Looking for a list of the typical PTO dates for 2008? Yeah, I was, too. Here it is.
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Right around 11 o’clock on the night of Sunday, March 16^th, is when my dad and I realized that our iPods had been stolen from our hotel room at the Tropicana in Las Vegas. My dad had left his charging on the bathroom counter and mine had been in the zippered front pocket of my bookbag with my headphones wrapped around it. We both knew immediately that they had to have been stolen, but we still tore the room apart looking for them. And we went down to the rental car and inspected every inch of it. It was laughable, of course. If you know me at all, you know I am absolutely psychotic about losing things.

After about an hour of searching, my dad was ready to go to bed. He had shot a 95 at Desert Pines that morning — his best round ever and first time to break 100! — and knew there was little chance that hotel security was going to care and / or help us at all. I was so angry I couldn’t see straight.
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My dad and I met in Vegas for a weekend of golfing after I visited the huge Con/Agg convention with Kelly and Bill. We stayed at The Tropicana, a classic Vegas hotel that has fallen on hard times. The place is just a wreck. Every night and every morning there was trash in the hallways, bits of paper, candy bar wrappers, ashtrays (on our no smoking floor). Someone had smashed the glass fire extinguisher box near the elevators and there was broken glass on the floor this morning. It was really just pathetic. The safe in our room’s closet was malfunctioning so if I wanted to stash any valuables I was out of luck.

In a decent hotel you’d expect the maid service to do several standard things: replace the towels, toilet paper, Kleenex, and used toiletries (shampoo, conditioner, soap), make the beds, and throw the trash. I’ve been traveling a sick amount in the last six to ten years and I’ve gotten accustomed to getting at least those things done. Not at the Trop. They made the beds. That’s it. No new towels, no shampoo, no soap, trash wasn’t thrown … you get the idea. My dad and I both have pretty short hair, so it wasn’t until Sunday night that we had to call the front desk — press zero on the phone, all of the special phone buttons like bellhop, room service, security, etc. were inoperable — to request more shampoo. And that is when we realized that both of our iPods had been stolen.

His 30GB and my 60GB (with my favorite Sony headphones) were jacked from room 559 at some point between about 6pm and midnight on Saturday. I know it was between those hours because that was the only time period in which my laptop bookbag — where I had stashed my iPod — was not locked in the trunk of dad’s rental car. We took our laptops and stuff like that with us when we went golfing, and left them locked in the car when we were away from the hotel room. Sucks.
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For some reason you cannot find one on their website, but you can still get one of these from Banana Republic. I’ve seen them for sale in both the Santa Monica and the Studio City stores, and I’ve seen dozens of people carrying them over the last two decades. But yours just will not be as cool as mine. My mom bought me this bag from one of the original mail-order catalogs when I was in 8^th grade, in 1986. (That was back when BR was a small “travel & safari clothing” company and not a part of The Gap.) The ones they sell now are Made in China™ and seem to be pretty low-quality. Mine was actually Made in Israel and — since it’s been with me from one end of the United States to the other, to the Sandwich Islands, and all through England, Paris, and most of Italy — I can attest that it is just as awesome as the original description that I read and which completely enraptured me 21 years ago:

Authentic Israeli Paratrooper Briefcase
When called away suddenly on business (to Entebbe, for example), the Israeli paratrooper takes along a durable briefcase — one with D-rings, a padded adjustable shoulder strap, three big inside compartments appropriate for legal pads, and an exterior snap-flap pocket sized to suit a ponderous paperback. Also: two rows of sturdy loops for implements mightier than swords.

Major bummer: The Samsonite® Black Canyon 22″ Wheeled Duffel that I ordered last week is out of stock and won’t arrive for at least two more weeks. My dad’s got one of these and I’ve been hunting for it online since early last year. I finally found one and was hoping it would be here in time for Memorial Day. We’re going to a friend’s wedding in the Ojai Valley. Now it looks like I’ll have to use my old craptacular bag. Damn.

A few days ago a friend from a long, long time ago recently reinstalled AIM and contacted me out of the blue. While we were chatting I started to mention something about a road trip I’d taken in another life. I was going to say that I had once gotten lost in Washington D.C. on my way to Philly via I-95. What I found interesting was that — after years of living in Los Angeles — I almost referred to the East coast’s massive superhighway as “the” 95. My brain caught my fingers before I’d typed it that way, but it started niggling at me. In LA we honor all of the highways with the definite article. It’s not just 405. It’s the 405. You’d never tell someone, “Take 101.” You tell someone, “Take the 101.” Nobody — afaik — on the East coast refers to “the 95″. The only highway in Florida that gets a the is The Turnpike. In LA every highway gets a the.

And how about this? In Florida if you’re telling someone how to get from Jacksonville to Tallahassee you would say, “Take I-10 West until you smell the Seminoles.” But in California if you’re explaining how to get from Century City to Santa Monica you would say, “Take the 10 west until it ends.” Same road.

Anyone else ever notice that?

Friday Five: My Last Five Dinners

• 03/11 - Wolfgang Puck’s Spago - LA
• 03/12 - Koi - LA
• 03/13 - Wolfgang Puck’s Cut - LA
• 03/14 - Maloney & Porcelli - NYC
• 03/15 - Sparks Steak House - NYC

On Saturday morning I ran a quick 7 miles at 6 am, came home, and told my girlfriend to get ready for an adventure. We packed the truck and headed for wine country (photos). The President’s Day traffic was brutal so it took us almost 3 hours to go what should have only taken an hour and a half. We had a terrific time, though. The Santa Barbara vineyards — of Sideways fame — are just as much fun as going to Napa and they’re only a short drive from Los Angeles. First we hit the Firestone Winery and its sister vineyard, Curtis Winery. Tastings are rough for me because I don’t like any reds, but Firestone had some wonderful whites. I bought a delicious chardonnay and two awesome sauvignon blancs for less than $50 total.

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Postings will be sparse for the next few days. I’m in Vegas with my dad. We golfed today and will be golfing again tomorrow … and the next day … and the next day … This is my third or fourth trip to Las Vegas since I moved to LA in 2000. I’m not much of a gambler, but I think I have finally deciphered the game of craps. I turned $20 into $225 and had a blast hanging out with my dad at the new Hooters Casino. I’m taking a ton of photos and will update when I return to the City of Angels.

Tonight I’m in Phoenix, AZ at the Scottsdale Marriott at McDowell Mountains. My dad is here for a business convention and I am quite happy to be his golf partner for the weekend. (Apparently the UCLA Bruins football team is staying at this hotel as well, which is odd because we’re not very close to ASU.)

I would never really have considered myself a frequent flyer until about 2000. I was born in Rhode Island and went to elementary school and high school in Daytona Beach, Florida. In the summer I would usually fly — with my little sister — to see my dad in New England. Then I went to the University of Florida in Gainesville, Florida. Aside from one major adventure to London (and Dublin) during my junior year, and frequent travel in the Southeast for crew (rowing) competitions, I wasn’t much of a traveler. I’d been to New Orleans and Colorado. I had been just about everywhere in the state of Florida, and once I got to college I started driving to New England instead of flying, so I got to see most of the East coast of the U.S. But then in late 2000 I moved to Los Angeles …

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I happen to be one of the (apparently very few) people in this country that has not only read the Constitution of the United States, but also understands it and — by gosh! — thinks it’s a pretty good way to run a country. So I tend to get really, really upset when presented with a “law” that I know is not a law.

At fozbaca.org I found a link to an excellent article written by a U.S. citizen about how to fly without any identification. You do realize that there is no “law” that says you must present ID to get on a plane, right? According to this article, the airlines just want to make sure you’re not using someone else’s frequent flyer miles. They blame it on the government because, well, just about everyone is a sucker.

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So it took me 33+ years, but I have finally started golfing. I am a complete and total idiot for not listening to the dozens of friends that have been trying to convince me to play for the last ten years. It is amazing fun and paralyzingly addictive. I played for the first time in January of this year at my friend Kelly’s 40th birthday party on the Balboa Golf Course in Encino, CA. At the end of January my dad had some business in Vegas and he flew me there for the day to play the Las Vegas Golf Club. I’ve played about 10 or 15 rounds since then and am hooked.

In early June dad had another business trip on my coast and we played a municipal course in Chula Vista, CA, where my grandfather lives. Dad gave me a set of his old clubs while I was there and I bought a slick Nike bag to hold ‘em. The next day we played with Guy Denniston, the president of American West Worldwide Express, at Tijeras Creek in Rancho Santa Margarita. A few days later dad was here in LA and we played the Malibu Country Club with Kelly and Eric Clarke, the president of Four Truckers (photo).

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Let’s see … What can I do for Easter this year? I know! I’ll hop on a G4 and jet on over to 1600 Pennsylvania Avenue. I’ll attend Sunday’s service at the National Cathedral and then hang out with GW for the Easter Egg Roll on Monday.

My girlfriend manages Aly & AJ; they’ll be singing the National Anthem and performing two concerts on the South Lawn. They’re going to stay on the East coast to tape Good Morning America later in the week. (I’ll be returning to good ol’ LA on Monday night.)

Currently in Austin, TX for SXSW. I’m on the 15th floor of the Hampton Inn and the view from my window at 2am is gorgeous. This is a great city — a lot like Gainesville, FL. The conference is just extraordinary. I have been taking notes like mad and will hopefully someday post many of them.

My girlfriend and I spent most of the last week in Mexico. One of her best friends got married at the El Dorado Royale resort in Cancun. Almost five full days of tequila and sun makes for a pretty good time. The place was terrific and the wedding was lovely. I’d love to say more, but every day was wonderfully monotonous — wake up, breakfast buffet with bloody mary, lay in the pool reading magazines with a never-ending margarita, lunch buffet, cervezas on the beach, dinner buffet, martini bar evenings … If you’ve never done an “all-inclusive” vacation, you don’t know what you’re missing.