My recurring fishing nightmare recurs

Many years ago, when we were visiting Argentina during Christmas break, my dad, sister, uncles and cousins went on a fishing trip at El Carrizal in Mendoza. Here's a summary of the trip - Luci caught 6 fish - more than anyone else. Nicolas caught 1 fish - and also the smallest of any of the many fish that were caught. This is my recurring nightmare - my little sister outfishing me badly.

Fast forward to yesterday. During my mom and Luci's visit, we went fishing at Schodack Island State Park. Of course on the way there we joyfully recalled the above referenced story and internally I thought how silly my sister would feel after I outfished her, especially since I had been fishing regularly and she probably has not fished since that trip many years ago (so long ago that we were both in K-12).

So there we were taking in the great sights of the Hudson River at Schodack Island. She had already brought in a bullhead catfish.

Then, she suddenly and calmly said, "I think I have something."


That was all she said and started reeling in. I was using a heavy sinker, so I thought she was probably feeling that, but she kept reeling and looking over the ledge into the river hoping to see something. And then I saw this 2 1/2 foot freshwater drum appear in the shallows.

I estimated that it weighed at least 10 lbs.

She caught this with a nightcrawler. I should mention, she caught it with my fishing pole, after I had cast and baited it. So, yeah, I still get no credit for it.

This was not unlike how she destroyed me in racquetball two Christmases ago, after my decade of domination. After a few years, I may get over this fishing incident. Then she'll crush my spirit once again. For the record, she ended up catching 9 fish yesterday, and although I reeled in 4, 3 of them were the smallest of the lot, and the other was a catfish.

JFK Emergency Landing

In case you missed it, a Delta CRJ-900 made an emergency landing at JFK on Sunday night after a malfunction in the back-right landing gear. The plane landed and then skidded on its wing to a rest in a shower of sparks. A passenger captured the final moments on a cell-phone camera. At 0:12 you can hear the plane touch down and it takes until about 0:18 until you start seeing sparks, which means that the pilot was able to keep the wing off the runway for a good 6 seconds.
I like how at the 0:24 mark after the plane has been skidding for a while (and has not yet veered off the runway or otherwise become destroyed) the flight attendant gives out a triumphant "Heads down! Stay down!" You can sense in her voice that they are gonna make it.

And of course, the spontaneous cheers and applause are nice. I smirked at this because on virtually every foreign airline I have flown on (save British Airways, but including LanChile, Austral, Aerolineas Argentinas and EgyptAir) the foreigners always applaud the landing. Even in perfect weather. But then again, in Argentina we always applaud the asador - we are a very grateful people I guess. (<-- By the way, I am always shocked at what you can find on YouTube.) One final item you may have missed, which appeared in the NY Daily News today, is that there have been 5 similar incidents with the CRJ in the last two years. This, of course, is problematic, and the Daily News writer explains why (with tongue firmly in cheek):

"...Landing gear being generally recommended for the landing portion of a flight..."

Although, I would go a step further and say "properly functioning landing gear being generally recommended for the landing portion of a flight..." Right JetBlue?

These are facts.

Value your opposable thumb (GRAPHIC)

NOTE: There is a graphic photo of my thumb below. Read at your own risk.

Last night, I was chopping up a $4 head of lettuce that Diane and I had bought at the food co-op when in the rush to eat this very valuable vegetable, I managed to slice into the tip of my left thumb. I knew immediately that it was not good. I mean, I also knew that I wasn't going to lose the finger, but I also knew there was no way I could take care of this situation myself.

So I called out to Diane, "ADB, I need you to drive me to the hospital, please." We wrapped my thumb in an old t-shirt and drove off. Luckily, Albany Med is very close.

We got to the ER and after the thumb got looked at, the doctor told me I would need stitches. And a tetanus shot. Great. I have never gotten stitches. In fact, this is probably the most serious injury I have had - if you don't count the time my foot got stuck in the elevator, which is a story I'll leave for another day.

Anyhow, Diane and I hung out in the ER waiting for the tip of my finger to be sown back with the rest of it. After only an hour or so, the doctor started working on it. He put in some local anesthesia, which, of course, did not take on the tip of the finger where I really needed it.

Eventually, the sowing got done. I commented to Diane how this was crafting in a way and if she paid close attention, she could take care of this next time it happens. She did not really appreciate that observation.

The doctor did a pretty good job, as you can see.

I have had the better part of a day to get used to this, and although having had this happen to my right hand - since I am right-handed - would have been really tough, it nonetheless has taken some effort adjust to daily activities without an opposable digit on my left hand.

For starters, making a salad after this incident last night was really hard. And dealing with contacts is just not going to be easy. Shoe-tying. Typing this has been a bitch.

Let's settle down with the citizen's arrest

Bucky Turco, PI extrodinaire, snapped a picture of a snoozing TSA agent at a gate at LaGuardia Airport. The agent eventually awoke and started her duties. He was so outraged and shocked, that he put the picture up on his blog and it eventually go to the TSA. Now, the agent has been assigned to desk duty pending an investigation.

But Bucky is pretty darn smart: "To be fair, she could have been on a break."

Ohhhh. Right.

She. Could. Have. Been. On. A. Break.

I guess in Bucky's America people are guilty until proven innocent. So Bucky thought, "Sure, she could have been on break, but I'm going to post her picture anyway." And now he might cost this young lady her job. Granted - it was a probably not the best place for this agent to take a break. Had I found myself in the same situation, I probably would have noticed the event unfolding before me and thought, "Hmm. To be fair she could have been on a break." And I would have left it at that. It is no worth somebody's job to be taking a picture of the young, probably tired out of her mind TSA agent. Would you rather have a sleepy agent, or an alert agent screening your bag, Bucky?

Well done Bucky, well done, indeed. In case you couldn't tell, I was being sarcastic. To be fair, you are an ass.

Cyclocross skills clinic at Serotta

This past weekend I attended a Cyclocross clinic held on the grounds of the Serotta bicycle factory in Saratoga Springs sponsored by NYcross.com. If you have never heard of cyclocross, then allow me to briefly explain: it is like gladiators on bikes.

The clinic was for beginners, and the lessons were taught by real-life cyclocrossers (including this master cyclist). At one station, we were taught how to take corners, at another we were taught how to properly dismount, mount and go over barriers, and at the final (and most entertaining station) we were taught how to load your bike in the 3-point carry to go up a hill. I found it fun and ironic that at a cycling clinic, two of the stations focused on how to get off the bike. Luckily, one of the instructors did teach us that it is never good form to dismount your bike over the handlebars.

The clinic ended with a mock race which included two sets of barriers and one run-up. I had been to a cyclocross race as a spectator before, and I did make some very poignant observations as a participant. First of all, the barriers are a lot higher than they look. Perhaps, this observation could be extended to note that it is a lot easier to watch somebody else carry their bike over a barrier than it is to do it yourself. Second, it is not a good idea to wear baggy shorts when you are going to be mounting and dismounting frequently. This may lead to getting tangled and ending up on your back with the bike on top of you. Just saying.

Here are some shots of the event. Here's a short clip from helmet cam shot this Saturday at the run-up clinic.

And check out NYcross.com for races in the area. They are very entertaining to watch. Last year at the Bethlehem Cup I saw somebody crash into the creek and then get back up on the bike and keep going. So, go!

Reason #492 why I don't trust lawyers

My first job of any real consequence was at the District Attorney's Office of the Eighth Judicial District of Colorado, which encompasses Larimer and Jackson Counties. I worked in discovery, which for the layman meant the files and evidence room. I would put paperwork in the proper case files, prepare evidence to distribute to defense attorneys, and help with the dockets of the various prosecutors.

It certainly made for interesting work - much more interesting than bagging groceries at Steele's. The DA was Stu VanMeveren, who was pretty legendary and, actually, mythical. I feel as though he was a hologram. When he made appearances everything just sort of stopped and you were left wondering if you actually just seen the legend or if you were dreaming it up. He was a decent person, you know, for a Republican.

In any case, I bring all of this up because the DA's office was recently in the news. in 1987, a woman was murdered in Fort Collins. It was very devastating to the community because there are few acts of such violence in that area. In 1999, a 27-year old man, Timothy Masters, was convicted of committing the crime (meaning he committed the crime as a teenager) and sentenced to life in prison. (Here is a link to all the stories in the Fort Collins Coloradoan, in case you have the time to get into it. It's very interesting - apparently one of the leads was not followed because the suspect was a social friend of one of the prosecutors - see page 2.)

A few years ago, Masters was released because it was ruled that the prosecution had withheld evidence, and, apparently, made up evidence. The prosecutors who lead the case are now District Judges, mind you. (Judge Gilmore and Judge Blair.) Now, an attorney for Judge Gilmore is arguing that "prosecutors who manufacture evidence can't be held liable because making up evidence doesn't hurt anyone until it's used in court - and prosecutors are entirely immune from liability for actions there." Furthermore, "Gilmore and Blair's attorneys argue that since the two were acting in their official capacities, they cannot be held liable for what happened to Masters, in part because there's no specific law barring prosecutors from manufacturing evidence."

How assinine is that?

This leads me to believe that they must be in real trouble if that is their defense. I would have loved to have been a fly in the wall when that strategy was settled on. I think if I was defending Gilmore and Blair and I had a strategy session where some nitwit brought up that defense, I would have flung them out the window like they do to this guy for an equally assinine suggestion.

I suppose this just goes to show you that the tentacles of corruption and evil go pretty deep, even into the most peaceful of communities. By the way, Governor Ritter recently appointed another former prosecutor with connections to the case to the District Court. Great timing, Governor.

Thank you for not smoking

This past weekend, I was once again shocked and flabbergasted by the events at the depressed-old-man's bar I frequent. Let me start from the beginning...

Two or three weeks ago, can't remember which, I went out with my good friend Kel Varnson to drink a pitcher (or two) and dart it up. We go to the same place all the time. I don't want to name the bar because since I have so many readers, I don't want all of you to go there and ruin it for us.

In any case, back to the story. So, we were there playing darts and talking and all of a sudden our home was invaded by what it seemed like were thirty kids coming from prom, probably from Shaker HS. These kids thought it would be alright to start smoking - in our bar.

One cigarette -- whatevs. Two cigarettes -- OK, this is starting to get annoying. Third cigarette -- enough...So I called over the bartender and said, calmly, "The cigarettes are bothering me." She seemed pretty surprised at my statement, so I said it again. She proceeded to ask me if I wanted the kids to stop smoking. "Well, actually it's against the law to smoke in a bar."

At that point, Tweedle-dum bartender yelled out, "Excuse me, everybody. This gentleman (pointing at me) has a problem with the cigarettes. Take it outside."

Way to handle it, moron.

Thank goodness it was a tame crowd. I am not a fighter, but even I could tell that I could have taken any of those kids on. Plus, Kel is a pretty big guy so he probably would have scared off any competition.

Due to deadlines at work, I had not had the opportunity to return to the depressed-old-man's bar with Kel until last night. I was secretly worried about the prom kids coming back, I figured I could deal with the smoking situation.

We arrived and it all looked good - it was us and three other people. But, lo and behold, the bartender --- yes, the bartender --- was smoking and she had the balls, I mean ovaries, to ask me, "Do you mind if I smoke?" And I proceeded to remind her that it's illegal to smoke in bars. I also asked her if this smoking situation was going to become a regular activity, because I would hate to have to find somewhere else to spend money.

And of course, I was the grinch once again. The non-smoking patrol. I really could care less, though. If you know me well you know that I very rarely stand up for myself and that I avoid confrontations at all costs. It's mostly because I don't interact well with people, and also because when I stand up for myself I weirdly feel like I am imposing on someone else.

Not with the cigarettes though. I stood up on that twice in a row now. And it felt good. Plus, it's the friggin' law.

Note to self: Stay away from Colgan Air

I find it troubling that the investigation into the crash of the Colgan Air Dash-8 earlier this year in Buffalo has focused on the pilot and co-pilot chatter in the cockpit prior to the crash. They are dead and otherwise unable to defend themselves. Their actions are certainly questionable -but it was Colgan Air who hired them.

And what about their families: not only do they suffer the loss of a loved one - but now they have to listen as their loved ones are crucified and, for all intents and purposes, blamed for the death of all the others.

It's a slippery slope - no doubt about it. I just happen to think that the focus should be more squarely on the executives at Colgan Air who allowed these seemingly under-qualified people to fly their planes. And for a hefty compensation of 16K a year. The people who make my coffee at Starbucks probably make more than that. Hell, I make more than that.

And it's getting stinkier at Colgan Air. Last Tuesday, Colgan Air had another incident with a Dash-8 upon landing in Buffalo. (It was captured on tape, too.)

So, yes, the pilot and co-pilot's actions may have contributed to this tragedy. But, you can bet that if I had lost somebody in that crash, the entirety of my ire would be directed at the people who let them into the cockpit.

Boneheaded

Apparently, Air Force One was involved in a photo-op this morning. But it was not your ordinary photo-op. Somebody thought it was a good idea to fly the Presidential transport plane at low altitudes over NYC with a fighter jet on its tail.

Hmmm...low-flying jumbo jet (possibly carrying the President)...with a fighter jet on its tail...at one of the locations of the 9/11 terrorist attacks which, coincidentally, involved low-flying jets. Who signed off on this???

Well, in any case, it did make for some pretty amazing sights around the Big Apple:

Moment of truth

This is what all those hours on Flight Simulator have been for. It's creepy, but when I am on a plane I always think that if something as tragic as this were to happen, and there is no other pilot on board, I may be of some assistance.

And then I would finally have a good answer for the question, "Do anything exciting this weekend?"

Second really, really, ridiculously good looking hockey game in a row

Seriously, they're going to have to start charging people to get into the Albany County Hockey Facility to see the Night Owl Hockey Club's weekly intra-squad scrimmage. Last night, I scored the 5th most amazing goal AND dished out the 3rd most amazing assist of my life.

The goal was unlike last week's beauty in that it did not dramatically tie the game in the waning seconds. But, it was pretty spectacular anyways. I snatched a loose puck at our blue line, skated all the way down the ice with a defenseman right on my heels. I made a nice little move and shot the puck over the goalie's glove shoulder.

What was most exciting for the crowd, however, was that I fell on my back immediately after shooting due to a failure to stop properly. This was especially troublesome considering all that speed I had gained after skating nearly three quarters of the length of the rink. The combination of those factors led to a spectacular collision between my body and the end boards.

The assist occurred in the second period and happened towards the tail end of a long, aggressive shift where we spent nearly the entire time on offense. At one point, I got the puck behind the net moved to the right side of the goalie and drew the two defensemen and the goalie my way. That opened up the other side of the net, where the other wing was patiently awaiting my pass, which I masterfully threaded through three sticks. Once the pass got through, he had an open net to shoot into.If I'd only gotten into a fight, I would have converted the coveted Gordie Howe Hat Trick. That's my goal for the next game. I kid, I kid - I'm a lover not a fighter.

My new BFF

Amid the coverage of the Continental tragedy in Buffalo, I found a Times Union article which could be a chronicle of my life. The story recounts the detective work of one Mark Abbott as such:

Mark Abbott, a self-described "aviation geek" from Denver, said the aircraft parked at Gate C1 at Albany International Airport last week quickly drew his attention...Abbott, a service technician, said he made note of the plane's tail number — N200WQ — and later followed its progress on a flight tracker Web site. The plane left the gate at Newark at 11:53 a.m., but didn't take off until 2:23 p.m., according to data from flightstats.com.

When he does it, people write stories in the paper. When I do that, people laugh and point at me. What the hell?

All this hero nonsense

For over a year, pretty much all I ate was oatmeal, rice and beet salad. Don't ask, I was going through a phase. As it turns out, I can no longer stand even the thought of oatmeal. Why, you might ask? Because something repeated over and over and over again will eventually start to lose meaning. I ate so much oatmeal that were I to eat it now, I would taste nothing.

This phenomenon translates into other areas of life. For example, as a camp counselor I would never raise my voice over "little things" such as bickering or whining. I wanted to save my loudness for moments of imminent danger, such as when a few of my campers thought it would be neat-o to jump from the rafters onto their beds. I did not concur, proceeded to raise my voice, and they listened because they knew I was serious.

I bring this all up now in light of Captain CB Sullenberger being called a hero for his daring and miraculous landing on the Hudson yesterday. In todays world, the word "hero" gets thrown around way too loosely and has lost meaning do to its promiscuity. Mr. Sullenberger is not in fact a hero, but rather a really good pilot.A professional athlete, for example, is not a hero, unless he or she does something heroic - playing a sport really well does not count. Death also does not a hero make, Dale Earnhardt Sr.

Another thing - doing your job does not make you a hero. Police officers, firefighters, and the like have all chosen valiant professions requiring courage and a commitment to the greater good and safety of their community. But when they do their job, they did a job well done. I do my job at work pretty darn well and nobody's calling me a friggin' hero when I write a glorious memo or draft a brilliant bill.

Mr. Sullenberger's job is to fly airplanes and land them - and that's what he did. In actuality, flight itself is such a daunting task that literally every pilot of every successful flight ought then to be considered heroic. But that would be asinine. So, Mr. Sullenberger, commendations on a job well done. You are a damn fine pilot. Not a hero, but a damn fine pilot nonetheless.

So, World, I beg that we start choosing our words carefully and stop being hero whores. That way, when somebody does deserves to be called a hero, I don't roll my eyes at them.

Birds of mass destruction

I do not know if video exists of the crash landing that happened this evening in the Hudson River, but I would certainly be interested in seeing what a water landing looks like where the airplane remains intact afterwards.
When I heard about this story, I immediately thought back to a video of a plane landing in the ocean with much different results. Granted, the landing seen on the video would have also been a terrible failure on a runway.

Nevertheless, the video highlights how destructive water can be upon impact, thereby revealing how ridiculously amazing the landing of US Air 1549 must have been.

By the way, I understand the glamour of landing on the Hudson, but we also had an incident occurring closer to home. An Air Canada commuter jet made an emergency landing at Albany International today, blew out all four tires in the process, and closed the airport since it finally came to a stop at the intersection of the airport's only two runways.

What is it this week with airplanes?

Of course you must know by now about that wacko that faked his own death by setting his Piper on autopilot and bailing out. What did that plane ever do to you, sir? In response to this atrocity, I'm starting my own advocacy group: People for the Ethical Treatment of Airplanes, which will also be known as PETA.

It's a write off

This picture...
...made me think of this clip.

Bad start to the holidays in Denver

In case you had not already immersed yourself in this story, here is a passenger's account of the Continental Boeing 737 that skidded off the runway in Denver this weekend. Pretty scary stuff.

What struck me about the passenger's account is that it seemed like the whole event lasted so long, when in reality from the moment that the plane started heading down the runway to the moment when they stopped skidding, it could not have been more than a minute.

I have been fortunate to never, ever be involved in anything nearly as scary or imminently dangerous aboard an airplane. And that's just fine with me, thank you very much.

The worst I can remember are a couple of violent landings, a few instances of especially bumpy turbulence, and watching Cast Away. Actually, some of the scariest parts of flights for me have been the people I have had to sit next to. (Relax, you were a pleasure to sit next to.)

Avoiding the anti-aircraft fire on the couch

In one of the most perceptive scenes in Seinfeld, Elaine learns that men have preferred sides from which to...um...make their move on the ladies. There are those that like to approach from the left, and those that are more comfortable from the right. Elaine then blurts out that women just play defense.

In my very limited personal experience on this matter, I have found the defense claim to be wholly accurate. In my particular situation now I do not think defense is a strong enough word for what goes on. It is more like I am the aircraft facing hostile anti-aircraft artillery.

Bang! There goes Engine #2.

Boom! There goes the right wing...Mayday! Mayday!

And that's the end of that approach.

If I were an observer to this advanced defensive technique, rather than its target, then I would be impressed. When I think about it, words like accurate, persistent, and crippling come to mind. It's also adaptive, preempting my future moves.

But I am persistent, because eventually it has to run out of missiles. It HAS to.

No seat for you!

As a former "top-heavy" (read: overweight) person, I am sympathetic to the plight of our generously proportioned fellow humans. However, at certain point, I believe personal responsibility needs to kick in for people who weigh, say, 450 lbs.

Apparently, our friendly neighbors to the north disagree. Starting January 10th, Canadian airlines will be forced to comply with a new court ruling that mandates that disabled persons who must travel with an attendant can only be charged for one seat on domestic flights.

Okay, that makes sense. But this ruling also applies to persons who are considered disabled due to morbid obesity. Not so fast, people (no pun intended).

It is not like an obese person goes from a pleasantly-plump 250 lbs. to a blimp-like 500 lbs. overnight. You have to literally make an effort to become that large. And I would argue that people become obese with a certain awareness of what they are doing. I mean, wouldn't you notice that perhaps things are getting out of hand at around 300 lbs. or so and you cannot sit in the chairs at the movie theatre? Or get into your car?
On the other hand, people with developmental or physical disabilities are forced to live with debilitating conditions through no fault of their own. They are often born with their conditions or acquire them, usually through no fault of their own.

I fear that this ruling is another instance of rewarding bad behaviour. In this case, the specific bad behaviour I am speaking of is the inability to take personal responsibility for the consequences of your actions on your body. And if somebody out there would like to make the argument that obesity is a disease, I would respectfully challenge you to a duel. Or a debate, whatever.

I could very well be obese myself. Eating is my second favorite thing to do in life. And I used to do it like it was my job. But when it came to the point that I could not fit into any of my clothes anymore, I realized that I had to start to take it easy at meals.

And I am not against this ruling because I'm a fattist or a jerk. I happen to think that if you choose to engage in reckless behaviour by choice, then you also implicitly have made a choice to accept the consequences of your reckless choices. For example, sometimes I drive over the speed limit. Is it reckless? Yes. When I get tickets, do I argue with the policeman? No. Why? Because a ticket is the consequence of speeding.

My reckless eating led me to look like this (below on the right - weighing in at over 200 lbs.)...
...and then I (below on the left) took personal responsibility for my eating choices...Voila! Success after decisive action. By the way, please ignore the fact that this picture is demonstrative of a specific night when I made other reckless choices completely unrelated to food consumption. Don't ask.Maybe the responsible party for an obese person's attendant's plane ticket should be the parents of the obese person who may have stood idly by while their beloved child was pushing maximum density. I don't know about your mother, but mine was always more than willing to remind me of the reason why she was always having to buy me new pants. I did not always appreciate it back then, especially when it occured in front of my sister, but I see why it was important.

Here's another interesting situation that could come up with this new policy. Airlines are required to provide wheelchairs for travelers who require them. Question: will airlines now also be required to provide free peanuts to obese passengers who get hungry? It would, after all, be considered accomodating to their "disease."

Three final points:

(1) How widespread of a problem is this? Most of the morbidly obese people I know are either bed-ridden or afraid to fly.

(2) This rule applies only to domestic flights. What happens when a domestic flight is scheduled on an E190 or CRJ? No obese person could even walk in the door of one of those planes. Would the airline have to completely renew it's fleet to accomodate this ruling?

(3) Shouldn't obese people pay more for air travel, as some argue?

Oh Canada...(not the anthem, that was more of a sigh).

I didn't know Governor Paterson could fly...

...but that's what I thought when one of my contributors alerted me about a blind pilot landing safely the other day.

But alas, it was not Governor Paterson that landed the plane, but rather 65 year old Jim O'Neill, a British man who suffered a stroke that caused temporary blindness while flying a Cessna.This is pretty impressive, to say the least. I can barely walk a straight line, and I have functional use of both eyes. And Mr. O'Neill had to account for altitude changes, wind, and other factors.

Think about it this way: it would not even be that easy to pull your car into the garage with someone on the radio giving you directions. Just imagine not being able to judge depth, distances, and speed. Plus, consider that when Mr. O'Neill landed, he did not really have a chance to slam on the brakes if something went suddenly wrong. And he was not landing at 3 mph.

For the sake of scientific research, I attempted the blind car parking experiment with my neighbor Chuck guiding me on the radio. It did not work out too well.Clearly, the lesson here is: don't do stupid things just to prove a point if they are not covered by your car insurance.

ALB-DEN-ALB, Part IV: The chicken's good for me

Here is author David Sedaris' take on undecided voters in this election:

"I look at these people and can't quite believe that they exist. Are they professional actors? I wonder. Or are they simply laymen who want a lot of attention? To put them in perspective, I think of being on an airplane. The flight attendant comes down the aisle with her food cart and, eventually, parks it beside my seat. 'Can I interest you in the chicken?' she asks. 'Or would you prefer the platter of s**t with bits of broken glass in it?' To be undecided in this election is to pause for a moment and then ask how the chicken is cooked."

On Sunday, in Fort Collins, CO, I had the chance to look at and listen to "the chicken."
And so did another 44,999 Coloradoans.
The chicken looked good and sounded great. We ended up on the stage behind Senator Obama, which was quite fortunate because otherwise we would have been in that sea of people.

It goes without saying, but this was perhaps one of the most exciting moments of my life. Senator Obama spoke at 3:30pm, and the first person in line showed up at 4:00am. There were so many people that wanted to see and hear this transformational leader, that even though the 2 mile-long line started moving in 2 hours ahead of when he was going to speak, there were still people entering the Oval as he closed his remarks.

Believe me, and the other tens of thousands of inspired Coloradoans: the chicken is for real, and it is good. When the flight attendant pulls up to your seat on November 4th, you can comfortably order the chicken.

And, in case you are wondering, I did not get to see his campaign plane, but it wasn't for lack of trying.