So here I am, ensconced in my very nice hotel room in Banff, two days into my artist in residence writing program.
Things got off to an interesting start when I had an unscheduled 30 hour layover in Frankfurt because my company bought such a cheap ticket that I was forcibly bumped from my flight due to overbooking, only to arrive in Denver to massive snow storms. My friend Will kindly picked me up at the airport, fed me, and even helped me pack. The poor thing drove me through a snowstorm to DIA so I could catch my flight to Banff the day after I got to Denver. The flight was delayed, and I ended up getting here at 1 in the morning Friday. Jet lag doesn't even begin to describe how I'm feeling right now. I won't even go into dealing with the switch from 100 degree F temps to 30 degree temps.
Friday at 8 am I had a work con call (was I even there? not really) and then a 10 am orientation for the writing program. I almost fell asleep. The other participants in the program are famous, most of them athletes, they've all published before, and I was getting more and more intimidated as we went around the circle to talk about our projects. I was the last to go, so I started by saying "I think I'm the outlier in the group. I actually have a corporate job." One of the participants said "You mean...you get a paycheck?"
Everyone has made a huge effort to make me feel at home, and I'm embarrassed to say I've been having these insane conversations just because I am finally in a group that can talk about subjects other than farting. The publisher I'm working with is great, and I'm meeting his wife on Monday because she has a similar story to mine.
I met with him one on one this morning. I was worried about the meeting because, on the multiple plane rides out here, I realized I wasn't quite sure what my book was about. We spent most of the 2 hours talking about structure. He gave me a new writing assignment that needs to be done by Sunday night so it can be workshopped next week (I'm the second writer to be workshopped - the first is an award winning, published writer - yeah, no pressure). I wrote for most of the day today, and will be getting up early to finish tomorrow. I spent 5 hours on the writing assignment and am only halfway through (never could say anything in 20 words or less, to quote concrete blonde).
I did take an hour and a half to go to the gym. I ran two miles, felt fine, except that towards the end all the stuff in my lungs started making bad noises. The last 5 minutes of my run I sounded like a rattling car. Right after I got off the treadmill a woman sprayed it down with chemicals. How embarrassing.
But. Carrying on. It's the first time in my life I've had the opportunity to do nothing but write. So, I'm happy.
Saturday, October 31, 2009
Monday, October 26, 2009
commodities
There's a little bar called Chi Chi's on the beach at my hotel. It's pathetic that I've been working so much, and not going out, except when Ireland drags me out, that I didn't even know this bar existed until the bouncer came. He invited me one night to sit with him and have a glass of wine. He goes there every night to work (but only drinks when I'm there - yes, I know, bad influence).
We were hanging out there before my flight to Frankfurt (which left at 2 in the morning, how insane is that) and we started talking about love. He's been married for almost 20 years. He said he thinks that the most important thing any person can learn is how to love. The second most important is to make other people happy.
He was a little taken aback by some of my comments about relationships. I was talking about how hard it is to find a guy that will accept that I have a career and that I might make more money. Sports are a weird thing too. Guys seem to get intimidated by women who are athletic. Then there's the whole travel thing. The only person I know who travels more than I do is my dad.
The bouncer said that in a relationship partners should support each other, and that the success of one should be seen as a success for both. I think women are good at understanding that, but I think most men suck at understanding that. In fact, of all the men I know, I can't think of a single one that is successful in business AND married or partnered with a woman who is as, if not more, successful. I only know a few guys who have wives or partners that work. Bouncer said maybe that's an american thing and that I should move abroad for a while.
The most interesting thing he said had to do with sex. We were talking about how neither of us watch tv. I mentioned that the few times I'm exposed to the tv in the gym I'm appalled by the shit they show (that's the main reason I turn off all the tvs in the gym, even though it drives the trainer nuts and he turns them all back on as soon as I leave). The bouncer was talking about generations, and he said that our generation (we're around the same age) was raised to think love is the most important things. Younger people are more focused on material wealth. The generation before us was more about "free love".
I asked him what he thought about that since, culturally, the country he comes from supports the idea of free love, and not committing to a single partner (I say this not because I'm an expert in his country's culture, but because of what I've read on the web and in the news). He said when you have relationships where the driving factor is sex, and that you are not having sex because you love the person, you are commoditizing sex. I thought that was a very profound thing to say, and it makes a lot of sense to me.
Love is something I often wonder about, and try to understand, because most of the time it seems so fucked up. But if you look at it from the bouncer's perspective, things are a little clearer. People who are trying to get other people to have sex with them not because they care but because they want to show some kind of ownership...makes perfect sense.
I am hoping the bouncer is still there when I get back to dhabi. We've had a lot of interesting conversations.
We were hanging out there before my flight to Frankfurt (which left at 2 in the morning, how insane is that) and we started talking about love. He's been married for almost 20 years. He said he thinks that the most important thing any person can learn is how to love. The second most important is to make other people happy.
He was a little taken aback by some of my comments about relationships. I was talking about how hard it is to find a guy that will accept that I have a career and that I might make more money. Sports are a weird thing too. Guys seem to get intimidated by women who are athletic. Then there's the whole travel thing. The only person I know who travels more than I do is my dad.
The bouncer said that in a relationship partners should support each other, and that the success of one should be seen as a success for both. I think women are good at understanding that, but I think most men suck at understanding that. In fact, of all the men I know, I can't think of a single one that is successful in business AND married or partnered with a woman who is as, if not more, successful. I only know a few guys who have wives or partners that work. Bouncer said maybe that's an american thing and that I should move abroad for a while.
The most interesting thing he said had to do with sex. We were talking about how neither of us watch tv. I mentioned that the few times I'm exposed to the tv in the gym I'm appalled by the shit they show (that's the main reason I turn off all the tvs in the gym, even though it drives the trainer nuts and he turns them all back on as soon as I leave). The bouncer was talking about generations, and he said that our generation (we're around the same age) was raised to think love is the most important things. Younger people are more focused on material wealth. The generation before us was more about "free love".
I asked him what he thought about that since, culturally, the country he comes from supports the idea of free love, and not committing to a single partner (I say this not because I'm an expert in his country's culture, but because of what I've read on the web and in the news). He said when you have relationships where the driving factor is sex, and that you are not having sex because you love the person, you are commoditizing sex. I thought that was a very profound thing to say, and it makes a lot of sense to me.
Love is something I often wonder about, and try to understand, because most of the time it seems so fucked up. But if you look at it from the bouncer's perspective, things are a little clearer. People who are trying to get other people to have sex with them not because they care but because they want to show some kind of ownership...makes perfect sense.
I am hoping the bouncer is still there when I get back to dhabi. We've had a lot of interesting conversations.
cutting the cheese
I don't know why, but I seem to be bringing out the most immature side of my team. Even Ireland, after sitting in a car with three of my team members, listening to us laughing about fart jokes, said I'm a bad influence. The fart joke, as told by Texas Kid: Two saudi guys wanted to get drunk but obviously there's no alcohol in the kingdom. One of them reads on the internet that drinking jet fuel causes a buzz. So the two guys drink jet fuel and go home. The next day one calls the other and says "How are you feeling after drinking jet fuel?" and the other says "I'm fine, but don't fart". "Why not?" the first guy inquires. "Because I'm 200 km away" the other responds.
The joke is funny at 5 o'clock in the morning when you've only gotten a few hours of sleep.
Anyway, the other day I was sitting in the office and someone had once again switched out my chair. I tried to lower it to fit under my desk, turned a screw, and the bottom side of the chair fell apart. Hm, I thought, and continued on with my work. When I went to turn around the chair tilted precariously to the right side. I almost fell out of it.
I tried to fix it, but couldn't. So I switched my chair out with Texas Kid's chair. He sat in it a few minutes later and almost fell out of it as well. We started laughing and calling it the fart chair because he would tilt the chair over in my direction and pretend to fart, especially when I was asking him the status of his tasks to update the project plan.
Texas Kid had also brought in some swiss cheese. Many jokes about cutting the cheese ensued. The bouncer came in at one point while we were making these jokes, but he didn't say anything. At some point, as always happens, I started to get pissed about something and went off on a little tirade. Bouncer said "Uh oh, Franki's cutting the cheese!"
Texas Kid and I looked at each other and started laughing hysterically. It turns out, the bouncer thought the expression meant getting angry and yelling at people. He asked me the origin of the expression but I have no idea where it came from. Texas Kid got a lot of mileage out of that one. Every time I tried to talk to him he would say "Franki, are you about to start cutting the cheese?"
I introduced them to the expressions "going postal" and "I love me jacket" (a straitjacket, that courtesy of Jeffy). I also explained to them "stove piped organizations" and "pulling off the kid gloves".
I guess Ireland is right. I am a bad influence.
Another totally inappropriate joke going around the office among the pakis: A paki guy is really depressed so he calls a suicide hot line. The person answers and the guy says "I'm so depressed I want to die." The hot line guy responds "Well, do you know how to drive a truck?"
I bet my dad is going to yell at me for putting that joke out here...
The joke is funny at 5 o'clock in the morning when you've only gotten a few hours of sleep.
Anyway, the other day I was sitting in the office and someone had once again switched out my chair. I tried to lower it to fit under my desk, turned a screw, and the bottom side of the chair fell apart. Hm, I thought, and continued on with my work. When I went to turn around the chair tilted precariously to the right side. I almost fell out of it.
I tried to fix it, but couldn't. So I switched my chair out with Texas Kid's chair. He sat in it a few minutes later and almost fell out of it as well. We started laughing and calling it the fart chair because he would tilt the chair over in my direction and pretend to fart, especially when I was asking him the status of his tasks to update the project plan.
Texas Kid had also brought in some swiss cheese. Many jokes about cutting the cheese ensued. The bouncer came in at one point while we were making these jokes, but he didn't say anything. At some point, as always happens, I started to get pissed about something and went off on a little tirade. Bouncer said "Uh oh, Franki's cutting the cheese!"
Texas Kid and I looked at each other and started laughing hysterically. It turns out, the bouncer thought the expression meant getting angry and yelling at people. He asked me the origin of the expression but I have no idea where it came from. Texas Kid got a lot of mileage out of that one. Every time I tried to talk to him he would say "Franki, are you about to start cutting the cheese?"
I introduced them to the expressions "going postal" and "I love me jacket" (a straitjacket, that courtesy of Jeffy). I also explained to them "stove piped organizations" and "pulling off the kid gloves".
I guess Ireland is right. I am a bad influence.
Another totally inappropriate joke going around the office among the pakis: A paki guy is really depressed so he calls a suicide hot line. The person answers and the guy says "I'm so depressed I want to die." The hot line guy responds "Well, do you know how to drive a truck?"
I bet my dad is going to yell at me for putting that joke out here...
Sunday, October 25, 2009
octoberfest
They had a three day octoberfest celebration at my hotel. Ireland made reservations for us to go on Friday.
We have a new team member, from Sweden, and I immediately nicknamed him "the Bouncer" because he's been good at stepping in between me and who ever is having a problem with me at the office. He's a typical tall, burly swedish guy, and he's very sweet. But, I found out that he was upset at first that I called him the bouncer because apparently there is some show in Europe that has a dog called bouncer on it, and he thought I was insulting him.
Anyway, the bouncer and I got to octoberfest, which was set up on the tennis courts here at the hotel. There were flags across the top of the courts, and plaster statues of two germans, two horses, and a weird cow in one corner. The cow was about half the size of the horses, and nowhere close to the size of a real cow. Some people who were drunk picked the cow up half way through the night and ran around the tennis courts with it.
Ireland and her friend M showed up and we went to get food. Everything was pork, which I don't eat, except for one section that had sauerkraut, a weird purple salad thing, cooked carrots, and these balls of something that tasted like flour. I only got the balls because I thought they were potatoes. They looked like potatoes.
Anyway, as the night progressed I was getting drunk, due to being dehydrated from the beach, as well as the meds I'm taking for my bronchitis. At some point M ordered shots of schnapps, but after one sip I decided there was no way I was going to finish the shot. I dumped it in the bouncer's glass while he wasn't looking (he was filming these insane people dancing on a table next to us - I was sure the table was going to collapse).
At some point I decided to read everyone's palms. I told Ireland she was going to get married and have an affair. I told the bouncer that I thought he was going to have a short life. This bothered him so much that he had a nightmare about it. He told me that he dreamed we were in a meeting and I said "I've done some models to show that you will have a short life", and then I started showing him architecture diagrams. The dream was so bad that he woke up at 430 in the morning and couldn't go back to sleep. Oops.
I was somehow talked into procuring some shot glasses and putting them in my bag before we left. It was kind of funny because as I was walking I was making a clinking sound and everyone was freaking out but me. Luckily the security at the party was distracted by these two idiots that decided they wanted to have their pictures taken on the horse. They jumped up on the horse and the legs broke off the horse. It was really funny but also sad. Then they tried to pick up the horse and run around with it, but security stopped them.
We ended up going to my room. M laid down on my bed and Ireland ate all my patchi chocolates that the hotel staff keeps leaving on my pillow. Someone had given me a bottle of champagne so they drank that, and we also finished a bottle of wine. The next morning when I woke up I was like "what happened to my room????" because there were glasses everywhere, and a big ice bucket. I think I got to bed around 4 am.
I got Ireland to promise to take me next time she goes home because I've never been to Ireland. Of course, I don't know if I could survive the trip, if it's anything like octoberfest.
We have a new team member, from Sweden, and I immediately nicknamed him "the Bouncer" because he's been good at stepping in between me and who ever is having a problem with me at the office. He's a typical tall, burly swedish guy, and he's very sweet. But, I found out that he was upset at first that I called him the bouncer because apparently there is some show in Europe that has a dog called bouncer on it, and he thought I was insulting him.
Anyway, the bouncer and I got to octoberfest, which was set up on the tennis courts here at the hotel. There were flags across the top of the courts, and plaster statues of two germans, two horses, and a weird cow in one corner. The cow was about half the size of the horses, and nowhere close to the size of a real cow. Some people who were drunk picked the cow up half way through the night and ran around the tennis courts with it.
Ireland and her friend M showed up and we went to get food. Everything was pork, which I don't eat, except for one section that had sauerkraut, a weird purple salad thing, cooked carrots, and these balls of something that tasted like flour. I only got the balls because I thought they were potatoes. They looked like potatoes.
Anyway, as the night progressed I was getting drunk, due to being dehydrated from the beach, as well as the meds I'm taking for my bronchitis. At some point M ordered shots of schnapps, but after one sip I decided there was no way I was going to finish the shot. I dumped it in the bouncer's glass while he wasn't looking (he was filming these insane people dancing on a table next to us - I was sure the table was going to collapse).
At some point I decided to read everyone's palms. I told Ireland she was going to get married and have an affair. I told the bouncer that I thought he was going to have a short life. This bothered him so much that he had a nightmare about it. He told me that he dreamed we were in a meeting and I said "I've done some models to show that you will have a short life", and then I started showing him architecture diagrams. The dream was so bad that he woke up at 430 in the morning and couldn't go back to sleep. Oops.
I was somehow talked into procuring some shot glasses and putting them in my bag before we left. It was kind of funny because as I was walking I was making a clinking sound and everyone was freaking out but me. Luckily the security at the party was distracted by these two idiots that decided they wanted to have their pictures taken on the horse. They jumped up on the horse and the legs broke off the horse. It was really funny but also sad. Then they tried to pick up the horse and run around with it, but security stopped them.
We ended up going to my room. M laid down on my bed and Ireland ate all my patchi chocolates that the hotel staff keeps leaving on my pillow. Someone had given me a bottle of champagne so they drank that, and we also finished a bottle of wine. The next morning when I woke up I was like "what happened to my room????" because there were glasses everywhere, and a big ice bucket. I think I got to bed around 4 am.
I got Ireland to promise to take me next time she goes home because I've never been to Ireland. Of course, I don't know if I could survive the trip, if it's anything like octoberfest.
catastrophe averted...hopefully
This morning I got to work stressed out because I had a presentation for a very high ranking officer and there was no news on my passport. I was worried I'd have to go to Dubai immigration and didn't know how I was going to do that since I had my presentation. Matters got worse when I found out I had to do the presentation in another building, which I couldn't get into, because they required my passport, which I didn't have.
I was talking to one of the officers, who was teasing me about leaving, and I told him I couldn't leave due to my passport issues. I also mentioned to him that I couldn't get into the building where I was supposed to do my presentation.
He called the military guy I work for, who called the high ranking officer, who said he would call immigration and get everything straightened out. An hour later my passport was delivered to me. Also, the officer I was supposed to brief told me to wait until I come back here to come see him because he didn't want me to be stressed and tired before leaving for Canada.
What a great guy.
So, the day ended up well, except that, when I got back to the hotel and tried to check in on my flight, the check in didn't work. That's when I looked at my itinerary and realized my last name is spelled wrong. I called the airline and the travel agent, and they both said that it's no big deal. We'll see when I get to the airport.
Hopefully I'll be in Canada in a few days and not still in Abu Dhabi waiting for my ticket to get straightened out.
I was talking to one of the officers, who was teasing me about leaving, and I told him I couldn't leave due to my passport issues. I also mentioned to him that I couldn't get into the building where I was supposed to do my presentation.
He called the military guy I work for, who called the high ranking officer, who said he would call immigration and get everything straightened out. An hour later my passport was delivered to me. Also, the officer I was supposed to brief told me to wait until I come back here to come see him because he didn't want me to be stressed and tired before leaving for Canada.
What a great guy.
So, the day ended up well, except that, when I got back to the hotel and tried to check in on my flight, the check in didn't work. That's when I looked at my itinerary and realized my last name is spelled wrong. I called the airline and the travel agent, and they both said that it's no big deal. We'll see when I get to the airport.
Hopefully I'll be in Canada in a few days and not still in Abu Dhabi waiting for my ticket to get straightened out.
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