And the Survey Says:

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Iraq wants us out.

Some misguided soul named Nicole who was surfing the net stumbled upon my “Support Our Troops” post where I ranted about the yellow ribbons. The post is nearly two years old and she obviously did some digging to find it. (Perhaps she was searching Google for information on where she could find her own yellow ribbon.) She decided to use the comments link to blast me as “ignorant” and a “disgrace.”

Yeah. Right. Whatever.

In response to her ignorant (I really can’t think of a better word; ignorant does mean “lacking in information or knowledge in general,” which fits her perfectly) comment, I attempted to shed some light on the situation. Real light. Not that narrow rose-colored beam cast by the conservative propaganda machine. I pointed out that her Marine boyfriend is not fighting for our freedom. He’s fighting for the freedom of the Iraqi people. And, according to an article on the Editor & Publisher Web site, “New Survey: Iraqis Want a Speedy U.S. Exit — and Back Attacks on U.S. Forces“:

Past surveys have hinted at this result, but a new poll in Iraq makes it more stark than ever: the Iraqi people want the U.S. to exit their country. And most Iraqis now approve of attacks on U.S. forces, even though 94% express disapproval of al-Qaeda.

At one time, this was primarily a call by the Sunni minority, but now the Shiites have also come around to this view. The survey by much-respected World Public Opinion (WPO), taken in September, found that 74% of Shiites and 91% of Sunnis in Iraq want us to leave within a year. The number of Shiites making this call in Baghdad, where the U.S. may send more troops to bring order, is even higher (80%). In contrast, earlier this year, 57% of this same group backed an “open-ended” U.S. stay.

By a wide margin, both groups believe U.S. forces are provoking more violence than they’re preventing — and that day-to-day security would improve if we left. [emphasis added.]

With this in mind, and knowing that 3,000 Americans and hundreds of thousands of Iraqis have died in the conflict, how can any American continue to support the War in Iraq?

Don’t get me wrong: I do support our troops. These people are making the ultimate sacrifice — unquestioningly following the orders of their commanding officers, literally risking life and limb to achieve military objectives decided upon by someone far removed from the field of battle. Throughout history, the military has protected us from threats to our way of life, from the Revolutionary War through World War II.

If our military forces were fighting off an invasion to our shores or helping to protect one of our close (and grateful) allies from attackers, I’d be doing whatever a normal citizen could do to help (short of putting one of those ridiculous yellow ribbons on my vehicle — ah, just kidding).

But I don’t support the Iraq War. In the three years since we invaded, it’s become clear that we had no plan and no real idea of what to face there. Sure, we got rid of Saddam Hussein, a murdering bastard responsible for the wholesale slaughter of his own people. And we’ve brought “democracy” to the country — whatever that is worth. (I’m still not convinced that democracy is the right solution for every country, but we won’t go there, since I’m not prepared to stand on either side of that argument.) But we’ve brought Iraq into a state of chaos, where our own people have become part of the problem.

I want nothing more than for all of our troops to come home and be with their families this holiday season. I know that won’t happen. But I also know that blindly supporting the policies of our government in Iraq won’t help anyone — not our military, not our people, and certainly not the Iraqi people, more than half of which want to kill us.

Please let’s do something proactive about the situation. Please let’s wrap up the situation in Iraq quickly and get our people home.

I want my ignorant friend, Nicole, to be able to wrap her arms around her boyfriend — her whole boyfriend — on U.S. soil and and move forward in a life together.

Fine Dining — Not!

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Or how not to serve wine in a restaurant.

My husband and I tried a new local restaurant last night. We’d asked a few friends who had tried it and they gave me the impression it was worth a shot. One of them said, “Well, the food is good.” That should have warned me.

The place is in a brand new building that’s quite attractive, although not quite the right fit for the Sonoran desert. It features big wood beams overhead and a stone fireplace. The kind of place that would work really well in Northern Arizona, in the mountains surrounded by tall pine trees. Or in Colorado. Not quite right when the biggest thing outside is a cactus. Still, open and very pleasant and quite a nice change from the usual places around town.

But it was a disappointment.

The biggest disappointment was with the wine. The restaurant, which is very new, has a small, unimaginative wine list. There were about a dozen offerings on the list and one of them was Sutter Home White Zinfandel. While I’m sure some people like that — my mother appears to be one of them — I can’t remember the last time I actually saw it on a wine list. A real wine list — one that’s in its own little hardcovered folder, like it has something of value in it.

The menu was kind of disappointing, too. A lot of beef, a single chicken dish, and two fish dishes. Some salads for the dieting or veggie crowd. The special was halibut, although how it was prepared was not something we were made privy to. Actually, very few items on the menu included a description of how they were prepared. The menu was a simple list of entrees; you picked two accompaniments to go with your meal.

So that’s the setup.

When we were seated, the waiter asked us almost immediately if we wanted to order a bottle of wine. Not having had a chance to look at the wine list or the menu, we told him we needed a few minutes. We then took our time with both small lists. About three minutes had passed when he returned. “Chardonay is good with halibut,” he said.

Okay, I though to myself.

Now keep in mind that the last two restaurants Mike and I had dined in where we ordered a bottle of wine had wine stewards. These are guys who know wine. Their entire job is to make recommendations on wine, take orders on wine, and serve wine. A statement like, “Chardonay is good with halibut,” would be ridiculous to one of these guys. They would be recommending a specific chardonay or other wine. And maybe it wouldn’t even be a white wine. But it would be a perfect match for the halibut, based on how the halibut was prepared, what it was served with, and what wines were available.

And, by the way, neither Mike and I had shown any interest in halibut.

Mike sent him away again. This time he stayed away. We had to flag him over when we were ready to order. Not a problem. Mike ordered steak and I ordered prime rib.

“And we’d like a bottle of wine,” Mike added. He looked at me.

“The Clos du Bois cabernet,” I said, reading it off the wine list.

The wine list offered wines by the glass, but the only red wines were the house wines, which I’d never heard of. So we’d stuck with a familiar mid-priced label that I knew would be fine with our meal.

Keep in mind that I am not a wine connoisseur. I love restaurants with wine stewards because I can learn from them. They always recommend something truly spectacular. But when you’re faced with limited options and no one to give good advice, it’s sometimes best to go with what you know. And I do like to drink wine — especially red wines.

He went away with our order. A few moments later, we were treated to the worst wine service I have ever witnessed in my life.

Now I don’t want to get our waiter in trouble because he’s a nice guy and I’m sure he was doing he best he could. The only problem is, it’s quite obvious that he was never trained to do his job. And I don’t think he’s had enough meals in nice restaurants to catch on to what’s expected.

Our waiter returned with a tray that had two glasses and our bottle of wine. He put the tray on one of those tray stands that he’d set up behind Mike’s seat. He then took a corkscrew — you know, the kind with the wings that anyone can use — and inserted the pointy part through the foil at the top of the bottle and into the cork. He struggled for a few minutes to twist the corkscrew in, then used the wings to lift the cork out, right through the torn foil. He put a glass in front of Mike, poured a small amount of wine through the foil, and waited for Mike to drink. While he waited, he used his fingers to tear all the foil off the top of the bottle. Mike tasted and told him it was fine. The waiter put the cork back in the bottle and put the bottle on the table, then put my glass in front of me and departed, leaving Mike to pour the wine for both of us.

Whew!

Call me a snob, but I could serve wine better than that — and I’ve never worked in a restaurant!

For those of you who don’t know what he did wrong, he’s a summary of how the wine should have been served.

  1. The waiter brings glasses to the table. He sets the glasses out in front of each person.
  2. The waiter brings the bottle to the table. (He could do this with step 1 to save time.) He shows the bottle’s label to the person who ordered the wine or asks, “Who would like to taste the wine?” The idea is for someone to make sure he’s brought the right wine.
  3. The waiter uses a knife or foil cutter to neatly cut and remove the foil from the top of the bottle, leaving the rest of the foil on the bottle’s neck.
  4. The waiter inserts the cork screw or other cork removal device into the bottle while holding it (not leaning it on the table), then removes the cork.
  5. The waiter places the cork in front of the designated wine taster. (The wine taster may want to check it to make sure it is wet; a dry cork indicates a bottle that has been stored standing up and air may have gotten in.)
  6. The waiter pours a small amount of wine into the designated taster’s glass.
  7. When the taster has confirmed that the wine is satisfactory, the waiter pours for the rest of the table, finishing up with the designated taster.
  8. The waiter leaves the bottle on the table (for unchilled wines — usually reds) or in an ice bucket within reach (for chilled wines — usually whites).

I also like when the waiter ties a rolled-up napkin (cloth, of course) around the bottle’s neck to catch drips when the wine is poured.

Does this sound like a ritual? It is. And it’s one that I personally enjoy, perhaps because it’s an indication that wine is an important part of the meal, one that deserves its own special ritual.

Now I really can’t blame the waiter. But I certainly can blame the manager of the restaurant. It’s obvious that he or she doesn’t care (or know) about what good service is.

Dinner last night, with tip, cost over $100 — and we didn’t have appetizers, coffee, or desert. The food was average — although I admit I really liked my sweet potato fries. My prime rib, which was supposed to be medium, was medium well on one half and medium rare on the other. (I’m still trying to figure out how they did that.) The horseradish sauce was just right. The bread was from Sysco — the big food purveyor company — the same stuff they use for sandwiches at one of the local coffee shops, but cut into quarters so each piece goes a little further.

To say we were disappointed is an understatement. A new restaurant in town, a nice looking, brand new building. We had our hopes up. But they were dashed by mediocre food, unprofessional service, and prices that are too high for what you’re getting.

But the place is new. We’ll give it a chance to learn some things. In a few months, we’ll try again.

And if my wine is served the same way, I’m going to get up and show him how to do it right.

Two Interesting Restaurants

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Suggestions for dining in the Mesa/Tempe, AZ area.

I flew into Williams Gateway Airport in Mesa the other evening to drop off my helicopter for maintenance. My husband, Mike, who works in Tempe, came to pick me up.

It was 5:30 PM and we were both famished. Not in a hurry to drive home in traffic, we decided to have dinner. As we drove past the strip mall on Power Road at Ray Road near the airport, I spotted a restaurant called Dual. We stopped there for dinner.

The menu was interesting, the prices above average but not outrageous. The decor was modern, almost industrial. Our waitress was friendly but goofy (why is it that I always end up with the airhead servers?) and provided good service. Mike and I sipped mint julips and shared a baked brie appetizer. Mike had short ribs (which the waitress told us Dual was known for) with gnocchi and I had the roast duck breast over risotto. We finished off the meal by sharing a flan.

My rating: 4 out of 5 stars

Yesterday took me back to Williams Gateway for a last-minute charter before maintenance began. I met Mike for lunch in Tempe. He took me to one of his favorite lunch places on University Avenue in Tempe: Cornish Pasty Company.

A pasty, as I learned just the other day during our Bradshaw’s Grave excursion, is a collection of ingredients wrapped up in a pastry shell and baked. They were popular with miners who prepared them in advance and took them down into the mines with them for their meal breaks.

Cornish Pasty Company has a long, narrow space in a strip mall with some tables and bar seats. We sat at the bar and watched two workers prepare batches of pasties. Mike had the Portobello Chicken (Chicken Breast, Balsamic Marinated Portobello Mushroom, Fresh Mozzarella, Roasted Red Pepper, Fresh Basil, served with a side of chilled Marinara) and I had the Porky (Pork, Sage, Onion, Apple, Potato, served with a side of Red Wine Gravy). Both were served hot and were excellent.

It also reminded me a lot of the restaurants I used to grab lunch at when I worked in Manhattan: small places that didn’t put on airs, had great food at a fair price, and were filled at lunchtime with local workers.

My rating: 4 out of 5 stars

On Pipelines and Strip Mines

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Two interesting charters.

One of the best things about flying in a helicopter is that it offers perfect, unobstructed views of things on the ground. That makes it a perfect platform for an otherwise difficult task: pipeline survey.

Arizona (and other states, I assume) is crisscrossed with buried pipelines. Water, petroleum, natural gas. You can see these pipelines on the ground by the signs posted at regular intervals along their length. You can see them from the air by the “scars” their construction has left on the earth.

On Tuesday, I had the pleasure of doing my first pipeline survey job. My client and two companions hired me to pick them up in Tucson and fly them along their pipeline to a point just past Benson, AZ — perhaps 30 miles away by air. The pipeline followed I-10 for a while, then followed the course of a railroad track. The client is preparing to do some work on the line that’ll require digging and drilling. I didn’t ask for details — it’s none of my business — but they were primarily concerned with access for their equipment, especially in two or three riparian areas along the pipeline’s route.

The pipeline has obviously been in place for along while. I could tell by the condition of the earth’s surface above it. There was a scar, but in some places, it was difficult — if not downright impossible — to see. There was lots of vegetation growing over it in some places. In others, where it crossed deep washes, my passengers voiced some surprise that it had not been exposed. It had obviously been placed deep in the ground where the earth protected it.

The flight consisted of flying along the length of the pipeline, then circling (to the left) around each place where it was crossed by a major wash or river. There were quite a few of these places. My client had placed a GPS with its tracking feature enabled on the floor in the front of the helicopter so it could trace our route on a map. He’s likely to have a curved line with lots of loops on it. The loops are good — they’ll clearly indicate where we investigated potential problem areas for the project. One of the areas was so troublesome that we spent nearly 20 minutes circling it. I still have a clear picture of the wash, access roads, railroad, and nearby ranch in my mind. My client, of course, has photos. He took 90 pictures on our 1.6 hour flight.

The flight was interesting to me because it took me over terrain I hadn’t flown over before. The only other flight I’d done in the Tucson area was my “Border Patrol” flight with a photojournalist back in July. That flight had taken me from Nogales to Tucson on the west side of I-19, with thunderstorms to the east as we closed in on Tucson. This time, I was southeast of Tucson, over the rising desert terrain that leads to Benson and the San Pedro River. Not much to report, although there were some interesting land formations east of the river where the pipeline began its climb into the higher terrain of southeastern Arizona.

The flight ended with 4.2 hours of billable time, which certainly is welcome the same month I pay my annual helicopter insurance bill.

A more common job for me is sightseeing. On Wednesday, I did a custom sightseeing job out of Falcon Field in Mesa, AZ, for three men who wanted to explore the canyons and mines southeast of the Phoenix area. We started with a flight up the Salt River, keeping a respectable altitude to avoid the wilderness area below us. That took us over or near the four Salt River Lakes: Saguaro, Canyon, Apache, and Roosevelt. The first two lakes were full of water, while the second two were below capacity. There were some boats on the water, but not many that midweek day.

From Roosevelt lake, we flew east, high over the Salt River’s winding course, then headed south toward some smoke to check out what turned out to be a controlled burn. We hooked up with US 60 to the east of Globe and followed it west. That took us over the mining towns of Globe and Miami where we had a birdseye view down into a huge, active open strip copper mine. I’ve overflown the open pit mine at Bagdad, AZ many times, but the mine at Miami had to be at least 10 times the size. My passengers had driven past the place just the other day and were very interested in seeing what was hidden from the ground.

We continued along US 60 to Superior, then turned south to get a good look at what my passengers said was the largest strip mine in the world, between Superior and Kearny. It certainly was huge — both deep and wide, surrounded by leech fields and tailings piles. We could see giant dump trucks — and a few normal sized vehicles that provided a sense of scale — driving up and down the ramps to the mine’s bottom.

From there, we headed back, following the course of the Gila River for a short while, then hugging the mountain foothills to avoid an oddly placed Restricted area that appeared on both my chart and GPS. We followed US 60 into Apache Junction, where my passengers pointed out the condo they were staying in and speculated whether it was one of their wives that they saw in the hot tub. Then back into Falcon Field. A total of 1.7 billable hours.

On both flights, I had wonderful, friendly passengers who didn’t make unreasonable requests and seemed pleased with their flights. My helicopter handled very well (as usual) and I enjoyed the flying. But the best part of all — at least for me — was getting out and flying someplace different.

My helicopter is now down in Mesa, AZ, getting it’s annual inspection. I expect it back right before Christmas. Then it’s back to doing the work I like best — taking people for flights around Arizona.

Flying in Snow Showers

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Learning from experience.

We plan to spend Christmas weekend at our “camp” on Howard Mesa. We wanted to check the place out to make sure everything was okay before driving up there. It’s a three-hour drive but only a one-hour flight by helicopter. So, with about 5 hours to spare on Sunday morning before I had to do a presentation for the local writer’s group, we planned to fly up for an hour or two then.

We started checking the weather forecast on Saturday. Howard Mesa is between Williams, AZ, and the Grand Canyon’s South Rim (closer to Williams). The weather for both didn’t look good. Temperatures in the high 20s, high winds, and scattered snow showers. The three weather forecasts we checked (National Weather Service, Intellicast, and Weather.com) each had a different story to tell. NWS was most optimistic. Weather.com was most dire.

When the sun rose on Sunday morning, it illuminated a cloud bank that seemed to be passing over Wickenburg on its way northeast. To the north, the clouds looked low over the Weaver Mountains. But we could still see the top of Antelope Peak. The weather forecasts showed a front moving through. Show showers, winds 20 gusting to 30. But DUATS, a pilot weather service, didn’t paint as bad a picture.

I figured it was worth a try.

We got off the ground at 8:45 AM with full tanks of fuel and a few odds and ends we wanted to store in our shed. The winds at Wickenburg were light, out of the southwest. We climbed over the Weavers about 500 feet below the cloud bottoms. Ahead, the sky was dark with clouds that hung low. But visibility was good and we could see our next mountain landmark — Granite Mountain, west of Prescott. And we had a whopping 25-knot tailwind. So we kept going.

By the time we reached Granite Mountain, the sky ahead was completely overcast. We could see the Mongollon Rim and Mingus Mountain to the east. But to the north, the top of Bill Williams Mountain was obscured and the clouds seemed to be drifting downward. To the west, it looked like rain was falling. But to the east of Bill Williams, the clouds were higher and the way seemed clear. We could detour that way. So we kept going.

By the time we’d climbed the rim and were approaching the southeast side of Bill Williams Mountain, there were showers ahead of us. But they weren’t rain showers. They were snow showers. We flew into them and tiny pellets of snow pelted the cockpit bubble and mast. There was a dusting of snow in the forest beneath us. When I looked out at the fairing for the helicopter leg closest to my door, I saw tiny bits of white ice accumulating on the leading edge. Not a good thing. If ice were accumulating there, could it be accumulating on my rotor blades.

I have no experience with icing conditions, but I know icing is not a good thing. Yet the engine was running fine, my power setting was low, and the blades were behaving nicely. No loss of lift. We seemed okay. So we kept going.

Ahead of us, to the east of Williams, AZ, there were scattered snow showers all over the place. The sky and ground was a mix of dark and light. Occasionally, we’d catch a glimpse of blue sky through the speeding clouds a few hundred feet overhead. When the snow stopped, the ice on the skid leg fairing disappeared. When it started again, more ice appeared. We moved from tiny spots of sunlight to the deep, cool shade of low clouds. According to the AWOS, the visibility at Williams airport was 3 miles. We could see farther, but only in certain directions. Things were looking dicey, but according to the GPS, we were only 6 minutes away. Sheesh. How could I turn back? I could still see where I was going and there were plenty of places to make a precautionary landing if I needed to. So we kept going.

The worst of the snow showers appeared to be between us and Howard Mesa. We were less than 10 miles away and couldn’t see it. We started flying between snow showers, real scud running. I wish I had a GPS to track our path. We probably drew a line like a drunken sailor.

The six minutes turned out to be 10. The showers parted and we saw Howard Mesa before us. Then our neighbor’s house. Then our shed. I put on the brakes as I passed our windsock. It was hanging straight out. I turned into the wind and came in for a landing as a fresh show shower pelleted us.

It felt good to be on the ground.

We spent about two hours there, checking things out. It was a good thing, because some pipes were broken and we’ll need to bring tools and parts up with us for Christmas weekend to fix them. But at least we know what to expect.

While we worked, the weather blew around and past us. The wind had to be blowing at least 20 knots. Snow came and went. Some of the hard little crystals accumulated on the ground around the shed. I wanted to wait until things cleared up a bit before departing, but the weather wasn’t cooperating. It was a constantly changing scene, with snow showers and sun, with visibility ranging from a mile to five miles.

Finally, we could wait no more. We climbed back into the helicopter — which had remained ice-free — and I started it up. The weather around us must have changed 10 times while the engine warmed up. I kept changing my mind about which way we’d fly after takeoff. Finally, we were ready to go. I picked up and the wind hurried us through ETL. I departed to the west, which had the best visibility.

Now we were flying into the wind, around one snow shower after another. The scud running lasted almost until we reached Granite Mountain. Our path took us farther to the west than we usually flew, west of Ash Fork, Paulden, and Chino Valley. Visibility never got really bad — certainly not enough to make me worry. It was just an inconvenience. It took us an extra 30 minutes to get home.

It was my third experience with scud running — we really don’t get much bad weather here in Arizona — and when it was over, I felt okay. I never felt worried or as if I were out of control. There were always several options for getting to a safe haven, whether it was a clear place out of my way or a precautionary landing in a field. I think Mike and I learned a lot from the experience.

Back in Wickenburg, the wind was light. Big fluffy clouds floated by in a blue sky. No indication of the stormy skies less than 100 miles to the north.