It takes a village

My Iraqi-bound brother has a blog of his own set up at http://quodesertdude.blog.com/ for family and friends to receive periodic updates on how he is doing. His last post spoke about how his wife is now expecting a baby after a successful in vitro procedure. Of course everyone who knows Greg and Chris know that this has been a hard road for them with many unsuccessful attempts to have a child, thus the happiness at finally reaching this milestone.

Everyone except this unknown visitor to my brother's blog... and I quote:

Wot a bloody boring blog this is. My computer went to sleep just displaying it. Please stop writing it now. (Comment this)

Written by: Rapscallion Destroyer of Cheesy Worlds at 2006/08/29 - 18:59:11


One popular feature of cyberspace is the clandestine nature of posting, that allows individuals to debate topics or post opinions in relative obscurity. A good example would be the witty retort that our good friend "Scally" had bestowed upon our humble presence.

I would have suggested addressing this on my brother's blog, but it's purpose is to inform, not to entertain. My blog, on the other hand, is for entertaining a captive audience, in particular one bored soldier soon to be baking his brains in a tent somewhere in the Arabian peninsula. So on behalf of that soldier and his kin, let me say with all pleasure and endearment:


Dear Scally,
Thank you for taking the time to critique this blog. I am sorry that you and your sleep- deprived computer found it not to your liking, but cyberspace is an immensely large environment that is sure to have some areas that are more to your exacting tastes. Since I am busy with other things I will leave you with only one example, but hope that you find it more suited to your predilection.

http://www.albinoblacksheep.com/flash/youare.php

Regards, Rich in Cincy

Joe and Michelle arrive from London

Yesterday at about 2:00pm eastern standard time my sister Michelle and her husband Joe returned from England to Cincinnati via the daily Delta flight. Being as I work at the airport, it is duly assumed by all family members that I am the designated “meet my flight” person, the envy of my lineage having the all potent parking pass that allows waiting without constant Timex reference moments due to ever aging parking ticket stub racking up fees quicker than a DVD accidentally left on the coffee table by the front door.

Having an airport badge affords me the opportunity to wait in the secure area for the international passengers to exit the immigration and customs area rather than beyond the TSA checkpoints with the rest of humanity. It is only a small area with four blue vinyl generic airport seats wedged tightly between an elevator and a set of escalators. I took my place at the seat closed to the international screening stations (yes, when you enter the USA from another country you must be re-screened to enter the secure area of the airport.) I saw a large group of elegantly groomed crew members wearing nicely fitted dark blue uniforms and more stripes and insignias then a well seasoned NASA team, so I knew that the Air France flight had coming in first today, which meant it would be at least twenty minutes before Joe and Michelle would make their grand appearance. On the other side of the elevator was a bank of TV monitors listing all the flights for the next couple of hours departing the airport. This bank is really the place to concentrate on when international passengers are arriving and looking for their connecting flights. Keep in mind they have probably been sitting on an aircraft for over nine hours and are usually disoriented, tired, and in many cases non-English speaking.

As I sit waiting the first bank of passengers endeavor to interpret the flight information as it is posted. Most of my entertainment value is supplied by the married couples, as it is a universal trait of mankind that after a long flight married couples (or even just couples in general) will debate which gate or direction they should go.

Occasionally single males will come through the exit gate with a backpack or overnight bag, take a swift knowing look at the flight board, and hastily pace directly toward the correct part of the concourse after briefly reviewing the overhead signs for directions. “Take that Rosanne Barr! “ they seem to be saying with their swagger. Well, they would say that if they know who Rosanne Barr actually was.

Here comes Joe and Michelle… end of gab….

My Crosswalk

This was written in April 2006 after an adventurous walk from my car to my office....

I work at the Cincinnati Northern Kentucky International Airport in the Finance department for the airport authority (Kenton County Airport Board or KCAB) One of the perks in working for KCAB is that we get a pass to park in the main passenger short term parking lots on the facility as opposed to the employee lot, which happens to be somewhere in the same general vicinity of the airport but not necessarily the same area code. Then again, airline employees get free flight privileges and we don't, so that would be a point in their favor.

But that is not why we are here today....

We are required to park in either Terminal 1 or 2 parking lots as 90% of passenger traffic parks in terminal 3. Once your car is safely tucked away in these concrete sarcophagi is the beginning of the only real adventure of the day, the dreaded attempt at successfully navigating the crosswalk between the parking lot and the terminal building. Now, for the record, the crosswalks have over sized stop signs and flashing lights that in no uncertain terms informs the drivers of approaching vehicles that perhaps this is a sign from the heavens that you might want to consider actually slowing down if not coming to a complete stop.

Alas, that would be too easy a thought to process for the average American driver. My contention is that the thought processes of these maniacal automotive operators are actually working like this:

“ There are no Police cars in sight so it must be okay to run this stop sign.”

“And also since I can’t see any Police, it is probably okay to ignore the 20 mph speed limit signs and do 40 mph instead, that way I can brake harder when I zip by the signs for the terminal I am looking for…”

“If I hit that pedestrian in the crosswalk my insurance should cover it.”

“Plus, medical technology is amazing these days… he/she would only be in the hospital for a few weeks.”

“I should always drive as fast as I can around an airport, I mean look how fast they let those planes come in!”

The Incredible Exciting Meeting with our Bank

Well the meeting has ended, and I must say for the record that it has taken a considerable period of time since the end of dialogue for my heart rate to slacken and my breathing pattern to return to normal. Thus the delay in preparing this blog entry.

I will sum up the background as to why the meeting occured. Back in 2002 and before I was gainfully employed here, my employer (thus referred to as "the airport") sent out an RFP (request for proposal) for banking services. The bank I met with today in fact won the bid to become our depository bank. In fact, the terms they gave us were so generous that they are currently choking on them four years later because it was tied to interest rates and interest rates are now at a seven year high. Subsequently they wanted to change the terms of the contract from 2002. We said no. They started throwing around the famous "win-win" term in trying to come up with a solution. We said... "We are already winning", how can you possibly enrich us even further without cost you even more money?"

They were not amused...

Today's meeting was suppose to be the follow up with the "win-win". Thus my boss and I trudge down to an open conference room with 3 navy blue suits, 1 grayish black ensemble, and a female member paying more tribute to current fashion in a greenish suit jacket with black slacks then all the other suits combined. The prerequiste "sharing" of business cards ritual ensued followed by sublime niceties for another minute or two.

Then we are down to business. Blue suit #3 (whom none of us had ever met before) lauches into the win-win with the energy of champion race horse heading directly down the home stretch. He shares an incomprehensible analysis of the yield curve and boldly states that we need to buy some Federal government agency bonds from them.

And that was pretty much the highlight of the meeting for the bank. The rest of the meeting was taken up with mindlessly minor minions of data such as:

"All well and good Mr. Banker, but we also had an RFP and subsequent bid for our investment advisory services, that you had bid on and did not win. In fact Mr. Banker, I would not be far off base if I quoted Jeff Spicolli here in regards to the contents of your proposal: "Not even close, Bud!". "

"Based on the bonds you showed us, we have to hold them for over 4 years, but our investment policy ( which we are sure you read before coming here) clearly states we can not hold bonds longer than 3 years. Does this mean you have such a great relationship with Uncle Sam that you can get them to release our funds early unlike any other company on the planet?"

" While your at it, can you get my brother out of having to go to Iraq, Mr. Banker...."

Reason for posting

Like many of you we are all affected in some way by the current deployment of service men and women in Iraq. My perspective of this conflict will take on a personal feel when my brother deploys later this year. This blog is an attempt to give him what he has requested, a personal periscope on current events back here in the United States... with an emphasis on no matter being too trivally or too boring.

Heck, that's easy. To write a blog that is designed to put the average person to sleep. I'm already half way to catching zzz's writing it.

I am currently waiting for bank representatives to show up for a meeting. More detail on the meeting to follow.