The Ordinariness Of It All

It was Monday, March 17th 2014, and I was in Frankfurt, en route to Kuwait.  I had time on my hands, and feet, and I needed exercise and air.  It was a dreary day, the kind where we are inclined to while away.  Within a mile or two from the airport, there was little that was extraordinary.  But never having been in Frankfurt, except two or three times only at the airport, I thought I'd get a sampling of the city.  Ordinary was fine, and being outside the airport, according to a personal rule, meant I had actually visited the city.  The overcast day had just the right amount of cool to ease the warmth inside and at the same time the right amount of warmth to make it feel like I had escaped the brutal Chicago winter.  I stepped outside, and followed the direction of light traffic, walked on a down ramp, and soaked in, almost as a meditation, the ordinariness of it all.

A Frankfurt Airport Synchronicity

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Before my connecting flight to Kuwait, I had a four-hour layover in Frankfurt.  I asked the friendly lady guard at Passport Control, whether I had time to explore the city.  She said, yes, as long as I was back at the airport one hour before flight time.

I walked around, in no rush, and mostly soaked in the scene of the airport.  I love airports, when I don't have to rush to get somewhere.  There is a flow and a rhythm to people, all linked in one way or another to travel.  I love being part of it, and also stepping back from it and observing it all openly.  I can visualize the algorithm, in the way that Neo could see the green streaming of computer code that makes up `The Matrix.

I approached an area of long reclined chairs, meant for napping.  I didn't want to nap, but I wanted to take stock of my belongings and review my plans and timing.  I made a habit of regularly tapping my pockets and scanning my bags to make sure I had everything with me.

A moment of synchronicity

I tapped my right back pants pocket for my wallet, and it's there.  Then in an instant after that, I saw a brown wallet on the floor at my feet.  I was standing at the foot of one of those reclined chairs, and was about to sit down.  For another split second, I was curious as to how my wallet landed on the floor, after I just ensured it was in my pocket.

It wasn't my wallet, of course.  

I picked up the bulging thing, and quickly looked for a security guard to give it to. I must've done a 360° twice, before deciding to go back to the security check-in I had walked past a few moments before.  I approached a guard, and he didn't seem to want the wallet.  He just pointed me to Information Desk, near where I was among napping travelers.

It took a few moments to go back there, and find the Information Desk.  But once there I had to wait for a traveler, who seemed lost and had engaged the staff in more than a brief set of directions.  I circled to another, and again I had to wait for another traveler to finish.

I gave the increasingly hot wallet to that second staff.  She reacted with a bit of an oh, and opened it and we both saw that there was a lot of cash in it.  She wanted information about me, and I was reluctant.  I just found it, and I didn't touch anything in it, I retorted.  I gathered she wanted to make sure I didn't actually take anything from it.  After that guard refused to take it, I was afraid someone would accuse me to stealing it.

Thankfully all she asked for was my name.

Someone tries to do good, and it becomes a veritable little drama, doesn't it.

I am three-for-three on gripping films

I love movies. I relish getting absorbed in them. It's one of the way I get leisure and entertainment, and I look forward to it on long haul flights.

It's a 7 PM flight out of Chicago and a 9 AM arrival (local) time in Frankfurt.  So it's a perfectly timed opportunity to unwind, rest and sleepy-sleepy.  

Except that I see a handful of films on the United airline menu, which were on the Best Picture nominations list.  I watch the first, and it's gripping.  I sidle to the second, and that, too, is intense.  I'm batting two-for-two with my picks, and that's a very unusual hit rate for me.  But as is the case when I'm absorbed, I lose track of time and my need to sleep.  So off I am in search of a third, and my hit rate remains perfect.

I blogged about each of these films:

• Kudos to Sandra Bullock for a Gripping `Gravity
• Tom Hanks Pulls Off a Heroic `Captain Phillips
• Hugh Jackman Explores Ethics in `Prisoners

United Airlines Redux

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I was en route to Kuwait on client business, and there I was at Chicago O'Hare International Airport, where I've been countless times since 1998.  The main carrier is Lufthansa, but this flight to Frankfurt was on United.  Catching my flight is characteristically a mad rush for me, but interestingly enough in the last few trips I've made it to the airport in plenty of time.

There was a mass of travelers in loose queues, at various stages of checking in for their flights.  My wait is more than a few minutes.  Some haul multiple massive suitcases, while mine, along with my shoulder bag, are carry-on.  Of course they need time to check in.  I see that United staff shift between checking travelers in directly and helping them check in on electronic kiosks meant for self-service.

If this were rush hour traffic, I'd say all of this was a parking lot: a lot of cars moving at snail's pace, often not moving at all. So I do a 180° turn, and walk to a self-service kiosk.  You see, these electronic devices are like touch screens: These are a process and a technology that warrant much more improvement.  About 50% of the time, I need to check with an airline staff anyway.

Sure enough, my self check-in produced three printouts, which was unusual, and one said to check with an agent.

So I am back in those loose queues, waiting among scattered travelers.  Finally, I reach an United staff, and he said I could go on to the gate.  I can talk to the agent there for a seat assignment.  

I am at the mouth of a security maze, and the security guard, whom I couldn't fully understand, pointed me back toward all that looseness and scattering.  Huh.  I thought she said that I had to check with an agent, before navigating the security maze.  But as I figured out in a little while, she had pointed me to a expedited security queue, by a far wall.  

That was a rare privilege to be on an expedited queue.  Except it didn't seem at all expedited.  The queue was long, and it was yet another wait to get through the usual undressing for the sake of security.  

By the time I cleared all that, I didn't have time to sit and work, and really I didn't have the patience or the inclination anymore to do so.  So I decided to head over to the food court, as I realized I missed lunch as I was finishing my work and preparing to fly out.

I was famished and tired.

Personal Mysteries of Time and Memory

One time I was on a business trip (US), and woke up in my hotel room early the first day of a client project.  I had awakened a little later than planned, but I still had plenty of time to shower and get ready.  Things felt a tad strange, then even more so, as I walked around the restaurant and hardly any one was around for breakfast.  Just a scattering of guests, but none of my colleagues.  Strange indeed.

This went on for a number of minutes.  Until I realized that I was an hour early.  

I don't think I wore a watch, and I must not have looked at my mobile to check the time.  But the only thing I could come up with to explain my personal episode of  `Twilight Zone was that during the night, I must've inadvertently set the time one hour ahead on the bedside clock.  I had absolutely no memory of doing that.  The alarm went off, as I had set it, and by then it was an hour too early.  

The above photo reminds me of that bizarre morning.  I also have no memory of having taken it.  It looks like the luminescent digits of our bedroom clock, and apparently I pulled out my iPhone and snapped this shot.  I have a good memory, and I am not at all prone (I don't think) to doing stuff during the night that I'm not aware of.

Outside of this plausible explanation, perhaps there is something of significance with 3:05.  Let me reflect on that, and keep an eye on whatever.

Invite: Write Poetry on Calder's Flamingo

Alexander Calder’s abstract stabile anchors the large rectangular plaza bordered by three Bauhaus style federal buildings designed by Mies van der Rohe. The sculpture’s vivid color and curvilinear form contrast dramatically with the angular steel and glass surroundings. However,Flamingo is constructed from similar materials and shares certain design principles with the architecture, thereby achieving successful integration within the plaza. Despite its monumental proportions, the open design allows the viewer to walk under and through the sculpture, leading one to perceive it in relation to human scale.

Reference: Calder's Flamingo.

It was a crisp, clear night last week, Thursday, March 6th, as I walked westward on Adams Street, en route from an alumni event at Northwestern University - Feinberg School of Medicine, to Union Station.  Calder's Flamingo sits at the southwest corner of Adams and Dearborn Streets in Chicago, and it is, for many of us who live here, an iconic symbol of the city.

I had my trusty Samsung Galaxy Note II in hand, and I snapped shots of the fiery, steely bird.  I like uploading shots on this blog, as I now have, and writing a bit about the shots.  But I thought I'd also write poetry for each of these Flamingo shots.  Moreover, I thought I'd invite friends to write poetry as well on any or all of these shots.  I'd post our collective work in one or more of my blogs.

Let's see how it goes.

I said to no one in particular: Make.It.Stop!

It was just five days ago, Wednesday, March 5th, that we had yet another snowstorm in the Greater Chicago Area.  Whew it normally takes 15 minutes to drive my daughter to school, but it took an hour that day.  When will it end? 

We diehards here often look to this month for weather relief, but Old Man Winter was fiercely unrelenting as the calendar page turned.  In fact, that Saturday, March 1st, my sister and I saw the Chicago Blackhawks play the Pittsburgh Penguins outdoors for the `Stadium Series at Soldier Field.  It was frigid and snowy the whole game.  

Thankfully, since the weekend, we have had a big meltdown, as temperatures topped 50° today.

Lush Green and Pink of Halsted Street

It was July 31st 2013, and the temperatures were reasonable.  I finished a meeting, then walked northbound on Halsted Street to pick up my wife.  My trusty iPhone on hand, I captured the lush green and pink I saw along the way.  The overcast skies soften the shadows of course, and evened the light well enough for me to capture those colors.

Memorial Day Memories at Millennium Park

We Chicagoans always hope for the best of the weather on a holiday, and in the back of our mind we hold the possibility it will be cool, rainy and altogether miserable.  But Memorial Day on Monday, May 28th 2012, all was good.  In fact the temperatures may have tipped the 90s.  My wife, daughter and I spent the afternoon downtown at Millennium Park, dinner at Gino's East, and walking about State Street en route to Union Station.  We walked to save money, get exercise, and enjoy the city.    

Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde of Chicago Weather

It was two years ago this month, and I was just months from a return home to Chicago from Dubai.  I headed downtown for a couple of meetings, and decided to stop by Millennium Park en route north along Michigan Avenue.  I thought I'd be chilly, so I wore a mock turtleneck and brought a jacket.  But the temperatures climbed into the 80s, and I began to sweat even while walking leisurely along.  Other Chicagoans were in their T-shirts and shorts, and I quickly felt overdressed.

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The National Weather Service has gauged this season’s chills, in part, by noting the number of days with subzero temperatures from the start of November through the end of March. By that measure, the allegedly just-ended season had the fourth-most days with the mercury below zero.

But add in days when the temperature sunk to exactly zero, and suddenly, this season is Chicago’s new No. 1. 

“It looks like overall this winter has had the most zero or below,” said weather service meteorologist Richard Castro. “So it’s not just perception that it’s felt particularly brutal this year. The numbers say it.”

Reference:  Another Chicago record? Winter had most days at or below zero--ever.

That March 2012, I believe we hit a record stretch of days with temperatures topping the 80s.  It's all a far cry from the brutality of this winter.