Crime Doesn't Pay, Except in the AI World

Has the noise of the day ever bombarded you with one too many injustices and you just need to sound off?  We have all come to accept a number of the upsetting nuisances associated with living in the electronic world.  A couple that have gotten under my skin of late:  

Our inboxes are loaded up with e-mails or txt messages daily from a plethora of valid and invalid seller in the virtual marketplace.  For example, the other day a bedding provider wanted to make sure my wife knew they were having a sale.  So they sent her five txt messages in one day about the same sale.  They must have assumed we suffered from dementia and really needed clean sheets.  

And the cookies, always with the cookies.  The e-world wants our cookies so they can sell them to whatever flavor of NoGoodNick pays the highest price for our data.  And if we don’t allow them to gobble up our cookies – No Soup for You!  (Ala the Soup Nazi)

Using Google to search for something has become more of an art, than a science.  Last month I searched for “Coffee Icing” and the results I received were: Amazon Best Books for February, Today’s Deals, and Editor’s Picks.  Note:  I just resubmitted my search today – St. Patrick’s Day.  It did come back with valid results.  So maybe it’s me, which is not out of the question…or is Google listening to my tirade? 

And in the vane of who is listening and reporting…very recently General Motors was put on the hot seat.  It became public that without driver knowledge, their On-Star communications system was collecting data on driver performance and selling it.  So if you happen to brake hard or if every once in a while you get the urge to set the new land-speed record, you can expect your insurance premiums to skyrocket.

But I’m actually more concerned with the blatant thievery that is allowed to happen in the supposed name of free enterprise.  Or more accurately, in the name of Greed.   As an example, about a year ago, the AI tool called ChatGPT made headlines as it was being used by high school and college kids to get their homework assignments completed more quickly (See ~March 2023 issue of New Jersey Monthly).  There was a big debate with proponents for the AI technology saying, we can’t put any regulations on this technology, it would be bad for business.  And others saying something to the effect of, “Hey, but this could get out of hand.”  Well I recently attended a seminar and heard about how it is in fact getting out of hand.  Unscrupulous characters are generating books with AI tools based off original authors’ work.  And if that wasn’t bad enough, they’re posing as the real authors selling their AI generated, copyright infringing books on our country’s major on-line bookseller platforms.  It only gets better.  With today’s modern technology, these booksellers can’t help but know exactly who the fraudsters are.  (Guess what tools they use to detect the fraud...wait for it - Artificial Intelligence!) But they refuse to take down the fraudulent books until the original authors, who are being hurt, make a big public stink.  So they know fraud is happening, and they even encourage it until negative public pressure is applied.  I’m not a lawyer, but it sounds like these large organizations are complicit in fraud.  I’m wondering if they’re so bold as to have a breakout category on their income statement with a heading of “Derived by AI Generated Fraud.”  

I was thinking the term and technology used to create “Deep Fakes” during the time of the pandemic is now so outdated compared to our new shiny AI creations.  It would be like comparing stick figures drawn with crayons to a van Gogh.

And the phrase “crime doesn’t pay” seems like it might be outdated.  The Bernardsville News ran a story on March 21st with the headline: Bedminster Twp. Oks an anti-crime ordinance.  The purpose of the ordinance is to fight off the numerous car thefts happening in our area.  The thefts are being perpetrated by gangs, many of which are coming from Newark.  One of the reasons for the increase in thefts is that our county prosecutors have been directed by our state Attorney General’s Office not to prosecute car thieves.  So we have brazen gangs of thieves working in an organized crime fashion, and we don’t want to prosecute them?  What am I missing here?  Similarly, I recently walked into my local bank to transact some business.  While I sat waiting, the topic of fraud leached out of me.  The person I was speaking to told me how they’re constantly battling fraudsters who enter the bank posing as someone else.  She said their security team has a database of these professional thieves.  They have their pictures and they are aware of them.  She said that when one of the crooks does enter the bank, the staff is immediately put on high alert.  Everyone puts eyes on the fraudster trying to get the message across to Joe Fraud that it’s not going to happen here today.  Still, the larcenist will look around casing the bank, searching for a weakness.  When the scoundrel does go to the counter and tries to cash a bad check they hold his transaction and wait for the crook to eventually feel uncomfortable enough to leave.  This can take some time.  Often the swindler will chat with the branch manager, giving her compliments to try to get her off the scent.  Eventually the cheat does leave and moves onto his next target, hoping for a score.  My question is, why are these heinous individuals not being arrested before they decide to up their game and or steal some senior citizen’s retirement savings?    P.S.  You have to love an on-line thesaurus.

Where Focus Goes Energy Flows

Over the years I’ve tested out a number of volunteering opportunities.  I tried Habitat for Humanity for a week.  They have great people and are an excellently run organization.  But I came to the conclusion that putting dangerously powerful tools in my hands in conjunction with scary amounts of electricity clearly was not the best idea for me.  It would be like sitting in front of a bowl of Nitro and looking across the table, seeing a pitcher of Glycerin and saying, I think mixing these two would be a superb idea.  I also volunteered at St. Hubert’s Animal Welfare Center for a few months.  St. Hubert’s is another wonderfully run organization doing the work of a higher power.  There are many ways you can volunteer at St. Huberts.  You just need to keep in mind, not everyone gets to work in the puppy pen.  That and you might have an issue if your spouse continually pressures you to bring home new pets.

After a bit of trial and error, I’ve settled on a volunteering opportunity that suits me well.  Last year as I was leafing though my AARP magazine, I saw a small, almost hidden advertisement from the New Jersey AARP Speaker’s Bureau.  They were looking for storytellers…I mean presenters.  After getting over my fear of being responsible for leading our senior citizens astray when it comes to their Social Security and Medicare benefits, I signed up.  When presenting for AARP, you cannot modify their scripts.  Bad things can potentially happen if you do – think lawsuits.  But you can embellish your presentations with your own personal stories that relate to the topic.  Read – open season for Steve.  On a more serious note, I read a very handy formula for figuring out where to volunteer and how to get motivated to do it.  “People serve when their passion meets their discipline at a moment of opportunity.”  In my case, I had a passion for storytelling.  One of my disciplines is public speaking (or at least it used to be.)  All it took was an opportunity, which presented itself in an AARP magazine ad.

The three presentations I usually do are: Medicare 101, Downsizing & Decluttering -You can’t take it with you, and the Six Pillars of Brain Health.  The latter presentation being the one I have the most personal experience with, or lack thereof.  For instance, quite often I’ll take a short stroll to check on the laundry.  On the way though, for whatever reason my brain goes out to lunch and I happen to notice there’s a tumbleweed of dog hair on the floor.  Something clicks and I decide, “I better get the vacuum cleaner out and address that untenable situation.”  As I’m vacuuming, I’ll notice a bill that needs be paid.  Well I can’t leave that alone.  And then I’m off to the races.  I eventually grab that pile of wrinkles out of the dryer a day or two later.  I’m told that this kind of activity is somewhat normal, not a sign of impending doom.  Now if I leave the house, get in my car and drive off looking for my home, then I have a problem.  And the current wisdom on how to address my affliction is to stay focused and practice self-talk as you’re doing activities. Something like, “Hey Einstein, remember you got up for a reason and the bathroom was it.”  (But really, is this what it’s come to?  I have to start talking to myself?  But isn’t that a sign I have dementia?) Well as inspirational speaker, Tony Robbins espouses in one of his mantras “Where Focus Goes Energy Flows”.   Truer words…

During my presentations, my wife usually becomes my foil.  It’s a lot of good-natured fun and I really don’t mind sleeping at the local Best Western motel.  One more punch of my BW loyalty card and I get a free night.  I’m convinced I should have been an arctic explorer because I’m constantly skating on thin ice.

So the other day I was presenting to about 50 women.  As I stared out at the crowd, in an uncommon moment of brilliance I thought to myself, "maybe these ladies aren’t going to find you quite as funny as you think you are."  

The topic on that day was Downsizing and Decluttering.   This presentation is right in my wheelhouse, I know it backwards and forwards.  But I did have some technical issues getting my nine year old laptop connected to their large gangly display system.  Seems the Xfinity cable service installed at the facility decided that I wanted to sign up for their special offer.  Xfinity was continually taking over my screen with alerts that flummoxed my presentation.  Being that I’m technically inept, this became mountains of fun.  But the presentation gods were smiling on me.  Just before show time, my eeny, meeny, miny moe method of troubleshooting succeeded, without throwing my laptop through a window.  Now the real fun begins.  I’m 60 seconds into my talk and I have a massive brain fart.  I forgot a significant line in the presentation.  And I can’t go forward because the line I misplaced in the far reaches of my gray matter is what sets up the rest of the presentation.  I’m standing up there like a deer in the headlights.  Inside my head I’m furiously thinking, “What the…heck?  This is not happening to me now!”  I’m okay if it happens in the comfort of my own home, like when I’m hungry and I forget why I went into the kitchen. (Side benefit to this move: I get to unnerve and scare the you know what out of my wife and kids.)  But here, right now during a presentation – Not Cool!  So after what felt like standing silently for two hours in front of the United Nations Security Council, I looked at the group and said, “You should see me do the Six Pillars of Brain Health presentation.  I kill that one!”  Oddly, as soon as I said that, the line I was trying to remember came screaming back to me and the uncontrollable pounding in my chest subsided.  

P.S. – AARP also an excellent organization.

Defund the IRS?

I know I’m going to regret this story, but here goes anyway.  First let me say that I am a capitalist.  My belief is that the harder and smarter you work, the more you should be paid, generally speaking.  I also believe that if you’ve lost your job due to no fault of your own and you’ve paid into unemployment insurance, then you’re entitled to appropriate unemployment benefits.  (In the same way if you’ve paid into Social Security and Medicare and you meet the requirements, you’re entitled to those benefits.)  Naturally there are exceptions to any belief system.  An example, hard working scam artists, especially the ones who call you from the IRS but have yet to garner command of the English language.  Contrary to a new belief that’s becoming popular, Fraud is not an acceptable pillar of capitalism or the American way. 

Side Note: I seriously believe that anyone about to collect Unemployment, Social Security, or Medicare should be required to listen to an hour long Fraud Alert seminar from AARP.  Just like wearing seat belts is mandatory, in desperate times, we need to protect the most vulnerable people in our communities. 

One of the valid concerns that one of our political parties has been touting is, “We’ve been spending like drunken sailors.  We need to cut back.”  A volatile area they seem to be chomping at the bit to steal from are the financial wells that fund Social Security and Medicare.  The same wells that many experts are saying will have completely evaporated in the not too distant future.  If I were a Doubting Thomas, I’d say that these folks are desperate to find additional funding to allow for a larger tax break for the wealthy.  But that’s just crazy talk.  I don’t have any facts to back up this thought and unfortunately when I do, it’ll be too late.  But this is a delicate operation for said party.  God forbid they wake up the sleeping political giant otherwise known as the Baby Boomers.  Instead, in the vein of “there’s more than one way to skin a…” they’ve decided to slowly, for now, defund necessary workers to run the social security administration.  So as much as you may qualify for benefits, you’ll never be able to get them because the remedial AI system in place is years away from a first grade education.  (P.S. the people I have recently spoken to from the Social Security and Medicare teams are very pleasant individuals.  You just need to practice your transcendental meditation as you wait to speak with someone.  On one occasion I opted to use the automated callback feature.  I missed their first callback.  During the next call I almost broke a leg diving over a couch trying to get to my cell phone.  You become paranoid that, Crap, if I miss this call...pfst, there goes my medical coverage.)

And now the tricky one, the IRS.  One of our political parties wants to defund the IRS as a way to balance the budget and potentially save the American taxpayers money.  What a noble sentiment.  Who couldn’t get behind that?  Well, depending on who you talk to, every dollar invested into IRS people and infrastructure yields three to five dollars in return.  Call me crazy, but I think we might have found a way out of our massive deficit situation.   The IRS says they need the funding to ensure they can perform audits across a wide spectrum of our population.  It seems that high value tax returns are rather complex and require more time and resources.  So without the additional funding, the IRS will have to concentrate on the middle class.  That’s just great…for the 1%ers.  Again, I’m being negative, one of our political parties would never do such a thing, right?

I do agree that being fiscally prudent is very important.  But when does it become dangerously counter productive?  For example, what if banks decided that vaults and security guards just cost too much.  Having them in place is really hurting the bottom line – they need to be removed.  Or the companies that make our mobile devices and home computers; what if they decided that security features cost too much to support - unfortunately they need teams of people to create code and stay ahead of the NoGoodNicks…no more.  And if towns and cities decided that traffic lights and streetlights inhale too much expensive electricity - We’re going to turn them all off and give back to the town folk…the ones that are still alive.  Police and Firemen, hmm?  But on a more constructive front, we could save a ton if we cut back on the number of congressional lawmakers we currently support.  (We do pay their salaries and enhanced benefit packages – no Social Security of Medicare for them.)  Montana is the 4th largest state in the union.  They have two congressmen supporting that massive state.  Texas on the other hand, is the 2nd largest state.  They have 38 congressmen.  I’ll be generous, we’ll let Texas have four congressmen.  That’s right to the bottom line savings of 34 lawmakers who really haven’t been doing anything useful for years.  

I await my call from either the IRS or the President’s subcommittee on go-forward budgeting.

Quantum Computing... A Leap for Mankind?

Folks, hopefully you saw the December 3rd 60 Minutes segment on Quantum computing.  If not, I’ll be updating you with the interesting, if not scary details discussed – Merry Christmas!  It seems that IBM, Google, Microsoft and China are the major players developing this technology that will take us to new stratospheres of computing power.  The technology moves away from the traditional transistor based architecture that has been around for three quarters of a century…give or take a decade.  The CPU complexes are called QuBits.  And you will be able to link many thousands of these QuBits together to create computers that are over a million times faster than today’s most speedy computers.  I have to say, the gear looks super impressive, like something out of Star Trek.  Unfortunately, one of the requirements to be able to have these Qubits run so fast is that they need to be kept at a temperature of 400 degrees below zero.  For comparison, that’s colder than deep space where your closest sun is more than a lifetime’s drive away.  Think about having this technology for your home computer.  On the upside you could cancel your AC maintenance contract.  On the downside you’ll need to get additional health insurance, as you’ll be having a heart attack every month when PSE&G sends you their electric bill.  But at 400 below zero, you could think of it as you doing your part to end global warming!

One problem they talked about was that currently, the technology makes mistakes, a lot of them.  It reminds me of the 90s, when the then new Intel Pentium chip first came out.  As long as you didn’t need to do high-precision division (whatever that is) you were fine.  Still, it made me feel like I wanted my IRA to be managed by someone using good old paper and pencil.  It brought new meaning to the phrase “Old School.” They’re hoping that in the next five years, with the help of summer school classes, they can teach the technology to do arithmetic accurately.

On the 60 minutes program they also had an interview with a senior person from the Cleveland Clinic who is supporting the technology in the hopes of using it to eventually solve some of healthcare’s greatest challenges, like cancer and autoimmune disease.   The solution to many of these challenges revolves around having enough processing power to address the molecular complexity of the human being.  Similarly, when the Human Genome Project first began in 1990 they estimated that with the fastest CPU technology available, it would take about 13 years to crack the first human genome.  And they were correct.  With today’s CPU technology, (400 below not required) you can crack your own personal human genome in a few days.  And just in case you were wondering, it’s not particularly cheap, yet.  The challenges of cancer and autoimmune disease are even more complex, but with computers that will be a million times faster, it looks promising…as long as the after school math help is effective. 

But, and there is always a but, as much as this technology has great positive potential, it could also be extremely efficient at cracking encryption codes on our credit cards.   We’ll all need to ensure we have the room in our homes for a large safe to hold all of our gold, as credit cards and electronic banking will become obsolete.  “Beware of the NoGoodNicks!”  

I choose to remain positive and look forward to the day when I have a Quantum based iPhone that can keep my pina colada cold on the beach!   Happy Holidays!

Fly Fishing, the New Contact Sport

So I’m meeting an old friend for our annual three-day fly fishing adventure.  This year we’re again flying to Utah, and driving three plus hours to the northeast corner of the state to fish on the Green River.  Up front let me say, I’m a horrible fly fisherman.  If my skills were evaluated, I’d be a solid C-.  Naturally the fact that I fish once a year doesn’t help.  

After a three and half hour drive from the Salt Lake City airport we arrive at a restaurant that has a fly fishing store attached to it.  As you wait for your table, you can browse for any items you might have left at home.   This is a life saver for me.  While we’re perusing the cases of flies my friend starts speaking with a guide who just today fished an area called, Jone’s Hole.  We’ll be hiking and fishing in that remote area tomorrow.  The guide explains to my friend where fish are biting and what they’re hitting.  He begins to explain this multi-tier rig where fly lines cascade from one another.  (So you’re fishing with multiple flies at the same time.) I wince as this is sounding complicated. My friend understands completely, but as soon as the guide started describing this tiered contraption, my mind glazed over.   We get to our cabin and thanks to the Internet and knot tying tutorials, I’ve created my own diabolical multi-line configuration, which I’m eager to test out in the trees and bushes tomorrow.  We’ve been to Jone’s Hole before.  This section of the Green River tributary is narrow and fast with shrubs and trees on both banks.  It is imperative that you have expert casting skills and a tight, simple rig – I have neither. 

As we arrive in the Jone’s Hole parking lot we notice a bazillion large pitch-black creatures scurrying on the ground.  They’re called, “Mormon Crickets”.  The big ones, and there are a lot of them, look like they’re the result of a horrific nuclear accident. I’m glad I’m wearing thick boots with high, rubberized socks.  As the day progresses, I complete my usual amount of shrub trimming and have come to realize I need to replace my fly with something that looks more like one of these mutant crickets.  The closest thing I have is a dark looking grasshopper.  I’m dreading dismantling my contraption and having to leverage my weak knot tying skills.  But it’s time to man up and reach for the gusto.  After a commensurate amount of cursing, I complete the operation.  I’m very pleased with myself and make my first cast.  My fly goes directly into the tall trees and with that, it’s time to call it a day.

The next day we’re fishing in the canyons that have been dug out by the Green River over millions of years.  The topography is nothing short of amazing. The canyon walls soar hundreds of feet high.  There are tiers of a variety of stone with colors ranging from gray to red to brown.  Large pine trees grow precariously out of the walls.  And the water, as you can imagine, it’s crystal clear.  Being from the East coast I never get used to the images, and the iPhone saves a ton on film costs.  In the canyons we’re fishing with a guide in his titanium rowboat.  It’s specifically designed to handle the fast moving waters of the rocky bottom Green River.  The guide sits in the middle of the boat and rows - a lot.  There’s no motor.  My friend is standing in the rear and I am in the front.  The guide is great, no attitude and has no problem repeating instructions to me…ad nauseam.  We’re fishing with a large fly that has a monster size hook.   I’ve lost a number of fish throughout the day.  It’s become my go to move.  I’m also battling to cast my fly far enough out and in the right spot on the water.  This deficiency is requiring me to quickly pull my initial cast out of the water and then lickety split recast further out.  This becomes my second go to move of the day.  The only problem is that once the fly has landed on the water during the first cast, it’s almost as if it’s stuck in glue.  Getting it to release becomes a constant herculean effort.  But once it does let go, the fly and its armor piercing hook, becomes a dangerous projectile traveling at Mach 5.  And the best part, I have absolutely no control over where it’s headed as it comes flying back towards the boat.  The guide and my friend are constantly cringing, covering and ducking.  At one point I nailed my friend in the chest and got a well deserved incredulous look.  I’m sure the guide was wondering when his turn was coming.  

So we’re in the last hour of the day and our guide takes us to a new area of the river.  I make my cast and determine right away, I’ll need to recast.  The fly with the big hook comes screaming back at me and before I can duck I feel something smack me about a quarter inch from my eye.  In a purely reflex move my hand immediately presses up against the side of my face and I can feel the hook embedded right next to my eyeball.  I glance at my two teammates, they’re stunned.  It’s as if they’ve seen a ghost - a ghost with a hook through his eye. 

The guide is now in a state of heightened concern.  (Later he said he was thinking it was time to call for a helicopter…if only we had connectivity.)  He raises his voice and says, “Don’t Move!”  He pulls the boat over and then while looking me straight in the face says, “Okay, move your hand away.”  At that point he loses it and says, “Oh My God!”  As you can imagine, just a bit of angst percolates upwards.  I’m thinking to myself, I don’t feel any pain, and I think I’m seeing out of two eyes, but maybe I’m in shock and the hook is actually sticking out of my eyeball.   As it turns out, the guide was able to remove the hook with one quick maneuver.  Any thoughts of a movie or modeling career are over, but I did not lose an eye.  Then he applied a huge dab of disinfectant from one of his fingers that was caked in fish guts.  Very reassuring.  And that night at the restaurant/fly fish store I bought a great pair of anti-glare sunglasses with a protective wrap-around feature.

Final Note: Five minutes after almost losing my eye, the fishing gods smiled down upon me.  I caught a five-pound, 23 inch golden Brown Trout.

Come Fly With Me

This story is dedicated to my wife who puts up with…well a lot as it relates to me.  I often think I should have chosen a career as an arctic explorer.  Because I’m often told that I’m skating on thin ice.  But to be fair, this was not an arranged marriage.  To paraphrase Dathan from the movie, The Ten Commandments: She made this choice of her own free will.   

So I meet an old friend to fly fish once a year.   He’s on the west coast and I’m on the east coast.  The last three years we’ve gone to the Green River in the northeast corner of Utah.  This means flying into Salt Lake City (SLC) and then driving another three and a half hours to get to the destination.  My poison of choice is United Airlines.  Unfortunately two years ago United stopped offering direct flights between Newark and Salt Lake City.  Last year they put me on a connecting flight through Chicago with a 40 minute layover.  I couldn’t sleep for a month as I was constantly thinking about how I was going to be running down the gangway and banging on the door to the plane demanding, and then pleading that they open the door and let me on.  

This year six months in advance I decided to abandon United and booked a flight on Airline “X”.  Salt Lake City is one of their major hubs and they had an abundance of direct flights.  I’m all set now, until...  I had a 6:40PM flight out of Newark, their last flight of the day to SLC.  I got up that morning at a leisurely pace thinking to myself boy it rained pretty good last night, I’m glad I don’t have a morning flight.  I picked up my iPhone and there was one new message, it’s from airline “X”.  It read and I’m paraphrasing, “You seemed to be getting way too comfortable, one might say even cocky, so we decided to cancel your flight.  We took the liberty of rebooking you on another flight.  It’s a connector through Detroit that will get you to your final destination by Christmas.  And to put a cherry on top, we’ve made it virtually impossible to get your money back.  We will only offer an e-credit so we can do this to you again on your next flight with us.  Thanks for choosing “X.” 

Enter the Mrs.  She jumps on her iPhone and with lightning speed assesses the situation and finds a flight on Jet Blue that leaves out of JFK Airport in about two and half hours.  It’s raining again and I can’t see getting my sorry act together and then making the trip down Rt.78, onto the Turnpike, over the Goethals & Verrazano Bridges, onto the 15 mile stretch of the heinous Belt Parkway which floods consistently on sunny days.  Nope, I’m just going to sit on the floor and cry.  She’ll hear none of it.  I’m leaving whether I like it or not!  My wife grabs me by the ear, picks me up off the carpet (next to no exaggeration here.  It was like when someone gets some horrific news and suddenly adrenaline kicks in and they have super strength - go figure.) and throws me and my gear into the car and we take off. 

Turns out Waze wanted to take us thru the Holland Tunnel to get to JFK.  I cringe thinking, “Really, the Holland Tunnel, why don’t we just go through Pluto, wouldn’t that be faster?  Then we saw signs saying that the Holland Tunnel was closed until further notice.  Turned off Waze and brought up Google Maps.  In the pouring rain we muscle out way over multiple bridges and onto the dreaded Belt Parkway where we dodge small lakes on our final leg of the adventure to JFK. 

I get to Terminal 5 and approach the Jet Blue area.  (I haven’t been to JFK or flown Jet Blue in over 15 years…this will be fun)  There is an alarmingly large sea of people and they all look like they’re late for their flights.  Oddly though, there are no customer service agents helping folks with the automated check-in system.  I fail a number of times trying to get the scanner to recognize the e-ticket barcode on my iPhone.  (So much for problem free AI.  Hopefully the scanners connected to our ballistic missiles are from a different manufacturer.)  I walk away before turning into the Incredible Hulk and throwing the kiosk through a wall.  I collect myself, walk back to the kiosk, decide to insert my credit card and voila, I’m in. 

As I approach my gate, I look out the large windows and see a number of Jet Blue planes.  They all look gleamingly new.  The main bodies and wings are an off white color and the tail of the planes have a nice soft blue and green plaid design on them.  I get to my gate and look out the window at my plane.  It’s a solid green.  It could have been in the St. Patrick’s Day Parade.  It was Green all over, except for where the numerous scratch marks were.  This plane looked like it was in a catfight with about twenty tigers and lost bad.  It was as if they went to a garage sale, saw the plane and said, “This is a bargain we can’t pass up.”

Inside, the plane was fine and the attendants were very nice.  We’re all seated and ready for take off, literally 20 minutes ahead of schedule.  I’m thinking, finally a break.  Then I looked up and noticed one of the mechanics in a bright orange vest is standing in the doorway of the cockpit.  He’s speaking with the pilot.  They’re not smiling.  I quickly put two and two together and surmised this is not good.  As a matter of fact, the only thing that could be worse is if they got on the PA system and told us we had a mechanical issue and we’re not taking off…which is what happened next.  The captain steps outside the cockpit and picks up the microphone.  He let us know that we did have a minor technical issue, but it’s been addressed.  He continues, unfortunately now we just need to complete some paperwork that will take 15 minutes, then we’ll be on our way.  Then the lead flight attendant jumps in and tells us that the PA system needs to be rebooted before take off and that will take 20 minutes to complete.  Then the captain gets back on the airwaves and says, “Oh, and because of the heavy rain, we’ll be taxiing on the runway for about an hour before take off.  Disappointing as all of that was, I still have to give the captain and JetBlue a lot of credit.  They came out promptly, explained the situation and kept us all from melting down in our seats.  My airline of choice would never do that.  Instead, they would take the Marie Antoinette approach: “Oh are they upset? Let them eat cake.”  Only there’s never any cake. 

Death Valley...in Winter

On Super Bowl Sunday I flew to SoCal to connect with my son.  The next day we’re driving to Death Valley National Park.  As usual, I have not prepared nearly enough. My survival plan will be: Adhere to a strict diet of muscle relaxers while in Death Valley, hoping to mask the pain for a few days and fool my body into thinking its as young as my son’s.

  

The car ride is over five hours and since I’m not trusting of other people’s driving, my son very much included; I drive most of the way.  If anyone knows how to wrench a back, it’s me.  We got a late start and after driving two hours we came across a questionable looking Burger King.  We decided to drive another half hour, figuring at that point we’d be around the halfway mark to Death Valley. We were on Rt. 395 which became a single lane road that ran for over a 100 miles with nothing on either side.  And I mean NOTHING!  Also amazing – not one car was ahead of us the rest of the time we were on 395.  When you’re driving on a desolate road for that distance, seeing absolutely nothing, after a while you get the feeling that you were left off the group txt message that should have alerted you about a nuclear attack that you happen to be driving into.  Back to important matters, a severe case of “Hangry” has set in and my son did the best he could to avoid getting his head chewed off.  After the missed BK opportunity, the first eatery we ran into was inside Death Valley.  It looked to be a left over oasis from the 1800s.  Again we passed and wound up having lunch at 4PM when we arrived at our motel.  Something a bit quirky - we arrived at the motel at 3:45PM and asked if we could check in.  No other patrons were in sight, so we thought this was a simple ask.  With a bit of a militant attitude, we were told that we could not check in till 4PM.  I’m thinking well that’s kind of off, but no biggie, the restaurant was a few feet away so we grabbed lunch and came back to check in.  At this point the line to check in was out the door.

Death Valley is a massive national park.  About 90% of it is in California and 10% in Nevada.  Death Valley holds the modern day record as the hottest place on earth.   It was recorded in the early 1900s at 134 degrees Fahrenheit – hence our February expedition. There are multiple signs posted by the Parks department explaining that you want to be careful while at the park because helicopters cannot fly in extreme heat.  The signs go on to say, so if you’re injured in a remote area, like you decide it would be fun to play with a big rattle snake and he bites you, they will not be able to get help to you before you die. I memorized the verbiage on the sign and repeated it to my son every time I saw him leave a trail and head for some scrambling that I’m confident would be impossible for me to follow.  The Park landscape is varied but for the most part, a good description would be, “Other Worldly.”  There are super white sand dunes that were used by George Lucas during the filming of two of his Star Wars movies.  The general store has a map that identifies the locations where filming occurred.  Naturally I only saw that map on the way out of the park, but I did pick up a Death Valley Star Wars t-shirt as a memento.  There are mountain ranges that have multiple types of minerals laced throughout them.  The colors are spectacular greens, oranges, purples, reds and whites.  And there are great viewing points that overlook the various basins in the park.  Two thousand years ago the main basin was a 30 foot deep lake – can you say Global Warming?  Scientists believe the reason that the lake eventually disappeared is because there are four significant mountain ranges that sit between the Pacific Ocean and Death Valley.  Rain cannot consistently make it over that many mountain ranges.  Having said that, when it does rain in Death Valley, like once a year, it’s usually torrential.  You need to get yourself and your vehicle to higher ground as the flooding becomes deadly fast.

Our motel is a massive complex of old single story structures, looking like something out of Schitt’s Creek.  The rooms are sparse with paper thin walls that separate the rooms.  We never met our next door neighbor but we got to know his nightly ritual.  At 3AM he’d put his TV on with the volume maxed out.  At the same time he’d intermittently be on the phone, screaming over the TV volume with what might have been family members.  They must have enjoyed the ranting almost as much as me.  Then at 6AM he’d leave the room, get in his car and drive off.  We wouldn’t see or hear from him until the next night at 3AM.  

The first morning in Death Valley I’m up early due to prince charming next door as well as being on east coast time.  I leave the room looking for a cup of coffee while my son sleeps in.  This becomes a ritual as my son and I are generally on a ten hour time difference no matter what planet we’re on.  It’s a nice morning, and the sites from the motel parking lot are extremely, yes, otherworldly.  I’m thinking this is what the moon, or mars might look like.  I walk to the restaurant and see a sign posted on the entry door stating, “No Power, No Idea when it might come back on.”  I go to the front desk and ask for details.  There were none to be had.  The person behind the counter didn’t seem concerned or feel moved to find out what’s going on, or when the power might come back.  I come to the conclusion that people in Death Valley live by their own code.  The phrase, “sense of urgency” is not in that code.  I decide to try to call my wife and make sure nothing apocalyptic has happened.  The motel rooms have no phones and they also do not have Wi-Fi.  In Death Valley, they want you off technology and seeing the sites.  (I’m thinking it’s probably best to leave some clues that we were there.)  As I’m walking back to the room, a mild breeze picks up, nothing significant.  The temperature is about 40 degrees, so much for breaking records.  Lowest recorded temp in Death Valley was 20 degrees in 1990.  I have a long history of breaking things, so I’m thinking this record might still be up for grabs. 

I get back to our room, open the curtains & shades in an attempt to rally my son.  I head back out walking across the street to the general store thinking maybe they have their own generator and hot coffee can be had.  I’m half right.  They have a generator, but it is only supporting the store’s refrigerator.  It’s 40 degrees out with a breezy drizzle, I’m not in the mood for ice coffee.  I might sing a different tune in the summer when the temp climbs to 116 degrees regularly.  The store is bustling as everyone is coming in looking for something.  One woman lets us all know she drove 30 minutes to the next town looking for coffee and found out that all of Death Valley has no power. The situation was very reminiscent of our neighborhoods when hurricane sandy hit in 2012.   Crowds of people were in the Kings supermarket looking to use the three power outlets in their tiny eatery.  Anyone with a multiport power strip was royalty.

With non-perishable breakfast treats in hand (Devil Dogs, Twinkies, and Ring Dings), I head back to the room.  The wind is picking up now.  Back in our room, my son has gotten himself together and we enjoy a nutritious breakfast and prepare to head out.  Wind, sand, and rain is now blowing sideways with exceptional velocity.  We hop in our car as I think, “Is this really a good idea, or is this just Death Valley and I need to suck it up? “As I’m about to pull out, I can feel the wind start to pick the car up off the ground.  With visions of being blown off the road and weeks later the rangers finding our remains…after being eaten by the sand people, I make a management type decision.  We head back to our room and wait another hour before successfully launching.

Over the next two and half days we saw amazing sights.  One of the great things about Death Valley is you can see a ton of jaw dropping sites by taking a short walk from your car.  I did test myself on two challenging hikes into canyons.  I’m happy to report, there were no injuries and the wild geologic sites made the endeavors well worth it.  When we stopped for gas (at six dollars a gallon) I popped the gas cap door cover.  It was packed with sand.

During the ride home on single lane Rt. 395 there were a number of trucks ahead of us.  I felt like I was in a Speed Racer cartoon because there are short stretches where the highway goes from one to two lanes.  This is to let the trucks move over so cars can speed ahead.  The only problem is that this passing lane lasts only a short distance.  When the opportunity comes everyone puts a death grip on their steering wheel and hits the gas hard to ensure passing before the lane disappears.  Poor timing and you become the ignition for a colossally explosive accident that looks like something out of, “Mad Max Beyond Thunder Dome.”   I thought I was being punked because on a number of occasions I was the only driver who didn’t get to pass which totally frosted me.

On the last full day in Death Valley we drove to the top of Dantes Point.  It’s at about 5,500 feet of elevation and pretty much the highest viewing spot in DV.  It looks down on Badwater Basin, the lowest spot in North America – 282 feet below sea level.  The view is awe inspiringly cool.  We arrived at Dantes Point in the morning.  It was about 35 degrees and with the very stiff wind-chill, it felt like 200 below.  My son used a covid facemask to provide some level of protection for his face - genius.  We got a couple of good looks in and before we turned into icicles, decided to head back to our car.  As we made that decision a couple who looked about five years older than me approached and asked if we’d like them to take a picture of us.  The man looked envious and said to me, “I’d give anything for my son to take a trip like this with me.”   After biting my tongue, I did everything I could not to say, “Really, I’ll Trade Ya?” Lastly, it’s amazing how complete strangers can not only be generous, but also re-enlighten you about what’s important in life.