Do your JOB!

Part of the reason (I have noticed) that concepts fail, is the lack of  integrity with which actions are implemented. The lack of consistency in following laws and guidelines that have been put into place for a reason. A law is not an optional tool to be used at one's discretion. A law is implemented because a need for it has arisen.
I have been to Las Vegas more times than I can count. Before this past week, I have never been asked for my picture identification with the exception of a visit to the Michaels Kors boutique when I made a sizable and expensive purchase. This past week I was asked, almost every single time I pulled out my Visa bankcard for additional identification. It didn't matter the amount of the purchase, everything from $8 to $40, convenience stores and restaurants, hotels and casino's. Which is fine, but the attitude I was given when asked for i.d., as if I am a potential criminal, not as if they are doing me a favor by asking - to keep my money and financial security safe, was funky at best.
I was told, this is a new law, they have to ask. This is the issue I have with laws made to protect people - laws for your own good. The persons who are forced to enforce them, don't care - it is just an additional step, more work in fact for their daily job so they act put out to do the work.
Resulting in a halfhearted effort and usually a purposeless action and a half-assed job.
My attitude, as a result, shifted as well. Instead of thanking the cashiers for their diligence in keeping my money and credit safe, I waited until they returned with my bankcard, my picture i.d., and my receipt, which generally also needed a signature and tip amount to be added, and I asked them, "What is my name"?
Not one cashier knew my name. Not one.
One actually had the audacity to ask me, in response, "Is there a problem"?
In three days of my personal experiment, the best, most noteworthy answer was, "Well, I knew you were from Colorado". Well, bravo for you. Your job is actually to mach the name, picture on the i.d. to the name on the card, in fact you could match signatures on the picture i.d. with the signature on the back of the bankcard as well if you knew what your job was, and the purpose of your extra effort.
I think I annoyed some of the people I was hanging out with because no one wants an agitated bartender, right? But, my point is, asking for my i.d. is not an extra step. It is part of your job. It requires observation and diligence, and you agreed to do it when you took the job in the service industry.
Do your job. Do it right. And don't give me attitude when you snatch up my i.d. like I'm the criminal here. I'm paying you to bring my tapas to the table, not to give me the stink eye.

Planes and Pervs

I knew this career would afford me numerous tales to write about. Cities, people, lifestyle; these are just a few topics of interest to most people who don't think about going from city to city every day for work. What didn't occur to me was how many low moral people are out there in this world that sneak through the system undetected. Predators. The true venom of this society that most don't see because they are stealth in their actions.
Yesterday, after a three hour delay in Los Angeles (for flight crews, delays sometimes mean possible higher level passenger intoxication because most Americans cannot entertain themselves for more than twenty minutes without a cocktail), a girl in her twenties boarded our aircraft. I noticed her when she boarded because of the way she was dressed. Very small shorts, boots and long hair - if she was holding a guitar she could have been in a video. She had long hair and was cute. Tall and cute. She moved slowly and didn't speak when I addressed her. No big deal, after a delay, many people are grumpy and don't want to answer a greeting, as if that non-verbally cues a flight attendant to report back to the company that they were one of the passengers unhappy the flight was delayed. We are mind-readers as well.

This flight landed briefly in San Jose, and I noticed the girl milling about the plane very slowly. Walking as if the plane were a cloud and she were an angel overlooking all the people and movements below. But, we were on the ground and she was in the aisle, in theory, stretching her legs between flights.

Leg 2: San Jose to Seattle:
After service, I notice a large man cornering a lady in the window seat and I slow down to look closely, because his actions look inappropriate. I look to see if his hands are anywhere they shouldn't be (because we are on a plane...not in a hotel room). I am not sure why some people think we can't see them when they sit in an airplane seat. If you can see us, we can see you - under the blanket, near the window, yes, even in the last row of the aircraft. We can see you!
I don't see anything pornographic, so I continue down the aisle.
Within ten minutes, a woman with a baby comes to the back of the aircraft. She is visibly uncomfortable and states, the man in the seat ahead of her seems to be kissing on the girl next to him and she believes the girl is not with him, and the man may be doing something wrong with the girl.
I think it may be the same couple I noticed earlier. My stomach gets that feeling.
We walk back to the couple and ask if everything is OK.
The girl seems sleepy. She waves her hand around. She doesn't really make eye contact. The man answers, everything is fine. We are fine, etc. The girl waves us off.
We move back. We involve the third flight attendant. Discuss the behavior of the girl from the time she first entered the aircraft. She is an adult. She has had wine. She was canoodling with another guy on the first leg, but he got off the plane in San Jose. This was really an odd situation. Other passengers had noticed her earlier and commented "she's out of it". Her behavior has been questionable since she got on the plane. But, this predator, with a ring on his finger, is obviously taking advantage of her state of being, or her youth, or her stupidity.
We decided to approach again and make sure she is safe. She does not want to leave her seat. She does not want to come to the back of the aircraft with us. She does not want anything to do with us or a safer envrironment. One of the flight attendants jokes, she's gonna be sorry tomorrow when she wakes up and see's this guys face. I thought, I would never want this to be my daughter. Drugged up and out of it, with some disgusting, middle aged pedophile feeling her up on a public mode of transportation. We continued to monitor the situation and the guy was undeterred. He kissed her and kept his arm around her for the remainder of the flight. Until the lights came on. When the lights came on, he sat upright and tryed to look upstanding. A pig in a suit, can you visualize it?
As the passengers exited the plane we kept an eye on them. She exited first. She seemed more composed. She was wearing sunglasses (at 11p) and walked off the plane as if she had no memory of any of us and the last hour of the flight. The man waited behind, let about fifteen people get between them and exited with his smarmy smile on his face and the knowledge of his cheap thrill.
Disturbing and disgusting, I thought about this scenario all the way to the hotel. How young women get taken advantage of every day. What this would have looked like at a college party instead of an airplane. What if he was her uncle...everyone has one. What if this was the end of a very average date. So many things went through my head, and then the result. What will happen? Nothing. The other flight attendants joked that the "good thing" about this situation is the girl probably won't remember. Maybe she won't, but I will.

Days Off with Writers Block

What do I busy myself with on the days I want to be writing? I have the time, but can't generate ideas. Well, I can generate concepts, but can't compose the structure it takes to make a full story. It's so frustrating.
I find myself walking around the house looking for things to do.
I've done the laundry.
I've cleaned the kitchen, well as clean as I am willing to make the effort for - ask my mom. The sink is empty. Even the blender is clean. My blueberry, starfruit smoothie is gone.
I've cooked food for the week to take on my trip. I've Facebooked and Tweeted. I've looked at the new picture on my dresser for about 25 minutes too long. Now I'm bored.
Where is this going, you ask?
On demand cable TV.
I love catching up on my favorite shows, but it's off season so there is nothing on TV I have not seen already - fact. I don't have the attention span for a movie, so I look for 25-45 minute TV shows.
I check MTV, VH1, Bravo and CBS - my favorite goto channels on demand. Nothing new.
Somehow I find a show about Paris Hilton on the Oxygen network. Not a BFF show. Not a weird game/ reality show, but a reality life show highlighting her friends, and her mom, and her day to day in and outs of being a celebrity. Not super interesting in general, but everyone likes a little "peek into the life of".
So, here we are.
The first thing I notice in "The World According to Paris", is one of the "characters" is labeled as "friend/ photographer". Paris Hilton has a full-time photographer following her around all day long shooting her life. Could you imagine? It then occurred to me, what if someone was sitting on the edge of my bed right now taking my picture. Shooting me type and drink my iced coffee...in my underwear. Following me on my run. Going to the hair salon with me. Watching me put my makeup on. Hanging back on the plane. Really? Why does anyone need a constant moment capturer...just in case? Just in case what?

The second thing I notice is this obnoxious pink Bentley that Paris Hilton drives around and I think, WTF? Really? Then it occurs to me, no one else in the world has a pink Bentley. No one can steal it. It is great PR. Is it crazy or is it genius? I can't decide. Branding. Genius.
Then Kathy Hilton (Paris' mom) makes a comment, "I'm so embarrassed to be seen in this car, I'll just hide in the back". She's no Kris Jenner, that's for sure. Real mom's keep you in check.
No matter what you are up to in life, your mom will bring you back to reality.

(photo courtesy zimbio.com)



Now, I can get back to roaming around my house in my underwear looking for something to write about. Seriously.

A full month...indicative of my life

A full month has gone by since my last post. Time flies, right?
This is how fast my life has been whizzing past me the last fifteen years. I have a daughter who is learning to drive and looking at Universities. My son is truly independant. I am spending a tremendous amount of time alone, and as much as I usually treasure it, I realize one day I will wake up and be old. Not 50. Not retired. Just old.
I look at the blank pages...the empty web space and think of all the things I want to put down, not only for other's to read but to preserve these days. And, I don't, because I realize I am preserving these days, which will soon be a part of my past. The life I once lived. The great days of my youth.
I am already reminded by my sister and my daughter (unbeknownst to either of them) that my fun, party girl life is over. My reputation which once preceded me, now dates me. Now, paves a path to my golden days...showcasing what a fun, great life I HAD. My sister actually asked me if I babysat, as if it was the weirdest thing on the planet - even though I have two kids of my own, my history is far more interesting and outstanding than the concept of me as a mom, which has slowly taken over the last sixteen years, without anyone else noticing.
My daughter asks me to recount stories that made her laugh when she was younger because "Mommy is funny". Oh, Mommy was funny. That's a fact.
And it overwhelms me some days.
As I look forward to watching my children raise their families, I notice the similar paths my siblings are taking...simply fifteen years later than myself. My brother has two children under the age of two, and my sister just had her first child. I have three neices and nephews under the ages of two years old. Yet, my children are teens and tweens. I have advice to offer. I have mommyism's. I have grown up...
and it frightens me.
Have I done everything I wanted to do?
Will I manifest the successes I am still missing?
Will I die alone?
Another holiday.
Another week.
Another month.
Another lifetime.