Day 3: My Dogs Are Barkin

Lots of walking today as the convention kicked-off. I covered a press conference for Zildjian cymbals and sticks this morning. Took some pictures and notes for a small write up. Below are the big wigs for the company and one of their endorsers, Simon Phillips.

The rest of the day was spent on the floor talking with companies on my beat--keyboards and print--about their new products and trends they've noticed.

The Senior VP, Sales of Carl Fisher said that customers are seeking DVDs and CDs with their sheet music purchases. I spoke with the CEO at Galileo pianos about their line of goods. They make digital pianos. They had this one that is a digital player piano to which you can attach your iPod. If you download particular types of files you can plug in the iPod and the piano will play the song with vocals and the keys move to the notes. That was pretty cool. MSRP: $15,000+. I spoke with three guys at Alfred Publishing. They have some neat books coming out this year.

Tomorrow I have a breakfast meeting to cover at 7:30. Then the rest of the day will be spent covering my beat and talking with execs and other assignments as they come up.

Meal recap:
Breakfast: Waffle at restaurant in the hotel.
Lunch: Room service hamburger with fries and a pear. And no, I didn't put the pear ON the burger.
Dinner: Roasted lemon garlic chicken, which lacked both lemon and garlic, with potatoes and fall vegetables.

Down with Down

Synthetic fibers for me, you can leave the geese alone. I'm not a big proponent of down feathers and comforters. The times I've used them they seem to not retain heat. Par example, last night I had to go to the bathroom in the middle of the night (I know you wanted to know that crucial detail). By the time I returned to my bed with lack of support in the middle (think V) the sheets were ice cold. Maybe that's more of a sheet issue than comforter, but I'll blame geese.

As to pillows, I like my pillows to have their own form not some malleable mush that makes squishy noises when squeezed.

Day 2 highlights: these days kind of blend into each other. It was really windy yesterday. I saw on the news that a truck was overturned due to the wind. Chalk that up to another sign that the man upstairs doesn't approve of Cali. I think I'd still accept the mudslides, hedonists and earthquakes to have steady temperatures in the tolerable range.

As I look through my photos I recall that yesterday was my first day on the floor surveying the territory. The show really began today (Thursday) but vendors were preparing. I ate at IHOP. That's exciting. Not much else comes to mind for Wednesday. I took a picture of people from Warwick, an amp company.

On to Thursday...

Day 1: The Arrival

I shall never tire of flying into Southern California. This is my third trip in four years to the land of smog and sun. Each time I gaze out the consistently dirty window with rounded corners to behold the earth below. I’m not sure if I love flying or flying to someplace warmer. Soaring above the clouds seems so peaceful. If I could just tune out the snarfing blue hairs and wailing infants I'd be set.

Perhaps it is the different terrain that piques my interest. Peering out the window I marvel at the mountains and rivers. On this trip I noticed some large grassy hills/mountains that looked like bunched up velvet. It’s breathtaking to see the country from 30,000 feet.

So I was flying with my coworker Jenny and we landed in Santa Ana. We hailed a cab and I swear the guy was the one from Troop Beverly Hills. He had the black shades and this blazing yellow Nike cap.

I settled into my hotel room. Decent accommodations. My full report will be given at the end of the trip. The one big strike right now is lack of internet in the rooms.

As to the work part of the trip, yesterday I edited some pages and walked around with the publisher and editor surveying the land.

Last night I had sushi for the first time at a Japanese restaurant near Disneyland. How they could serve flounder, I’ll never know. It was pretty good. I don’t think I would choose sushi if were debating what to get for dinner. It seemed like avocado, cucumber, shrimp wrapped in rice. The dipping in soy sauce just made the thing taste like soy sauce. I did like the miso soup, which tasted salty to my palette but in a non-salty way.

Today should entail some reporting and picture taking. I’m off to shower and get some breakfast. Have to hit the ground running!

Note: I just watched the weather—the abc affiliate has a “Live Mega Doppler 8000 HD,” guess the super-duper Doppler bajillion must be in the shop.

Sub-Note: Where is the Wi-Fi in this place?

An obstructed view

So I thought I'd write a bit about my adventures last night and my issues with late nights.

A friend of mine was in a comedy show, so being a patron of the arts, I went to see the show scheduled to start at 8. I figured an hour would be plenty of time to travel the 15-20 miles into the city from home. Merging onto the "expressway," I bopped my head from side to side, synchronous to the tunes on my semi-functional iPod. After about 3-4 miles of clear sailing I ran into what some may call traffic. This happened to me before. Here's my notion of driving in Chicago: If I drive after rush hour there shouldn't be traffic/anyone in my way. This notion seems to be invalid. I've never understood traffic, especially on expressways. If everyone goes at or near the speed limit and doesn't drive like a fool there shouldn't be problems. Apparently, merging presents issues for many drivers.

So I'm rolling along at the blazing speed of 15 miles per hour and see a sign for my exit. Off I go to the even slower Lawrence Avenue. The next thirty minutes involved me looking at the clock, 7:45, my speedometer, a red light, the clock, 7:53, red light, stagnant speedometer, red light. It was infuriating because I had to be someplace AT 8.

Pulling a page out of the Andrew Playbook, I finally got to the general vicinity of the theater at 8:03. I parked the beast then hustled out of the car grabbing my phone from the passenger seat and ditching my iPod in a pocket. After walking to the theater I realized I left my wallet in my car. Back to the car. Amazingly both the car and my wallet were still in the lot.

Thankfully the theater wasn't punctual and I didn't miss any of my friend's show.

As to the show, it was Love Is Dead and was quiet good. The ending left me a little confused as to the overall message, which was veering toward positive and uplifting before the end. Here's a minimalist description: lonely mortician, loves the dead a little too much, serial killer, Mayberryesque police staff, song and dance. I did have a man with a Guinness World Record-size melon for a head. It seriously blocked out half the stage. Craning around his notorious noggin did allow me to exercise my neck muscles.

After the show, the various local chapters of the Jenna fan club congregated outside of the theater. I received two questions while standing around: Is this the line for the bathroom? and Is this the line to get in to the show?

After chatting at the theater, I rounded out the night with a quick stop in my jazz haunt, the Green Mill, with Jenna. The quartet was good and we caught their last number.

I made good time coming home after finding the expressway-- I swear it moves. Took about 20 minutes to get home. In bed by 2:30.

Here's my main issue with staying up late. I consider myself a morning person. Some people are able to stay out late and sleep late the following day. My stubborn body clock wont allow it. If I stay out until 2 or 3 a.m. I will still wake at 7:30 or, if I'm lucky, 9. The next day is usually wasted as I catch up on sleep with mininaps. This time I was good about not letting my mind wander while driving home. Usually, my thought process goes something like this:

Hmmm.
It's 1:45. I woke up at 7. That means I've been up for, 7 to 7 is 12, plus 5 and 2. 19 hours.
If I fall asleep as soon as I get home and sleep until 9 that will be 7 hours.

That's just part of the thought process. Sometimes I start figuring out the last time I ate. I think that's part of the reason I don't fare well late at night. My stomach, like my body clock, is fickle. It likes sustenance every 4 hours.

Nonetheless, it was fun to get out and see a good friend, some theater and jazz. Truly a complete evening.

You Can Leave Your Hat On

"Nice hat!" the golden-haired young woman said to me as I exited the Green Mill with thespian Jenna Friday night.

My suave response, a mumbled "thanks."

Two seconds later better responses flooded my mind. It's what the French call l'esprit de l'escalier. The literal translation is "stairway wit." According to the Gospel of Wikipedia, an episode of Seinfeld was devoted to the topic titled "The Comeback" and Cheers commonly had characters think of witty remarks as they ascended the stairs.

It's one of the most frustrating things to not have a great remark immediately. Most of the time I'm on my game, but every once and a while a momentary brain glitch occurs.

The initial thoughts for response were "nice face," which I have since found out could have been construed as an insult. So I revised it to "nice everything" or "nice phone number." The winner probably would have been the prior.

Another beef of mine is that the incident occurred as I was leaving. Why do people say things to you as you are leaving (aside from goodbye)?

Here's Your Hat. What's your hurry?

Of late, I have received a few compliments on my chapeau. It is what I refer to as an "old man's hat." Tweed, 1920s newsie-style cap. The first compliment came at the Jewel as I was checking out. Later that night I received another mention. This city seems to love my hat. I must say that my head was quite warm as I slept in the hat.

I'd prefer it if it weren't an ancillary article atop my head and say, perhaps, my movie star looks that were garnering comments, but I'll take what I get.

My decision to wear the hat at all times is similar to the decision of not washing your face after a kiss on the cheek. Which reminds me of a story my grandpa told. When he was young, he had a date which apparently ended quite well with him having lipstick all over his face. When he told the story his voice possessed a sense of childhood glee and pride for his prowess. He woke his dad to show him the evidence.

Also for perusal, is this site. It compiles submissions of witty retorts thought of after the fact from people around the world.

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Listening to: Clifford Brown - If I Had You
via FoxyTunes