Monkey Bags
It seems like in the past few years I've seen more and more parents placing their children on some sort of safety harness. I continue to look and laugh at the idea of parents putting Monkey Bags on their children. Don't get me wrong, I think putting wild children on leashes sounds like a good idea on paper, but really isn't that just turning your child into a pet? The best moment I love seeing is when the child tries their best to move too far ahead and gets forced backwards. They tug as far as they can and the parent has to play this tug-of-war with their own child.
When I was a child, I didn't get leashes. I actually got a concerned parent's hand. I get that there was less technology (and less people) back in the day [gosh I sound like I'm fifty], but that shouldn't make a difference. If a kid wanted to get close, they drag the parent or the parent took the effort to put the kid on their shoulders.
I find putting leashes on children to be a very lazy way of parenting. If you don't think that your child is ready to go out into the world, maybe you should practice in smaller areas. Let's start with the local park. Maybe go to a mall that had more people. Work your way up to local amusement parks. Then go to Disney World. It's just like bringing in new sneakers to Disney and realizing that your feet hurt after two hours of standing in the heat. What happened to sitting down and talking to your child? Telling them that the kids have to be on their best behavior because there are a lot of people at Disney. Hell, even threatening them that Mickey doesn't like naughty children (I'm pretty sure he doesn't).
The Long Island Look
I sat at the Southwest terminal in Orlando Airport looking around at passers-by, the airplanes going to and fro, and the families nearby. I turned to Mark and told him "Everyone looks like such Long Islanders." He glanced around and agreed. Many of the passengers were Caucasian with some sort of fake tan, they dressed like Long Islanders, they sounded like Long Islanders, they reacted like Long Islanders (some Long Islander complained about the Priority Seating situation as well).
Maybe it was just me, so I milled mentally, rotating my mental Rolodex, trying to remember as many Long Islanders that I've encountered in the past years. Sadly, most of them matched up. I looked across to the terminal on the other side of the walkway and there was a diverse group headed over to Newark. Maybe some of them were on multi-stopped routes to other cities, or maybe the fact is that the surrounding area in New Jersey has a more ranged population.
I thought to myself, am I being ignorant? But the agreement from Mark was enough to make me dispel that argument. I mean, there is a Bostonian/Massachusetts/Nantucket kind of look, but I don't really complain there. People wearing clothes from the Lands End collection at Sears or the women purchasing their looks from Talbots. Speaking in a very regionalized accent. The belief the Boston Red Sox are actually a good team. I can accept all that. This Long Island look though seems to be bringing the rest of New York down.
Going Solar
A few weeks back I was hooked into buying another solar powered outdoor light. The big selling point of this was that it claimed to also be a mosquito/bug zapper. I ponied up the six dollars, plopped it in my backyard (ironically not into the ground, but in it's own flower pot), switched it to "bug zapper" mode, and waited for night. As night finally fell, I stared out of my kitchen every commercial break and wondered if this thing actually killed a bug. I don't care if it was a mosquito, any bug will do. The eerie purple glow was at least interesting to look at in comparison to the really annoying white LED lights. In the morning I checked the surrounding area and saw no dead bugs. Either the birds now had a buffet table or it actually didn't kill anything. While I still keep the light there, I doubt it still does any good effect except turn my backyard into a black light rave party for the birds and squirrels.
At Epcot I couldn't resist purchasing myself a small panda I saw in the Japan pavilion. (We're going to ignore the obvious question of "Why didn't you buy it in China?") First off, it's a panda and how can you resist that? Secondly, it was one of those cute unnecessary waving pandas, powered by a small solar panel the size of one placed in a calculator. It leans it's head back and forth and waves a piece of golden bamboo at you. (Ah, such is an easy life) This panda, who hasn't been given a name yet, has his solar panel on the side instead of on the top of the machine, but manages to get enough solar power nonetheless. I have yet to figure out a perfect spot for the new addition to my room/house, but he will definitely be waving to someone very soon.
It made me wonder, if one small solar panel the size of my Centrum Cardio pill I (should) take every morning can power a small waving panda or a panel the size of 3/4ths of a credit card can charge a battery to light a small light for five hours, what sized panels do I need to power a crock pot? How many batteries would I need to charge up so that it could pump a constant heat to my crock pot and produce some wonderful chili?
When I was younger, solar panel calculators felt like the peak of solar energy. While there is technology out there, I feel as though a lot of the items that have arrived into the marketplace have become quite cosmetic. Yes, there is a use for solar lights to light the way to your front door, and yes, you only pay the up-front fee (plus replacement batteries), but where are all the cool solar powered items? Hell, I still would kill for a hand-crank phone/iPod charger. I think if people want to throw around big "green" words, then maybe they should start selling alternate energy items at your local mega-mart.
Florida Water
There is definitely something wrong about the water in Florida. Orlando specifically. I get that their water is run through filters and all, but they must be mixing in a heavy amount of fluorides and other chemicals. Every time that I'm down at the Disney area, I try my best to either have bottled water, or heavily chilled water. Heavily chilled because I hope that my mouth is so numb that I can't taste. Every time I drink normal temperature water, I swear that the water tastes like I drank swimming pool water.
Maybe I've been spoiled drinking massive amounts of bottled water. Don't get me wrong, I've cut 1/4 use of bottled water to my Pur filter and the water tastes fine. What I don't understand is why Disney can't get a sponsorship with Brita or Pur (or any filter company really) and get good water.
6/19/10
I stared at my rack of shoes, now displaced in my "office" and wondered to myself about how first impressions could be. I figure I was going to be rejected anyway so I grabbed the comfortable brown shoes with the scuffs on them. If I have to drive down to Jersey City, I'd rather not wear the boots that turn me from 5'6 to 5'8. Either way, that mysterious growth in height is just deceiving marketing.
I went up the stairs to fix my hair. It had already poofed out because I spent too much time playing Rollercoaster Tycoon 2 to calm me down. I plopped in the product as best I could with dry hair and realized I needed a haircut. Before I could make it back to my room my mother reminded me that we're having Father's Day dinner tonight and I should get home as quickly as possible. Great, she probably just predicted that I will be lost in New Jersey, my GPS telling me to make legal U-Turns for the following hour.
My only lunch today consisted of reheated McDonalds. I stood over by the oven hoping i didn't burn the bun. I crisped it, but like an idiot I decided to touch a melted puddle of cheese, stinging my finger. Then I realized that a) my victory/defeat meal consisted of day-old McDonalds and b) I was eating cheese, a big no-no for singers. I crossed my fingers and hoped that for once McDonalds made their cheeses out of oil and FD&C Yellow No. 5.
I got up to pee, set my GPS and headed out. I grabbed my short sleeved shirt that I haven't worn since last May 2009; it was the shirt I was wearing the time I got rejected on the Disney version of American Idol. Irony. I tried my best to get some sort of comforting message from Mark, but I knew that the combination of his archaic cell phone with my moody BlackBerry I'd get "I *fizzle fizzle* you, so *fizzle*." I'd hope that fizzle actually meant something about luck, love, or even confidence. I better have confidence. I decided to Rick Roll myself.
Priority Seating
I've been an avid flier of JetBlue because two of my local airports have service to the Orlando region. I understand their business model, their website is very clean, and they have televisions that I can watch shows about plane disasters on the History Channel while in a plane. On my last trip to Florida, I took Southwest for the first time.
At the Orlando Airport, JetBlue and Southwest tend to share the same area so I always looked around at the other terminals while on my way to the restroom. I never understood it. There were posts with numbers from 1-30 broken into groups of five. I shrugged and went to pee.
I finally experienced the posts. Apparently you have to pay more to get in the front of the line. Now that doesn't necessarily mean you get the front of the airplane, somehow there are a handful of wheelchair-bound passengers that will always make it in front of you. What I don't understand is why people couldn't just pick their seats before they boarded... like with JetBlue (or even Spirit, but don't get me started with them). One could do the math better if they realize they have to add ten dollars to their trip just for the chance to sit close to the front. I feel more comfortable knowing that I will be sitting in X row and Y seat.
Maybe it's because I suffer from last-kid-picked syndrome that I am disturbed by the way Southwest has formed the queue. Everything else was par: the piloting was fine, the service was decent, the snack options were lackluster, the stewardesses looked bored, and the bathroom wasn't as clean as I would hope. I'll admit that I would sit in the back if it meant I would pay less. I would also be willing to split up into different rows or put two people on the two isles if they really want to sit close.
Something about Southwest's queue screams, "If you're not part of the club, then sit in the back" to me. This clearly will never become a Rosa Parks situation and people will continue to shell out ten dollars to sit closer to the front. Will I ever fly Southwest again? It seems likely. Am I willing to shell out ten dollars? I'm not so sure. Eh, just put me all the way in the back, at least that way I can make it to the rear bathroom quickly.
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