The Journey to Chi-town

It was time to leave for the airport and I was still snoozing with my bags still barely packed. I added an extra hour to the usual 3 hour check in requirement for international flights because of that London bombing attempt incident. A few minutes later, I woke up in panic and I was stuffing all the items I think I’ll need into my bag. I got ready in around 15 minutes, zipped Crispin and Basilio close (yes, my two luggages have names) and dumped them into the car.

A day before that our company sent out a memo that there will be no carry-on luggages allowed which means all I could bring with me was my passport and my travel documents in a big brown envelope. That was it. No iPods, no laptops, or other reading materials as they were all checked in.

I still don’t get it. Some time ago some dude placed a bomb in his shoes and now we have to take off our shoes every inspection. Now some dude had a bomb made of gel and liquid and now we can’t bring my Bench Fix hair gel and Gatorade on board? Imagine if that bomber snuck a bomb in his pants… :-/

So I was at the airport late and checked in just in time. I was able to meet up with Lianne but no sign of Gezelle. It was while in the check in line at Northwest when it was announced that we could bring electronics and carry on luggage after all (but still no liquid substances). I quickly stuck my hand into my luggage and grabbed any item I could take with me in my brown envelope. First try, I was able to pull my camera. Yay! I needed that. Next I was able to pull out a can of shaving cream. Hmm… back it went. Third try drew a Digtal Fortress book. Cool! At least now I have more things to entertain myself with.

After checking in, I had to pay the terminal fee. Fee for what? NAIA looks like a mess. The award for the stupidest fee is a toss up between the NAIA terminal fee and the LTO computer fee.

Then came the inspection. I was asked if I had any liquid with me. I wanted to tell her that the human body is made up of approximately 60% water but I know more than to fire jokes at airport security personnel. My inspection lasted for only a minute since I practically brought nothing - it was just a brown envelope in a plastic bag which I grabbed right before I left the house. The poor guy behind me was held up by the security people. He was holding something that was being analyzed and seriously discussed by four inspectors and they were obviously baffled about what to do with what he brought – a block of tofu in a tupperware. Well, in fairness it wasn’t really liquid and it wasn’t gel-like right?

Finally I was at the gates with Lianne who looked like a zombie… just like me. She made fun of the plastic bag I used to carry my envelope with. Well, I didn’t have time to grab the manliest plastic bag I could.

Pogi points = pogi points – 50

zombie

I boarded the plane, set down to my seat and was quickly asleep even before the plane took off. When I woke up we were already at Narita. Wow! That was fast!

At Narita airport, we were finally able to meet up with Gezelle who quickly made fun of my plastic bag as well. I was beginning to think maybe I should have taken the extra minute to look for my camouflage or my black Chicago Bulls plastic bag but noooooo… I had to grab the mint green and baby blue bag with two sissy fishies blowing bubbles.

Lianne and Gezelle’s flight was an hour earlier than mine so I used up the extra time to have lunch first at a nearby McDonald’s. Good thing they accept US dollars. In a heartbeat, I devoured my Beeg Maaku meela and laaaj frinch fraaaays. (you have to read it with a Japanese accent you goober).

I was mostly asleep during the 14 hour trek to Detroit and nothing big really happened. At the US immigration booth, the agent was laughing at me because I was going to Chicago and I was wearing a BoSox shirt. He told me not to get beat up there.

Next came the Detroit luggage carousel as I was looking for Crispin and Basilio. After going around the two carousels I found out that some jerk picked up Basilio and put him on the floor. Hey, if you grab a bag and it ain’t yours, put it back to tee carousel so it can er… uh… carouse its way to its owner (I’m bad at making up words). As for Crispin, it was on the other carousel. More inspections came and I was now even more tempted to fire the “body has 60% water” joke but I had to restrain myself. (No Arn, huwag dito…) After ditching my bags and going through another set of inspections, it was a mad rush to the gate for my connecting flight as I only had 10 minutes to reach the end of the Detroit Airport. I had the strangest feeling of déjà vu since the same thing happened back in Minnesota a few months ago.

Now I was flying FIRST CLASS to Chicago! Wow! All that frequent flying finally paid off. I was sitting in seat 1 – B. I was amazed with all the leg room I had and I was frequently looking back at row 6 behind me (the economy people) while swinging my legs madly. Heheheh (I’m so mean). I had a Pepsi and they gave me a glass of ice… not that dinky plastic cup. They also gave me gourmet mixed nuts which I finished within 20 seconds. They also gave me some pretzels which tasted like sticks with salt… ewww… this was 1st class?!? Oh well…

Wheee... first class...

So there I was back in Chicago. Hello my friend we meet again… I ran to the luggage carousel and quickly retrieved Basilio. Where’s Crispin? I was waiting for more than an hour frantically looking for Crispin until the carousel stopped with still no sign of it. I was frantically running back and forth the carousels looking for Crispin but I still couldn’t find it. I wanted to shout “Crispiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiin!” but that would just look too stupid. Besides there were a lot of Filipinos in the crowd who might wonder why Sisa suddenly become so fat. I lined up at the nearby Northwest office and found out that Crispin was still in Detroit and will be arriving in an hour. So there I was sitting at one of the benches - exhausted and drained. An hour later, I was now deciding whether to take a 40 dollar cab ride or a 1.75 dollar train ride. My weary body was begging my brain to go for the cab but the wallet says take the blue line instead. So train train ride it was.

I arrived at the Thompson Center and lugged Crispin and Basilio out to the street for the 4 block journey to my hotel. It was real nice of Tessa to book me in that hotel. What a friend! Just when I was finally starting to feel happy fate just decided to put a halt to that. One of Crispin’s wheel came loose and now won’t turn and now it was like pulling a large sack of rice. 4 blocks later, I was at the hotel exhausted, drained and now sore, when I heard that one sentence that haunted me for a week - “There’s no Arnold here”. I didn’t have a reservation. “but but but my prend kold last wik and booked me to dis pleys.” (nawala na accent ko sa pagod). Turns out Tessa booked me to the wrong hotel more than 10 blocks away.

TV News Reporter: “…police are in Wacker drive here in downtown Chicago investigating on a filed report about a madman threatening a certain ‘Teysa’ while shouting what appears to be profane words in Tagalog near the Club Quarters hotel before fleeing away in a cab. Sources say that he is backed up by two goons named ‘Crispin’ and ‘Basilio’. Police wanted to label him as armed and dangerous but surveillance cameras show us what appears to be a mint green and baby blue plastic bag with two sissy fishies blowing bubbles and eventually declared him as just a big wuss…”

1 Win - 0 Loss

I think this was the first sport I ever played in Chicago. I hit two home runs while hitting with a left handed stance. The first was sliced to the opposite way just barely grazing the fence while the second was way over the fence to center.

Amazing? No doubt!

Felt good? Not one bit. :(

We were playing tennis.

Mike and I played last week too, I was losing 0 – 3 before they closed the courts. This time, I was losing 2 – 6 in the 1st set and was losing 0 – 5 in the 2nd set, when Mike decided to call time out and eventually called it quits.

So… according to the rule book, I get the win right?

Milan

The story of neverending onshore drama...

Stole this Quiz from Gwenny...

'What" will your obituary say?' at QuizGalaxy.com

Book Tag

1. Grab the nearest book.
2. Open the book to page 123.
3. Find the fifth sentence.
4. Post the text of the next 3 sentences on your blog along with these instructions.
5. Don’t you dare dig for that "cool" or "intellectual" book in your closet! I know you were thinking about it! Just pick up whatever is closest.
6. Tag three people.

“Being too handsome is indeed a problem that though has only plagued a select few, involves a big challenge and should be addressed properly in addition with the problems of being too sexy and too talented. In this chapter, we will be discussing these three problems all at once and at the same time, learning how to mingle with the average Joes and how to “dress down” so as to not offend the other not so fortunate and blessed ones. Humility will be discussed in full in the next chapter.”

… Ok fine I made that up. Here’s the real thing:

“Query parameters are different from report parameters in that they filter the rows of a dataset and are always linked to report parameters to get a value. When specifying a query parameter in a query, the notation that must be used is the @ sign followed by the parameter name. To manually create a map between the query parameter and a report parameter, select the dataset in the Data view, click the Edit Selected Dataset button, and select the Parameter tab.”

page 123, Microsoft SQL Server 2005 Report Services for Dummies by Mark Robinson.

This is what I’ve been reading the past week since this is why I’m here in the first place. =) What a geek!

I tag... Liza, Gezelle and Rogeena. =)

Back Where It All Happened

What are you doing here?

I don’t know.

You’re not yet supposed to be here.

I know.

…and yet I am. Back to the place that has meant so much to me already. Back to the place where it all happened. It’s weird coming back here. Surreal. Both Oakwood and Sterling have that aura. Same goes with La Salle drive, McDonald’s, #22 bus and Singha. So many places. So many events. So many memories.

To be with the people I said good bye to a few months ago. People I thought I would never be with again. It feels weird to be walking these streets and being with these people again.

Surreal. There isn’t any other word to describe it.

Elevator Basics

(set sarcastic_tone = true) … ok game...

The elevator is a veeeeeery complicated machine... I know... On the ground floor, there’s only one button and since it doesn’t have a label, who knows what it’s for right? When you enter one, there are too many buttons inside! I only need to go to the 22nd floor… Gee… I wonder which one I should press… I tried the one beside the big number “12” but oh no!!! it stopped on the 12th floor!!! There’s got to be an instruction manual somewhere… maybe it’s that sheet of paper the size of a stamp that’s on a 8x11 frame oh wait, that’s only the elevator permit. (Look, I’m not a legal expert but maaaaaaaaybe there’s a law that they have to print it on a 2x2 paper… the size of a photo ID… maaaaaaaaybe it’s to conserve paper, help the environment and save the endangered Philippine tube-nosed fruit bat… I really don’t know…)

Anyways, don’t worry because though I am weird, at least I’m helping you guys out by sharing my vast knowledge in the world of elevator usage.

Press the button just once. You’re on the ground floor, you’re late or you really have to go to the bathroom, you press the up button. Good job. Look, there’s no need to press it again. If it’s lit, it knows what you want. It’s thaaaat smart. Pressing and mashing the up button won’t make the cars arrive earlier. Once is enough. Besides, that technique is only known to work in remote controls. Press the change channel button and it doesn’t do anything. Press it harder and lo, more channels!

Look at the up/down lights. You press the “up” button because you want to go up. I won’t tell you what the “down” button does… there’s a quiz later. Once one of the elevator cars is available and does that doorbell-like sound, look at the lights on the outside – there’s an up light and a down light. If the down light is lit, it will go down. If teh up light is lit, it will go up. Trust me. I’ve tried it.

Closing doors. Filipinos are not known to hold the elevator door open for others, actually they even press the close button. If you are about to board an elevator then the door suddenly starts to close, there’s absolutely no need to shout and panic. There’s no need to scream at the people already inside the elevator. Just put your arm between the doors and it will open. There’s a silver thingie as well on the edge that once pressed, will open the doors too. It’s designed to close but not to crush people ok? Just stick out your arm, you’ll be amazed.

Face anywhere. While inside the elevator, there’s no rule where I can face right? I mentioned I’m no legal expert but this one I can be sure of. With that, if I want to board the elevator with my back against the door while facing the other people inside it, I will. Yes, Arnold is THAT weird. Besides, whenever I’m waiting for the elevator going down, then it does arrive but it’s already full and so I have to catch the next one, it’s funny how people “arrange” themselves such that when the door opens, it looks like a big family portrait.

Lastly, if the elevator buzzes, it’s saying “HEY!!! ARE YOU GETTING ON OR WHAT?!? DECIDE NOW AND STOP TALKING TO YOUR FRIEND! IF YOU WANNA TALK TO HIM, BOARD THE NEXT ONE, IF NOT, GET IN!”.

Ok fine, that last one I made up but if the elevator does start buzzing, and you’re still deciding whether to get in or not, you have issues, dude.

…and stop asking me what the “push to call” button is for.

That Night

Before leaving for Glorietta that night, Jaye cut out some packaging tape as we wrapped the wiper blades which left a big question mark on Allan’s head. At least the wiper’s there. That’s Arn’s basic concept for repairs – if it moves but it shouldn’t, use packaging tape. If it doesn’t move but it should, use oil. Simple as that.

Funny thing I saw while driving home. On this one way street, a cop was in the middle waving his towel and directing traffic. Dude, it’s a one way street… where else would I go?!? Maybe he’s the same guy who worked at the DFA. Somewhere out there in the city, some helpless guy was probably held up but are the cops there to help him? Noooooo… they’re in Marikina… directing traffic on a one way street. Sheeesh…

By the way, remember the thing with my knee right? Last month, after more than 2 years of rest and rehab, I finally got the clearance from my doctor to play again. Cool! The first activity I did and I injured my foot – plantar fasciitis and it’s a bad one. Automatically, I was shut down for another 1 month. Finally, after lots of medicine and exercise, my foot’s good to go now.

… then I stepped on a pothole in the mall parking lot and badly sprained my ankle. I fell flat on the pavement again.

It’s like the Greek tragedy of rehabilitation stints. “Arn meet pavement… pavement meet Arn…”

“you again?!?”

That’s the thing with having badly injured legs like mine, it’s strong per se but one push and it collapses. One thing I learned through rehab is that it’s better to fall down than to try and regain balance since you injure yourself more frequently that way. This means that once I become even slightly off balanced I fall down as if I was shot by snipers… or like those world cup players.

On a side note, interesting how those soccer players, especially during the world cup play right? They are bringing down the ball, someone slides a few feet in front of them barely touching them, they fall writhing in pain, screaming as if someone pinched their… you know… with pliers, lie down, roll around, holding their leg then once the referee’s whistle blows, they quickly stand up and run casually to the opposite side of the field as if nothing happened. Wow!

The Day My Wiper Bailed Out

It was raining hard this morning just like it did the past few days. I was stuck in the usual C5 morning traffic listening to Chico and Delamar gazing at the dark sky through my windshield which was temporarily cleared by my old reliable wipers which would wipe the rainwater off for a few seconds before it gets shrouded again.

The wipers each have 2 main clips on each end and 4 others in the middle. The 2 at the end hold the wiper blade while the 4 give it that arched design so it can glide through the glass cleanly. Then came the most horrific scene of the day, one of the clips came loose as the wiper was somewhat severely arched like a crossbow. What the?!?

Taran-taran-tarararan…

“Pop!” goes the wiper…

It was like I pressed the “eject wiper” button somewhere in the dashboard as it flew out – like a missile. Good thing it landed on top of my hood.

The bad news is that with the wiper out, the right side of the windshield wasn’t being cleared. The good news is that the left one was still working. The really really bad news is that without the right wiper, the 6 clips turned into 6 claws badly scratching away at my windshield. I quickly turned it off as the irritating metal-to-glass scratching sound was gone.

Great. Now I can’t see a thing.

I stopped and got out the car to fix the wiper blade. So there I was, drenched in the rain, studying how the whole wiper thing works by studying the left one and comparing it with the right one until I realized that the wiper blade is already damaged and I cannot really fix it.

Ok McGyver within, let’s see what you got.

I just reclipped it. I didn’t have time to gather up a paper clip, a string and some bubblegum (I dunno… this is what McGyver would look for I assume) and I was already drenched in the rain just like in those boyband music videos.

It worked… for a while. In Makati, the wiper came loose again and it started scratching at the windshield. I just turned it off and used my Jedi powers to navigate all the way until the office parking lot. Actually I was driving with my head constantly bobbing like a parrot looking for spaces on the windshield that is clear of rainwater. I also stick my head out of the side window ala Ace Ventura (but not all the way of course). Some Jedi power eh?

Going home tonight will be trickier I imagine…