OPNETWORK Post Thoughts

Sitting on the Metro after five days of OPNETWORK, I found myself experiencing what I call red-shirt flashback. Essentially, every time I saw anyone wearing red, I had to turn away and hide. It wasn't a conscious action, but I notice that my reflex was to sink lower in my seat and look away.

Part of this may have been the cold medicine that I had taken moments before... I've been sick all weekend. I really need to get better before I leave on Friday for London.

OPNET Red Shirt Hash

So Dave (aka "Takes It Up the Eh?") and I were quite disappointed in the showing of OPNET "red shirts *" at tonight's White House Hash. The hash started on Freedom Plaza quite literally across the street from the Jimmy Carter Center.

Instead, we acquired just one virgin of the twenty or so from whom we had received some confirmation.

Instead of a humorous presence of red shirts, there were a mere three, of which only one (myself) actually ran. (Dave's foot is still broken.) We did get several comments by fellow hashers regarding the mass of red shirts in the surrounding Pennsylvania Avenue area. There were over 400 of us!

* The standard OPNETWORK uniform for OPNET employees.

OPNETWORK Day One

On this the first day of the ninth OPNETWORK (my seventh), I fell flat on my ass. Usually, I (we all do it really) wait for Wednesday or Thursday before we lose average motor skills such as tripping over our feet, missing a step on the stairs, etc.

And yet, in my first TA session, I went to squat next to a client as he asked a question. I placed my hand on the chair next to him for support. However, either I missed my mark, the chair was not as sturdy as I expected, or some combination thereof.

The next thing I know is I'm tumbling backwards, my coworker is darting out the door to tell the tale and if I had the ability to turn red, I'm sure I would have.

El mariachi peor del mundo

This weekend I went up to suburban New Jersey to visit my dad on (actually near) his birfday. We went to a Mexican restaurant in Morris Plains (read: ultra-suburb).

We also went to a Mets-Nationals game, but I don't want to talk about that (the Nats lost).

As we walked in to the restaurant, there were two men with guitars tuning up. One was what appeared to be Mexican, but the other was clearly white.

Well when they began to play I think there were dogs in Pennsylvania that were howling. They were so bad it hurt. It's not that either of them couldn't play, well actually I'm still not convinced they could, but rather thy could not play together. They were not holding each others tempo and at times were completely off beat.

Then they tried to sing. Let's not go there...

It was so bad that my dad caught one of the wait-staff wincing in horror.

At one point, while whitey was talking to a table of customers, the other began strumming "Stairway to Heaven", a well known beginner song that any frat-boy in college could easily play.

Then there was the applause. My mom seemed to think they were being polite. I actually disagree. I think there may have been a little of that, but mostly I believe that the clientele actually did not know any better.

Did I mention that this was ultra-suburban New Jersey? Something told me that these people actually did not know any better. Perhaps they actually thought that is how Mexican music sounded and were not aware of the horrid tortures that they were being subdued to.

Long Gas Lines of the 1970's

In the late 1970's, the United States suffered from a gas crisis. Gas prices were astronomical due to a shortage of supply. Lines for gas would stretch for blocks.

The present skyrocketing prices are due to a spike in demand. China and other countries moving into the world of capitalism are experiencing the gas-guzzling addiction that comes with the economic structure.

Yesterday, I saw a scary recreation of the 1970's scene. The gas station at which I stopped to fill up was suffering from a flow problem and the pumps were doling gas as slow as a snail escaping eminent squashing.

Arriving at what seemed to be the onset of the problem, I was "next" at the particular pump for which I had chosen to wait. After about five minutes of waiting for the stoner kid to fill up the tank of his Eclispe, I started to think he might be high and was just standing there. But then I began to look around, and it seemed that no one was moving. This station had eight pumps and no one had finished pumping their gas.

Upon further examination of the digital readout, I noticed that gas was being pumped at a rate of close to a gallon a minute. Soon, the line for gas was filling up this relatively large service station. Waiting customers were forced to wait out on the busy street and traffic was beginning to get testy.

Finally, I decided that the time it would take to go to the other gas station just a mile away, fill my tank and be on my way would be less than the time to wait for the stoner-dude and fill my own tank at this pace.

This makes me think of another note. During Megan's recent visit, she kept poking at me to buy a Prius. Toyota Prius is a hybrid vehicle that gets more than 47 miles to a gallon. I told her she has FWMH, but not that much. Although as my gas receipt hit $45 for the second time in a row, I may have to consider it. After a little research, I found that Prius's (or Prii) are still made in Toyota city, Japan. This is good, because I would never buy an American built car.

Blogging about (lack of) blogging

Yes, I know that I violate the first rule of blogging by writing about blogging, but foo on the rules. Recently, one of my dear readers (okay not you but the other one) commented on my lack of content.

Yesterday, as I sat through a dry run of a session for our up coming annual conference OPNETWORK, it dawned on me why I always have so little to say in my blog. For one, I really don't blog about work. It's too easy for someone to find my blog, get offended, and fire me ("Hi Marc! Hi Alain! Hi Ray! Hi Dave!") Or worse, somebody (those who I have so recently said hello to) to find my blog, appreciate said content, and promote me to middle-management... Oh wait, I'm already there.

The fact that yesterday started with a shower and straight to work by 08:00 is no different than any other day. Sitting here at home waiting for Megan to pick up some stuff has given me a little time at home before I go in.

But going back to the epiphany I had yesterday. It was then 19:30 in the evening and I had been at work for nearly 12 hours at that point. At 20:00, I made my way to the gym and by the time I got home at 22:30, there was barely enough time to read a few chapters of The Half-Blood Prince and then go to bed.

Repeat that four to five days out of the week and you've got a severe lack of material. I am starting to make efforts to change this! Boy do I need that upcoming vacation!

I will say this: Brian and I have started a sort of posse. It's the everyone-we-know-has-gone-of-and-gotten-married-and-are-having-kids Brian and Anand's Party Posse. But that's a topic I save for a different post.