Come Wi-fi the friendly skies

It's still pretty early - 6:20 - and I've made it over to JFK a bit early for my flight. Heading down to Orlando this morning for the wedding of my good friend Aaron (aka Tuffy, aka Mudwhistle.) I lived with Aaron for a while when I was down in Florida last summer and we'd worked together several years ago in Indianapolis. Good people that Aaron Hill.

So here at JFK, JetBlue has their own little group of terminals and they've got it set up pretty nice. Free wi-fi for one thing and clever-looking little bohemian sushi-bar. The only thing I can think of more unappitizing than sushi this early in the morning is . . . well, ok, I can't think of anything worse.

My boss gave me a copy of Moneyball the other day. So far it's the story of Billy Bean, the A's GM, and how he came to have a great ball team with the second smallest piggy-bank in the majors. Two of my favorite past-times, baseball and thriftiness. Seems like a bit of a psychological thriller as well. Beane was a first-rounder for the Mets back in the day and came up with Strawberry and Dykstra, but he never quite got his game on. If I were a psychoanalyst I would say that his unique approach to how he drafts kids was built as a response to his experience of being pressured to play ball and the pressure of being over-hyped by scouts.

I'm looking forward to the rest of the book.

On a separate, but very exciting note, Steve Beard is back from who knows where.

The last train to washington

This week began as most have for the past five months - on a train at 5:30 in the morning. This week ended as most have for the past five months - on a train at 5:30 in the evening. I like trains, but not that much and I'm very glad that this will be my last two train weekend for a while.guy.

I'm on the train now, crossing what I think is the Susquhanna River, trying to think of a pithy way to recount my week. Nicole is working feverishly to wrap up her third and final paper - The Comparative Morphology of the Hyoid - before I get to the station at 8:50. Mom and Dad are somewhere on I-68 heading east. Beth, my oldest sister, is hanging out over at her neighbor's house in DC. Ruthie, my middle sister, is getting ready to go see a movie with some friends. Catie, my youngest sister, is out at a little horse farm near Columbus giving riding lessons to little girls. I guess it's a pretty rare thing that I know where my entire family is at any given time.

My bike gave me troubles all week. I've had three flat tires on my new rear wheel. I've checked the rim strips for uncovered spokes, checked the tire for errant objects and tried three different air pressures. Nadda. So my bike is sitting in the TRL props room with a thouroughly flat tire. I just can't imagine what it is that brought this spata-flats along.

I spoke with the County of Ventura - nice people those Venturites - about getting a marriage license. Seems pretty straight forward. Showing up is 80% of the job - Woody Allen would be glad. I didn't intend any dark joke about Mr. Allen's married life (lives) but I suppose I could take credit for anything you are inferring.

Well, Baltimore is outside my window. Time to pack it up and call it a week - the last train week.

Fare thee well

When I was a sophomore in high school my older sister and I rode the bus together to school. Our bus stop was about 100 yards up the street (Arnsby Road). I don't remember much of my high school days, especially the freshman and sophomore parts, but I do remember that bus stop. I remember once that Beth's hair was wet and it was so cold outside that it froze and we tried to break pieces of it while standing at that bus stop.

What I remember most though is getting ready for the bus. Beth and I had rooms next to each other in the basement and she would turn on NPR every morning. She used to say that if the NPR guy went off and the local sports guy came on we were going to be late for the bus.

That NPR guy was Bob Edwards and Friday was his last day as the anchor of that morning show - Morning Edition. Even though Beth was the only one who knew what he was talking about in the mornings, I grew to love that guy's voice. Many years later, when I actually began to understand some of what he was saying, I started to understand why she listened every morning. Morning Edition is almost like an audio cup of coffee. Probably not 100% healthy but it is really nice on the senses.

Since I've moved to NYC I began an every-once-a-while habit of waking up and bringin up WOSU, the station we used to listen to in Columbus, and listening in to the mix of Bob, the Morning addition folks and the local Columbus news. That's what I was doing Friday morning when Bob Edwards signed off for the last time.

This weekend's train

I did the usual Friday afternoon routine today. Skip lunch, get my work down, grab my bags, hustle through rush hour traffic down to Penn Station and catch the earliest train possible down to Washington. If the week hasn't been enough for me already, by the time I get on the train my head is generally thumping and I just wanna sleep for a few hours.

Unfortunately, the Friday evening rush hour trains to DC are normally oversold and people have to sit in the aisles and in the little space between the cars. If you get there early enough to get a seat, you have to try to relax next to a total stranger for three hours. I can think of more pleasant circumstances under which to catch up on a little sleep.

But it wasn't to be that way this evening. I had the usual week, the usual Friday, the usual hustle to the train station, the usual last minute catching of the train. But I shuffled down the aisle-way of the train - eyes half shut - I head someway say "Leimbach". I knew that bark: Wagner. He had a seat for me.

It had totally slipped my mind that Ben had told me he was heading down to Philly for a show and a ten miler. We talked a little about work a little about Coffee and Cigarettes and a little about this and that. I can't tell you what a difference it makes to be tired on a train with a friend sittin' next to you.