Tag Archives: cars

Outsourcing, Continued

Posted on by
2

Visitors start a lively discussion, but may be missing my point.

My “Just Say No to Outsourcing” piece has gotten a little discussion going in its comments. It appears that some readers are confusing “employ America” with “buy American.”

I’m all for the first, but have limits on the second. While I’d rather buy American-made products, I do have to spend my money where I’ll get the best value for my dollar. Nowhere is this more important than when making a major expenditure, like one for a car.

As I was growing up, my aunt was vehemently opposed to buying anything not made in the US. While that was possible back in the 1950s and 1960s, it soon became very difficult. She stubbornly stuck to her guns for a very long time, buying US-branded televisions and cameras and cars when she could have gotten better quality products, often at a lower price, from Japanese or German manufacturers. In the end, she had to give in, at least on the electronics stuff.

There was a time when the US was at the top of the game, when US-made products were technologically advanced and of better quality than you could get anywhere else in the world. But with some exceptions, that’s changed. For years, people have been recognizing that they can get more value for their hard-earned money by buying products made and marketed by overseas companies.

Personally, I think it’s tragic. I believe that America’s failure to stay at the top of the product manufacturing game is a result of laziness on the part of R&D teams and cost-cutting measures on the part of management. It also has a lot to do with pay levels, benefit packages (often required by unions), and the cost of living in this country. Even if we could make the best product in a given category — say, digital cameras — we couldn’t afford to make it or sell it. All these things combined — not to mention our smug “America is the greatest country in the world” attitude — have led to our manufacturing downfall. After all, it’s hard to make yourself better if you already think you’re the best you can be.

And things are getting worse, as goods mass-produced in China and Korea at rock bottom prices flood the marketplace, replacing quality with items so inexpensive that we can buy with the atittude that when it breaks, we can just throw it away and get another one.

I tried to buy a leather wallet in a leather goods store about a month ago and couldn’t find a single one that wasn’t made in China. It scares me when we get to the point that we simply don’t have a choice. I know now how my aunt felt when she bough her first Canon camera. But at least she was getting a quality product from an established and respected manufacturer.

Anyway, before I alienate any other readers with what will likely be taken as an unpatiotic attitude (a dangerous position to be in these days), I just want to remind readers that if they love America, they should support it any way they feel comfortable supporting it.

Although I’m not comfortable enough to buy a Ford, I’m very happy to avoid doing business with US companies that send customer service jobs overseas. And I’m not afraid to speak out against overseas outsourcing.

Technorati Tags: , ,

Some Good Charters

Posted on by
Comment

Flying M Air keeps me busy.

As anyone who runs a service business can tell you, work comes in spurts. You can go days or weeks without any customers, then wham! You’re busy with paying work several days or weeks in a row.

That’s how it is with Flying M Air. The months of January and February were a bit disappointing after a very busy December. But suddenly the phone started ringing again. And in less than 10 days, I had four good charter flights.

Sedona

The first, last week, was to Sedona. I like my Sedona flights. The scenery on the way up there and back (I take two different routes to keep it interesting for myself and my passengers) is beautiful and interesting. My passengers always enjoy the flight, especially if they’re not from Arizona and they’ve never seen its varied terrain. I cruise past the red rocks just enough to satisfy their needs to see them but without straying into the flight path of the helicopter tour company based up there.

At the airport, there’s a restaurant (or at least there is now; it’ll be closing soon) where I can grab a bite to eat while waiting for my passengers to do their thing down in the town. Then I hang out in thec terminal and read or write or chat with the FBO guys or helicopter tour guys or airplane charter guys.

My passengers, in the meantime, go down into the town of Sedona for a Jeep tour or shopping or lunch or any combination of those. They’re usually down there for about 3 hours and I include that waiting time in my price. When they return, I’m ready to go and we head back to our starting point. That’s usually Wickenburg, like it was last week, but I can do the tour from any airport in the Phoenix area. The great thing for the passengers is that they get a wonderful scenic flight lasting 90 to 120 minutes total (depending on where they started from) and they get to “do” Sedona in less than a day. When you’re on vacation based in Phoenix or Scottsdale or Wickenburg, that’s a big deal. My flight saves them the 2-3 hours each way it would take to drive and they still get back to their hotels in time for dinner.

My passengers last week were from Maryland, on vacation in Wickenburg. I set them up with a Jeep tour with the Pink Jeep Tour Company, the big outfit based in Sedona. They had lunch at the airport restaurant before returning to the helicopter for the flight back. They were a nice couple — heck, all my passengers are nice people — and they really enjoyed their day. That’s a bonus for me. And when we landed, they even gave me a tip. Woo-hoo!

Photo Shoot at the Proving Grounds

I’d just left the airport on Wednesday morning, ready to dig into a full day of work at my office, when my cell phone rang. A local contractor was looking for a helicopter to fly a photographer over a job he’d just finished at a local car manufacturer’s proving grounds. Was I available?

I wanted the work, but I wanted to get something done on the WordPress book I’m writing with Miraz. So I told him I was busy until 2 PM and could go then. He said he’d call me back. He did, a while later, and we scheduled the flight for 2.

Keep in mind here that I don’t keep my helicopter out on the ramp, all pre-flighted and ready to go. I keep it in the hangar and normally do most of my preflight work in the hangar (out of the wind or sun) before I drag it out, fuel it up, and park it on the ramp for departure. If everything goes well, I can do all this in about 30 minutes. But I like to allow 45-60 minutes, just in case something doesn’t go smoothly. That meant I needed to be at the airport at 1 PM.

I finished up early and waited for my passengers. They were two men, neither of which had been in a helicopter before. I gave the one with the camera the big option: door on or door off?

“What do most photographers do?” he asked.

“If they’re serious about the photos coming out good, they take the door off. Otherwise, they leave the door on and there’s some reflective glare in some of the photos.”

Door off.

I gave them their preflight briefing and loaded them onboard. Even though they were both pretty good sized men, I put them on the same side of the helicopter. This way, they’d have the same view, which I’d put on their side. It’s nearly impossible to load an R44 out of CG (center of gravity), so I wasn’t worried about that.

One of the passengers had drawn a map of where the proving grounds were. Trouble is, he drew it upside-down, so south was up, and I had to hold it upside down to make sense of it. I thought they wanted the proving grounds just south of Vulture Peak, but it turns out the place they wanted was farther east, near Grand Avenue. We found the place pretty quickly and I settled in for some slow circles around the area at about 500 feet.

There were three objects of the photography shoot. One was a huge skid pad — a big rectangular area, paved smoothly with asphalt. The pad would be filled with water and the cars would skid around on it. Another was a water line that ran from the skid pad to a well. The line was underground, so we expected to just see the disturbed earth over it. We had some trouble finding it because we were told it rand east-west when in fact it ran northeast-southwest right alongside an existing drag strip-like road. The final target was a dirt “hauling road” that ran alongside the edge of the property.

The photographer had a digital camera with 200 shots available and he took dozens of photos. It’s amazing what digital cameras can do. You can take anyone capable of pressing a shutter button, bring him to a place where he needs to take pictures, and let him take 200 shots. Some of them have to be good and a few have to be perfect. It’s just a matter of playing the percentages.

While we flew around and around, the cars below us were taking interest. A lot of the proving grounds in the area have cars that aren’t in production yet. Car magazines use helicopters to get spy photos. (Hey, Motor Trend, I’m available!) So when there are new cars out there, they tend to get under cover when a helicopter flies over. This is taken to a science at some proving grounds.

I pretty much ignored what was going on below me, being more interested in the F-16s that occasionally flew by. I was at the edge of the Luke Air Force Base jet training area and glad those guys had me on radar. But we were the only things flying that day — winds were gusting to 25 knots and all the other pilots were staying on the ground.

When we finished up at the proving grounds, we headed back to Wickenburg to take some photos of various houses and other things in town. We landed and I shut down. The whole job had taken less than an hour.

Grand Canyon

I also do Grand Canyon flights out of Wickenburg and the Phoenix area and I did one on Thursday. Like the Sedona flights, they save the passengers lots of driving time — at least 3 hours each way. But unlike the Sedona flights, the terrain we fly over each way is pretty boring, consisting mostly of high desert, open range with dry grass, stubby trees, and the occaisional group of cows.

I’d flown these passengers before. They were a couple from the Toronto, Canada area and they were very pleasant and well-traveled. The husband was in love with helicopter flight and used helicopters for all kinds of things. The wife was a bit nervous about flying, although not too nervous to let it spoil her trip. I’d taken them to Sedona a few months before and I’m already booked to fly them from Wickenburg to Sky Harbor Airport in Phoenix on Tuesday.

When we got up to the Grand Canyon Airport, the wind was howling and there was snow on the ground. It was cold. I called Papillon, who I’d booked a flight with for my passengers, to get a shuttle to take us from the main terminal to their terminal. It was walking distance, but not exactly close. It turned out that they’d lost my reservation and the long flight I’d booked them for wasn’t being done anymore because of weather on east side of the canyon. The only thing left was the short flight.

I looked across the street at Grand Canyon Helicopters, which is owned by Papillon but flies newer, nicer equipment, and asked the guy to book them on a flight over there. Then we walked over and I waited around until they got on board. I was happy to see them both get front seats next to Ron, a pilot I knew from my Papillon days.

Then, while they took their tour, I went back to Zero-Mike-Lima to retrieve my purse and place a fuel order. I called for a shuttle into the park when I got back to Grand Canyon Helicopters’ terminal. I chatted with the folks there — it’s true, I’ll talk to anyone — and was waiting when their flight returned. They’d enjoyed it and only wished it was longer. I wish it was, too — I know they would have enjoyed the other flight more. But what could we do?

In case you’re wondering why I didn’t take them over the canyon, it’s easy: I can’t. The Grand Canyon airspace is heavily controlled and I’d have to fly over at 10,500 and 11,500 feet (depending on direction). Although my helicopter can fly at 12,000 feet, anything over 9,000 sets up nasty vibrations that I just don’t like. The helicopter tour operators there — Papillon, Grand Canyon Helicopters, and Maverick — have special permits for conducting flights at 7,500 feet. That’s the altitude to fly the canyon. (And if you’re ever at the canyon, take a helicopter tour. It’s costly, but it’s an experience you’re not likely to ever forget.)

The shuttle arrived not long after they returned and it took us into the park. I had him drop us off at El Tovar Hotel, right on the rim. I told my passengers what they could do and see in a few hours. They invited me to join them for lunch and I agreed. We had a nice lunch at El Tovar, then split up. They walked down the rim path toward Bright Angel Lodge. I hung around El Tovar’s lobby for a while, then went out for a short walk. I was back in the lobby when they returned.

Grand Canyon in March

The Grand Canyon right after a snowfall.

They’d had a nice walk and had stopped into a few shops, including Hopi House, and the Fred Harvey museum in Bright Angel Lodge. We took the shuttle back to the airport. It took a long time to warm up the helicopter in the wind, which was now gusting to 22 knots, but we finally had the engine warmed up enough to depart. I was the only pilot on the radio. We took off to the south. I showed them our Howard Mesa property on the way, skirted around a controlled burn in Williams, and flew directly back to Wickenburg. It wasn’t an exciting flight but we were lucky that the wind was mostly out of the west, so it didn’t slow us down too much. We were back at the airport by 4:30 PM.

Golf Course Photo Shoot

The call came as Mike and I were preparing to go out to dinner on Thursday night. The woman was uncertain, as if she thought she was on a mission she’d never accomplish. Did I have a helicopter available to take a photographer around a golf course in Peoria the next day?

I saw another day of WordPress book work slipping away. “What time?” I asked.

“About ten?”

I told her I could do it and she gave me her contact information. She said the photographer might call to finalize the pick up location. She wanted me to land on the golf course, but didn’t have GPS coordinates for the landing zone and I’d never seen the golf course from the air — I usually don’t fly over there.

The photographer called a while later. She asked if we could do it earlier, like around 9:30. I told her we could. We talked some more. She said she wanted to get an early start, like maybe around 9 AM. I told her that was fine. We talked some more. She said she liked working early in the morning. Could I come earlier?

“What time do you want me?” I asked. I had already crossed out the time twice on the calendar and it was beginning to look pretty messy.

“Well how about around 8 AM? Or maybe a quarter to eight?”

“Seven forty-five?” I asked.

“Well, yes,” she said almost uncertainly. “Around a quarter to eight.” She made it sound as if that was a different time than seven forty-five.

We agreed to meet at Turf Soaring School, a small private airport that caters to gliders and ultralights. It should be easy for her to find and it should be near the golf course.

I got to the airport at 6:30 AM the next morning and pulled my helicopter out just as it was getting light. There was a big cloud on the horizon and the sun poked through it long enough to turn its edges golden. I wondered if the cloud would ruin her photos.

I fueled up, started up, warmed up, and took off. It was a quick flight, less than 20 minutes. I flew under that cloud I’d seen — evidently, it was a lot lower and smaller than it looked — and there was nothing but clear skies ahead. I landed at Turf, shut down, listened to a voicemail message on my cell phone from the photographer, and got out. I was just removing the front passenger door when the photographer drove up on the cross runway. I don’t think she realized it was a runway. It was dirt and not very well maintained.

We introduced ourselves and I told her where to park. Then I walked over and waited while she reformatted some cards for her digital camera. She had a huge bag of photographic equipment, almost all Nikon stuff. She told me how she’d gotten it cheap (or maybe for free) and dropped a few names of celebrities. Name dropping normally turns me off, but I wasn’t bothered too much. It was probably standard procedure in the circles she moved in. Not having other names to drop back, I kept quiet. (Really.)

We took off. The golf course was literally 5 minutes away. What followed was about a half hour of out of ground effect (OGE) hovering all over the golf course. Fortunately, houses hadn’t been built there yet, so I wasn’t endangering anyone on the ground. At one point, however, we moved close to the neighboring development of Trilogy and I saw people coming out of their homes to watch. I wondered whether the FAA would be calling later with complaints. I had nothing to worry about — I wasn’t hovering over anyone’s house — but people tend to exaggerate things to make their cases stronger when complaining.

It was a challenging flight for me. Lots of OGE hovering with a tail wind. But Zero-Mike-Lima and I were up to the challenge. That helicopter has all the power in the world with just two people on board. A few times, right after getting into a hover in the right spot, the wind would kick us from behind. I’d kick back with the pedals and get us stablized quickly.

The photograher, at one point, said, “You’re a great pilot.” At first, I thought she was just saying that to make me feel good. After all, who was I? Some Wickenburg-based pilot who didn’t even have any names to drop in a name-dropping conversation. But when she said it again and again, I started to think she might mean it. She did this kind of work with helicopter pilots all over the world. Although I don’t think I was the best, it was good to know I wasn’t the worst. In other words, I didn’t stink.

The golf course, by the way, was beautiful. Although I hate the idea of tearing up the natural desert to plant grass that soaks up our most precious resource here — water — I do admit that these desert golf course designers make glorious landscapes. This was one of the nicest I’d ever seen.

We finished up and flew back to Turf. The photographer told me that from now on, when she did aerial photography in Arizona, she’d use me. Of course, she lives in Monterey, CA, so I don’t know how often that would be. Better not quit my day job.

The Feast

That was the recent feast in my feast or famine cycle. With another two flights already scheduled for Tuesday, it has the potential to continue for a while. I hope so. Summer is dead time here and I’m not sure if that cherry drying gig will work out.

Dana’s Last Flight

Posted on by
3

I take a passenger on his last journey.

It all started months ago. Dana had been diagnosed with a brain tumor. He called, wanting to join a flight up the Hassayampa River so he could tell me where he wanted his ashes scattered. Talk about planning ahead.

His friend Joe had gotten a custom half-hour tour for Christmas. Joe and his wife invited Dana to take the third passenger seat in the helicopter for the flight. When they arrived at the airport, I was very surprised. Dana didn’t look good. He was having trouble walking and had become bloated from the treatments he was going through. But he was alert and eager to go on the flight. He sat behind Joe in the left passenger seat. Joe snapped photos for the book he was co-authoring with Dana.

When we got near Seal Peak, Dana pointed it out. “I want to be scattered on the side closer to the Hassayampa River,” he told us. “So my ashes get washed into the river.”

I assured him I’d make sure it was done to his request. He wanted to know how much it would cost and did some math. He said he’d have the money set aside in his estate.

Oddly enough, I didn’t feel uncomfortable about it at all. I felt kind of good. I was getting final instructions — emphasis on “final” — from a customer. There would be no guessing as to whether the place we’d drop his remains was right. I knew it would be right.

Dana got a little better, then took a turn for the worse. His caregiver called me one day. She told me he talked all the time about his helicopter flight. She said she wanted to take him for another one. We talked about money. I could tell my regular prices were a bit beyond her means. But Dana was a lifelong Wickenburg resident, one of the folks who had helped shaped the town. There was a street named after his father and a flat named after his mother. The town claimed they’d be naming one of the peaks near his home after him. Surely I could contribute something to his last days.

His two caregivers brought him to the airport at the appointed time. He didn’t look good at all. His caregiver had to practically lift him into the helicopter. But he sat up tall and seemed alert, even though he didn’t talk much. His two caregivers climbed into the back seats — it costs the same to fly one passenger as three.

A while later, we were airborne, back toward Seal Peak. He wanted to be sure that I knew where to scatter him and that he’d have enough money set aside to pay for it. From there, we flew up the Hassayampa. I asked him where the old dam had been, the one that had washed away in the 1880s and killed all those Chinese workers. He pointed it out. He also pointed out the place downstream where some of the dirt from the dam had washed up. I took him southeast, past the Sheep Mountain house. They all enjoyed the views of the lake. Then west, over Santa Domingo Wash, across Grand Avenue, and around Vulture Peak. We were flying past Rancho de los Caballeros on our way to the airport when the low fuel light flickered. Time to land.

We’d been out longer than I’d planned. But it was worth it. Dana really enjoyed the flight. And his two caregivers, who probably needed the break, enjoyed it, too.

Dana passed away about a week and a half ago. One of his caregivers called to give me the news. She also dropped off one of Dana and Joe’s books at the airport for me. It was about Constellation Road and it had a few of the pictures Joe had taken during that first flight.

There was a big write-up in the paper about Dana. I didn’t see it because I don’t read the local paper.

Joe called later in the week. We made arrangements for Friday. Dana’s brother and sister would be joining him. I explained how the ash scattering worked: we’d wrap Dana’s remains in tissue paper and toss it out over the designated scattering area.

Joe, John, and Sophie came in two cars. They were surprisingly cheerful. We went into the airport’s back room to prepare Dana’s ashes in their tissue paper wrapper. I used two sheets — I didn’t want any parts of Dana slipping out during the flight.

We took a little scenic flight over town and past Dana’s house. Then we headed toward Seal Peak. I started to climb. I wanted to be at least 700 feet over the peak so the ash package would open and scatter.

My passengers pointed out places of interest along the way. They were enjoying the flight.

I circled the peak. The wind was blowing hard from the southwest. Joe saw the spot he wanted to aim for, but when he dropped the package, the wind took it toward the river. He saw a puff of dust — a puff of Dana, in fact — before the paper disappeared from view. We headed back to the airport along Constellation Road, making a short detour to try to figure out which peak the town was naming after Dana.

On the ground, Dana’s brother asked what he owed me. I knew Dana had set aside some money for the flight. I told him that it was my honor to take Dana on his last ride. I told them that the three of them should go out and have a nice lunch on Dana and me.

When they invited me to join them, I had to turn them down. Too much writing work to do. But maybe another time.

Sedona Sky Ranch

Posted on by
2

One of Sedona’s little secrets.

When we have out-of-town guests, we sometimes take them to the usual tourist spots in Arizona. (I can’t tell you how many times I’ve taken people to the South Rim of the Grand Canyon.) This past week, Mike’s mother has been in town. And over the weekend, we took her to Sedona for an overnight stay.

Sedona is a beautiful place. It has also become a bit of a tourist trap. “Uptown” Sedona is full off gift shops and counters for booking tours. Its sidewalks are roamed by people trying to get you to come see their timeshare opportunities. (I never could understand the attraction of timeshares.) If you’re looking for a t-shirt or a piece of Indian jewelry or some junky souvenir of red rock country, this is the place to come.

Uptown Sedona is right at the mouth of Oak Creek Canyon, a beautiful spot with a year-round creek, shady trees, and towering cliffs. A drive up through the canyon is the nicest way to reach Flagstaff, especially in the fall when the leaves on the trees along the creek are changing color.

So right before you reach the beauty of Oak Creek Canyon, you have to drive through the most touristy cluster of shops in Arizona. The same shops that block the views of some of the incredible red rocks that people have supposedly come to Sedona to see.

To be fair, Sedona’s local government has enacted certain zoning laws that require new construction to blend in with the environment. That’s why you’ll see a lot of reddish buildings. It’s also one of the few places I’ve seen dozens of homes painted a dark sage green–to match the scrubby desert pine trees that grow in the area. Unfortunately, those laws were not passed before Uptown Sedona was developed, so most of that area is pretty ugly.

We planned to spend the night in Sedona and needed a place to stay. We wanted to stay at a nice place–the last time we’d taken his mother on a trip in Arizona, we’d stayed at a weird place down near Tubac that had been built on top of an old missle silo. (I can’t make this stuff up.) Mike surfed the Web and came up with a place that included the word “Spa” in its name. The pictures looked good, but it was supposedly in West Sedona. I was worried that it would be too far away from the things his mom wanted to see–primarily shops–or tucked away in some back corner without any views. So I suggested a place where I knew there were good views: Sedona Sky Ranch.

Sedona Sky Ranch is Sedona’s airport motel. And that’s why so few people consider it as a place to stay. I consider it one of Sedona’s little secrets.

Sedona Airport is on a mesa just south of town. For those of you who didn’t pay attention during geology lessons in school, a mesa is a flat-topped mountain. There are a lot of them in Arizona and the rest of the southwest. Sedona’s airport sits on one of them. (The St. George, UT and Bagdad, AZ airports also sit on mesas.) It’s kind of neat because as you approach the runway in a plane, it’s a lot like landing on an aircraft carrier.

Sedona Sky Ranch is on the northwest side of the mesa, walking distance from the airport’s little terminal. It sits on the edge of the mesa and has about a dozen rooms that look right out over the town. And the red rocks beyond it.

View from Sedona Sky RanchWe’d reserved two Red Rock View rooms for the night. The rooms included 2 queen beds, a deck overlooking the views, and a kitchenette with a small fridge, microwave, and sink. And a bathroom, of course. Not what I’d call luxurious, but certainly very comfortable. And the views! At about 500 feet above the town, we didn’t have to look at any ugly commercial buildings. Sedona’s famous red rocks were right there. The photo here shows the view from our deck. The rock formation in the left center is called the Coffee Pot. (Think percolator.)

Mike and I shared a bottle of wine on the deck while the sun dropped down on the horizon, making the red rocks even redder. (Mike’s mom watched television in her room.) In the overlook parking area, which was a few hundred yards away, a native American musician played the drum and flute while tourists looked on. The sun set, the flute stopped abruptly, and the tourists got into their cars to go down to their hotels far below us. The full moon rose above the buttes in the east.

The next morning, when we checked out, we made reservations for October. We chose the cabin next door, which is slightly larger that our room, has a larger deck, and a slightly better view. We’ll drive up in the Jeep with Jack the Dog (they allow pets) and spend a few days exploring the back roads of the area while the autumn leaf show is in progress.

It’ll be a nice escape.

Oh, and that “spa” Mike found online? It was on the main road in West Sedona, right next to the Safeway shopping center. How’s that for atmosphere?

A Trip to Macworld Expo in San Francisco

Posted on by
1

I go to Macworld Expo, see new stuff, party with the Peachpitters, and still manage to find my hotel.

TehatchapiI took an America West — or is that US Airways? — flight from Phoenix to San Francisco on Thursday morning. The flight departed at around 8:15 AM and took off into the east into clear skies. The plane banked to the right until it was heading west, following I-10. I saw familiar sights out my window for most of the flight: Wickenburg, Harquahala Mountain, Salome, Bouse, the Colorado River, the road that runs past Rice and eventually past the north end of Joshua Tree National Park, the airport at Twentynine Palms, Big Bear Lake, Apple Valley, Edwards Air Force Base, and Rosamond. The jet took a route just south of the one I usually take when flying the helicopter from Wickenburg to California’s Central Valley, but because we were cruising at about 30,000 feet, I could see so much more. The lake at Rosamond seemed huge, the windmills on the Tehatchapi’s southern slopes were clearly visible. The pass was socked in on both sides with clouds, but the town of Tehatchapi, on top of the mountain, was perfectly clear (see photo). The central valley was completely filled with low clouds — so low that I don’t think general aviation flight would be possible. It reminded me of my scud-running adventure from last spring’s Georgetown, CA to Wickenburg, AZ flight. The tops of the clouds had a odd pattern to them, like waves far out on the ocean.

I spent the flight catching up with podcasts. Listening, that is — I’ve fallen far behind recording them. I listened to NPR’s story of the day episodes stretching back into mid December. When I was finished with those, I started on Slate Magazine podcasts. I did the crossword puzzle in the airplane magazine and attempted to take some notes for a presentation I needed to do later in the day. Then we started our approach to San Francisco and the mountains along the coast poked up their slopes through the clouds below us. There was green grass on some of the southern slopes; in a month or two, all the hills would be a rich green color there. But I seldom get to the California coast in the spring, so I’m accustomed to seeing the grass when it’s all dried out, making the hills look golden in the California sun.

The plane got to the gate at 9 AM local time. I had just one bag — a small backpack that held my PowerBook, some books I planned to give away at the end of my presentation, and clothes for the overnight stay and next day — so I didn’t have to go through the baggage claim ordeal. The bag was heavy, though, and it only seemed to get heavier as I made my way from the gate to the BART station.

BART, in case you don’t know, stands for Bay Area Rapid Transit. I used to take a cab from the airport to Moscone Hall for the Macworld Show, but I’d heard that BART went from the airport into the city and figured I’d give it a try. It was a relatively pleasant trip in a train car that reminded me more of a Long Island Railroad electrified train car than a New York City Subway car. The seats had upholstery and I don’t think they were quite as clean as they should have been. That gave the car a not-so-nice smell. But it wasn’t bad and I got used to it. I listened to my iPod and looked at the window when the train was above ground. It took about 30 minutes to get to what I thought was my stop: Montgomery Street. In reality, I should have gotten out one stop earlier, at Powell.

I came up from underground, got my bearings, realized I’d erred about the train stop, and started walking. San Francisco reminds me a bit of New York in that it has that “old city” feel. Lots of old buildings, many of which are pretty tall, some narrow streets, noisy traffic, homeless people on the sidewalks. The weather was pleasant and I was soon warming up inside my jacket.

My friend Ray called on my cell phone with a lead on a helicopter job for a construction company working along the Mexican border. I stopped and took notes on a receipt, wondering if I could be fortunate enough to get the job.

Advertising ScootersIt was less than a mile to Moscone and when I got there, I found the place relatively quiet. It was just after 10 AM and most attendees had already gone into the exhibit hall. I used a free pass to go through the registration process and get a badge, then crossed the street and went into the hall. I saw some scooters pulling advertising trailers — an Apple advertising gig, I knew. (I later got a photo of the scooters parked alongside the street.) My first order of business was to dump my jacket and the heavy bag at the Peachpit Press booth. It took me a while to find it, which was quite embarrassing because I actually walked right by it twice. They said it was near the Apple booth and they weren’t kidding. It was right inside one of the doorways to the exhibit hall, adjacent to the Apple booth.

I ran into a few people I knew, including Connie Jeung-Mills, the production person who’d worked on many of my books. I chatted with her while I stuffed my belongings under a table skirt in the booth, reserving an old Adobe canvas bag and note pad to carry while I walked the floor. I couldn’t believe the number of books in the booth. Most of the titles were about graphics and Web publishing, but I also the books I’ve written for them: Tiger, QuickBooks, and the little Visual QuickProject Guides for Word and Excel.

iPod-compatible carsI walked the floor. There was a lot to see, but not nearly as much as in the “old days,” when the show took up both sides of Moscone’s hall. I’ve never seen so many iPod accessories in my life. I think one out of every ten booths was peddling something for an iPod. Talk about trying to cash in on a craze. There were even iPod-compatible cars on display (see photo).

By 2:30, I was ready for a rest. I also needed to create my presentation, which was scheduled for 4 PM. I’m a last-minute person — I always have been — so I left the hall and found a seat on one of the balconies overlooking the hall entrance. It was nice and bright and airy up there and only about half the seats were occupied. Some people chatting, some people using laptops, other people eating or reading. I was very surprised to find that my PowerBook immediately connected to a wireless network when I opened it up. I was able to surf the net and check my e-mail.

I jotted down some notes about topics I thought my audience would be interested in. Mostly “cool features” stuff taken from my soon-to-be-published Informit.com article titled “Five Funky Finder Features.” (They may change the title, so if you go looking for it online, keep that in mind.)

While I worked, a man sitting nearby began complaining about how few seats were available. Two of the four balconies were blocked off, cutting the amount of available seats in half. But that didn’t seem to matter, since there were still empty seats to be had. One woman sitting nearby made the fatal error of acknowledging him. This resulted in him continuing his complaints. Another woman finally said to him, “I’m trying to enjoy my lunch and you’re ruining it.” He kept up for another minute or so before the woman, who was eating some kind of salad out of a Tupperware container, said, “No, I really mean it. Your complaints are ruining my lunch.” He seemed to get it then and he shut up. A while later, he closed up his iBook and went away. The whole exchange had been pretty funny. I was glad the woman had spoken up, though. He’d been quite a whiner and it was good when he finally shut up.

I did my presentation and it went well. I covered it in another blog entry.

Afterward, I met with Nancy and Cliff, two of my editors, for drinks and a bite to eat before the Peachpit Party. We wound up at an ethnic restaurant about two blocks away. Don’t ask me what kind of ethnic restaurant — I really don’t know. We ordered three different tappas dishes and a round of drinks. We talked business for a while — stuff I don’t want to cover here. Cliff left to go to an Apple party. Nancy and I finished our drinks and headed over to the Peachpit party.

Peachpit PartyI saw a bunch of Peachpit authors and editors and drank exactly one vodka martini more than I should have. The problem was, I still hadn’t checked into my hotel and I wasn’t exactly sure where it was. Or what it was called. Although I didn’t feel drunk after the third martini, I knew it was time to stop so I switched to water. Good thing I did. They must have used delayed reaction vodka in those drinks because I didn’t start feeling drunk until I was halfway done with my water. Still, I never got too drunk to realize that there were lots of people worse off than I was. Kim was probably the worst. It was her last day of work for Peachpit and she was partying a bit heartier than she should have.

I dug out the info for my hotel around 11:30, realized it was only about a block away from where Tom and Dori were staying, and walked with them. The walk took us down Market Street, which was surprisingly active with normal people (and a few weirdos) at that time of night. When we went our separate ways at Fourth Street, I felt safe enough to continue that last long block on my own. But it was good to get to my hotel and check in. I think the guys at the desk suspected that I wasn’t exactly sober, but they didn’t comment. I’m sure they’ve seen worse. And I wasn’t too drunk to realize that the guy had forgotten to give back my credit card with my room key.

I stayed at the Hotel Milano on Fifth Street. It’s an old hotel that has been fixed up. My seventh floor room had two windows that looked out across a narrow ventilation shaft to the two windows of a room in the next hallway. The room was big with a small television at one end and the king-sized bed at the other. I got undressed and into bed and watched a Seinfeld rerun for a while before turning off the television and going to sleep.

The only thing I’d forgotten to do was to check and adjust the thermostat. I was cold enough all night to sleep poorly but not cold enough to get up and do something about it. I hate that.

I woke at 5:30 AM local time. (I hate that, too.) I watched some Weather Channel and started work on this bLog entry before showering, getting dressed, and going out for breakfast. I wound up at the Marriott a few blocks away. I had a nice breakfast from the buffet, then walked back to my hotel and wasted more time on my computer. The show didn’t open until 10 AM and there was no reason to rush.

I packed and checked out at 9:30 AM. My bag was heavy, despite the fact that I’d given away the five books I’d brought with me from Arizona and I hadn’t bought anything else. I did have some product literature on board, but not enough to take the weight of five books.

At Moscone, I took a seat on one of the balconies to check my e-mail and my Web sites. The sites had been down the day before because of a computer glitch, but they were back online that morning. At 10 AM, I was back on the show floor, stashing my bag under a table at the Peachpit booth.

I bought a SightFlex stand for my iSight camera. Heavy.

I called America West and asked about an earlier flight. It was fully booked.

The Apple BoothI bothered an Apple booth guy for a demo of iWeb. It’s a cool little software package and I hope Peachpit lets me write a book about it. The guy who gave the demo was a software engineer and had written Pages, Apple’s word processing program. (I don’t know why they didn’t have him demo that.) I told him I used Word and had been using it for years. He told me that if I tried Pages, I’d switch. So I’ll try it again next week and see how I do with it. Word really is overkill sometimes. But, at the same time, I’m not too thrilled with the idea of software that works more like a page layout program than a word processor without giving you the control over page elements. If I recall, that was my main gripe about Pages.

The Apple BoothThe Apple Booth, by the way, was enormous. I think it gets bigger every year. There’s always a huge theater area (see photo) and this year there were 40-foot high “posters” of the new MacBook Pro (terrible name!) laptop and Intel processor iMac. I felt like a Lilliputian as I walked around the booth.

I wandered around the hall some more, killing time.

I ran into Sandee Cohen, Ted Landau, and Tonya Engst at the Peachpit booth and spent some time chatting with each of them. Then I grabbed my bag and made my exit. It was 11:30. I figured I’d stop by the Apple store before grabbing a bite to eat.

I dropped off my bag at a hotel along the way, checking it with a bellman. It felt good to get that damn thing off my back.

After looking around the Apple Store, I spent about an hour in Cody’s, a very nice bookstore near Market Street, not far from Virgin and the Apple Store. They were expecting President Carter as a speaker later in the day and the audience seats were already starting to fill with people who had nothing better to do with their time than spend the day sitting in a folding chair in the basement of a building, surrounded by books.

I walked up to Union Square, passing a handful of panhandlers and more than a handful of tourists. The cable car runs down Powell Street there and there are always a lot of tourists around. The area itself reminds me of lower Broadway in New York, with lots of discount luggage stores and shops that sell t-shirts and other tourist favorites. Kind of sleezy without being sleezy enough to scare people away.

Then I made my way to the Nikko, thinking about sushi for lunch. I was just about to go into the Japanese restaurant there when I noticed a Chinese dim sum restaurant across the street. I went there instead and had a very good lunch.

By that time, I’d had enough of San Francisco and was ready to head out to the airport. You know, I’ve been to San Francisco dozens of times and, unless you have a lot of time on your hands and comfortable walking shoes on your feet, it isn’t such a great place. I had neither and was more interested in finding a comfortable place to wait for my flight home than shopping or even walking around the city.

I retrieved my bag, gave the bellman a tip, and descended into the BART station. A while later, I was on a train bound for Daly City. I changed trains and got on another one for the airport. I listened to podcasts the entire time: Slate magazine and, when I was finished with those, Slate Explainer. The usual at the airport: get a boarding pass, go through security, find the gate, settle into a seat. I found a seat by an electric outlet and used it to charge up my PowerBook. For some reason, I expected to use it on the plane.

The plane was completely booked. Overbooked, in fact. They offered $400 worth of travel for volunteers, but I wasn’t interested. There was a woman in my seat when I boarded and, since it was my seat and not hers, she gave it up. When all the seats were filled, they closed the doors and we got underway.

I was asleep within ten minutes of departure.