While I was on a business trip in London a few years ago, a surprise snow blanketed the city. A colleague, looking out the window of our hotel room at the falling snow, quipped:
“It’s so Dickensian!”
And we had our catchphrase.
It did feel like we had stepped back in time, into one of the classic novels we had all read in school. The snow didn’t last, but the memory of that brief interlude has to this day.
Stateside in 2012, ‘Dickensian’ has an entirely different vibe.
StrangeBeautiful just launched their Dickensian Edition of nail colors, which is roughly 10 different shades…of black.
(Only true New Yorkers can discern the difference.)
Creator Jane Schub said her interpretation of Dickens for the collection was inspired by photography, literature, art, coal and broken shale.
Police officers in Cuidad Juarez ticketed a six-year old boy who ran his brand new mini motorbike into an SUV. The child was charged with reckless driving, driving without a license and not having his vehicle registered.
Hope he could walk a straight line.
The police impounded his Christmas present, too, and posted $183 in fines. So the boy’s mother went to the media in protest. The city council caved to the pressure, dropped the fines, released the bike and punished the policemen.
I got a peek behind the curtain yesterday during my flight to Dallas. Discovered something that can turn a cold, distant flight attendant into a friendly and engaged conversationalist.
Cookies
It’s as simple as that.
Two pilots were deadheading on my flight from New York City, and they were in the row in front of me. After we achieved a ‘comfortable cruising altitude,’ the flight attendants started coming. One by one. Big smiles on their faces. Gratitude on their lips.
All because one of the pilots brought the crew cookies when he boarded the plane.
With the rest of the passengers, the flight attendants were polite, but we didn’t get those genuine grins. Or the frequent check-ins to see if we needed anything else.
I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised. I’ve received a less effusive version of this treatment when I’ve given a flight attendant a magazine when I’m finished with it. But yesterday I learned an important nuance:
Christmas may have come and gone, but the yule log is still burning bright.
On TV, that is.
I have been visiting my sister and brother-in-law for the holidays, and they haven’t had cable television in years. They watch movies and TV shows via Internet streaming services like Netflix and Hulu.com.
So when they aren’t online or are listening to music, chances are pretty good a fire is burning on their TV. This has become a tradition of sorts at Christmas, but I didn’t know where it originated until today.
Chalk up another one for New York City.
WPIX-TV Channel 11 was the first TV station to broadcast the burning yule log way back in 1966. President and CEO Fred M. Thrower thought residents of New York who didn’t have fireplaces would appreciate the added holiday cheer. And it allowed station employees to stay home and celebrate Christmas with their families during the four-hour time slot.
I’m not a big one for tradition. I’m not sentimental or conventional. I actually enjoy being a bit of an outlier.
Call me, Malcolm.
But when I come back to Kansas City, there is a ritual that I simply have to complete before the first 24 hours are through.
I gotta go to Margarita’s.
I love everything about this local Mexican restaurant. I love driving up and seeing its homely exterior. I love the crowded parking lot that challenges every visitor. I love the swoosh of heat and cheese that greets you when you open the door.
I love the expected wait (but I love last night’s unexpected quick seating even better). I love the utilitarian tables, menus and rolled silverware. I love the freaky, modernistic artwork that hasn’t changed in a decade.
Most of all, I love the food. The chips and salsa. The queso dip. The nachos. The quesadillas and burritos. The fried ice cream like no other. The simple yummy goodness, the sameness of my Mexican food home away from home.
My good friend Caroline visited this past week, a gift from her husband for her birthday.
Nice one, Shaun.
During her four days in Manhattan, we saw two Broadway shows, a taping of Anderson, a movie on a rainy day, shopping, holiday lights, more shopping, and lots and lots of food, drink and wonderful conversation.
She was also able to reconnect with three other friends who call New York City home.
And while I know the chance to see Hugh Jackman perform live on stage was the once-in-a-lifetime opportunity that spurred the last-minute trip, having so much time together to simply talk and catch up was an incredible luxury.
Would we have traded some of that time to meet Hugh in person?
American Airlines — you know, the bankrupt one — sent me an email reminder last night to check-in for my ‘international flight.’
Can I really leave the country on American Eagle in less than 90 minutes?
Turns out I can.
That breathtaking view is Toronto, Ontario. This won’t be my first visit there, but my first real opportunity to see the city . Last time the weather was so heinous, I only saw the airport and my hotel, which was located on the outskirts of the city.
Didn’t step a foot outside.
This trip I’m staying in the heart of the city. So I’m crossing all my available appendages that it will be nice enough outside to do a little sightseeing during my 30-hour stay. But the forecast says ‘light snow.’
I was wondering what I would write today, and then it hit me.
Literally.
I was sitting on the airplane, and the passenger in front of me reclined his seat back in one fast, forceful, in-my-face motion. Since he was quite tall, his head was suddenly inches from my face.
There was no look back to see if I had my tray table down. (It was.) No quick check to make sure he wouldn’t overturn food or crush a laptop. (I almost dropped both.) He just pushed his way into my personal space.
This was war.
Now, I have a lot of sympathy for the overly tall on airplanes. I have given up my exit row seat on more than one occasion to folks jammed into middle seats. But this man had two seats to himself. He could have easily angled his body to gain more legroom without robbing me of mine.
Allowing seats to recline on airplanes is based on the assumption that people will do the right thing. Can we assume that anymore?
Sadly, I think not.
So I propose that, going forward, we remove the recline lever from all airplane seats. Instead, the standard airplane seat will be set at a gentle recline at all times. This compromise position will accommodate the majority of travelers and do away with the growing recline lever abuse.
It will also free up flight attendants of one pre- and post-flight announcement and duty — no more seat backs to straighten or police.
I like it. What say you? Vote in the poll below. Be heard!
It sparkles. It’s sharp, so it could draw blood. And it’s beautiful.
Is it…a vampire?
No. (But it’s the right time of year to think so.)
Actually, this is an extreme closeup of one of several glass cacti created by artist Dale Chihuly. They are part of his “Nature of Glass” exhibit on display through March 2012 at the Desert Botanical Garden in Phoenix.
I love glass, and thanks to a happy Google accident, I am now aware of Dale’s work. Also, Phoenix locals can take advantage of glass blowing classes that are offered throughout the year at the Botanical Garden.
Police officers in Cuidad Juarez ticketed a six-year old boy who ran his brand new mini motorbike into an SUV. The child was charged with reckless driving, driving without a license and not having his vehicle registered.
Like the Dickens
“It’s so Dickensian!”
And we had our catchphrase.
It did feel like we had stepped back in time, into one of the classic novels we had all read in school. The snow didn’t last, but the memory of that brief interlude has to this day.
Stateside in 2012, ‘Dickensian’ has an entirely different vibe.
(Only true New Yorkers can discern the difference.)
Creator Jane Schub said her interpretation of Dickens for the collection was inspired by photography, literature, art, coal and broken shale.
Geez, Jane — did you even read the novels?
They have happy endings.
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Posted in Humor, Travel, Beauty, Life, Books, Shopping, Commentary
Tagged Travel, books, shopping, Charles Dickens, Humor, life, beauty, New Yorkers, commentary, snow storm, London, Dickensian, StrangeBeautiful, nail polish, StrangeBeautiful Dickensian Edition, black nail polish, shale, coal, Jane Schub