The Bryon Apocalypse

Today marks the end of the Mayan calendar and hopefully it marks an end to all the stupid Mayan Apocalypse jokes.  I am sure it is the end of the world for some people.  One website calculated 250,000 – 300,000 die every day.  Hopefully I am not going to be one of them nor is anyone I know.

It is interesting though, wondering how they determined the Mayan’s selected this date.

Perhaps it was some kid’s homework assignment?

Teacher : “I want you to carve a three wall essay that takes the calendar into the future as far as you can.”

As most kids are apt to do, this student did the minimum.

Or what if it was some stoner who halfway through his IT project decided to go smoke a bowl and he strolled down to the Siete/Once (7/11) to get some cheesy poofs only to get run over by a reckless Mayan god trying to put her make up on in the rear view mirror? 

They had cars, right?  I keep reading they were advanced.

It got me thinking of my legacy.  In IT development, the average system life span once in production is maybe three or four years.  Just yesterday I was setting up a table for pay periods and I mulled over how far into the future to take even if the chances of the system being around five years from now is very, very slim.

Who’s to say in the distance future, when archeologists come across my virtual server that holds my SQL database, and they see that my pay period table ends on October 7^th, 2031, that the world doesn't go apeshit over my calendar ending because I thought 500 seemed like a nice round number to represent the number of pay periods to generate in the system, retroactive to August? 

Will it be considered a prophecy?

Honestly, it was arbitrarily chosen and yet, I wonder, will this be known in the future as "The Bryon Apocalypse?" 

It could make me immortal, like a Mayan god, provided that I am wrong. 

***

In retrospect, I think I should add 12 records more so it is 512 records which is a binary number and computers are all about ones and zeroes.  YMMV.

Driving a Stolen Car in Minnesota

I spent last weekend end catching two Springsteen shows in Minnesota.  It is REALLY cold in Minnesota. It's so cold that polar bears won't live here. I know this because I did not see one.

My trip began with my trip to Matt's for a Jucy Lucy as soon as I left the airport.

I was also invited to write the review for the first night for Springsteen's website and thanks to great editing, it came out quite readable.

I even got to meet Joseph again.  I first met him on the Tom Joad tour back in 1996 and had not seen him for 16 years.

The second night of the show was quite amazing.  It started with meeting up with Joseph and hanging out with him for a couple hours while we waited for the wristbands to be given out.  The first wristband entered us in a drawing for the pit.  If we were successful in winning the lottery, we would receive a second wristband and enjoy the show within 70 feet of the stage.

While waiting in line, he had pulled out two songs names on cardboard signs he had been chasing for a long time; "Streets of Fire" and "From Small Things (Big Things One Day Come.)"  As someone else once said, Springsteen fans look at set lists of shows they don't attend and it's similar to being a baseball card collector.  We say "Got it, got it, got it, NEED IT!" as they go down the list.  "Streets of Fire" is the last song off "Darkness on the Edge of Town" that Joseph needs to complete the album.

We were off to the side having secured our pit entrance and he was trying to decide what song to put on the back of the two signs.  I asked him if he had Sharpie's on him to create the sign and he pulled a seven pack out of his pocket.  Springsteen fans are prepared for many roadside emergencies.

"You know what was on the setlist last night that he didn't play?" I asked.

"What?"

"Stolen Car."

Joseph was on his knees already when I shared this and he fell forward with his hands on the floor, head on the floor, fully devastated he did not get to see that song.  Bruce, for some reason, decided he did not want to play it last night and audibled something else.  The devastation was clear.  I felt bad for revealing that to him.

Then it struck me.

"Put 'Stolen Car' on the sign," I suggested.  "It was on there last night.  He might decided to play it as they soundchecked it."

He was slow and deliberate making the sign, even including a car as a graphic in the bottom left corner.  Of the three songs, I thought this would have the best chance being played.

Then I had an even grander idea.  

I would take one sign and be at the back of the pit, Joseph would be at the front of the pit.  During the night, Bruce would come out to the middle stage at the back of the pit four times and hopefully see the sign.  Having the signs separated seemed like it would increase the chances rather than two people next to each other.

I had the sign with "From Small Things" and "Stolen Car" written on either side and got on the wall against the middle stage upon entering the pit.  There were two ladies were to my right and as luck would have it, one of them was from Columbus.  We struck up a conversation as I was wearing my Ohio State sweatshirt and had seventeen years of living there to share stories about the area.

Her friend was quite attractive and it struck me that if I notice her friend, Bruce Springsteen is also much more likely to notice her than he is to notice me.  I needed to get her to hold the sign up for me.  I was trying to figure someway to arrange this without sounding creepy and then the opportunity presented itself.  They asked me if I could help hold their spot while they went to get a drink; they even offered to by me a drink if I held their spot.  I said I would, but rather than a drink, when Bruce is at the middle stage, could you hold the sign up for me?

She agreed.

Mission accomplished, I went and sat in some seats because I had a long night of standing ahead of me.  A little later I met a couple from Minneapolis who sat down in their actual seats next to me.  They had not been to a concert in years, but they were there to see Bruce.  The husband had a great story about them actually sitting next to Bruce a couple years ago at orientation at Boston College.  The wife laughed about how hard it was to "be cool" and not embarrass themselves or Bruce and Patti.

When the lights went down, Bruce came out with a surprise opener of  "I'm a Rocker," and then launched into "Hungry Heart."  As expected, during "Hungry Heart," he was out at the middle stage and I think he saw the sign, because once he got back to the stage, he ran through several audibles including what I believe is only the second live performance of this song with the E Street Band since 1985.

It was magnificent.




Joseph missed out again on "Streets of Fire," getting "Something in the Night" from the same album instead, but I really think "Stolen Car" made up for it.

It turned out Bruce had tossed out most of the opening songs on the original set list and five of the first seven songs were audibles.  I love that randomness and looseness they can have.

I don't know if this is considered a proper sign request that was played or not amongst those in my group, but I am counting it as the plan worked even if he did not pull the sign up.  The end result was the same.  :)

Swinging Cactus

A couple Fridays back, my coworker Melissa and I had gone to lunch at Texas Roadhouse. 

For some reason, during the week, the only day they are open for lunch is Friday, so it is always quite crowded.  As a result, the service tends to be slower.  It did give me time to look around the decor from my seat during occasional lulls in the conversation.

On the ledge was a series of small cacti scattered around to the walkway.

"Do you think those are real cacti?" I asked Melissa.

"They look real."

I studied the one closest to me; it was about 6 feet away.

"I don't know," she replied.

I looked at the needles on the stump and they seemed to be curved downward, as if gravity had taken it's toll on it.  What I recall of a cactus is the needles are straight.  The needles also looked colored, but I am color blind and they were quite small.  I also thought that was risky to have real cacti out where a child could touch it or an elderly person could fall into it.  Or even worse, someone could knock it over the ledge onto someone below.

"I think it's fake."  I determined that the risk for an injury to the general public was too high for it to be real.

"Why not touch it?" she dared me.

Maybe I'll just pick it up and smack the waitress in the side of the face with it."  Our waitress was actually quite pretty.  She was blonde and probably about 27 years old. 

Melissa sat next to me for about 16 months and knew my sense of humor well.  I also knew hers well and it did not surprise me she burst out laughing at the thought.

I also decided I would throw Melissa under the bus just for fun.

The pretty waitress came back to our table.

"I was wondering, are those cacti real?"

"No, they're fake," she answered cheerfully. 

"I was going to say, that would be dangerous."

She took a couple steps over and patted the rubber tips on the plant to show they were not real needles.

"That's a relief."  I pointed to Melissa and said, "She wanted to hit you in the side of the face to see if it was real!"

Melissa  screamed, "What!" while simultaneously laughing.  The waitress burst out laughting as well.

"I never said that," insisted Melissa.  How did she not see me doing this from a mile away?  She sat next to me all those months after all and knows my sense of humor.

The waitress through the laughter assured her, "I, somehow, don't think you were the one that said that."

I sat there afterwards, during the meal, and wondered what would actually enrage someone so much as to pick up a cactus and smack someone with it.

My Mother, The Thief, Part III

It had been a very tough week at work because we had an IT disaster with our production system that forced us onto our disaster recovery [DR] plan.  I was in Saturday morning and afternoon to do some clean up when my coworker, Melissa, also had to stop in to wrap some loose ends from our disaster recovery adventure this week. 

[Side note: EVERYONE, including people with home computers and laptops, should have a disaster recovery plan in place when it comes to EVERYTHING, not just computer technology.]

So we both wrapped up at about 2:00 p.m. and decided to go grab something to eat before she headed home and I went over to my mom's.

Melissa was familiar with the story of my mom and her stealing the condiment dishes from a few weeks ago and as the meal was wrapping up, I noticed I had two of the dipping dishes in front of me.  They had 1000 Island dressing in them.

"If my mom were here," I joked, "She would get a to go box and take these home."

I reached over and grabbed my phone.

"I should take a picture of these and send them to my mom and see if she has these."

I snapped a photo and sent a text.

"Do you already have 2 like these?"

Lunch continued for a few minutes and before I knew it, I received a text back.

"Yes but I could use a back up"

Clearly, she is preparing for some kind of disaster recovery.  That said, Melissa and I both laughed at her response.

A moment later, a second text came through.

"I double dog dare you"

I was double dog dared by my mother, grandmother of five plus three step-grandchildren, to steal the condiment dishes.

Now Melissa was laughing her ass off, also daring me to do it.

I did not steal the dishes. 

When I arrived at her house after lunch she wondered where the dishes were.  I was then chastized by her,"You can't say 'No,' to a 'Double Dog Dare.'"

My Mother, The Thief, Part II

Friday night I had some car trouble. It always sucks having car trouble, but my mom lived only 20 minutes away, so I called her to see if she could help me with her jumper cables.

We could not jump the battery successfully, so while waiting for a tow, we went inside to eat at a local restaurant that I often go to.

She got an individual pizza and I had a sandwich.

Soon thereafter, we got the call the tow truck was 30 minutes out, so we got "To Go" boxes.

"What a shame. You don't have any dipping sauces, so you can't steal the dishes." This is just a couple weeks after the night at the Okolona restaurant when I learned she has a history of taking these particular dishes home.

"I don't know," she says as she picks up the empty plate and puts it on the to go pizza box. "I think this one will fit perfectly in my 'To Go' box."

"That's not funny. Don't you dare!"

Thankfully, she was joking. Her sense of humor is funny.

I wonder if stealing the little dipping dishes is a gateway crime. In a year, will the police will be tasering a 66 year old woman with $100,000 of stolen weapons in the trunk of her Honda Civic?

My Mother, The Thief

Last Friday night, I arranged for a ride from my mom to the airport to get a rental car. I was heading out of town for two Springsteen shows in Philly and I did not want to put the 1600+ miles on my car. So after I get the car, I thought I would take her out to dinner.

We went to a local establishment in Okolona and they were crowded as heck. We ended up right next to the server's station, where the soda machine and the register were. Mom ordered a sampler appetizer for her dinner. It had potato skins, fried cheese wedges and chicken fingers on it. She had also requested BBQ sauce and sour cream. I got the chicken fingers and it tasted great.

We were both unable to finish the meal, so mom asked for a "To Go" box. I let her have my chicken fingers that were left since I was going to leave town for five days.

It was a small box barely able to hold the leftover food. It was made smaller when mom went to put in the actual dishes that had the extra BBQ sauce and sour cream in them.

"What are you doing?" I asked.

"I am out of sour cream at home and I don't have any BBQ sauce either."

"Mom, you can't take their dishes!"

"Oh they won't miss them. Where do you think I got the ones for the kids to use for their ketchup?"

Suddenly I realized how mom accumulated the 7 or 8 dishes in her cabinet! I would later learn they were quite useful for them to dip their veggies into their ranch dressing.

"MOM!" I could not believe this.

The box would not close, so she asked for a second box.

I could NOT believe this, but she's 65 now and has ceased caring anymore about societal constraints.

The second box arrived.

"Put those in the box," she said.

"They're right behind me. They'll see."

"They're not paying attention," she assured me.

They were literally two feet behind me. I carefully, and as quickly as I could, picked them both up and went to put them in the second box with my left hand, leaving my right hand to close the box quickly.

It was at that moment, she let out a loud squeal that sounded like "WHEEEEEEE!" that resulted in my nearly having a heart attack and throwing the two small condiment dishes to the ceiling.

She started laughing having totally flustered me. She did the squeal simply to #$%^ with me.

I shut the lid and it was almost over.

She told me to throw the napkins on top of the plates so the servers would not notice them missing and we walked out casually, well, she did. I was fast paced, thinking the condiment dish police might get me for aiding and abetting a senior citizen.

I can't believe I helped her take those two dishes.

She still had the BBQ sauce when I was back on Tuesday. And then I saw her entire collection. I wonder if this stack of little dishes is a hint that she is wanting more grandkids dipping carrots into ranch dressing now that the others are getting older?

Pelotonia - In Memory of Our Friend Doug

My friend Erin is participating in fund raiser for Pelotonia in memory of our friend Doug. 100% of the proceeds go to the James Cancer Hospital at The Ohio State University.

I wrote the note below about Doug after I heard the news, remembering him. Perhaps next year I will come up and ride in it rather than supporting someone else.

***

From January 25th, 2009

Doug and I were friend in college in Dayton. I met him when I was 18. We spent a lot of time together during a four year period. I last spoke with him around 10 years ago.

Mary sent me pictures of him last night taken 20 years ago. Doug was always one for a picture, with a smile on his face for every single photo; goofing with Ted and Mike, partying with Erin, Tracy and Cindy or just hanging with friends.

He loved music. He listened to everything, but what I will always remember was how big of a Def Leppard fan he was and this was when Hysteria came out sophmore year of college. Every party at his Kettering Dorm room had half of Hysteria played at some point in the music mix. That was a great album and it's what I may always associate with Doug more than anything else.

Doug always had the best parties at Kettering Dorms and at the house on Wyoming. He was the one that got all the cute girls that we worked with in the dining hall to show up at the parties. We went to several concerts together over the years: The Rolling Stones, Boston, Farm Aid, The Grateful Dead, The Who, Henri Lee Summer and a few others I am probably forgetting.

That 1989 Rolling Stones show was a highlight for him. Mike and I waited in line for 38 hours to get those seats as the number 2 and number 3 people in line at UD Arena for our group on a hot summer day and night and day. I think Doug even brought us beer at one point while we were waiting now that I think about it.

Leading up to the show, we told him we were in the 300 level in Riverfront Stadium and didn't actually give him his ticket until we walked to the field level and he asked why we were going onto the field if we were supposed to be up in the nose bleeds.

He about shit himself when we finally got through security to our 8th row, dead center seats. We were so close that the inflatable doll during "Honky Tonk Women" was above AND behind our heads. When the flames shot up during the opening, we felt the heat from the flames!!! Mick and Keith are really ugly up close.

Doug was a huge fan of Living Color and they opened the show for the Stones that night. He was the one standing and singing along with every one of their songs during their opening set.

And when the Stones came out, he went apeshit when they played "Bitch" as the second song of the set. It was his favorite Stones song and the one song he really hoped they would play.

He was a fairly funny guy and on rare occasions he had a very hilarious and raw sense of humor. That was surprising because he would sometimes (often) be very offended by comments that we (mostly I) would make.

One night, junior or senior year, at one of Doug's parties at that house on Wyoming, Erin (and maybe Tracy) were standing, facing Doug, Chris and myself sitting on the couch in the front room at Doug's house. As was typical, there was a lot of alcohol consumed at the party by this time.

Erin was PISSED off about something and reading Doug and Chris the riot act for something they said or did. Doug reached down on the couch and casually grabbed the remote. He hit play on the VCR remote as he made like he was moving the remote out of the way and apparently there was a porno in the VCR. I think the magic elves must have left it as I'm sure good practicing Catholic boys at a Catholic university would never have one of those in their house.

It was quite a graphic movie as the next thing I saw on the TV behind Erin while she was yelling was a humongous erection and I say that NOT because it was a 19 inch TV.

The three of us sat there trying desperately not to crack up as Erin went on and on about whatever she was talking about for the longest two minutes I'll ever remember. I remember looking at Doug and Chris and back at Erin a couple times as they sat there with suspicious grins growing on their faces (and I did not have a poker face either) and Erin is not registering at all what is going on the TV screen behind her.

Finally something clued her in to the fact that all three of us were stiffling laughter (we were bursting at the seams as giggles were escaping by this point) and she turned around and was so disgusted with what was on TV and upset that we were sitting there laughing our asses off seconds later that she stormed out of the room. I think Doug finally collected himself and went after her to calm her down.

The rudeness was completely out of character for Doug yet it was perhaps the funniest thing I ever saw him do.

When I drove by that house last month on my way to a local Dayton bar, just before a UD basketball game, I couldn't even pick Doug's house out of the eight or nine houses on the right despite my spending many, many nights drinking with friends there 20 years ago. Chris had to point it out when we passed it after the game. I even roomed with him for a short period at that house one summer as he and I worked in the dish room handling inventory counts and repairs to the furniture in the UD dining hall. I almost roomed with him and his roommates midway through sophmore year when a roommate moved out of Kettering, but one of his roommates didn't know me so he vetoed Doug's suggestion.

I watched game 7 of the 1992 NL Championship series at his apartment on Irving near Kramer's bar while I did laundry that night. His apartment building had a coin laundry in the building. It was the Braves versus the Pirates. Francisco Cabrera had a hit and Sid Bream, half hobbled from injury, slid across home plate just beating the tag in the 9th inning. It was thrilling to watch the series that year and that was an unbelievable finish to the NLCS that year. Even though we were both Reds fans, we both cheered over the excitement of the play as we literally leapt off the couch.

I watched a few Bengals and Reds games with him at the house. He grew up in Cincinnati and moved back there after I left Dayton in 1993.

The SNLs we watched during the 1988 presidential election were good times. Remember Jon Lovitz's Dukakis imitation ("I can't believe I'm losing to this guy!") opposite Dana Carvey's Bush imitation?

He came to Columbus for the Octoberfest on a surprise trip with Chris, Matt, Ted and Mike to see me and we experienced our infamous dunking booth incident in 1993. I was glad security did not escort us out of the festival. The phrase "Please do not throw the ball at the girl" (said twice over the loud speakers) is a memory from that night that none of us will ever forget.

I can't imagine all the conversations he and I had over the years working in the dish room at Kettering, working banquets, all the parties he threw that I attended. Just every day conversations, long forgotten, not very profound or important.

He was the most decent one of our circle of friends. It's not a coincidence that all my memories and stories of Doug are good memories.

Erin and Mary both contacted me on Friday and let me know he was moved to the Hospice in Hamilton, OH. I only learned in December he had been battling cancer.

And now he is gone at the age of 39. I've spent the past two days thinking of him and sharing some of these stories with friends. I thought it was the best way I could celebrate him and remember him.

CyberBeer - A New Currency Unit

I received a message from my cousin Sam last week. She had encountered an issue on her desktop that had stumped her regarding Excel, so she asked me if I could come out and take a look at it.

I rode out after work and was able to quickly figure out what the issue was. Then she asked, “Can you take a look at my fax? It faxes out just fine, but it won’t receive faxes. It never picks up.” It was a Dell 946 All-in-one fax machine and it was completely foreign to me.

I said I would, though I made sure she knew it was not my area of expertise. To get a printer to work correctly, I usually turn off and on the printer and reboot a computer.

All I knew was what my Uncle Roger told me - they had a fax line installed and it was dedicated for the printer/fax.

I tried calling the number first to make sure it would ring. It did. It also never picked up, just as Sam described. Check.

I found the manually very quickly and made sure the phone cord was plugged into the fax slot and not the phone slot. Check.

It had great instructions in it for identifying how to receive a fax. As I traversed the menu on the fax, it looked nothing like the manual! WTF! My Uncle Roger was there as well, so I had verification I was not crazy. He and I both were stumped.

So, as all IT people do at some point during the day, I pulled up Google. An IT person, contrary to rumor and "The Peele Hypothesis," cannot know every given IT thing. We may have vague thoughts or ideas about certain unfamiliar items. We may have troubleshooting techniques that drive an end-user crazy because they seems so simple (ie. “So is your power on?”) We may know someone across the room who knows the answer without researching it.

My experience is that IT really becomes less about what you know and more about how you can research and find the answer to things you have no knowledge of. I spent 30 minutes searching, changing my search criteria, and trying to find the elusive answer when magically I came across a discussion board where someone else had a similar issue.

A wise man known as PudgyOne had helped that poor lost soul in February 2011 and thanks to him, I looked like a genius when I pulled up the properties, changed a drop down box value and successfully got the fax to pick up after 3 rings. I was so excited, I joined the site just to let him know how much his answered helped me 16 months later.

As I laid down to go to sleep that night, I thought about how cool it would be to buy that guy a beer, but sadly, I don’t know him and I’ll never meet him in person. But wouldn’t it be great to send him a beer though!

As I got drowsy, I created in my mind a new economic currency known as the CyberBeer. The CyberBeer is the equivalent to approximately $4 US and the purpose is to send someone a CyberBeer, particularly on something that he or she wrote up on a public board several months ago, as a token of appreciation. The $4 US unit is derived from the $3.09 Happy hour price for a double of mainstream American beer at my local bar or the equivalent of a pint of real beer. But what’s great is you can send the CyberBeer with a click of the button.

I am not sure it is enough to base an entire economy on. I doubt it would ever catch on. But I like the sentiment.

I think more than anything my mind just wanders too much as I try to sleep. Tonight, I’ll have a cold one and silently toast all those super users who happily offer others support by documenting their findings publically. Every non-IT person reading this (12 of you?) should go tell their IT person how much you appreciate what they do. No matter how frustrated or angry you get with them, they eventually do solve the issue.

And this October 10th, make sure to thank your IT guy and make it National Thank Your IT Guy Day.  It’s on 10/10 – that’s binary (credit to Richard Brown for that.)

Your IT person will get that joke even if you don’t.

I mean, why not? There’s a National Nurses Day, a National Bosses Day, National Secretaries Day ….

Madison's Bike Ride

I drove home through the adjoining neighborhood Friday night and I saw a mom pushing her daughter on a bike down a sidewalk.  My first thought was how soft children were as the little girl had both training wheels and a helmet.

Back in first grade in the mid 1970s, parents were not so overly concerned that kids were forced to wear helmet as the scar remaining over my left eye reflects.  I was rushed to a hospital for an injury I barely recall except for Robin, Babs (yep, that was her name and she was Robin's twin sister,) and others walking me home after I wrecked on Huntsman Trail, in sight of the house.  It was the reason I missed two days of school, I believe, the only two days I missed in first grade because I had a slight concussion as well.

As I drove past the mother and daughter, I thought about ten years ago when I spent Memorial Day weekend in Little Rock, Arkansas.  Aside from the wonderful gift of whooping cough that Calvin gave us and what forever has been known as "The Apocalyptic Water Fight of 2002," I got to take my niece Madison out to ride her bike for one of the first time in her life.

May was so excited, she ran to her room to get her pads.

"Why does she need pads?" I asked aloud.

She really didn't need them as it turned out, except these were Power Rangers pads, so she was excited to use them for the first time on her new bike.  I helped her get arm pads, elbow pads, leg pads and knew pads on.  I expected dome sort of chest armor to go with the helmet.  She was actually more armored than a Power Ranger at this point.

I carried her bike down the driveway as it was very steep and put it on the sidewalk.  The road sloped downward and she climbed on her little bicycle with the training wheels.

"OK," she squealed, "PUSH!"

"Madison, I don't think you understand how a bicycle works.  You have to pedal."

"PUSH!!!"

So I reached down and grabbed the seat she was on and pushed from behind.  I watched as she slowly steered down the sidewalk into the grass.

"PUSH!!!" she order.

"Pedal!" I yelled, walking down.

"PUSH!!!"

I then realized what was happening.  She was too young and not strong enough to pedal.  

The PUSH game was OK going down the hill, but it got old coming back up.  Plus she was not good at steering as I tried to get her back up the street to her house.  Thankfully she was done by the time we got up to the driveway again and ready to go play something else.

Having Friends in IT

My friend Richard came over to watch the semi-final game on Saturday between Kentucky and Louisville. It was a historic game in the rivalry and a very big deal here in Louisville.

He brought his iPad with him wanting to get on the internet. He asked me, “What’s your encryption key to get on your wireless.”

“I have to look it up. It’s like 27 characters long.”

While I logged onto my admin page to look it up, he tried unsuccessfully to jump on an unsecured network from one of my neighbors.

“Why is it so long?” he asked referring to my encryption key.

“Dude. I’m in IT.”

Seriously? Does he want me to have an easier encryption just make his life easier? He seems to be missing the whole point of it.

He was able to log on after successfully typing in the encryption code on his first try.

The game was thrilling. A good time was had.

I changed the encryption key after he left. My encryption key was no longer secure and I am in IT after all.

The Economics of seeing Springsteen

Over the years, I have been fortunate to see many, many Springsteen shows. My most recent trip was to Atlanta and Greensboro; they were great shows. Often I am asked how I can afford to see all the shows I see and the key is to minimize the costs.

The tickets are pretty much a set cost, but traveling there and hotel costs are easily minimized with some thought and some experience with some online apps.

Car Rental

You may be asking yourself, "Why would I need to rent a car when I already have one?"

My SUV gets 21 miles to the gallon on the highway. My rental got 37.7 miles to the gallon for a Toyota Yaris. I drove a total of 1324 miles from Louisville to Atlanta to Greensboro and back to Louisville.

In my SUV, that would have taken 1324 (miles) / 21 (miles/gallon) = 63 gallons of gas.

In my rental, it was 1324 (miles) / 37.7 (miles/gallon) = 35.1 gallons of gas.

Gas costs along the way ranged from $3.56 to $3.95. Average was about $3.77.

Cost in my SUV would have been $237.51.

Cost in the rental was $131.95.

Thus, the key is to get a rental for cheaper than ($237.51 - $131.95), or $105.56. If you opt for the insurance for the rental, be sure to include that into your cost-benefit analysis.

We got our rental for $74.00 for 4 days.

It was a great price. Plus I did not put 1324 miles on my car! Using the IRS designated rate of 55.5 cents per mile, that represents a quasi cost of $734.83 that I don't feel indirectly on my car.

It was also timely as when I pulled in to get the rental, I kid you not, my check engine light came on!

When traveling by a car, you can easily minimize the cost with Hotwire.com in aquiring a rental. My experience is to wait until the two weeks leading up to the show. You can get the 4 cylinder high mileage cars for $14.00 to $16.00 per day plus all the taxes they heap on you.

Having a travel companion always helps as well to cut this cost in half.

Hotel

Priceline has been a godsend for me. With Priceline, I have gotten 4 star (their designation) rooms in Boston for $65.00. That was even during May when about 8 colleges had graduations going on. The regular price for that room would have been $324.00 as I recall.

We got the rooms in Atlanta at the downtown Hilton for $55.00 using Priceline. Parking at the hotel was $21.00 for the night, but we were walking distance to the arena and did not have to pay $10.00 at the venue.

To create a strategy for Priceline, I would advise you become familiar with BiddingForTravel.com. It is a site where folks share their winning bids for the various hotels in every city throughout the country. It also has strategies for hitting certain areas and certain star rated hotels. It's here where you can save the most money for your trip.

Our Greensboro room was $50.00 each (plus all the taxes) and it included a free continental breakfast.

If you desire to save more money, you can go for lower than a 2 1/2 star hotel.

You can do this for more than just Springsteen, of course. There are lots of bands that have big fan followings that can use these two strategies.

If you chose to split a room, it halves the cost. I chose not to, so all my savings come just from the Priceline savings.

Airlines

Yes, I have flown for shows (Boston, Fargo, Orlando, Memphis.) Using Priceline is tricky though as they can pick your flight and time for you. Use Priceline cautiously unless you plan on arriving a day before the show.

To have more control over the time, I have used Southwest's site, Orbitz, Travelocity and Expedia. Check the option for neaby airports as well. When I lived in Marysville, Ohio, I was almost directly between Columbus and Dayton's airports. Cincinnati was 2 1/2 hours away. Consider the cost of gas and parking when determining the cheapest overall price plus what you consider the cost of your time to travel an extra hour or two.

Risks, in general

Priceline and Hotwire are non-refundable.

Read that again and say it out loud so you realize this.

At one time, Hotwire did allow you to cancel reservations without paying.

If a show gets canceled, you eat those costs. When Danny Federici died, I had tickets to three shows in Florida, hotel rooms in Orlando and Tampa waiting and the cost of my airline ticket I ate. I was lucky though to have family to stay with and was able to spend a 6 day vacation in Ft. Lauderdale and see my nieces and nephews.

Shame on you Sherrie Holmes

I moved back to my hometown a couple years back and I have honestly not gotten out as much as I would like. I really don't know a lot of folks outside of family here as I moved away 22 years ago, so someone clued me in to meetup.com.

I joined and started going out with the Louisville Hiking Club and have enjoyed all those experiences. The hikes introduced me to some of the local trails and it has been a fun experience that I don't get to enjoy as often as I'd like.

Someone mentioned another group to me where the focus was social events for people over 40.

Sherrie Holmes is the moderator of the group and it turns out it has a lot of overlap with the hiking group. On Sunday, I received the following email from Sherrie. This is cut and pasted verbatim.

From: "Sherrie Holmes"
To: Socializers-announce@meetup.com
Sent: Sunday, March 18, 2012 12:23:38 PM
Subject: [Socializers] Gay and Lesbian members......

It is with great apology that I send this email. I am aware that hurt feelings will result in it. Again I apologize in advance. This is not easy for me.

It has been brought to my attention that we have had a few Gay and/or Lesbian's join our group lately. I feel strongly, as do others for keeping this group a Heterosexual group. I don't personally have anything against Gays or Lesbians. I just don't want to send out the wrong message out as to what sort of group we are.

An example of possible issues to come....... We have a group of us women that just dance. We dance with each other. This is done in fun. Personally I have a very difficult time spotting a Lesbian, so I would be the first to dance with one unknowingly. Yes this can be in fun, but it can also send out the wrong message to the other person. This is what I want to prevent before it happens.

With this in mind and other issues, I am asking the one's of you that are Gay/Lesbian to leave the group. I am so sorry. Please know I wish all of you well. I know there are groups out there almost identical to ours that are designed for Gay/Lesbian members. I hope you can find and enjoy these groups.

Again, I cannot apologize enough.

Sherrie Holmes

These were the list of events that I had received invites to before quitting after less than a month:

A bus trip to Keenland
Celebration of St. Patrick's Day at Porter's
A bike ride at the Louisville Rowing Club
Visit Volare (it might be a bar, I don't know)
Dinner at Senor Iguanas
NCAA tournament bracket
A game watch for the Louisville Cardinals basketball game
A wine tasting
Creation of a league softball team
Meetup at Drake's (a bar in St. Matthews)
Bowling
Plans for a Derby party

I guess I don't get why they would change their charter to exclude a group of people for what is described purely as a social group other than fear or hatred. These are all very normal events as far as I can tell.

I guess my time in Ohio has given me a more worldly life experience as I currently have one good friend I know of that is gay and another friend who passed away three years ago from cancer.

Doug was a terrific guy and genuinely the nicest person out of our circle of friends in college. He also was always able to get all the pretty girls to come to the keg parties. :)

And I have been to a lot of Springsteen shows over the years with Chris and spent countless hours on the road driving to those shows. He's also one of the nicest, friendliest people I have ever met.

My purpose here is to call the group out publically and bring attention to this ridiculous situation. Unfortunately I can only call out the moderator Sherrie, as I have no idea who in the group objected.

I know there were a couple others who also objected as I did because I saw their posts on the discussion board before I quit the group.

At the very least, a couple dozen folks who read my blog will know of the group's actions.

Davy Jones

I've been sort of busy lately and haven't had any great stories to share. The only stories I have to share are from work and I don't blog about work, although I think our IT department would make for a great reality show.

Anyways, the end of February brought the death of Davy Jones. I liked The Monkees back in high school when they had their revival in the late 80s.

My friend Leo wrote a story after Davy's death about his meeting Davy back in 1967. I asked him if I could share it and he said that was fine with him.

***

By Leo Munter

It had to be about 1967, and the Monkees were huge. I, was not.

But it was a beautiful day in LA and I was hitchhiking* along Sunset Blvd on my way to my uncle's house in Beverly Hills.

(* Hitchhiking: The most common mode of transportation for young people in the late 60’s. You would stand by the side of the road with your thumb out and very quickly be picked up by someone going towards where you wanted to go. It was usually very quick. Doing it you could make friends, get stoned, get laid, and often end up going to someplace totally different than where you had intended. It was wonderful and I miss it’s passing.)

So I hadn’t been there long when a brand new, red, GTO convertible pulled up. Impressed (you usually got some funky van or VW) I ran over and got it. Who should be driving, but Davy Jones!!!

He was as cool and nice and friendly as was possible. We chatted about innocuous stuff and enjoyed dawdling along Sunset on a beautiful day in an iconic car. It was so cool.

All too soon we got to Palm Drive and I said he could let me out at the corner. He said, “Nah. Where are you headed?” I pointed down Palm and he said, “I’ll take you.” I pointed out the house and he pulled into the driveway. I gushed my profuse thanks, opened the door, and had half gotten out when I turned back around and stopped.

“You know what’s gonna happen here, right? I’m gonna go inside and tell them I was just picked up by Davy Jones [acknowledging who he was for the first time because I was so cool]. They are gonna not believe me and it’ll die there, a story of frustration.

I wonder, would it be possible, if you might, just come inside with me for a moment?”

“Sure!”, said Davy Jones.

So we walked around to the kitchen/side entrance with him about 5 feet behind me. I think my aunt and a couple cousins were hanging around. I went in first saying, “You won’t believe what just happened! I was just picked up by Davy Jones along Sunset and he brought me right to the house!!!

They of course didn’t believe me and started to protest, when Davy walked in on cue, settled the matter, and blew their minds!

A totally great moment!!

RIP Davy. A very cool guy.

Hey Blue Jackets, We Need To Talk....

Dear Columbus Blue Jackets,

It's not me, It's you.

We've been together since before your 2000 season. I remember the excitement that stirred my city when trying to think of a name for the team. I loved the buzz created when the idea of "Mad Cows" surfaced as a potential nickname.

I remember how young and in love I was in that 2000 season with what was my first NHL team. Our relationship was new. I went to the 3rd game in the shiny new arena against Colorado and the crowd went crazy with each fight. Yes, the game was an eventual loss, but we were excited by the new relationship with our sports team.

The years passed. I still loved our team. I carried the flag. There was always the promise of the future with our team as we would be promised that next year would be different.

We had some great times together. Nash's goal against Phoenix is the greatest goal I have ever witnessed watching a game. Zherdev's goal against Chicago as he single-handedly threaded the entire defense from end to end may even be an equal to Nash's.

But it's about the misery and bad times. I don't want to drudge up the horrible past by listing all the bad things I've had to endure in this abusive relationship of me as the fan. It's just too hard and painful that I have been there faithfully and holding out hope for things to turn around.

I just don't care anymore.

I know you may try to sway me with a small winning streak the next few days or logic like "We've been together for 13 years!" or "All that time is just wasted if I don't stay with you."

As my buddy Shawn would say, "That's a sunk cost. [I'll] never get it back."

It's just time to say good-bye. I will always treasure you as my first hockey team, but it's just time to move on. You'll always hold a special place in my heart and I wish you the best.

Bryon

Pizza Time

At my local establishment last night, it was a little crowded. The young lady serving me came over, shaking her head with a smile on her face.

"What's so funny?" I asked.

"So this couple over there ordered a pizza," she tells me. "They got it half cheese and half sausage."

I had a quick flashback to my childhood and the pizza wars of having two siblings who only wanted pepperoni and cheese where I wanted other items on the pizza.

She continued her short story. "The server brought it out and served them each their first slice. Both slices she served them had sausage on it."

I couldn't help but laugh.

A Rite of Passage

Comedy can come from anywhere.

As I walked into the men's room of the local establishment a dad walked in with his daughter in his arms and his son walking next to him. I was about 5 seconds behind him. His daughter was about eleven months. His son was three or four years old.

I saw his son walk away from the toilet stall as I walked in.

"Go on," urged the dad, with his daughter in his arm, as his son walked towards him. The boy walked into the lone urinal stall and I ended up walking into the adjacent stall where the toilet was.

I actually have my own issues in public restrooms. They are typically filthy and I have a bit of OCD with not wanting to touch things in there. At least my fears of a congressman to my right were unfounded and I know this because there was not a shoe sneaking into my stall while I was in there.

Then I heard something that made me want to bust out laughing and I had to hold it in.

"JUST POINT UP!" directed the dad.

I thought I was going to lose it. The urinal must've only come down to the boy's chest, I'm guessing. The boy had not said a word. I could only picture in my head that he must have looked at the urinal, down to his pants, at his dad, and then at the urinal again.

I don't recall the first time I used a urinal. I hope he's not traumatized by his first experience. It was so funny though hearing the dad try to explain to him what to do.

I guess this does qualify as bathroom humor.

No animals were harmed in this post.