Bengfort.com

It was a whirlwind trip- ostensibly for business, but it turned out to be more complicated than that. I made new friends, I saw incredible things, and I succeeded at something I never dreamed I would. I was also disgusted at the dishonesty of the tourist industry in Mexico, I was terrified at the prospect of presenting a paper to some of the smartest people in the world, and I almost met my death in the Caribbean. This was my trip to Cancun, Mexico for the IEEE WCNC 2011.

Arrival in Mexico

When I first departed I was pretty apprehensive. I landed and was immediately drenched in sweat from the humidity. I wasn’t eager for the trip thanks to Jaci’s recent departure, and the fact that I was already on travel and I wanted to get back to work moving forward with my code. As I finally passed through customs, I was greeted by the instistant demanding of people seeking to give me transport; luckily I had already arranged round trip transport to my hotel, and my name was on a placard as I walked into the tropical night.

I arrived in darkness. The room was average- no desk for my laptop? I realized that I was exhausted, what time zone was I in? I thought it was -6, central time here?

The next morning I awoke to a stunning panoramic of the blue, blue- washing detergent stunning blue of the Caribbean crashing into the whitest beach I’d ever seen. I realized that my room was not sparse, but modern, and the hotel soared to a stunning interior atrium that I hadn’t noticed in my sleep deprived arrival. Although it was -6 (central time), daylight savings time in Mexico wouldn’t happen for another week, so I was effectively in Mountain Time. Room service brought coffee.

I had gotten up too early and still jetlagged I went to the gym before I showed myself at the conference. I ran hard, I cycled hard. I have a triathlon to run, after all. Feeling fit, I dressed and went out into the streets of the zona hotel, searching for the Cancun Center- and after only a few wrong turns I found it.

Where was I? The place seemed empty, a few Indians and Chinese and Professor-y looking people roamed the halls; the only indication I was in the right place. I found the registration desk, and with some difficulty, the native Spanish speakers managed to locate “Bengfort”. I only had to explain that my name started with a “B” four times. Lunch, though promised, was not to be found; WiFi, though promised, was also missing in action.

I attended my first session- deployment of relay stations in LTE-Advanced networks- seemingly my area of expertise. It was presented by second-language English speakers. The room was sparse– it contained a good friend, though I didn’t know it yet– I worked on my paper.

Out of the Social Comfort Zone

I skipped the afternoon session (sorry boss) and returned to the gorgeous Caribbean that was doing it’s best to break through the shore and beat the cabanas senseless. I figured I could swim in it. After changing and grabbing my flippers, I went in, mindless of the red flags. Thirty minutes later I was exhausted and half drowned. The undertow had dragged me a quarter mile to sea. When I finally dragged myself out of the water onto the beach, the lifeguard merely said “[translation of what I presume to be, the weather will get better towards the end of the week]”. I went to the gym, got on the bike, and then got on the treadmill.

I am not a social person, so I contemplated skipping the welcome reception the entire time I dressed for it and as I walked to the hotel where it was being held. When I finally go there, it was a shock to see my peers and my elders drinking and eating with familiar ease. I barely kept myself moving forward with thoughts of “It’s free food and free drinks at the very least”. Fortified by my first free margarita, and plate of appetizers, I approached a seemingly sympatico peer standing by himself by the bar. It was the best choice I could have made.

Madushanka and I had much in common right off the bat- it was our first paper, our first conference, and we both had the same research area. But for some reason, Madushanka attracted people. Simply being in his presence meant that I met the group of people I would spend the rest of the week with- Sabarish, Yuvika, Charka, and Sanjeema (as well as several other professors and PhD candidates that introduced themselves to Madush, and therefore me). They were good friends and first time presenters also, and it was an honor to get to know them! I hope that our social and professional relationship continues to grow over time, they are incredible.

The next day the conference didn’t seem to be such a foreboding, lonely place– not with new friends there. I went for a swim, the waves crashed into me with the same vengeance as before, and I was ready for them. But this time the guard came out after me– he didn’t like the risks I was taking. A turn on the bike and the treadmill took me to my first tri-sport workout. I dressed for the conference, excited to meet my new friends.

They didn’t disappoint- we went to sessions together, had lunch together and a great conversation. I went to their presentations, but soon enough, I realized that the next day I had to present, and anxiety began to overwhelm me.

I still hadn’t heard from my advisor about the status on my presentation- I was alone, with my paper distilled into 22 Tactical Network Solutions branded slides. I had no idea what I was doing. The presentation was only hours away, and so after more time in the gym, I went to the bar to wait for my new friends.

The mojito was excellent, and the wind was bending palm trees at their base. The outdoor lounge was being swept away, but the hot Caribbean air seemed so… natural. I noticed Shane by himself in the corner of the lounge, and buoyed by my success the night before, I approached him, and once again made a new friend. Unfortunately, my social awkwardness prevailed in the end, and I didn’t invite him to the planned dinner with my new group, and it wouldn’t be until later in the week until I would have the chance to get to know him.

Club Cancun

Sabarish, Yuvika, Charka, Sanjeema, Madushanka, and I wandered downtown Cancun looking for a place to eat, not expecting trouble. Finally we settled on a place called Carlos Charlie’s after an hour of walking around punctuated by disagreements about the various dietary requirements of the group. Apparently, Mexico is not vegetarian or Buddhist friendly. We could have been walking into an Applebee’s for the decoration and the table layout. But only fifteen minutes after we sat down, at precisely nine o’clock, a club materialized around us.

The margaritas were 32 ounces and three feet tall. They went down quickly, and we hadn’t eaten yet. A girl with tequila shots walked around, pouring the tequila down our throats and shaking our heads while tweaking our nipples. The waiters were more entertainment than food servers, inciting their diners to dance in conga lines that went out into the street and onto the bar. It didn’t take long for our entire table to find ourselves rhythmically and unceasingly moving to the heartskipping thud of the bass. We ate finally, only to have the drink Sex on the Beach poured directly into our throats while a waiter held a towel around us, and didn’t stop until we choked. Yuvika managed the impressive feat of almost a minute of straight drinking! They challenged us to beer chugging races, they asked us to buy them drinks, it was a club, it was dinner, it was Cancun!

When we finally stumbled into the street, our wallets significantly lighter (we were charged for every drop that we, and the waiters imbibed), and thoroughly partied out, I realized I had to do a podcast in only four hours. Thank goodness Will understood and we rescheduled for Thursday. But that didn’t change the fact that I had to present that afternoon.

Slides and Sliding

The morning meant more workouts, if only to reduce my anxiety- it didn’t work. I ate nothing at the conference luncheon for fear of spilling on my shirt… or puking. My new friends, only slightly hung over (bottled water works miracles) tried to encourage me, but they were planning on attending my presentation, and that didn’t help.

It went like a dream. I didn’t read from my slides, I was confident, I was asked important questions that I could answer. Why was I nervous? Of course, I was the only author presenting in my session of five papers. Everyone else was assigned the task of presenting another person’s research. Still, I convinced important professors in my community that my work was important; and this when my own advisors didn’t think my paper was worth much! Still, that night when we went out to dinner, I took it easy, and we didn’t leave the hotel for fear of Cancun outside.

The next morning I managed the podcast successfully from the hotel, and my new friends and I departed for Chitchen Itza afterwards.

Chitchen Itza

Tour groups are weird things. They keep you on schedule, but you don’t get enough time to do the things you want to do.

We stopped by a cenote (pronounced keh-note-ey), a sinkhole in the middle of the jungle, first. Of course, I wanted to swim. After changing we walked down 30m of steps, then dived the final 10m into the clear blue water filled with fish. I went deep on my cliff dive, but surfaced with exhilaration. Waterfalls surrounded the sinkhole, the jungle was all around, stretching to the water below, and the sun was a distant memory. I dived. I went 10, then 15 meters, but still the water was bright blue. I dived again, I made 20 meters- 10 times the length of my body, but still no bottom. I choked as I surfaced, and had trouble treading water. I grabbed for a nearby vine to hold myself above water, and it was then that the conservation officer blew his whistle wildly at me (apparently nature is more important than humans breathing above water). We managed pictures before we had to run off to catch the bus.

A a brief stop at a restaurant, and then Chitchen Itza. It appeared out of the jungle like the sun appearing behind a cloud. It was magnificent, the most perfectly preserved ruins that I had ever seen. We explored for hours, and at every turn we found something amazing to discover. The echoes were sublime. In one place, on the ball court (original lacrosse!), echoes were repeated 9, then 11 times. In another, a certain type of clap would create echoes as though it were a bird sound! We were harassed by multitudes of Mexicans trying to sell cheap souvenirs, and we bargained for a few. I was ripped off for one, and Sanjeema successfully negotiated for another. More preserved than Cairo or Athens, it was though we were transported in time, brought back to reality only for the need for the air conditioning of the bus. We were exhausted and amazed by the time we finally reached Cancun again.

The Final Tally

The week ended too quickly, in fact, it was a surprise to wake up to find it was the last day of the conference. I quickly packed, but when I checked out I was dismayed to find many hidden charges on my bill. It is one thing when craftsmen and con artists in tourist areas selling cheap replicas on blankets try to cheat you, it’s quite another when the Hyatt Regency in Cancun, an American company, does the same thing for close to USD $250! Everything in Mexico has a fuzzy relationship with the American dollar, and they know how to suck the money out of you, whether you are selling beads for dix pesos, or you run a TGIF/Club, or even a five star hotel; in fact, it is simple as this: when you are in Mexico, be prepared to be lied to about how much things cost, and not escape without paying a tourist surcharge of approximately 24%.

Returning home was no easy task either. Federales were a conspicuous presence on the way out, whereas they were an invisible presence on the way in. American immigration treats everyone of brown skin with a cold, suspicious courtesy that borders on hostility, and the Delta baggage handlers managed to utterly and completely destroy the contents of my checked luggage. Dogs patrol the bags with armed handlers who look at you suspiciously if you look at them or their K9s, and I had to try to control the desperate fear that someone has slipped something in my luggage making me an unwitting mule.

However, as I sit here in Atlanta, drinking beer in an airport bar and contemplating my first real trip to Mexico- I try to figure out the differences between there and here. As in Cancun, everything in Atlanta is bilingual, English first. Most of the staff here speaks Spanish, and aside from the southern drawl noticeable in the airport, and the distinct lack of salt-fortified humid air, nothing seems that different; they are the same restaurants, the same people, and the same frenetic moving in all directions. Only here, they don’t heckle you to come to their restaurant.

It was a wonderful trip, and I met wonderful new friends. I saw the wonders of the ancient Maya, and I dived in the beauty of the Yucatan jungle and the Caribbean sea. I achieved a professional accomplishment– publication in the premier IEEE Communications Society Conference, and I made many excellent professional and research contacts. At the same time, I was lied to, cheated, and generally sapped for my cash by con artists, hawkers, and professional drink slingers. I had to overcome social and professional anxiety, and I almost drowned… three times. It was exactly the kind of trip that I wanted.

Devi goes to meet Andy at Dulles International Airport when:

Unproductive Productivity

I’m sitting in my office, staring at my computer, wondering how this outline of a document I just wrote will ever get filled in. The Word file stares back at me, unblinking, unkind, and uncaring. Three weeks ago, in a fit of motivation, I wrote the headings for this document- Introduction, Problem Scope and Motivation, Approach, Approach Evaluation, Conclusion. If that seems non-descriptive, you’re right, and this skeleton of a document is not helping me at all.

My downfall for the past three weeks has not been procrastination or distraction (although I have been battling the two as well), the downfall of this document has been the pseudo-productive task that has driven me away from accomplishing this necessary creative work, but left me feeling satisfied as though I had achieved useful progress. It is only three weeks later that I can see those tasks for what they really were- especially as the glow of the screen shows me my empty document.

It is hard to work at home, I’ve concluded. But I knew that before I undertook my thesis in Arlington instead of Fargo. I moved so that I could be closer to Jaci- and we both knew that I would need a good work environment. So we rented a house with two floors- intending the upper floor to be the work area. A bit optimistically, we thought that separate living and work areas would be better for me to work in because I could “go to work” by going upstairs at 9 and “come home” by coming downstairs at 5.  So far it has been mostly successful, but dog still demands attention, no matter which floor I’m on.

What ends up happening is that I take on tasks that seem productive, short term items that are usually completed quickly. They are errands, server updates, bits of code and script that I want to try out, updates to my resume, searching for a job, etc. They nicely get checked off my to-do list, and when 5 comes along, and Jaci comes home, I’m ready for a seemingly deserved relaxing evening. It is a tyranny that demands my time, and siphons my creative process away from my necessary work.

And as I stare at the shell of the document, it becomes clear, for the first time in my life, I think I have writers block! Too bad it is on something so important. The cursor at the end of the title of this document blinks at me reminding me that it is: “Resource Allocation in Hybrid Wireless Networks; A Proposal for Masters Thesis Work at NDSU”. So dear reader, please any advice you can give on breaking the deadlock would be much appreciated!

Ah, another task to check off my list: “complete blog post about pseudo-productive tasks” … doh.

A Factory Tour

Tim and I decided that to deter boredom on a Monday in Arlington while Jaci was at work- we could take a tour of the Boeing plant in Everett. Because of my experience at Porsche in Stuttgart I figured that it would be a PR junket for the company, and probably a large gift shop with very worthless (but expensive) logo gear. Cynical as I may have been, I assumed that at the very least, there might be some good history to learn; and it was a nice day to watch airplanes land and take off at Paine field. Anyway, we both figured it wouldn’t be something Jaci would be interested in- so we may as well check it out since we had the chance. Little did we know that we were in for a very pleasant surprise because the tour was absolutely riveting and educational!

At the Boeing Plant

When I looked online for Boeing tours, I discovered that this was actually a premier tourist attraction. I thought that we could probably just show up at the Future of Flight building- a tiny Boeing museum near the main plant, and that we would be able to get in on a simple tour of the grounds. I did not expect that we would need reservations (we did, we almost didn’t get tickets because we called the day before) and that usually the 6 scheduled 90 minute tours would fill up quickly. The tickets got you into the main plant- we were escorted there by bus- and we could see the entire factory floor, plus access to the interactive Boeing experience, and the Stratodeck to observe flight operations at Paine Field! They cost $15.50 a person, twice as much as a movie ticket, but very worth it!

The Largest Building in the World by Volume

Before entering the tour, we were asked by a well armed guard to lock our cell phones, cameras, and any other electronic gear in a rental locker. We weren’t sure if this was to stop industrial espionage, equipment interference, or flashes but the security was very tight. Other restrictions included a height restriction, and advice that if you couldn’t descend and climb 21 steep stairs or walk a kilometer they would have to provide an accessible option apart from the main group. This only made me positive that we were going to see some cool stuff, though!

Landing in Front of the Plant

After a short introductory video, we clambered aboard a very nice, modern coach bus for a short drive from the Future of Flight Building, across an access road that skirted the Paine Field runway, to the main manufacturing building. Along the way we passed dozens of brand new jets parked on the tarmac outside paint hangers and other support and fuel buildings. Soon, though, we were parked in front of a massive hanger door.

If you have ever been down the Mulkiteo Speedway, you will have noticed this humongous  hanger complex that is the largest building in the world by volume. In fact, you could fit all of the Walt Disney World  theme park inside of this building and still have room for an indoor parking lot that could hold 1200 cars! The doors, painted blue with Boeing logos are roughly the size of American football fields- 90 feet high by 300 feet long! It looks big, certainly, but when you are standing, engulfed by those doors, it makes you feel downright Lilliputian!

Assembling Twin-Aisle, Wide Body Aircraft

The tour guide (Paul) led us down into an access tunnel that was a kilometer long- each of the 6 manufacturing bays have one. The tunnel runs pipes, cords, and people safely below the assembly floor- in fact, it is used by Boeing employees for exercise during bad weather! The tunnel was long, well lit, and had a laminated concrete floor. I could just envision all the fun things I could do in that tunnel with roller blades, bikes, moving dollies and a tow rope (or vegetable oil and a mattress)…

Halfway down the tunnel we came to a giant freight elevator that took us to the top floor of the middle of the E-shed. The floor was a visitors lobby with security guards, speakers for the tour guide and an amazing overlook view of the 747-8 Assembly station! Previous, smaller jets like the 727 and 737 had been manufactured by a moving assembly line (picture a giant scaffolding on wheels that grew over an aircraft being assembled as it moved down the assembly floor). Unfortunately the 747 was much to massive to be assembled in this way- so it is assembled in static stations.

In the front bay doors are giant aluminum sheet metal cutters, then stations for wing assembly. Wing skeletons are then connected with their control structures in a wing assembly area. The fuselage also has separate assembly structures running gown the far end of the bay. Then coming back down the other side of the bay all the pieces are put together. First, the central fuselage piece are attached to the wings, then the plane moves forward to a giant oven that cures the sealant. The plane moves forward where the front fuselage and tail pieces are moved by ceiling crane to be affixed the central portion and wings. This assembly area has air wing shaped concrete platforms that perfectly fit the growing aircraft. These structures are also used for access to add wiring and other control and structural elements.

Throttle Controls in the 727

After the main assembly, the landing gear is placed on the aircraft, from which point it moves forward as a single structure. Two more angled parking spots allow the plant workers to add the interior as well as do any testing and structural work that needs to be done. Needless to say, this bay is big enough for 5 747 aircraft lined up from nose to tail with space between! It is a massive scale! Sorry that I don’t have pictures- but again, they wouldn’t allow us to bring the camera on the tour.

A Stunning View

Too soon we were pulled from the overlook to move on with the rest of the tour. 747s are awesome, humongous, recognizable aircraft, and to see their birth was pretty extraordinary. However, as we went back down the tunnel to be transported by the bus to the new hangers, we were in for a similar surprise.

The new hangers were built to create the new 777 and 787 aircraft. As before we were taken to a tunnel to be lifted to the top overlook floor. However, the top overlook floor for the 777 and 787 bays was much, much nicer. Digital TVs, scale models, carpet, and sofas greeted us along with the fabulous view of the future of the airline industry (and its pretty cool present).

Landing Gear

If you don’t know too much about the aircraft that carry you when you travel, it may be a surprise to you that there are only really 2 companies that manufacturer your ride- Airbus and Boeing. Boeing aircraft used to be dominant in an airline’s fleet, but Airbus’ sleeker, more efficient planes soon gained a significant market share (think PC vs. Mac). While the 747 had been the workhorse of International Travel – the A340/380 could carry more passengers, farther, for less fuel. Boeing’s answer was the 777.

The 777 is a twin-aisle wide bodied, twin engine aircraft with the farthest range of any commercial aircraft, ever. It is sleek, fuel efficient, and it is the airframe that has carried me back and forth across the Atlantic all except one time. It is an amazing piece of engineering with over 6 million components. In fact the landing gear (seen above) is so high tech, it is the single most expensive component on the plane except for the engines!

We were treated by  a view of the moving assembly line that creates the 777. The line- a scaffold on wheels that grows over aircraft as it is assembled – moves at 1.6 feet per minute and can be accessed by stair by the workers. Once again, overhead cranes carry pieces of the aircraft from their assembly bays to the moving line. We watched as the 35th 777 for Egypt Air was being finalized on the cleanest factory floor I’ve ever seen.

However, the 777 is not the future. The future is Boeing’s 787 Dreamliner aircraft that just had its first flight a few weeks ago.

The Future of Flight

Walking around a partition in the gallery we came to a view of the newest bay that is now being used to assemble the 787 Dreamliner. The 787 is a modern 250 seat aircraft that is made of lightweight, stronger than steel composite material. The modern GE engines are super fuel efficient, and that combined with its light weight gives the 787 an excellent range at highly economic costs.

The stronger material also allows the aircraft to be pressurized at 6000 feet, way more comfortable than the 8000 FAA mandated pressure that is normal now. In addition, the air is humidified, which means no more dry mouth! The composite wings also can bend 12 feet in either direction- meaning that they absorb much of the turbulence! Very soon, airline passengers should be treated to lower cost, way more comfortable flights on these amazing aircraft!

Flight Cone

787s are manufactured in a completely new way as well. Parts are no longer manufactured at the Boeing plant, but completed and integrated in specialty plants around the world. They are flown to the Everett plant via the Dreamlifter- a mega lifter created specially by Boeing for the job- essentially a modified 747 whose upper deck has been extended the entire length of the aircraft (it looks like a giant hot dog). The tail is on a giant hinge that can swing out to load entire sections of the 787 at once! Once flown to Everett, the Dreamliner can be assembled at a rate of one aircraft every three days!

To manage the global dispersion of the 787 manufacturing, the newest bay has a modern command center that looks like it belongs in NASA or a SciFi movie! Massive screens track the locations of all the parts as well as the percent completion of every 787 aircraft in production. Reps from every company involved are also forced to man the command center (presumably so that if something goes wrong they can immediately be chewed out!) Manufacturing of the 787 is a modern, technologically, and communication savvy process that is extremely sophisticated and impressive!

A Beautiful Day Watching Air Operations

After the tour, we went back to the Future of Flight museum to look around. We got to play in a real cockpit, design our own aircraft, and experience an interactive tour of the engines. While we were playing like kids in a candy store, we had the misfortune of hearing the massive wind-up of 4 Rolls Royce jet engines that indicated we missed the take off of one of the enormous Dreamlifters. Because of that, though, we discovered that there was an observation deck with a cafe where we could watch the testing air operations for the new aircraft!

Sitting on the Stratodeck watching Boeing Air Operations

The tour was more than I could have expected. Boeing really took care of their guests, providing access without disruption, and allowing complete viewing of the aircraft manufacturing process. The galleries and viewing areas were impeccably designed and furnished, and very comfortable. I could not ask for a better experience in a factory! If you are in Everett, the Boeing Future of Flight Tour is a must see!

More pictures of the day:

Tonight, we have a mission.

Tonight, I must write a blog post…and thereby earn a bottle of Champagne.

The quote at the top comes from the excellent novel The Manual of Detection by Jedediah Berry, of which I have at this juncture read precisely 51%, according to the reading machine that Champagne-wielding husband of mine purchased me for the Christmas holiday.

I also highly recommend The Widow Clicquot, a biography of Veuve Clicquot, by Tilar J. Mazzeo.  A bit thin on evidence, but what she lacks in details of the woman herself, she makes up for in reams of delightful Champagne facts.  I read this one thanks to my local library.

Other recently enjoyed reads via reading machine:

The Year of the Flood, a novel by Margaret Atwood.  A companion to Oryx and Crake, a novel my copy of which I ironically lost in what I have dubbed the “Ben’s-truck-trunk-book-flooding-incident,” this is a fantastic post-apocalyptic tale by (in my opinion) one of the most astounding authors writing in English today.  I recommend not only these but the many others by her I have read–The Blind Assassin, The Edible Woman, The Robber Bride, The Handmaid’s Tale (don’t bother with the film), and her short story collection Good Bones are all excellent, and utterly engaging.

The Lacuna, by Barbara Kingsolver.  Orwellian in theme, but in ways both more subtle and more direct, she looks to the past to spin a novel of fiction from facts.  I must give props to KPLU 88.5, my local NPR affiliate, for alerting me to this novel.  (In fact, I owe that radio station for one book, one pre-ordered book, two cds and a single that I have purchased in the last month, all with great success and all, incidentally, via download.)

The Little Stranger, by Sarah Waters.  This one, a sort of neo-Gothic horror story set in postwar Britain, had me scared to stop reading–on more than one occasion, I simply read until I fell asleep, because I could only achieve calm through complete brain shutdown.  At one point, reading in bed with husband and dog, a sort of normal and banal rattling sound came from the general vicinity of the garage.  Winston, predictably, woofed–and I, unexpectedly, shrieked.  Just a little, but still, Ben has made fun of me for a week.

And finally, I will admit that the reading machine in question, Amazon’s Kindle, was probably the best gift I’ve ever received that I didn’t want.  My reading rate has gone from the odd book, here and there, to nearly grade-school levels again (when reading was my primary activity, I stayed up late under the covers every night, and leaving a book in progress felt like breaking an enchantment or waking from a deep sleep).  So, Ben, you win.

But now I’ve written a blog post, so I win too!  “The Devil’s in the details…”

After living in China where you don’t need an ID, wait in a line, pay a cover, nor even really look nice to get into a decent club or swanky bar, the exclusivity and judging atmosphere of some clubs in DC are rather off-putting. I know that the perception of exclusivity is a good business strategy for clubs, as it attracts well-dressed, well-moneyed clientele who will make the club look good and spend lots of money, but to me it just seems oddly counter intuitive to create an unwelcoming atmosphere for customers. I’ve personally never had an issue getting into a club (being young, female and reasonably attractive is certainly an advantage), but it does make me distinctly uncomfortable to enter a place that has dozens of large bouncers standing around doing nothing but hogging floor space.
My biggest problem is with a club called Lima, which has a salsa night on Mondays that I regularly attend. There is always a relatively good showing for it being a Monday (there are plenty of salsa enthusiasts in DC), but nothing extraordinary, it’s certainly not packed, and as most people have to work the next day, no heavy drinking occurs to incite rowdy shenanigans. Yet despite this, there are always four to five big guys in suits standing around the club watching the salsa dancers do their thing. It is really hard to dance well and be carefree about it when there is a guy just a foot away watching you. Of course, I know that he is surveying the whole room, and not just watching me and internally critiquing my dancing skills (although he could be), but it is still an odd feeling. It’s MONDAY, and people are there to salsa dance specifically, not a scenario that would call for 5 bouncers to be in the room. I can’t imagine how many they would have for a typical Friday or Saturday night, but then again, I probably wouldn’t go to Lima if it weren’t for the salsa. I’m not a “there to be seen” type of person, and it is certainly that type of club. Get me back to Beijing where I could go to a club in my PJs and dance without anyone looking twice!

Compared to many Americans, I do not drive very often. This is due to the fact that in DC there are many incentives for not driving (parking is expensive/unavailable, DC meter maids are the most vigilant in the world, and public transportation is cheap and abundant). Plus, my time in China has led to a strong preference for biking, and any car transportation needs are easily provided by family members. As such, I only drive about once or twice a month, which keeps my driving skills and emergency know-how at a persistently rusty level. This makes any unforeseen car problems all the more difficult for me to handle. Luckily, there are the Michelle Obamas of the world that are there to offer help.

As I was driving back to Maryland from DC today, I stopped at a traffic light as per usual traffic regulations. When the light turned green, I hit the gas to find that my car suddenly wouldn’t move. Confused, I check everything and discover that the car’s engine had inexplicably shut off. Thinking it was a mere stall, I turn the ignition once, twice, thrice…nothing. The ignition was turning, but the engine would not catch…my car was dead in the middle of the road. Cars started to honk behind me (I was in the left lane of a two lane road) and I realized the desperation of my situation. I was by myself, obstructing traffic, and completely unsure of what to do. I decided that since I couldn’t move the car by myself, my best option was to turn on the hazards, call my dad, and sit there pathetically until help arrived. Perhaps if I looked miserable enough, other drivers wouldn’t be so mad that I had created a traffic jam. So, I sat there. After five minutes, a cop pulled up and asked if I had called a tow truck. I told him that my dad had called one, and the cop told me that he had a round to make, but that if I was still there after he made his round, he would help me push the car to the side. Thinking that he was just going to loop around and be back in a few minutes, I waved off a taxi driver who stopped on the other side of the median and asked if I needed help. 10 minutes later, I was still in the middle of the road, when a figure suddenly taps on my window. It was a well dressed, middle-aged African-American woman in high heels and a fur coat. She first asked me if I was okay (which I thought was an interesting, but kind way of inquiring why the heck I was stopped in the middle of the road), and I tell her that I am fine, but the car is not. She then takes command, telling me to put the car in neutral and turn off the parking brake, and without any further ado gets behind the car and begins to push. I might also add that it was freezing cold out with high winds. A passing biker, probably shamed that a middle-age woman in high heels was pushing the car by herself in freezing weather also stopped, and together they got the car off the road. I thanked them profusely, and they both left. At this point, my parents and tow truck were on the way, and I breathed a sigh of relief.

But the altruism of the Michelle Obama look-alike didn’t stop there. Apparently she had gone back to get her car, which meant she was not a passer-by as I had previously thought, but had specifically pulled over to help me out. Then she came back for me, and offered to give me a ride to a Starbucks or the metro station so I wouldn’t have to freeze in the car. Talk about kind-hearted! I was about to take her up on her offer when I got a call from my mom that she and my dad were only 15 minutes away. Thanking the woman, I told her I would be rescued soon, and with a cry of “Happy New Year!” she drove off. If there was such a thing as a New Year’s Fairy, it would be that woman. Thanks again First-Lady-Look-Alike!

Winston presents THE GLAMORIZER

Very rarely, I utilize the government-provided retail facility that provides high-end goods at tax-free prices to which I am entitled by virtue of my job. Yesterday was one of those magical days, and magical it was. Dear reader, I will tell you why.

“In less than two minutes, we will be giving away an exciting advertising product at the black-and-red giveaway counter. Please make your way toward the flashing light, near the electronics and magazine sections, to take part in this exciting giveaway offer!”

We heard those words while perusing the kitchen gadgetry and knew that we must heed the call. Making our way with appropriate urgency to said booth, we stood around, warily eyeing the others who had also decided to listen to the disembodied female voice promising free swag. Soon enough, an animated young woman made her way purposefully to the booth, climbed up, and started rattling a large box of…something. Something free. Something we would soon have in our hot little hands.

Slowly, allowing the excitement to build, she pulled out…an oddly shaped black plastic knife. No, not an oddly shaped black plastic knife–a GLAMORIZER!

“Some people like to use these to scale fish, but what they are actually for is…GARNISHING!!!” she said enthusiastically, pulling out what looked like a normal melon but what was revealed to be a melon basket full of berries. Handing out glamorizers to all the adults in the audience, she then pulled out a few more tools–a spiral cutter, a paring knife, and a twenty-page book that teaches you to turn a humble cucumber into a fearsome shark that will float in a punch bowl. Setting those things aside, with a promise to tell use about how to get the full set later (because really, why a glamorizer if you don’t also have the spiral cutter, paring knife, and book that teaches you to turn a carrot, a green pepper, and a potato into a palm tree?), she turned to the reason we were all really there.

The MASTER CUT 2.

Not available on any store shelves, the Master Cut 2 is a knife. No–it’s more than just a knife. It’s a godsend. It’s not a hacksaw, but you can use it that way (it will, after all, cut the head of a hammer–I saw it). It cuts paper-thin slices of tomato, after you cut into the head of a hammer. You can drop it down a running food disposal and the company will send you a new one if it’s damaged. It has a spearing end so you can cut your turkey and serve it all with one hand, leaving the other free to write a sonnet or mop a floor. It’s been rated the best bread knife in the world. YOU WOULD BE CRAZY NOT TO HAVE THIS KNIFE!

“It costs $29.99 and we do not apologize for that price, because it comes with an unconditional lifetime guarantee. But, I can do this…I can spend $29.99 with you and give you a second MASTER CUT 2!”

At this point, a few of the crowd left, but most of us stayed, in what I believed was hope for more no-strings-attached free stuff. The pitch continued.

“If you buy the MASTER CUT 2 today, and remember it’s not on any store shelves, not only will you get a second MASTER CUT 2, both with lifetime guarantees, I’ll also give you the full garnishing kit…”

And, it turned out, four steak knives, and a chef’s knife. It was a classic “But wait, there’s more!” pitch–it was, in fact, a live infomercial. I found out why the people in the studio audience are always nodding–the pitchperson nods at you, and it’s an instinctual reaction to nod along. I found out that you really can cut into a hammer head with a triple-tempered surgical steel blade. I found out that most of the people in the audience weren’t waiting for more free stuff–by the end of the program, I would say she achieved about 75% sales. Not bad when most of the people came based on the promise of receiving what turned out to be a plastic garnishing tool that retails for “up to $7-8.”

We were a part of the 25% who walked away with just our glamorizers to show and a tale to tell–as Ben said, “I prefer my cooking utensils classic and French.” But I unconditionally guarantee to remember that knife and the experience for a lifetime.

Scene from the Ballet "Red Detachment of Women"

Sunday was Women’s Day, and I celebrated by doing a stereotypically feminine thing -going to the ballet. The ballet was a revolutionary Communist creation titled the “Red Detachment of Women,” a propaganda piece that only mildly resembled classical Western ballet. If you are familiar with ballet, or recently seen the Curious Case of Benjamin Button, then you know that ballet is all about the lines. In this ballet, the dancers certainly had a line, but not what I would consider a classical ballet line. Rather, the lines were more rooted in tai ji and martial arts, and in some cases were dissolved all together when the ballet veered off in the direction of traditional Chinese folk dance. Of course at the time this ballet was created (it premiered in 1963 at the very same theater we went to on Sunday-wonder which seat Mao sat in…) the anti-rightest, anti-capitalist, and anti-West mentality was in full swing. Anything deemed bourgeois or Western was immediately labeled counter-revolutionary and banned. Ballet of course, is a typically Western art form, and the only way it survived in Maoist China was by radically changing the form and content. Although the most fundamental principles of ballet were retained, a lot was changed to purge its bourgeoisie nature. In fact, several dance moves were strictly prohibited, including the pas de deux and echappe. Also, using these French names was also banned. Grace and beauty, principle tenets of Western ballet, were replaced with strength and militarism. In fact, the dancers all underwent military training in order to rehearse the ballet. According the history of the ballet printed in the program, “An army general pointed out that the female dancers looked like women [no duh], not soldiers. They immediately stopped rehearsing and sent the dancers…for military training.” As result of this training, clenched fists replaced elegant hand movements, pirhouettes were sharp and precise, leaps were meticulously timed, and all throughout dancers were dressed in soldier’s uniforms carrying assorted weaponry -swords, handguns and long rifles. The most shocking moment of the ballet, given that it is indeed a ballet, is when the evil landlord is shot. As he staggers off into the horizon, half-dead, the Red Army steps into formation and shoots after him, firing simultaneously, shot after shot after shot. It was in the most literal sense of the word, overkill. Chairman Mao’s impression of the ballet also cracks me up. 方向是对的， 革命是成功的，艺术上也是好的。 “The direction was correct, the revolution was successful..the artistry was also good.” His last comment on the artistry seems a mere afterthought, which it probably was. We all know what Mao’s priorities were, and it was definitely not art or culture. But, despite the overtly communist connotations of the ballet, it was still highly entertaining and culturally enlightening. I would certainly place this ballet among the so-called 70% good that came out of Mao’s China.