airline service is like comparing Brad Pitt with Brad Willis. If I were any more trite, I’d be talking about those little bags of peanuts.
So, now I go back to reading books the old fashioned way: heavy and cheap. At least if I leave a copy of Christopher Moore’s “You Suck” behind on my next flight, it won’t cost a few hundred bucks to replace it.
Adventures in customer service (Part 1)
Posted by: | CommentsI like to produce as much as I like to consume. I think it has something to do with my heretofore unstated need for validation and affection. My insurance doesn’t pay for therapy, so advice in that direction will go unheeded.
While making strides to be a constant producer, my consumption level has been waxing recently. The bank has called several times to make sure my cards haven’t been stolen and that I’m not presently using methamphetamines. I like to mess with them buy telling them I can’t talk because some tweaker just stole my Amex and set my house on fire.
Mass consumption means I also have to wade through a puddle of humanity that is colloquially termed “customer service.” The past few days have led to several encounters. Here’s the first.
“You can’t put a price tag on a baby!”
I don’t have one of your fancy corporate health care plans. I pay more for insurance each month than I pay for my home mortgage. I look at it as an investment in an insurance exec’s future. Those guys work hard and deserve the second home in the Caymans.
I consider it lucky my wife got pregnant before this month’s premium was due. After giving both arms, both legs, and my spleen, Blue Cross had started asking for testicles. I don’t have to tell you how many of those I have. Ironic, I think, that my plan doesn’t cover maternity costs.
I knew about this going in. Adding maternity to the plan over the past four years I’ve had it would have cost a lot more than the cost of having a baby (yes, really). I had a ballpark idea of how much the OB and hospital costs would be for the wife and little Dos, but I was working with a +/- of $4,000 on either side of my figure. I wanted a better idea of how big a check I’d be writing.
The OB’s office was really good about telling us how much the services would cost. “In fact,” they said, “you can just pay us now!” We did. It hurt, but we did.
The hospital was another story.
Over the course of the last couple of weeks, I’d called the hospital. My wife had called the hospital. My wife had e-mailed the hospital. No response. Yesterday, my wife put on her bitch face and went down in person. I wasn’t there, but the conversation went a little something like this:
Wife: Can you tell me how much it will cost to have my baby here?
Hospital finance lady: No.
Wife: I presume you’ve charged someone for this service before. How much did it cost then?
Hospital finance lady: (Blank stare)
Wife: How about this? What is the average cost of having a baby here?
Hospital finance lady: There is no such thing as an average. Scientists use that phrase to justify wild assertions about global climate change. You are one of those tree huggers aren’t you? Hippie.
Wife: Listen, bitch, give me a number.
In the end, the woman ended up writing down a few numbers on a Post-It note, ever-concerned that the wife was comparing and contrasting against the other big hospital in town. When my wife asked for a basic schedule of charges out of a real printer and on real paper, the finance lady refused. We’ve been made to understand that even local doctors offices can’t get the information.
Keep in mind, we really like this hospital. When we had out first son, we chose this hospital because all the rooms are private and once you check in, you stay in that room until you leave. Labor, delivery, and recovery are all in the same place. The nurses are great and the experience was as fantastic as 17-hours of pain, vomiting, and screaming can be.
The upshot of all of this is that this hospital, and presumably others, don’t like to give out this kind of information for a variety of reasons. First off, because we are what is considered “self-pay,” we get a pretty substantial discount over the insurance companies (yet another reason your insurance costs so much). It still costs more than seems at all reasonable, but it’s still a discount. Secondly, if you don’t know how much it will cost, you don’t think about the Pentagon hammers of the maternity world. How much do a couple of Tylenol and diapers cost in the real world? How much do they cost in the magical world of your local maternity ward?
Fortunately, we’ve gotten good advice on this subject from both the OB and, eventually, the gate keeper of financing at the hospital. Turns out we can bring in our own diapers, pain meds, etc. and avoid getting charged hundreds of dollars for that stuff (again, consider why your insurance costs so much).
Now, before you (and yes I’m talking to the doctors among the readership) go off and start telling me how no one delivery is the same and it’s impossible to nail down the costs in advance, I know that. I know that certain procedures cost more than others and I know if we get in the delivery room and my wife breaks half of the equipment in a delivery-room homage to the Incredible Hulk, it will cost me more. I get it. That is no reason, however, to not have a menu of sorts that can tell us how much each procedure, medicine, and facility will cost. (“I’ll have the labor and delivery with an epidural on the side, but is it possible to hold the episiotomy?”)
So, we have now have a bouncing baby Post-It note that tells me how much it will likely cost me to bring Dos into the world. I need to call 3M and ask how well–on average!–Post-It notes hold up in court.
In the meantime, I have this message for the customer service rep: We’re having a boy. You can hang the price tag on his penis.
Monkey Chef Otis
Posted by: | Comments
When I’m on the road, cooking is among the top five things I miss. I’m no chef, nor do I want to be. I’m also not the best cook in the world, but I enjoy it and I have enough ability and home training to impress the common palate.
I’m now home for six weeks, and I intend to do a lot of cooking in that time. I have three meals planned for this week, but I’m not too excited about any of them. Two of them are mere comfort meals. One of them is vaguely creative, but nothing special. That’s where I hope you can come in.
I need some new recipes, folks.
Now, I know, I know. Some folks guard their recipes like they guard their children. I’m not going to ask you to give up any family secrets. I just need something new. This is not the easiest house to cook for. Why? Well, the boy is a boy and he is picky. We still pretty much force him to eat everything we eat. The wife, however, is more difficult. So, here are the rules for my house.
- No red meat
- No pork (bacon okay in small doses)
- No scallops
Also, keep in mind, the wife is currently all kinds of knocked up, so high mercury foods are off limits for the most part.
See, this is a hard game.
I need a recipe or 12. Got a good one for me? Leave it in the comments or drop it in the contact form at the top of this page. Links, adulations, and other various superlatives will be showered over those who can help me out.
Bon appawhatever.
Otis miscellany
Posted by: | CommentsAs most of you know, I’m not a meme guy. As most of you also know, I like talking about myself. So, a meme that asks me to talk about myself invites an embarrassing paradox.
In truth, I’m suffering from what I hope is a brief bout of insomnia. I think the time change from Chile (not that significant) combined with several days of staying up until dawn (very significant) has tweaked my brain a bit. No big deal, but it’s preventing me from writing anything of substance. In an effort to type, I hopped on a meme train several of my friends are riding. It asks me to note 25 things about myself. If you’re a regular reader, you may know many of these. A few might surprise you.
Either way, here they are.
1. I once ate 33 pieces of sushi in one sitting. It was too much.
2. I also once at two keno crayons for $400.
3. I now don’t eat odd things for less than $1,000.
4. I’ve never driven faster than 135 miles per hour (when I was behind the wheel)
5. I’ve only had one speeding ticket in the past ten years.
6. A guy who is now on death row confessed to me on the same day as his arrest.
7. Another guy who is now serving life took a swing at me on the same day as his arrest.
8. A bank robber once insulted my mother. Twice.
9. I would rather be awake for 24 hours straight than lie awake in bed for three hours.
10. I was 35 years old before I ate a Brussels sprout. I liked it.
11. I regularly gamble on the toss of a lime wedge.
12. I don’t really like guns, but I’ve shot a 9mm, a .40 caliber, a fully automatic machine pistol, a 12 gauge shotgun, and a variety of rifles.
13. I’ve served as a test dummy for a police taser.
14. I have been confused for my younger brother’s twin and my younger brother’s father.
15. I’ve only thought I was going to die once (15 years old, briefly trapped underwater). That was enough.
16. The only thing harder than waking up in the morning is going to sleep at night.
17. I have never seen a bear in the wild, a hurricane on the coast, or a tornado on the ground. This is despite having lived in Missouri, Mississippi, and South Carolina.
18. I once fractured my sternum in an embarrassing school assembly accident.
19. I once played on a softball team named the Kinky Jalapeños. I wasn’t very good, but our jerseys were.
20. I once misplaced my car for three days. I had not been drinking.
21. I have never been pierced.
22. Music makes me cry more often than anything else (except onions).
23. If forced to eat one sub-group of food for the rest of my life, I would choose shellfish.
24. I know what a cop out this list is. I don’t care.
25. Okay, yes, I do.
Northern man
Posted by: | Comments(Atlanta, GA)–About 12 hours ago, there were four of us in the speeding van. A rock music photographer turned poker shooter sat in front of me in the middle seat. Beside him was a 19-year-old University of Connecticut student with a U.S. and Costa Rican passport. I sat in the back row with a former Hollywood D-girl turned poker writer. The student and the lady napped off and on. The photographer looked at the huge vineyards on the road from Vina del Mar to Santiago. I pulled my Bollé shades down over my eyes and watched a Chilean summer sunset.
I adopted the American south as my home region in 1997. The weather, the culture, and the food endeared me to life below the Mason-Dixon. I’m not capital “S” Southern, but I’ve gotten close enough. As Lyle Lovett once sang, “That’s right, you’re not from Texas, but Texas wants you anyway.” Texas may not want me, but the Deep South took me into its fold years ago. It’s not a perfect place by any stretch, but I like it. It’s still cold in the winter, so a trip to the southern hemisphere seemed in order.
The people with whom I shared the Chilean cab have become my friends. We’ve worked together long enough that we can speak in shorthand about our project, let the minor quirks of the job slide off our backs, and then have a beer after it’s all over. It’s those couple hours at the end of it all that make it worthwhile. We ranged in age from the late teens to late forties, but for these trips, we’re whatever age we feel after an 18-hour workday.
I liked Chile. A South American January summer is loads better than a European winter. What Chile lacked in good local beer, it made up in character and sunshine. The regional brew was Cristal, making for a frequent joke about how it would stand up to the champagne of the same name. Chileans may make good wine, but they are a bit behind in the art of beer. That did not stop a crew of around 50 people from storming into a bar called the Hollywood Pub at 3:15am Friday morning and drinking the place clean out of Cristal. None of us got more than two apiece, leading to the oft-asked question, “How can they run out of the local beer? It’s like St. Louis running out of Budweiser.”
While in Chile, I stayed at the Hotel Del Mar. It’s a five-star joint with an attached casino. It had all the luxury of a European hot spot with nary an ounce of the pretension. Where in Europe I would get supercilious looks when I asked for just about anything, in Chile I found the staff falling over itself to help me. On one dinner break, I decided I wanted to take my sandwich from the restaurant and up to my room. The restaurant had a rule about such things, but the waiter gave me the Chilean equivalent of a wink, put a silver cover over my food, and nodded toward the restaurant door. When we got outside, I tried to take the plate from him. He refused, insisting he would carry it up to my room for me. When we got to my fourth floor room, my key wouldn’t work. The dude refused to leave my sandwich behind. He stood sentry next to my plate while I went downstairs, got a new key, and returned. Sure, he was probably angling for a tip (and got one), but the effort didn’t go unnoticed.
Chile is not a perfect place. There is an expected level of poverty and homelessness. The streets of Vina del Mar are filled with stray dogs. There were two incidents of serious crime while I was there. I knew the victims of the first incident. It was just bad luck on their part. The second victim (who I didn’t know) reportedly got himself in the mess and ignored several simple rules about being on the road in a foreign country (Rule #1: Do not under any circumstances accept an offer from a local girl to go back to her place). At no time, however, did I feel unsafe. If I ventured somewhere off the hotel property, I did it in the light of day or with a reputable local guy who graciously offered to be our fixer. I like having a fixer. That’s a story for another day, but a damned good one.
I actually have a few stories from Chile I’d like to write, but at the moment, I’m just too tired to collect my thoughts. Last Sunday, I got on a red eye flight and flew to a South American country. The time zone was two hours ahead of Eastern Time. My workday went from noon to the early morning hours of the next day. I averaged a 6am bed time over the four days I was on the ground. Then, it was another red eye last night. I dozed a little, but not enough to make this three-hour layover in Atlanta any more fun.
Despite the fatigue, I’m happy to be going home. Barring anything unforeseen, I should be home until at least March when I am scheduled to go to Punta del Este , Uruguay. It will be another chance to get my warm South on when it’s still cold in South Carolina. For now, though, I’m going home to my family. I’m going home to my friends. I’m going home. By Chilean standards, I’m going to be a Northern man for a while.
That’s just fine with me.
Addled
Posted by: | Comments(Vina del Mar, Chile)–It’s 6am and a dog is barking. There is no reason I can figure that a stray mutt would be outside my hotel window, but there he is. Valparaiso sits on the horizon, scattered lights over a dark Pacific Ocean. I won’t make it that far down the road. Vina del Mar, Chile’s fourth largest city, will be my home for a couple of more days. I might leave the Hotel Del Mar. Then again, I probably won’t.
Today was a 17-hour workday. That’s the business. That’s the job. I have no complaints. I passed hungry, cranky, and tired at midnight. By 3am, I was slap-happy and wondering whether there actually was an ABBA song titled Chiquitita. That’s the business. That’s the job.
That’s me in the photo somewhere around midnight. Though it looks like I’m looking at the camera, I didn’t know my photographer buddy Joe Giron was snapping. That’s just how I look in the middle of a marathon session. The old man in the orange vest had recently become my hero. He is probably the happiest guy I’ve ever met. When I look at myself, I see a too-soon-old, too-way-used-up guy writing about a card game. When I look at the guy we call Chiquitita, I see youth reborn. I see him an an inspiration. And a reason to laugh.
The bar closed at 4am. We finished our work at five. There is no real winding down. If the bar had been open, we would’ve had a few drinks to put us to bed. Instead, we all retired to our rooms where we listen to strays yap and the ocean lap. Again, no complaints. That’s the business. That’s the job. It’s better than living in a 4×4 cube. I still live in a cube, but this one has slot machines, Chilean bingo, and more than a few laughs. I like the latter, at least.
I try not to forget that most people see my line of work as a dream job. It’s exotica matched with sin on a bed of the unexpected. For an adrenaline junkie beset with wanderlust, it doesn’t get much better. Of course, the spoiled like me can hope for more. Fortunately, I recognize the difference between hoping and feeling entitled. We all make our own way. I’m not going to get what I want by waiting for it, despite years of evidence to the contrary.
The beauty of this moment–this time when it’s way too late and way too early and way too hopped up on false adrenaline–is that I know this sense of optimism I’ve been nurturing is for real. I worried I’d been manufacturing it, that it was some cheap affectation borne of needing something to keep me going. Now, addled, tired, and sober, I know it’s for real.
It’s not much, but I’ll take it.
From chilly to Chile
Posted by: | Comments(Greenville-Spartanburg International Airport)–There will come a time, I’m sure, when someone will ask, “So where were you when Barack Obama was elected President of the United States?” I will answer, “San Jose, Costa Rica.”
That question may well be followed up with, “So, then, where were you when he was inaugurated?” Then answer will be, “Vina del Mar, Chile.”
Though I probably knew it before I actually realized it, Chile is in the southern hemisphere. This means a number of things to me, not the least of which is that I will for the first time in my life me able to see the water in the toilet swirl in a different direction. This fact alone inspires me to go into the trip with a sense of optimism that doesn’t fit with the current situation. (Well, if Mexico was any indication, something interesting will pop up.)
The situation is as follows. I spent a week and half in the Bahamas sans family. Upon my return (less than one week ago), I essentially checked into a hotel for a week. To answer your question, no, my wife did not kick me out. Though by this point she probably had the right to throw my luggage on the lawn, she has been gracious enough to let me sleep and shower in my own house. I probably owe her an ice cream or vacation to…well, wherever she wants to go. As for why I was in the hotel, that is a story for another day.
Now, I’m back at the airport where the lady behind the bar informed me, “We don’t sell beer on Sundays. We sell soda!” I’m drinking a soda while I watch the Philly-Arizona game. The lady who sold me the Diet Dr. Pepper likes the Cardinals. It’s probably best she didn’t serve me beer.
When the family woke up this morning, it was snowing in Greenville, SC. My boy sat at the window and watched the flakes fall and melt. When I next wake up from a night’s sleep (likely some 36 hours from now), it will be 90 degrees in Vina del Mar. The coastal resort town an hour west of Santiago is experiencing a pretty nice damned summer. If it weren’t for the fact I was leaving my family for the fifth time in three months, I would have no reason to complain. When I next see a shower, it will be Monday morning. From red dot to red dot, I travel.
This is the life I chose. At this moment, I have friends who are leaving Biloxi for flights to Australia, another sitting at LAX heading to Chile, and countless others hopping flights to Deauville, France. This is what we do.
My kid barely seemed surprised this afternoon when I pulled out my bag and filled it with enough clothes for the coming week. He, instead, surprised me by grabbing a small model puma and giving it to me. “He will keep you safe,” he said. “His name is George.”
The ride to the airport was uneventful. We talked about going to a movie and various other things. It was only after we’d hugged goodbye for the last time that the boy broke my heart again.
“Daddy, one more thing,” he said from his booster seat in the back. “Be safe so you don’t get in a plane crash.”
I don’t freak out on flights and the Hudson River story won’t change that. I’ve never been afraid to die. It’s only been since I’ve been a father that the concept of dying has changed. I now actively think of ways not to die so my kid can grow up with a dad, no matter how flawed that dad is.
And, so now to Chile. It’s a week on the peso, a week on the beach, another week in a hotel, another few days in a casino watching people play cards.
Finally, a strange note. When I arrived way too early for my flight, there was only one other person in the Delta line. I overheard him tell the gate agent, “I’m going to Chile.”
I turned and asked, “Are you seriously going to Chile?”
“Yes,” he said. “Santiago.”
I smiled in a way that should’ve looked uncomfortable. “Me too,” I said and went back to getting my boarding passes.
Right now, I’m sitting at a beerless bar watching a football game. There is one other person at the bar with me.
He’s going to Chile, too.
I’m glad I have George the Puma.
The Best of BoCoMo live music 2008
Posted by: | CommentsSomewhere in the neighborhood of 17 years ago, I met a guy named Aaron. He was one of–if not the very first–person I spoke to on the University of Missouri college campus. He was not only responsible for helping me move into my dorm room. More importantly, he was the guy who introduced me to Uncle Tupelo and a genre of music I didn’t even know existed. Safe to say, Aaron shaped a lot of my permanent musical tastes. Although I had to move away from Boone County, Missouri and the Blue Note, Aaron’s work keeps him in the area. Since that time, Aaron has become damned good at recording (I was going to say “taping”…do we still say “taping?”) shows. Every year, he shares the best of his shows with a close circle of friends. This year, the lineup and quality were fantastic. I asked Aaron if I could share his collection with all of you and he said sure. You can download Aaron’s collection HERE. The download speed is a little slow, but it’s worth it. If you’d like to say something to Aaron, he reads here, or you can visit his occasionally-updated site at Livin’ Live in the Midwest.
Here are the liner notes from Aaron’s 2008 collection.
***
Well it has been another great year of live music here in BOCOMO, and I have the music to prove it. As always thanks go to my wife for accommodating this silly hobby of mine, and putting up with the time I spend going to shows and editing my recordings. I would also like to thank Richard, Dylan, Pete, Jared, and the rest of the Blue Note and Mojo’s staff for being just great people. It was a great year of music, and I have to say it appears that the trend in new bands is alternative percussion schemes. I saw more bands with multiple drummers and spilt kits than any year before. I also saw many great opening acts that blew me way, including The Pomegranates, Gentleman Auction House, The Felice Brothers, and the Builders and The Butchers. I took some risks on a few headliners that paid off, including Macon Greyson (Thanks to Postcard), Langhorne Slim, Bon Iver (not recorded sadly), and the one man band spectacular of Possessed by Paul James, Scott H Biram, and Bob Log III. Perennial favorites The Drive By Truckers, Built To Spill, Blue Mountain, Old97’s, The Gourds, Cracker, and Yonder Mountain String Band all came back to town much to my delight. I was able to catch a lot of local acts including The Foundry Field Recordings, Casey Reeves, Molly Trull, the Hipnecks, and two of the last three shows by Witch’s Hat. I only have a few regrets this year (1) that I didn’t try harder to record the Death Cab For Cutie show (2) that I didn’t get in the soundboard for The Avett Brothers (3) that Bon Iver didn’t let me record the show (4) that I didn’t get my ass to the Blitzen Trapper and Stephen Malkmus show. After all the shows here are my picks for best songs of the year in no real particular order.
1) 03/16/08 Built To Spill-Time Trap “It’s barely yours on loan, what you think you own, place that you call home” This opening line is one of the best for describing 2008, add the power guitars and you have a great song.
2) 02/26/08 The Drive By Truckers- Putting People On The Moon I debated between this song and sink hole here, but the message of unemployment, questionable priorities for government spending, and health care all seemed to hit the other side of the coin better for 2008.
3) 10/15/08 Old97′s-The New Kid This is the last song for 2008, the rest are just in an order that I felt sounded good. I know this is a streach, but this is my song to represent the election this year.
4) 03/18/08 Man Man-Mister Jung Stuffed These guys are crazy on stage, and it is a show you just can’t miss if you get the chance to see it. It is actually hard to capture the energy of the performance on stage, and since they do a sold set of music without much between song breaks, you lose a little when you only hear one, but the music does stand on its own.
5) 02/26/08 The Felice Brothers- Frankie’s Gun The first big surprise opening act of the year. These guys are sloppy, but in a good way. If you can’t have fun at a Felice Brothers show you are either old or lame.
6) 09/13/08 The Builders and The Butchers- Down In This Hole Another big surprise opener, and a band with a couple of percussionist. They used the Piano at Mojo’s for this song.
7) 06/06/08 The Gourds- Burn The Honeysuckle How can you not love the Gourds.
04/19/08 Big Smith-Burn Down The House The big boys from Springfield came to town, and brought Blue Mountain with them. For me they were the cool down act, but they are great live and this song had a great audience participation moment.
9) 10/22/08 Yonder Mountain String Band- Two Hits & The Joint Turned Brown I know it’s a shocker, but this was a crowd favorite at the show.
10) 09/17/08 The Avett Brothers- Distraction #47 The Avett Brothers have at least one great amazing line in every song. For me it hits at the end of this song.
11) Casey Reeves & The Goldbugs-Carolina Casey is still one of my favorite local artists, and this is one of my favorites done better than ever.
12) Molly Trull-Get Your Way Molly is a new up and coming local artist. To give an idea of her style, the name of her band is Anodyne. For this show she was solo, so it is a little more intimate. I find she has a great style and voice.
13) The Spring Standards-Trouble Here is another great surprise opening act. Sadly I had recording problems, or there would be more songs. However, with a split drum kit played by all three members of the band, and a great there part harmonies, this is a band that will make you hum.
14) 12/03/08 Gentleman Auction House- The Rules were Handed Down One of the best St. Louis bands I have heard in a while. This is actually the second time I got to see these guys and they are great live. They pack the Mojo’s stage and put on a high energy set of music.
15) Dr. Dog- The Way The Lazy Do I was so excited to have Dr. Dog in town for a headliner, because they were one of my favorite openers. Sadly I did not get the full Dr. Dog show as one of the singers had injured his voice. While the show was still great, it could have been epic. They opened with this song, and it was actually my favorite of the night.
16) Ha Ha Tonka- ? Southwest MO is putting out some good bands as of late, and this is another great one.
17) 09/13/08 Langhorne Slim- Cut It Down This guy was a risk, because I didn’t know anything about him when I went to the show. However, from the proclamation of this opening song he had me hooked. Be warned, he has rabid (and very drunk) fans that sing and dance the entire time, so don’t go expecting a low key night.
18) 02/19/08 Macon Greyson-Fine Line (Between Lovin’ You and Suicide) This was another leap of faith show. I didn’t know anything about these guys, but Postcard pimped them pretty hard and I gave it a shot. These guys were great and worth the trip out on a cold night.
19) 04/19/08 Blue Mountain-Skinny Dippin’ Of all the Cary Hudson solo songs they reworked, I liked this one the best.
20) 09/17/08 Back Yard Tire Fire-Jimmy and Bobby and Jack I was not a huge fan of this band, but I love story songs about crimes gone bad.
21) 05/09/08 Witch’s Hat-Glodyany 1972 This band is what Jack Black’s band would be if he had any true talent. This is a song about a Vampire, and it represents this now defunct band well.
22) 07/30/08 Cracker-Movie Star Cracker is a great band that I have not seen live for years. Playing on 9th street under the star was a great way to meet this band again.
23) 07/15/08 Bob Log III-Goddamn That Sounds Good The motorcycle helmet wearing one man band with a show that is a spectacle.
24) 06/26/08 Colourmusic- The Gospel Song This was another what the hell show. I went in expecting a pop band and ran smack dab into a sonic blast. While the pop was there it was layered in clockwork orange all white jump suits and an assault on the senses that shattered everything I thought I knew about this band.
25) 07/29/08 The Foundry Field Recordings- Holding The Pilots/Holding The Facts This is another local group that I just love. It is the vehicle for Billy Schuh and it is the best pop band playing in Columbia right now.
26) 03/18/08 The Pomegranates- Nursery Magic This band has the sweetest sounding music I heard all year. It dripped with sugar, but not all of it was happy. The cool thing about this group was that they kept switching instruments.
27) 05/09/08 Ryan Groff- Lines It is hard to believe that this is just one guy on the stage, amazing what you can do with a little looping and sampling. His band is call Elsinor, and I hope to be able to catch them live in 2009.
28) 07/15/08 Possessed By Paul James- ? This was the first act for a night of one man bands. The music was quieter and purer than the acts that followed, but had an intensity that drew me in, and is the show from the night that I listen to most front to back.
29) 07/15/08 Scott H Biram- Still Drunk etc. Ok, so this was most likely not the title, but I am not sure if the song has a title yet. It was the quietest song of the night from the Dirty Old One Man Band, and when I say dirty I mean filthy, and my favorite of the night.
30) 09/17/08 The Avett Brothers- The Weight Of Lies The opener for the night. Talk about starting on a high note.
31) 02/26/08 The Drive By Truckers-You and Your Crystal Meth My favorite new DBT song
32) 02/26/08 The Felice Brothers-Rockefeller Drug law Blues (gap in song) It’s a shame that I lost a part of this song, but it is one of their best
33) 09/13/08 The Builders and The Butchers- Bottom Of The Lake
34) 06/06/08 The Gourds- Do 4 U (midnight Rider Middle)
35) 04/19/08 Big Smith-Brady and Duncan
36) 10/22/08 Yonder Mountain String Band- Let Me Fall
37) 07/30/08 The Hipnecks- Takin’ Out The Trash Another local band that has that jam band feel and enough musicians on stage to fill out the sound.
38) 09/17/08 Ha Ha Tonka- ?
39) 03/16/08 Built To Spill- Mess With Time
40) 07/15/08 Scott H Biram- Get Me Religion
41) 03/18/08 Man Man-Easy Eats or Dirty Doctor Galapagos>Zebra Yes this is two songs, but they go well together and give and idea of how they transition from song to song live
42) 06/26/08 Colourmusic- Circles This is the song that got me to go to the show.
43) 03/18/08 The Pomegranates- Whom Who
44) 07/29/08 Dr. Dog- The Old Days
45) 12/03/08 Gentlemen Auction House- Call It Casual
46) 09/13/08 Langhorne Slim- Love To Dance During this song some women actually got on stage and danced. Sadly one of them decided that she could keep going up on stage and annoyed the singer.
47) 12/03/08 Billy Shuh- ? A solo acoustic show from a guy that I normally hear play complex songs with his band The Foundry Field Recordings.
48) 02/19/08 Macon Greyson- One Week
49) 07/30/08 Dirtfoot- Give Your Life To Jesus This was a fun band from Louisiana. They passed out can filled with beans to the crowd, and you actually hear people shaking them during the song.
50) 09/13/08 The Builders and The Butchers- The Coal Mine Fall
51) 02/26/08 The Felice Brothers- Whiskey In My Whiskey
52) 07/15/08 Bob Log III- Boob Scotch Yes, a woman got on stage and put her boob in his scotch.
53) 02/26/08 The Drive By Truckers- Sink Hole
54) 07/30/08 Cracker- 100 Flower Power Maximum
55) 04/19/08 Blue Mountain Midnight In Mississippi
56) 07/30/08 The Hipnecks- Mighty Mississippi
57) 09/17/08 The Avett Brothers- Die Die Die
58) 06/06/08 The Gourds- Motherless Children
59) 10/22/08 Yonder Mountain String Band- What You’re Selling
60) 07/15/08 Possessed By Paul James- ? Part of why I love this song is that he has technical difficulties during the song and rolls with it great.
61) 04/19/08 Big Smith- No Sir
62) 03/16/08 Built To Spill- Car A quite song amidst the onslaught
63) 12/03/08 Billy Schuh- ?
64) 05/09/08 Casey Reeves & Wes Wingate- Radio King (Golden Smog)
65) 10/17/08 Molly Trull- Melt Down (Slobberbone) That’s right, a Slobberbone cover
66) 05/09/08 Ryan Groff-Wooden Houses
67) 09/17/08 Ha Ha Tonka-Hangman An accapella version of a traditional song that was done by Led Zeppelin.
68) 03/18/08 The Pomegranates- Osidius The Emphatic
69) 07/29/08 Dr. Dog- The Breeze
70) 07/30/08 Cracker- Euro-Trash Girl
71) 10/15/08 Old97′s- Question The ladies love this song.
72) 10/15/08 The Spring Standards- Premonition
73) 02/26/08 The Drive By Truckers- Margo and Harold
74) 02/19/08 Macon Greyson- Beams
75) 12/03/08 Gentlemen Auction House- The Match Book
76) 03/18/08 Man Man- Big Trouble
77) 07/15/08 Bob Log III- Mr. Sis Boom Bah
78) 07/15/08 Scott H Biram- You Better Run Son
79) 03/16/08 Built To Spill- Third Uncle (Brian Eno)
80) 06/26/08 Colourmusic- You Can Call Me By My Name
81) 10/22/08 Yonder Mountain String Band- East Nashville Easter>Follow Me Down The River>East Nashville Easter The classing YMSB show ender of starting a song, playing another song, and then ending the first song.
82) 09/13/08 The Builders and The Butchers- In The Branches They had the audience sing and hold that initial note for the song. You can hear the crowd singing if you listen closely in parts.
83) 02/26/08 The Felice Brothers- Run Chicken Run
84) 06/06/08 The Gourds-Ant On The Melon
85) 09/17/08 The Avett Brothers- Pretty Girl From Raleigh
86) 10/17/08 Molly Trull- Before The Bombs Came Down
87) 12/03/08 Billy Schuh- Millitary Madness (Graham Nash)
88) 04/19/08 Big Smith- Backwater
89) 09/13/08 Langhorne Slim- Hello Sunshine
90) 07/30/08 Cracker- Take The Skin Heads Bowling
91) 10/15/08 Old97′s- Niteclub
92) 12/03/08 Gentlemen Auction House- Abcdefgraveyard I love when the whole band yells the lyrics of during this song.
93) 07/29/08 Dr. Dog-My Old Ways
94) 09/17/08 The Avett Brothers- Paranoia In B Major
95) 03/18/08 Man Man- Top Drawer
96) 03/18/08 The Pomegranates- Thunder Meadow
97) 09/13/08 The Builders and The Butchers- Black Dress
98) 07/15/08 Bob Log III- Bubble Strut
99) 06/06/08 The Gourds- Gin & Juice (Everyday People and Dirty Deeds Middle)
Blotter
Posted by: | CommentsThis is a busy month for me and I don’t have quite as much time for free writing as usual. Here are a couple of things that bear a quick mention.
Fiance shot? Pick him or the job–A few weeks back here in Greenville, we had a story in which a guy spotted a bank robber and tried to call the cops. The bank robber saw David Dill making the call and shot him. Meanwhile, Tammy Rochester, Dill’s fiance, was driving on her postal route not far away. Since then, Dill has been recovering from his gunshot wounds. Rochester meanwhile lost her job with the U.S. Postal Service for going to the crime scene and hospital. I’ve recently had mail carriers who refused to deliver mail if a trash can or car was too close to my mailbox. There is another who spends five minutes honking in front of my house before she will get up off her tail and deliver a package. There was another who just didn’t deliver the mail. None of them got fired, near as I can tell. I’m considering telling the USPS my carrier went to care for a dying mother. Maybe that will get her canned. [Update: The USPS, no doubt under the scrutiny of three TV news stories and a couple newspaper stories, changed its mind and called its actions "unreasonable." Rochester now has her job back.]
Wait for it…–This story is just about as horrible as they come. It’s pretty much every nightmare I’ve ever had wrapped into one. If the story the husband tells is true, I hope for him a peace I suspect will never come. I almost hope he is telling the truth. Hope and belief, however, are two different things. I’m just saying, if the same thing happened to my family and me, I’d be dead trying to save my family before you saw me going for help. I can’t and won’t judge, because I don’t know anything more on this case. I do, however, know guys who can look at one skid mark and tell if the dude is telling the truth. I’ll listen to them. Either way, the case makes me nauseous.
