A lovely dinner

Last night I had dinner with a cast of characters:

We grabbed a late batch of dim sum at Ton Kiang. Good stuff I have to say. One of the things that Mark Mc and noticed was that the identity market is remarkably small. It is definitely a good thing that ex-Access360/IBM, Thor/Oracle, Waveset/Sun guys can break bread and have a laugh over the deals that we used to compete. It’s that (grudging, at times) comradery in this market that I love and it is one the things that makes Catalyst so much fun.

Watering holes, Cataclysmic Catalyst, and a new word

Mark was kind enough to recommend a few new watering holes in San Francisco. He also made his own mashup to create Cataclysmic Catalyst. In that vein of thought, I give you a snigglet: Paracatalysis - the identity market-wide halt during Catalyst. Paracatalysis continues into the week after Catalyst as well. Given that the following week is also July 4th week and that the 4th is a Wednesday, pretty much puts the identity market (at least here in the States) to sleep for two whole weeks. As one who will be at Mark’s dinner, I am thankful that there will be no kilt involved. Having seen it once was plenty.

In need of a new watering hole

It’s Catalyst season once again. And once again I’ll be holed up in the lovely Hilton on O’Farrell. This will be my fourth or fifth Catalyst and my umpteenth trip to San Francisco. And knowing a bit my readers, I know that this is pretty much the same for you too. Having been to Catalyst this many times you end up in a bit of rut. Yes, having drinks at the Clift Hotel is always amusing. I mean, who doesn’t like the giant chair? I like the bar in the lobby of the Westin Saint Francis as well, but drinking into hotels is getting kinda tired. Friends, Romans, traveling identity wonks - I ask you to open up your black books of travel and share with the class a suggestion or two for new places to have a drink. I’ll throw two out to start. I’ll start by saying, I’ve been to neither yet. First, Bourbon & Branch seems interesting. I saw it on Gridskipper; anyone been there? Second, Tunnel Top. Back when Tuesday Night was centered on the regular Tuesday Night beer at Toledo Lounge, there were actually two Tuesday Night factions. When friends moved west, they started up Tuesday Night West in Tunnel Top. They described the place as a yard sale with liquor, and let’s face it, that can’t be a bad thing. See you in a few weeks.

UA 537 ORD - SNA 5:54pm EST

We are an hour or so or more out of Chicago, flying over a square state. We are follwing a river that used to be much bigger. I happen to look down and see a small town whose epicenter is the intersection of a major dirt road, a minor dirt road, and a this river. You can tell a lot about a way a town (a people, a nation) grew up by flying over it. This town clearly was a river town. The majority of buildings were on the river-side of the minor road, which runs east west. It is a bend in the river. Boats (probably flat bottomed) headed west and hit this bend. The major road (running north south) probably hits a major city. So the boats hits the bend, stops for a bit, offloads some cargo which heads south, and the boat heads on from there. (I think the sqaure state in question is Colorado… more on that in a bit.) So from above you see a sort of history. Cultural archeology at 30,000 feet. (The second Brigett Jones movies is playing and is horribly distracting and all too horrible visually.) If you can see a history from above, can you see a sort-of future from below? Is the future really below us? We always equate below with the past. That which is buried is the past. It is the past but might very well represent a sort-of future. (Sure the history repeasts itself lesson is still not learned. But this might be more than that.) Eventually, sand will blow over our roads. Our freeways buried under rough ground. Those planned development viruses squished under hundreds of feet of worm droppings and dried alien skin. Kinda takes the urgency out of cleaning the apartment… The Rockies really do throw up quiet a barrier heading west. Amazing that anyone on foot, ox, cart, etc got to the Pacific.

The Stress of the Quiet Car: Social Norms in Action

So here I am on the Accela heading to NYC. Station stop Newark. I am going to from DC to NYC, spending a bit of time there and heading to Boston, seeing the family, and heading back. And I am doing all this the weekend before Christmas. Now I have traveled up and down the Northeast Corridor on Amtrak. I know when to travel on it and when not too. This is not an ideal time. Thus the reserved ticket and seat on Accela as supposed to an unreserved cattle-car ticket on a regular train. The plan was to get a seat in the Quiet Car, watch a few movies, and chill. The Quiet Car (QC) is one car behind the first class car. Cell phones, loud electronics and conversations are forbidden. It’s a great place to catch some z’s and get your sanity back. There are three kinds of people who are in the QC. The first, I’ll called the Herd. The Herd just wants to sit and relax. They are non-confrontational. They want to get some work done, read a book, what have you. The next group of people I’ll call the Gulls. Gulls make noise. It’s in their nature. They have to talk on the phone. They have to make noise. They cannot help it. The third and final group are the Grumps. Grumps follow rules. Grumps enforce rules. They live by social norms. Grumps do not, as a rule, chill. They can be quiet. They can be loud. They are self-stressed. Grumps and the Herd usual coexist peacefully. The Herd is mostly quiet and the Grumps stay to themselves. But, you add a few Gulls into the mix and the fun begins. The Herd will generally ignore the Gulls. The Herd might scowl at Gulls, but they rarely take action. Egregious Gull behavior will get a word from the Herd. Grumps, however, cannot stand rules being broken. They cannot stand a Gull breaking the social contract of the QC. They just cannot handle it. So they take action. They will raise a fuss. They will get the conductor. They cannot just let this go. The Gulls have broken the Grumps pristine peace of the QC. They must be punished. So there I sat amidst the usual Gull - Grump warfare. Typical. Sad, but typical. After a time, things settled down. First, Gulls do not often realize they are Gulls. The nature of the QC isn’t obvious. To get the gist of the QC, you need to take cues from your surrounding. In this age of exploding Assberger’s Syndrome populations, taking social cues is less and less likely. Second, enough Grump prodding quiets down Gulls… unless they are assholes and must be dealt with accordingly. But then… a wild-card was thrown down. It started as a commotion. At a station stop, a new rider entered the train with a Red Cap carrying his bag. The new rider was very upset that someone else was carrying his bag. He wanted it back. He needed it back. And we all heard him loudly protest. Once the Red Cap placed the bag in front of the new rider, things quieted down for a moment. And then he start talking. Loudly. To anyone. To everyone. I glanced back and saw that the new rider was youngish, maybe early twenties. His eyes were small and an intense blue I had never seen before. But there was something not quite right about him. His features were Mongoloid. His behavior revealed some sort of mental retardation. So into the QC where a recent Gull - Grump dĂ©tente was reach, entered the new rider. He, who had no awareness of the QC rules. He, who only the most craven Gull would chastise. Here he sat. Talking. Loudly. To anyone. To everyone. Two things were happening here revolving around social norms. One, the new rider was unaware of the social norms of the QC. He was, seemingly, unable to pick up on the cues of the QC. He did not hear the announcements about the QC, or at least did not think that the QC rules applied to him. Two, social norms quietly dictate that you (be you Herd, Gull, or Grump) do not chastise, confront, or yell at a mentally handicapped person. This drove some Grumps to the point of complete insanity, but they held their tongues. The rest of the journey was a mixture of the new rider yell-talking, the frustrated sighs of the Grumps, and the usual train noises. All in all, it was a pleasant rider. It provided me time to write, watch a movie, and get a quick peak at social norms in action.

Tokyo smells great

I’ve been flying all around the world. I spent a few days in Sydney, which was awesome. I spent all of 36 hours in Tokyo which was very very cool. Tokyo smells great! Seriously - it does. You know how some cities just smell like poo and urine and cars and garbage and all sorts of other crap? Tokyo smells really good. It smells like flowers and spices. Okay, there is the occasional smell of automobiles. But all in all, it smells very nice. A fragrant city. I was nervous to go. Having just seen Lost in Translation, I was nervous. (BTW, it’s a great movie.) The Tokyo subway system is great once you figure out what on earth is going on. It makes NYC, Paris, London, Boston, and DC look like childs play. In fact, if you took all the previously mentioned cities, combined their subway systems, you still wouldn’t touch the vastness of Tokyo. I especially like the small female voice telling you what stop you were at. As far as I can tell, Japanese does not stress sylables the was English does. The words are pronounced fairly flat. I was trying to go to Asakusa, which I pronounced AH-sa-KU-sa. That go me no where. However, trying to get to ah-sa-ku-sa worked just fine. Takes a little getting used to.

12%

So, I heard that 12% of Americans have a passport. Is this too many or too few in your opinion? I’ve been rolling this question over and over in my head today as I hiked around Rio De Janeiro. I think I have walked about 6 mile along the beaches. And, to be frankly, I’m not sure how I would answer that question. On one hand, we all need to experience things beyond the Big Box stores, chain restaurants, and strip malls. At the same time, our fat ignorant asses have no right to piss on the customs and cultures of other nations. More ‘merkins abroad or less? It’s not an easy question to answer. On the cable car up Pao de Acucar, I watched some hawks circle about. It reminded me of John Hiatt and his song “Before I Go,” which I am listening to now. Truly beautiful. Simple. Honest. Download it now. Rio is part L.A. (the traffic and mountains in the distance), part San Francisco (the hills), part Denver (the smog), and part San Sebastian (the amazing Copacabana beach and seafood). I’m here for 26 hours. I just finished an amazing Italian meal… some of the best risotto I have ever had… sorry, Josh, it beats yours. I think I have come to an answer on the more or less passport issue. Todd, one of the patron saints of the Tuesday Night Lists, actually, has previously provided the answer. For those of you who don’t know Todd and aren’t part of the Tuesday Night West group, he is dear dear friend who despite his New Jersey facade is a true Renaissance man. Todd explained to me in a Irish pub in San Francisco which served wicked curry, that either you have wings or roots. Root people look to nest, look to settle down with 2.5 children. Wing people desire the ability to move at any time to anywhere. Each group is admirable. Each group has their moments when they consider changing sides. I am on fence sitter on this issue… but probably would end up in the Wings group is push came to shove. I think Todd would say that more poeple need passport, need to experience more. I want to believe that… I really do, but, frankly, the less fat-ass, ignorant, white-sock wearing, TGI Friday’s eatin’, assmonkies, I have to deal with while I am abroad, the better. Am I the asshole here? At any rate, I am on the road right now. Just left Buenos Aires for Rio. I head to Sao Paulo tomorrow night… yikes! I think I’ll be in DC for most of May… I hope. If you are on this list and have not traveled abroad (which I doubt), get a passport, and get the hell out of the States. Go see something different. Put yourself in situations where you are the minority. Put yourself where you are sacred, unable to communicate, and amazed. Find that which is different. Buy a drink. Smile. Enjoy.

Killeen, Texas

When I tell you that my meeting was on the corner of Tank Destroyer Blvd and Hell on Wheels Road, I’m not kidding. I love the Army. I really do. No other organization can spew sentences out with out using actual words, but instead, use acronyms. “The DOIMS ATS v7 could use RPM ASAP.” That ain’t English. And now… I’m in LA. I won’t bore you with my usual anti-LA droning. I do have to share an experience of one of my coworkers. He was in a bar in downtown LA and couldn’t figure out why a part of the bar was roped off. A little while later, an older gent, surrounded by imporbably attractive women, entered the bar and was escorted to the roped off section. Yes, ladies and gentlemen, Hugh Heffner, and his peeps. Apparently, he really does travel with Playmates, and they are attractive, even without the airbrushing.