Don't these people know we're in economic trouble here?

I'm out on a trip and on a layover. Today, I'm downtown in Atlanta.

And what do I see as I returned from dinner?

The hotel is hosting a convention from the United Federation of Doll Clubs, Inc.

There are a number of folks here, primarily middle-aged women, who apparently have not grown out of playing with dolls.

The idea that some of these folks would come together to form a club so they can talk about and show their dolls is odd enough. But, moreover, that these clubs would feel the need to band together to form a Federation just boggles the mind.

This country is in the deepest economic trouble in decades, and these people are playing with dolls.

Another in a series of scenes from a Layover....

So there I was, checking into the hotel in Orlando, when the first thing I see is.......

A Pokemon convention.

A roomful of 8 year old boys playing a game with dice and cards. However, two sub-groups caught my eyes.

• The 14-16 year olds who brought out the question: "Do you guys ever expect to get laid? Ever?"
• The 30-somethings who brought out the question: "Are you some kind of pervert, or what?"
  

For future consumption....

....And I do mean "consumption"....

My First Officer and I are just back from The Wilkes House, where we enjoyed one of my layover favorites--good ole' Southern cookin'. I am now his favorite Captain. If you're in Savannah between the hours of 11am and 2pm, you simply must get yourself to Mrs. Wilkes House.

I'll be back (with the wife) for future afternoons of consumption.

New Orleans...

Well, I finally made it back to post-Katrina New Orleans.

[A brief digression...]
Don't get me wrong. We like visiting the Third World. They have interesting people who make for an interesting culture. The tolerate all kinds of sins. New Orleans was/is our little piece of the Third World. You can be publicly drunk there. Bourbon Street is an industry of vices that you can't see anywhere else in America. White men can dance there.

But let's keep in mind that pre-Katrina New Orleans wasn't everyone's cup of tea. The place was corrupt top-to-bottom, crime was rampant, government didn't function....you name it. Will Collier had a great opinion piece here on what to do with New Orleans.
[/digression]

So anyway, I was in New Orleans for about 15 hours right before New Years Eve. Although I'm sure there may be some, I saw little different on the drive into town from my memory of Pre-Katrina N.O. The French Quarter was busy, but not as busy as I would have expected Pre-K. There were few closed shops.

I did learn one thing however....

I went searching for some sort of greasy spoon where I might get breakfast. What I was hoping to find was a bowl of oatmeal, perhaps at a Denny's. However, I left the hotel a bit later than "breakfast" hours, and coupled with the independent and gourmet nature of the Quarter's restaurants, I didn't find anything. I settled for a place that I'd been to in earlier times...The Alpine Bistro.

I was beckoned in by a guy on the street. What I learned was that this guy's job is to get the customer into the restaurant, and then to look at the menu. If done the other way around, then the customer might move on. The breakfast fare was a bit pricey, but I stayed anyway. My meal turned out to be about what I'd expected. My waitress didn't get my $2.50 cup of coffee on my tab, so I over-tipped her.

In the FWIW department, another "guy" who appeared to be employed there in some capacity (perhaps a "host") looked for all the world like a Drag Queen in his straight day job. Tall and lean, with pants just short enough to show off his fashionable socks matching his tie. He also wore a pony-tail and a nametag that read: "Candy".

Things I Never Thought I'd See, Part Deux...

Chapter 2: Las Vegas

[OK. Maybe Things I Never Thought I'd See: Las Vegas deserves a whole book, rather than just a chapter. Maybe I'll get around to that one day.]

Most Las Vegas visitors would consider our layover hotel to be an absolutely miserable place. Imagine the cheesiest, cheapest stereotype of a bad Vegas hotel. Now imagine Cheez Whiz. You are now beginning to get an idea of the Las Vegas Greek Isles.

The Greek Isles is the former Debbie Reynolds Casino and Hotel. When she went bankrupt, she ended up selling it to the WWF. Here's a place that sells vintage casino chips.


Almost nobody except airline crews stay at the Greek Isles. They do have a Rat Pack show which I'm told is actually pretty good, but I dunno...that's kinda hard to believe. The place is pretty much a joke among the airline business, and I'd have to guess it would be thought of as the same joke among the Vegas hotel and casino folks.

However, I actually don't mind the place. Because the clientele is almost exclusively airline crews, there really aren't any noise problems. While the room furnishings are spartan and dated, the beds are fairly comfortable. I can get Fox News on their TVs. The curtains are fantastic. It takes almost no effort to get the room completely dark. Their workout room is not the best I've seen, but also not the worst either. They have a crew room (again, spartan) with microwave, large TV, pool table (I think) and a couple of computers (!). All-in-all, for my needs, not a bad place.

Buttttt,

They run a karaoke bar, which is often active when we check in.

After working in a service industry for many years now, I confess that it isn't often that I'm surprised by what I see the public do. People will do anything, and I mean: A. Ny. Thing.

However, not once in a million years would I imagine I would observe a 60-something woman...someone's grandmother...karaoke....



Jethro Tull's Aqualung.



Only in America, folks. Only in America.

Portland, Oregon...

...City of Roses the Homeless.

I was putting in my time on the treadmill this afternoon in front of a window overlooking one of the streets outside. There I watched a homeless guy stop on the curb at what I initially thought were a bunch of bread crumbs. He spent five or six minutes handling the "crumbs", until I finally figured out that he was taking apart numerous cigarette butts to gather up enough tobacco to make his own smoke. Once he lit the thing, he wandered off.

Only in America, folks. Only in America.

So, anyhooo....

The remodel project is moving ahead. This isn't one of those Overnight Makeover projects, but neither are we moving a glacial pace.

The paperwork for this project will, I'm afraid, be with us for some time. One of our bigger vendors took our deposit and then promptly went out of business. We've tried to get the charge credited back to our credit card, but no luck as of yet. If that avenue doesn't pan out, I'm thinking we'll be hiring a lawyer and heading into either the bankruptcy court or small claims court. Maybe I can put a lien on something the bastard owns.

In other news, my main general construction guy is an illegal immigrant. Nothing surprising here, as most of them are. I was reminded today that a couple of weeks ago, while on a Mexico City layover, I was able to watch 3 Sunday NFL games as well as some Mexican football. Not fútbol, but real American football, played in pads.

I was struck with this idea: For as much as Americans (and especially the GOP) complain about illegal immigration (from Mexico primarily), and the Mexification of America, it appeared to me that the Mexicans are seeking some of the trappings of America. They want to be American in Mexico, as much as some here see that they want America to be more Mexican.