Hero on State Street

So today I was doing some heavy simulating from La Guardia to Albany International. I had set up the game to handle as much air traffic as it allows and I thought, "What better venue is there than New York City to test this unprecedented level of simulated air traffic?" Well, Atlanta, Chicago, LAX, Heathrow...

Whatevs, NYC it is. So I took off from La Guardia and headed up the Hudson River Valley. There was, as I expected, traffic everywhere. But, after I left the NYC metropolitan area, I seemed to be all on my own again.

That is, until I started my approach to Albany. There was an MD-83 operated by Soar Airlines ahead of me. It was pretty neat to see another airplane making the approach, and actually it helped me to better position my own approach. That's one thing about the sims - they are perfect in everything they do. Here's the screenshot of my approach immediately following the MD-83. Then, I became concerned because the sim was taking way too long to get off the runway. I could see it still on the runway as I made my final. I mean, I was literally over Albany-Shaker Road and Soar had still not exited Runway 1.

That was when the Air Traffic Controller radioed that I do a go-around. For all those non-aviation enthusiasts out there, that means power up and try again.

So I did, but I was very upset because my approach to that point had been near flawless. And, I also don't like doing go-arounds. I have done some in the past, but always due to my own messed up approaches. This was the first one that was caused by external factors.

I flew out towards Schenectady and then south towards Guilderland. I was cleared to land a second time, and I joked back to the Air Traffic Controller, "Yeah, that's what you said last time." Just kidding, you can't actually make small talk on this game. But I thought that.

My second approach was a bit more erratic. I gave myself very little room to maneuver so when I was pretty much over The Desmond when I was finally lined up over the runway, so there was no room for error. Touchdown was right on the center line, and since there was an airplane following my landing, I did the courteous thing and got off the runway as soon as possible. This is what the whole ordeal ended up looking like.
I felt like that dude from the US Airways plane that landed in the Hudson after it was all over. Good thing I was quick on my...laptop.

I taxied to gate Bravo 9 - that's B9 for the laymen - where I had a view of the jerk that forced the go-around.
We fought. She won.

Crafty like a fox

In high school, I was enrolled in the International Baccalaureate Program. Basically, it's like AP on steroids. Students in IB have to take all their classes at an advanced level, complete a 4,000 word essay and 150 hours of community service prior to graduation. It was nuts, and unfortunately, I was very lazy during the high school years so it was doubly stressful.
As part of the program, students had to decide on two subjects to take at a Higher Level, as opposed to Standard Level. So, get this: Standard Level was already at the AP-type level. By extension, you can imagine how difficult the Higher Level classes were.

My choices for Higher Level were Physics, Chemistry, Math or .... Art. I got a C- in regular Physics, so that was out. Ditto for Chemistry. I figured if I really dedicated myself I could pass Higher Level Math. So, I went to talk to the math teacher and he refused to let me in the class, citing the laziness I had demonstrated in Trig. Thanks a lot, asshole. That meant I HAD to go into Higher Level Art. Luckily, I ended up in a hockey league with that same teacher and ... did absolutely nothing about it.

By the way, I suck at art.

So, I made my way through Higher Level Art for two years. I had to come up with some BS vision statement for my art and then complete 20 "masterpieces." So, I designed this whole vision centered on airplanes and cities and thunderstorms. Some day I may feel comfortable sharing pictures of my work on this forum, but that day is not today.

What I will share today is some artsy fartsy crafting that actually did go pretty well. I did this at summer camp two years ago. Whenever my campers were at woodshop, I would be there right along with them and I worked on this airplane all summer long.

It's my life's masterpiece. It even has a landing light.

There are some problems with it. The main one is that the tail is so heavy that the plane is constantly in a nose-up position. That's not necessarily a problem because it looks active and engaging that way. It just means that I cannot pla ... err ... never mind.

So, maybe I was not ready for prime time artwork back in the day. I was just a late bloomer. Do you take back all those things you said about my art, Mr. Hubka? Do you? Do you?

Breaking the ice with Jon & Kate

When I start new jobs, one of my perennial concerns is about having to learn to socialize with a whole new group of people. I am what my sister calls a homosapienaphobic - that is a person with an intense fear of people.

At the government, I work on a team with five committees. Each committee, with few exceptions, has an analyst and an assistant, and there are two counsels that split the committees by issue area. Out of all these positions, I am the only boy. There were two other boys not so long ago, but they have gone away via retirement and, most recently, promotion.

This demographic reality significantly affected the co-worker socialization curve. I struggle talking with the girls I know, much less with a pack of unknown ones. Recently, I have started to break the ice with the pack. I have started eating lunch with them in the conference room. Mostly, it was terrifying. For starters, they have no interest in discussing the UA basketball team, or the episode of Seinfeld that was on the night before. They care about pink, chipmunks, design shows and ladybugs.

I realized if I was going to tame the pack, I was going to have to do some recon. I researched subjects, studied film, and prepared memos. And, at last, I was able to wow them all with my surprisingly accurate and detailed knowledge of Jon & Kate Plus Eight and Desperate Housewives. That's right, ladies, I am a dude that knows the various moods and temperments of Cara and Maddy. And I know that Preston Scavo is a terror.

Did I sell out to be accepted by the pack? No doubt about it. At least now I get nods of acknowledgement when I pass a member of the pack in the hallway. Before they all looked at me like I had lupus.

All I want in life is a good sandwich

You just can't get a good sandwich around Albany anymore, ya know?

So, on Monday, since Diane and I were in a mood for a good, hearty sandwich, we took a road trip through three states (New Yawk, Taxachusetts - I kid, I kid, it's Massachusetts - and Connecticut) in search of the perfect deli dinner. Goodbye Albany, NY. Hello Torrington, CT.

Yup, that's right - Salerno's Import & Deli had just the stuff I was looking for: a Godfather with The Works.It was no accident that we ended up in the armpit of New England known as Torrington. That is, after all, the site of Camp Wah-Nee, where I spent six glorious summers bringing up young campers with proper manners and excellent writing skills. My time there was lovely, until I was banned forever from the camp by the evil ogre who owns it for choosing to go work at a different, nicer, gentler camp in 2007. And that was after two summers as a Group Leader and twice decorated Color War Lieutenant.

So, since the ogre would have probably prosecuted me if I stepped into the camp, we were satisfied with looking at the sign at the driveway. And Diane did not have any bail money on her, so that made the decision much easier. Always carry bail money, people. Just kidding, that was a joke.
Salerno's, by extension, has a bit of a cult following among the staff at Wah-Nee. So much so, in fact, that when I sent Mad Dog a picture of the delectable eatery, he immediately responded with incredulity and, in my opinion, a hint of jealousy.

So, would I spend around 3 hours driving for a 20 minute meal again?

You betcha! Not only is the sandwich worth it, but I am addicted to driving because it reminds me so much of flying for some reason. By the way, look at all those enormous icicles on the side of the mountain. Neat-o, right? And kids, don't try taking cell phone pictures while you're driving.

Miracle on the Hudson, on tape

Goes to show you that everywhere you go you are being watched.

Surveillance cameras caught US Air 1549's crash landing on the Hudson. By the looks of it, the landing was so perfect that the pilot could have been trying to land on molton hot lava and everybody still would have made it.

Historical, in a way

Tomorrow, the United States will inaugurate the first African-American President in the country's history. As Barack Obama was making his way to Washington DC on his historic reenactment of Lincoln's train trip, my mother called and was somewhat shocked that I was not following the minute-by-minute details of the train ride.

"It's historic," she said.

Yes, I suppose she's right. It's going to be the first time in history that we have a black President. But, frankly, I did not volunteer for Barack Obama, or vote for him, because he is black. I was so committed to his candidacy because he, quite simply, was the best candidate.

I had two opportunities to vote for Barack Obama. Once in the primaries, and then again in November. The first time I supported him in a losing cause here in New York. Hillary Clinton absolutely schooled him, which is to be expected since she was the very popular and effective junior Senator from this state. I knew Obama stood no chance of winning the popular vote during the primaries here, but I voted anyway because I believed he was a better candidate than Clinton.

Ditto for the general election. Even though Obama certainly did not need my vote to carry New York, I gave it to him anyway, as well as a dozen or so votes I got out in the greater Carbondale, PA metropolitan area.

I do not mean to belittle the sense of relief of so many African-Americans who are genuinely moved by the election of Obama. However, I'll be here in my corner thinking that Barack Obama's presidency is historic in that he is the most insipirational President to ever be sworn in. It will be historic in that he is perhaps the most intelligent President who has ever served. And, I hope to be able to say in eight years, the his administration will be historic in that it has been the most successful ever.

Oh, yeah, and he happened to be black, too.

All the best, Mr. President. I for one can't wait for you to get started.

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.