On the 14th of this month I left Santiago to visit with a childhood friend. Jon and I have been friends for about 55 years. We met briefly in Hebrew school. In the 9th grade (1959-1960)I transferred to Horace Mann, a private school in NYC, and Jon and I have been good friends ever since.
My flight left Santiago at 8:30 for Miami. We got in at 10:30 and then I had a NINE HOUR layover until my next flight. The walk from where my plane landed to the customs station felt like it took 30 minutes, but definitely took at least 10, although I am sure it was more. And don't forget, I walk at the pace of a New Yorker (quickly).
My first observation was of the price of chewing gum at the airport. I don't know if it was some sort of special product but it was $2.19. That is an amazing price.
I was surprised that some people with a lot of luggage were using the old "wheelchair" trick to allow them to go to the head of the line at customs if they had a lot of luggage. That is a refinement of the "I need a wheelchair to get on the plane trick" which is used just to get to be allowed to enter the plane before everyone else.
With all that time to kill I decided not to go to a nearby casino to lose what little money I had, but rather to head out to a nearby discount mall in order to spend it on things that I can't get here, like candy and nice clothing cheaply priced. When I asked at the information booth I was told that the mall was 5 minutes from the airport. Coming back to the airport the trip took about 8 minutes, maybe a little less. What the woman at the information booth neglected to tell me is that the shuttle bus stops at every hotel on the way to the mall and that getting there takes almost 40 minutes.
After walking through about 1/3 of the mall and making a few purchases I came to the food court. I was hungry, so the timing was great. In looking around my first thought was that I was going to have a tough time deciding where to eat. That is until I saw that there was a girl handing out samples of the Teryaki chicken at the first stand. As I was sampling this I realized that there was someone at virtually every stand, either in front of or behind the counter, trying to entice you to eat there by giving you a free sample. It didn't take long to decide where I was going to eat. I ate every free sample that was given and finished the food court absolutely full. The should change the name to "The Free Food Court".
After about an hour and a half of walking around shopping I was starting to get a little tired. As luck would have it I came across some massage chairs. I think it was $2 for 5 minutes. I figured I would try it. Wow. What a great massage. Hard to believe that a machine could give that satisfying a massage, but these chairs were great.
One of the things that really struck me after a while is that NOBODY in the mall spoke English. Everyone spoke Spanish. I was amazed.
For those of you who watch "The Jersey Shore" 1/2 the young girls in the mall made every effort to look like Snooki.
I asked a man a question and he answered in a very not Spanish accent, "Excuse, please, I don't talk English". Doesn't anybody in Miami speak English?
When I got back to the airport, as soon as I started to look for my next flight, I realized I was fucked. When the overhead sign says "Gates 1-60 and you are leaving from 60, you know you are screwed. After walking part of the way I decided to take the Sky Train, a monorail that goes to all of the American's gates. The best part is that when I finally got near to gate 60 I realized that it was down a flight of stairs at the end of the row of gates and when they call your plane you go out through a door and they PUT YOU ON A BUS to the plane. Of course, the first plane we got on was having problems, so we had to change to another plane, again getting there by bus.
Having lived in the DR for 11 years one of the things that really struck me was the condition of every public bathroom I entered (and with my prostate problem, trust me, I entered a lot). They were all spotless. Every stall had a seat (amazing), every sink had soap and paper towels and/or really efficient hand blowers, and they all had baby changing tables. One bathroom "complex" had a Men's room, a Women's bathroom and a Family Bathroom. What the hell is a Family bathroom?
I had a wonderful time with Jon and his wife Betty. They were as hospitable as possible. Jon and I spent most of the time just talking. Amazingly with all the history we had there were no, "do you remember when.....? stories, or "how about the time.... anecdotes. Mostly current events both personal and worldwide. There was nothing unusual in that, Jon and I have always had an up to date conversation pattern. We spent quite a most of our time at his beautiful beach house, near Pensacola. Jon is in love with his really fast, really beautiful speedboat and we went riding a couple of times, including one trip to a seafood store that was a pretty long ride by boat. This store had the largest selection of fish and shellfish that I have ever seen. There was a huge assortment of prepared foods as well, and we ate what we bought there for a couple of days. Friday I went to the Walmart store and Ihad a ball. I love Walmart. I miss Walmart. On Sunday we drove to his house in Mobile, and along the way we stopped at another discount mall. I love discount malls. I miss discount malls. We spent the rest of the day watching football. I had a wonderful time. My favorite quote from Jon came when we were talking about something involving California and Jon referred to the people living there as "Those yogurt eating cocksuckers". Pure Jon.
The trip back included a layover of only 3 hours. Piece of cake. The airport at Pensacola was filled with a bunch of religious nuts. I overheard this conversation more than once: "How are you? Fine, how are you? I am blessed.
The stewardess dropped the bag of ice on the floor and all drinks were served at room temperature. It didn't matter to me because when I am traveling, I try to drink as little as possible, but some people were really pissed.
When we got off in Miami I had time to kill so I decided to walk from my arrival gate (#59) to my departure gate (#7). I took a leisurely stroll and once I was smart enough to pay for a cart to carry the 30 pound bag I was carrying it was a pleasure. It took 50 minutes.
My last impression of the US was provided by a young couple with a child waiting for their flight with a stroller. On both sides of the stroller they had afixed Latte holders.
I had a great time.
Sunday, October 31, 2010
Saturday, October 30, 2010
That's A Problem
I never heard of the host of tonight's Saturday Night Live. His name was either John Ham or John Hand. Doesn't really matter. I am sure he is someone famous and I have absolutely no idea who he is.
Oh yeah. I drank tonight for the first time in maybe 5 months. I really don't know why I did. I had enough to get really drunk, and maybe I am, but where is the good feeling?
Oh yeah. I drank tonight for the first time in maybe 5 months. I really don't know why I did. I had enough to get really drunk, and maybe I am, but where is the good feeling?
Friday, October 22, 2010
No Trip Report.........Yet
I promise I will write a report about my great trip to visit my oldest friend, Jon, in the not too distant future.
For now, however you will have to be satisfied with this. I am working in a "BoilerRoom" booking trips to a hotel in Canada. Most of my fellow workers were deported for various criminal activities. I looked over tonight to see one of my neighbors looking at a web site for something called "Crime Spree". I asked if that was a video game. He told me that it was like Farmville on Facebook. Then he told me that he was not very good at Farmville because he kept forgetting to water and harvest his crops. And then he added, "But I was very good at crime".
For now, however you will have to be satisfied with this. I am working in a "BoilerRoom" booking trips to a hotel in Canada. Most of my fellow workers were deported for various criminal activities. I looked over tonight to see one of my neighbors looking at a web site for something called "Crime Spree". I asked if that was a video game. He told me that it was like Farmville on Facebook. Then he told me that he was not very good at Farmville because he kept forgetting to water and harvest his crops. And then he added, "But I was very good at crime".
Monday, October 11, 2010
Massiel On Hunger
"Don't talk to me about anything, don't tell me anything,I just want to see my food."
Sunday, October 3, 2010
I Have Written A Letter Like This Several Times (But In A Phone Call)
Sorry I haven’t posted lately, but I am too busy being ground down by life.
VANCOUVER — Today Hunter S. Thompson is remembered as a literary icon, whose classic works and impetuous personality firmly stamped his place into the hearts, minds and graphic T-shirts of a malleable generation.
With his seminal classics — Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas, Fear and Loathing on the Campaign Trail '72 and Hells Angels — he spawned "Gonzo journalism," a subjective style of journalism that incorporates the author into the story.
His fiery prose was fuelled as much by wit and vibrant description as it was by mescaline and Wild Turkey.
But in 1958, Thompson was still a struggling journalist, living in a tiny basement apartment in New York's Greenwich Village, burdened by crippling debt.
On Oct. 1, 1958 — 52 years ago Friday — self-professed to be in a "frenzy of drink," Thompson penned a letter of application to the Vancouver Sun. He had heard about the paper through an article in Time magazine — where he worked briefly as a copy boy for $50 U.S. a week — that praised the paper's new editorial direction under Jack Scott.
Scott, whom Thompson had addressed his letter to, was a Sun columnist who was appointed editorial director in September 1958.
According to Time, the "tart-tongued" Scott "unleashed all of his formidable flair for spectacular stunts" in his new role, which included sending the football editor to Formosa (now Taiwan) to interview Chiang Kai-shek, the leader of the Republic of China, and the women's page editor to Cuba to cover the aftermath of the revolution.
He was promptly demoted in March 1959, summing up his brief stint with, "It was a ball while it lasted," according to Time.
Vancouver Sun
TO JACK SCOTT, VANCOUVER SUN
October 1, 1958 57 Perry Street New York City
Sir,
I got a hell of a kick reading the piece Time magazine did this week on The Sun. In addition to wishing you the best of luck, I'd also like to offer my services.
Since I haven't seen a copy of the "new" Sun yet, I'll have to make this a tentative offer. I stepped into a dung-hole the last time I took a job with a paper I didn't know anything about (see enclosed clippings) and I'm not quite ready to go charging up another blind alley.
By the time you get this letter, I'll have gotten hold of some of the recent issues of The Sun. Unless it looks totally worthless, I'll let my offer stand. And don't think that my arrogance is unintentional: it's just that I'd rather offend you now than after I started working for you.
I didn't make myself clear to the last man I worked for until after I took the job. It was as if the Marquis de Sade had suddenly found himself working for Billy Graham. The man despised me, of course, and I had nothing but contempt for him and everything he stood for. If you asked him, he'd tell you that I'm "not very likable, (that I) hate people, (that I) just want to be left alone, and (that I) feel too superior to mingle with the average person." (That's a direct quote from a memo he sent to the publisher.)
Nothing beats having good references.
Of course if you asked some of the other people I've worked for, you'd get a different set of answers.
If you're interested enough to answer this letter, I'll be glad to furnish you with a list of references — including the lad I work for now.
The enclosed clippings should give you a rough idea of who I am. It's a year old, however, and I've changed a bit since it was written. I've taken some writing courses from Columbia in my spare time, learned a hell of a lot about the newspaper business, and developed a healthy contempt for journalism as a profession.
As far as I'm concerned, it's a damned shame that a field as potentially dynamic and vital as journalism should be overrun with dullards, bums, and hacks, hag-ridden with myopia, apathy, and complacence, and generally stuck in a bog of stagnant mediocrity. If this is what you're trying to get The Sun away from, then I think I'd like to work for you.
Most of my experience has been in sports writing, but I can write everything from warmongering propaganda to learned book reviews.
I can work 25 hours a day if necessary, live on any reasonable salary, and don't give a black damn for job security, office politics, or adverse public relations.
I would rather be on the dole than work for a paper I was ashamed of.
It's a long way from here to British Columbia, but I think I'd enjoy the trip.
If you think you can use me, drop me a line.
If not, good luck anyway.
Sincerely, Hunter S. Thompson
VANCOUVER — Today Hunter S. Thompson is remembered as a literary icon, whose classic works and impetuous personality firmly stamped his place into the hearts, minds and graphic T-shirts of a malleable generation.
With his seminal classics — Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas, Fear and Loathing on the Campaign Trail '72 and Hells Angels — he spawned "Gonzo journalism," a subjective style of journalism that incorporates the author into the story.
His fiery prose was fuelled as much by wit and vibrant description as it was by mescaline and Wild Turkey.
But in 1958, Thompson was still a struggling journalist, living in a tiny basement apartment in New York's Greenwich Village, burdened by crippling debt.
On Oct. 1, 1958 — 52 years ago Friday — self-professed to be in a "frenzy of drink," Thompson penned a letter of application to the Vancouver Sun. He had heard about the paper through an article in Time magazine — where he worked briefly as a copy boy for $50 U.S. a week — that praised the paper's new editorial direction under Jack Scott.
Scott, whom Thompson had addressed his letter to, was a Sun columnist who was appointed editorial director in September 1958.
According to Time, the "tart-tongued" Scott "unleashed all of his formidable flair for spectacular stunts" in his new role, which included sending the football editor to Formosa (now Taiwan) to interview Chiang Kai-shek, the leader of the Republic of China, and the women's page editor to Cuba to cover the aftermath of the revolution.
He was promptly demoted in March 1959, summing up his brief stint with, "It was a ball while it lasted," according to Time.
Vancouver Sun
TO JACK SCOTT, VANCOUVER SUN
October 1, 1958 57 Perry Street New York City
Sir,
I got a hell of a kick reading the piece Time magazine did this week on The Sun. In addition to wishing you the best of luck, I'd also like to offer my services.
Since I haven't seen a copy of the "new" Sun yet, I'll have to make this a tentative offer. I stepped into a dung-hole the last time I took a job with a paper I didn't know anything about (see enclosed clippings) and I'm not quite ready to go charging up another blind alley.
By the time you get this letter, I'll have gotten hold of some of the recent issues of The Sun. Unless it looks totally worthless, I'll let my offer stand. And don't think that my arrogance is unintentional: it's just that I'd rather offend you now than after I started working for you.
I didn't make myself clear to the last man I worked for until after I took the job. It was as if the Marquis de Sade had suddenly found himself working for Billy Graham. The man despised me, of course, and I had nothing but contempt for him and everything he stood for. If you asked him, he'd tell you that I'm "not very likable, (that I) hate people, (that I) just want to be left alone, and (that I) feel too superior to mingle with the average person." (That's a direct quote from a memo he sent to the publisher.)
Nothing beats having good references.
Of course if you asked some of the other people I've worked for, you'd get a different set of answers.
If you're interested enough to answer this letter, I'll be glad to furnish you with a list of references — including the lad I work for now.
The enclosed clippings should give you a rough idea of who I am. It's a year old, however, and I've changed a bit since it was written. I've taken some writing courses from Columbia in my spare time, learned a hell of a lot about the newspaper business, and developed a healthy contempt for journalism as a profession.
As far as I'm concerned, it's a damned shame that a field as potentially dynamic and vital as journalism should be overrun with dullards, bums, and hacks, hag-ridden with myopia, apathy, and complacence, and generally stuck in a bog of stagnant mediocrity. If this is what you're trying to get The Sun away from, then I think I'd like to work for you.
Most of my experience has been in sports writing, but I can write everything from warmongering propaganda to learned book reviews.
I can work 25 hours a day if necessary, live on any reasonable salary, and don't give a black damn for job security, office politics, or adverse public relations.
I would rather be on the dole than work for a paper I was ashamed of.
It's a long way from here to British Columbia, but I think I'd enjoy the trip.
If you think you can use me, drop me a line.
If not, good luck anyway.
Sincerely, Hunter S. Thompson
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)