SugartasticJ's Blog - 2old2play

Fuck Mexicana Airlines... Update

Eleven days after Mexicana Airlines' thieving luggage rapists stole my property (see post below), the fuckholes in their "Customer Service" department continue to drag their feet and throw hurdles in our path to getting fair compensation for our stolen property. First, they tossed me around their corporate bureaucracy, referring me from one department to another, blaming each other for our loss. Then they claimed that electronics are not "standard luggage" and may not qualify for compensation. WTF!? Electronics are not standard luggage? What year is Mexico living in!? Now they want me to send them purchase receipts for everything we claim was stolen. Why, to make me prove that at some point in the past I owned this property? I'm not asking them to repay me for my stolen $10M Stradivarius violin, or for the Hope Diamond I was returning to the museum. I just want fair compensation for the $1140 of property that their employees pilfered from my luggage. I am still holding out hope that Mexicana will make this right, but at some point soon I may solicit the 2o2p Mob to join in the fight. In the meantime, here is my most recent email to my assigned Mexicana "investigator":

From:Sugartastic J
Sent: Wednesday, May 14, 2008 8:58 PM
To: Mexicana Airlines
Subject: RE: Mexicana Airlines case # 69545

Sr. Mesa,

First, as you requested, attached is a copy of the loss report that was provided to us at the baggage claim area at LAX. Please know that this report was provided to us before your LAX baggage services department investigated our loss and learned that our bags had been misdirected by Mexicana staff at Manzanillo. Also included is a copy of one of the tags that we found on our luggage; please observe that the flight information and passenger name is incorrect, and the claim number does not match the claim receipts that we received at Manzanillo.

Next, I don’t know that I can provide all of the receipts for our stolen property. Some of these items were purchased last year, and some were gifts, and I may not be able to get copies of all the receipts. I will try, but I don’t fully understand why you need copies of the purchase receipts for the items that were stolen from our bags. Are you trying to assess their value, or are you making us prove that we owned this property? It shouldn’t matter. Mexicana Airlines lost our luggage for two days, and the bags were delivered to us partly empty. We’re not asking for excessive compensation – if Mexicana were truly interested in customer service and making this right, you should expedite payment right away. I will look for the receipts and will send you whatever I can find. But let me say this… We will accept nothing less than the compensation we have asked for, which is the replacement cost of our stolen property. If Mexicana continues to put obstacles in our way, or fails to compensate us fully for our stolen property, we will instead seek compensation through more aggressive legal means. And I will seek compensation for more than the value of our stolen goods; I will also demand compensation for the time and effort we have put into this fiasco over the past 11 days, for the sadness this has caused my children, and for the distress this has caused me and my wife. Mexicana has an opportunity to resolve this right away and reimburse us for what your employees stole from us, or you can turn this into a long battle. I sincerely hope that you choose to do the right thing.

Thank you.

Sugar

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Fuck Mexicana Airlines

Last week I took the family to Isla Navidad, in the Mexican state of Jalisco, about 30 miles north of Manzanillo, or about 1500 miles south of the border. Wonderful vacation at a beachside resort. We decided to celebrate my son's birthday during our vacation, and secretly brought down a Wii for his present. My two boys joyously played Lego Starwars while my wife and I drank Margaritas on the deck. On Sunday we packed up the Wii and the rest of our luggage and headed home.

We arrived late Sunday night at LAX and watched the baggage carousel go 'round and 'round, but our luggage never came. After two days of searching, Mexicana Airlines delivered our luggage to our doorstep tonight. We opened our bags and discovered they had been raped somewhere along the way. The Wii, my iPod portable stereo, my wife's makeup kit, and a bunch of clothes were missing. In total, the Mexicana luggage rapists took $1140.00 worth of our stuff. Mother fuckers, I want to kill them.

In case you're wondering why we checked the Wii instead of carrying it on board, Mexicana allows only one carry-on per person, and I also had my computer, three cameras, Iridium satellite phone, and other valuables in my backpack, so I had to stash the rest in my suitcases.

Never fly Mexicana Airlines. The food is crap, their customer service sucks, and oh, they steal your shit.

No, I'm not dissing the Mexican people. I love Mexico, and everyone else we dealt with on our trip were wonderful people. Mexicana Airlines just hires thieves. Next time, we'll pay more and fly Alaska Airlines.

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No TV Week... Weak

So, we're supposed to turn off our TVs this week for our kids. The point is, they say, to get our kids off the couch and outside to exercise. Great! If you're not already doing this everyday, then use this week to start doing it. I'm a big believer in getting outside for some fun. But if we're already doing this, do I need a Hallmark week to be totally TV-abstinent? No! But my wife says yes. My two boys - 4 and 6 years old - have less body fat than Karen Carpenter. If they're watching TV, I'm barking at them to stop wrestling and bouncing on the sofa at the same time - lack of exercise is not a problem for them.

I don't watch much TV. Actually, neither does anyone in my family. Maybe a Family Guy or Simpsons episode, or a little CNN, from time to time, but our household is not sculpted around our TV. I'm pleased that my kids rarely ask to turn on the TV. But it is a nice filler occasionally to keep them distracted or occupied when necessary. But we can go a week without the TV babysitter. No big deal. Bring it on...

But tonight, as I'm checking my friends list on xboxlive.com, I notice my closest group of RL friends playing co-operative R6V2, beckoning for help with hunting terrorists in Vegas Junkyard. They NEED me. I can't let my team down. "I'm going in," I say to my wife, "to support my brothers in arms."

We sat down and read a book.

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A Perfect Moment...

As I write this, I'm on my way to Catalina Island for the weekend. It's about a 4 hour cruise (on my slow boat) from our home port of Dana Point in Orange County. We're still about an hour out of Avalon, Catalina; my wife and two boys are asleep and I'm alone at the helm listening to some of my favorite Ben Harper tunes just enjoying the passing seas and a beautiful sunset. As the sun touched the horizon and the clouds lit up in various shades of fire, I realized these are the moments life is all about and I was perfectly satisfied.

Here's my view about 30 minutes ago.

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Fretting the Holidays

"Fretting,"as in:

Fret : transitive verb; inflected Form(s): fretted, fretting; Date: 1602 - to press (the strings of a stringed instrument) against the fret.

So, for my birthday (which was the 22nd) I got a guitar. A Fender dreadnought acoustic guitar to be exact. It's a great beginner's guitar, and exactly what I wanted. I've been wanting to learn to play for years, but the clincher was earlier this year when we bought our boat. While the boat was undergoing commissioning at the manufacturer's docks, a guy on a boat in a nearby slip spent his days playing guitar on his deck. He was good - so good, actually, that kayakers would paddle up with beers or bottles of wine and just float and listen. I have my boat, I have my guitar, now I need to learn to play.

I've never undertaken a hobby that I was so utterly inexperienced with. I've always felt musical, but I've never played a musical instrument. I can't read music, and I don't even know the basic terminology (what the hell is a "chord"?). So with my Guitar for Dummies book and the Fender instructional DVD that came with my guitar, I dove in during the Christmas break from work. In three days, I've worn my fretting (left hand) fingers raw, I've learned the basic terminology (frets, chords, keys, etc.), learned how to read guitar tablatures, and even plucked my way through Jingle Bells and Joy to the World. I didn't expect this to be easy, and I know it will take years to get any good, but I've come far enough in three days to hook me. I'm still learning chords and how to place my fretting fingers against the strings without touching the adjacent strings - I don't have fat fingers, but I'm having a hell of a time squeezing three fingers between the first and second fret for the A chord without buzzing the D string - how did Andrés Segovia do it with his chub digits!?

Anway, I could use some advice. I'm sure there are some fine guitarist on this site. I could use a few pointers. Once I get past the insecurity of knowing almost nothing about my guitar, I'll hire an instructor for some routine lessons.

It's also been fun to see my kids' interest in my new guitar. My six year old was immediately fascinated. In fact, he's already strumming better than me. Maybe I have a prodigy on my hands. Here he is last night - check out his form - holding the pick and forming his left hand!

So, tomorrow I'm taking the wife and kids on our boat to Catalina (a small island off the coast of Southern California) for a few days. I'll sit on the deck strumming my guitar, though instead of kayakers coming up to the boat, I expect to scare away any other nearby boaters. Give me time...

Props to a little-known inspiring guitarist... We went to Disneyland a few days ago, and just outside the park gates in Downtown Disney, outside one of the restaurants, a guy named David Wayne was playing with a percussion accompaniment. I had more fun watching them for ten minutes than I did in five hours at Disneyland. I've never heard of him, and judging by the venue he was playing, neither have most people. Check him out: http://davidwaynemusic.com/

Happy Holdays!

Sugar

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Surfire

A friend just sent me this picture. She was out surfing during the fires and snapped this shot. This is at San Onofre State Beach, and San Onofre Nuclear Generating Station is in the background. You can see the Camp Pendleton fire crawling down the hill towards the ocean. This is the same fire from the picture in my previous entry below. The surf was great during the fires, but the call of duty of my job prevented me from getting in the water. Bummer...

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Fire, fire, fire!

So, the fires are out. Actually, our nearest fire, the Santiago Fire, is said to still be smoldering, threatening to resurrect itself if the dry winds return (which they're supposed to next week). But for the most part, the smoke and ash are gone and life is normal again.

I found this pic on a local news site. I like it because it was taken only a couple blocks from my house, and shows one of the fires that surrounded us. In the foreground is Dana Point Harbor, where I keep a boat. My house is just to the left of this image. On the horizon is San Clemente (home to our own LotusEater), and beyond that is the fire at Camp Pendleton. Actually, this wasn't our closest fire. The Santiago Fire, a few miles to the left of this picture, was closer.

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Eerie

Tonight a dark orange full moon rose from a horizon glowing orange from the wildfires that surround us. My family and house are safe, but the sky over us is a cloudy brown storm of ash and smoke. Ash and embers are falling on my home like a dirty snow. I visited New Orleans not long after Katrina and realized that TV will never accurately capture the devastation of a real disaster. The firestorms here are no exception. This is awful, tragic. Friends and co-workers have lost their homes. If there's any fortune to be found in this disaster, it's that few lives have been lost. But the devastation is still severe.

If you're one of the two or three people that read my blog, you know part of my job is disaster management. Specifically, medical disaster management. Fortunately, this has not been a medical disaster. But I've still been busy managing my hospitals' response to the fires. Long days, little sleep, endless phone calls and meetings. Tonight, finally a short break to spend with my family, still keeping a close eye on the two closest fires threatening my community.

The weather is turning and the end is in sight, but the emergency is nowhere near over. Countless evacuees are waiting to return to their homes, many to find a pile of smoldering rubble. Where do they go then? It will take years for my community to fully recover from this disaster. Wish us luck...

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Sacramental

I just noticed that my last blog entry was a pretentious whine from a fluorescent-lit motel pseudo-lounge in Sacramento. From where I'm sitting now, that last blog is an embarassing display of arrogant snobbery that (read remainder of sentence with valley-girl pitch)... you know, is so... whatever... not like me!

So where am I sitting now? In that very "grand but pretentious lounge" that I compared the farmers' lounge to, ogling the same waitresses and listening to the same live piano music that I do every time I visit the Amourath 1819. It's one of those bars where the brightest lights glow a dim amber from the table candles, and the couples at nearby tables whisper to each other and giggle quietly in dark corners. I love these places, and I feel guilty for inserting my notebook's LCD halo into an old-school hush-hush lounge.

But something about being out of town, alone, in a bar, drinking martinis and eating smoked almonds, with a notebook computer on the table, invokes a blog entry. So here I am. What do I have to say? Nothing really, but I feel I need to close this entry with some substance... OK, two things...

First. My job is not a travel job. I am not some sales whatever that lives on planes. I don't have out-of-town regional offices that need to be visited. In my 17+ years in this business, it's only been the last couple years that I've been booking "business flights." But it seems I've been doing it a lot. I like part of it... this part: sitting in a bar alone drinking and eating and blogging. I also like the brief getaways of independence. I love my wife and kids beyond description, but something about stepping out of that pool for a few days of drying off is pleasing. I can't really describe it, but it's fun... for the first day or two, then I need to get home quick to the embrace of my family. My six-year-old cried when I left this afternoon, and that breaks my heart.

Second. This trip couldn't come at a worse time. OK, it could, like on one of my kids' birthdays... wait, it did - I left my son's birthday party today to catch my flight. Or it could keep me from one of my best friend's weddings... wait, that to - my best man at my wedding is getting married Wednesday, when I'm still here in Sacramental. Or worse, when Halo 3 is released. My clan's forum is busy with promises of midnight H3 purchases and days off to dedicate to the Halo. But here I will be, a two-hour flight from home without my 360. I'll watch Bungie's website and my clan's forum for live breaking news updates, while I prepare my presentation to a bunch of bureaucrats who won't remember it at the cookie break. Whatever will I do?

Shit, I could probably get someone else to deliver my speech, catch an early flight home, hug and kiss the kids, love the wife for a few minutes, electrify the 360, and get it on with my clan. Hmm, these martinis and almonds and cobb salad, and Brooke (my waitress) are getting to me. Jeopardize my career for Halo? Let me think about that.

What's Southwest's rescheduling policy?

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Arnold is a Cheap Host

I hadn't planned on posting a blog tonight, but something about sitting in a hotel bar, alone, out of town, a martini in hand, and, well...

Back in September I visited our state's capitol - Sacramento - to lobby ("advocate", we say - it sounds better) for a $400 million state budget provision. I traveled on my company's budget - a nice hotel, a generous per diem, fine dining, etc. I posted a blog then from a grand but pretentious lounge, served drinks by elegantly dressed and sexy waitresses, and partook (is that a word?) in fine dining.

And our lobbying - er, advocating - was mostly successful... $240 million was budgeted for our cause. Great. Now the governor has asked me to return to help decide how to spend the money. OK, he didn't ask for me personally, but I was named to his team of 10 people to formulate the plan. It's quite an honor, or so I've been told. This time, however, the Great State of California is paying my tab. All the better. Let's get to work...

So last week the State's travel office sends me their guidelines for travelling on their dime (and I mean "dime" literally). As I read the allowances and instructions, I realize this won't be the pseudo-extravagance of my last visit. For instance, I am allowed up to, but not exceeding, $6 for breakfast, $10 for lunch, and a whopping $16 for dinner. And I will be reimbursed up to $84/night for lodging. Isn't this the Gold Rush state? Shit, the martinis on my last visit cost more than my dinner allowance.

So here I am again, not at the Hyatt Regency lounge, listening to live piano music and drooling over the cocktail waitresses, but sitting in a bland and suffocating lounge at the "Marriot on Y Street", listening to a pair of drunk farmers complaining about the declining quality of manure. My martini tastes like vermouth with a splash of vodka, and my waitress probably cleans rooms on the day shift - in fact, she's still wearing the uniform.

And I have two thoughts battling in my head... Is the state just cheap, or have I become the epitome of pretention that was so at home in that elegant lounge back in September? I dunno, but I'm thinking of hailing a cab and going back to the Hyatt.

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Katrina is a Rotten Bitch

The end of Mardi Gras has reminded me to write the blog that I’ve been meaning to post for two months…

In December I traveled to New Orleans for business. In my job, part of my responsibility is medical disaster management for a large five hospital system in LA and Orange Counties, California. Of course, our biggest regional threat is earthquakes. Since Hurricane Katrina struck the Gulf Coast, we morbidly joke about our own impending date with Earthquake Katrina. While hurricanes are obviously much different from earthquakes, there are still valuable lessons to be learned from the hospitals that experienced Katrina. So last December, I joined a group of hospital executives from around the country in New Orleans for a conference on hospital disaster management. The tales from those who experienced the hurricane in a hospital setting were captivating, and worth a blog on their own (that I will probably never write).

After the conclusion of the conference, my wife and I stuck around in New Orleans for a few days as tourists. On our last day, we rented a car and toured some of the areas devastated by the hurricane. What totally astounded me was how vast the devastation was, and still is. I recall after the hurricane how so many reporters explained that photos and videos just don’t adequately show how bad it all was. Now I get it. There is devastation still all around the city, but nothing compares to the Lower 9th Ward. We drove for blocks – for miles – and never saw a living soul. It looked like an entire town after war. All around us were collapsed houses, missing houses, overturned cars, boats stranded on land, even a boat on the roof of a house. And all this more than a year after the hurricane. At one point I just stood in the middle of a street, and for as far as I could see in every direction, not a single house was restored. And all I could hear was the breeze. In front of several houses were crosses, and markings on the walls of how many dead were recovered from the house.

Here are a few pics from my trip. None of these are exceptional – these are typical of more than a hundred pictures I took. Keep in mind that these were taken only two months ago, and probably don’t look any different today…

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Blog Placemark

Haven't blogged in a while, and I'm getting worried I might be charged with 2o2p dereliction of doodi. Got lots to blog about, just not the time to do it properly. Plus, I need the site points. C'mon, 16 member points for an original member!? WTF? So here's a quick note about what I'd be writing about if I had the time to write...

I want to follow up on my trip to NOLA (see below). That's an emotional note that needs some time to formulate. Then there's my thoughts on hobies, and how many are too many before the wife has a legitimate complaint? Biking, boating, skating, surfing and gaming... I can fit in another, right? I've also been in a quandary about my career... true success means a disaster for others. Should I hope for success, or be satisfied in the safety and security of others?

All topics for a blog... soon. Of course, if I'd just written an article instead of this gripe, there'd be no need.

Until I return, here's a preview of my next blog...

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N'awlins...

Heading out first thing tomorrow morning for New Orleans. Never been. The first two days are business and that's why I'm going. But I'm staying through the weekend and that's why I'm so excited.

My wife is joining me. The kids are not. I love my two boys dearly, but my wife and I desperately need a few days away to be ourselves. Once my work is done Thursday afternoon, my wife and I plan to return to our younger days of living with little concern for consequence; it's been way too long since we could stay out late, drink as much as we want, be as naughty as we want, then go back to the room and, well, be as naughty as we want. Man, do we need this!

I'm also looking forward to just experiencing the town. We're staying in a nice place in the French Quarter. If anyone has advice for us, let me know. If you're local, let's hook up...

[3 Comments]

Angiograms and the Subconscious

So, a couple days ago my dad has a routine cardiac study - this is an annual test to check his heart. No big deal - he's getting older and he wants to be safe. This time, however, the test results suggest possible restricted blood flow through his coronary arteries and he's promptly scheduled for an angiogram. If you're not familiar with an angiogram, let me explain... The docs poke a hole in your groin and shove a line into your circulatory system, all the way up to your heart. Through this line they inject a contrasting dye, and watch its behavior inside your blood vessels with radiological imaging.

It's worth noting that my father is a retired vascular surgeon. My mom is a retired physician too. And I am an executive with the health system that they used to practice at. We are all knowledgeable about these procedures and their risk. Statistically speaking, my dad was going to be just fine. The routine study that led to the angiogram is known for false results, and thousands of cardiac catheterization procedures are done in our hospitals annually without complication. The likely results would be that there was no blockage, and my dad could return to life-as-usual within a couple hours. Because my dad's procedure was done literally just down the hall from my offices, I was able to mix a little work with attention to my family. And I felt no stress leading to and during my dad's procedure.

When I learned that my dad was nearly done, I went to the waiting room and sat at my mother's side. Moments later the cardiac surgeon came and waved us into the recovery room. We quickly followed. Immediately he turned to us, and with a big smile, said that everything went great and there's nothing wrong with my father.

Here's where my subconcious kicked in... Immediately and surprisingly, my eyes started squirting tears and I reflexively sobbed a few times. WTF!? Where did that come from? All this right in front of a bunch of staff and co-workers, some of whom are subordinate in my chain of command. Right up until and during my dad's procedure, I never felt any stress or fear. But as soon as I learned that my dad was going to be fine, the burst of relief overwhelmed my emotions and I was crying like a child and hugging my mommy in the recovery room.

At that moment, I had a real appreciation of the subconscious and it's ability to hide and attack when you don't expect it.

Tonight, I'm just thrilled that Dad is OK.

Sugar

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Hit Me With Your Rhythm Stick!

Hit me with your rhythm stick,

Hit me!.... Hit Me!

Hit me slow and hit me quick!

Hit me, hit me, hit me!

Heard the song on my drive home tonight and briefly re-lived the 80s with the late Ian Dury. Nostalgia....

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