No photos (as far as I know), but this was surreal. The buy-back was at four churches and one police station. We started at the police station. I met a friend there who'd brought three junk guns that were barely worth $50 a piece and he got three $100 grocery store gift cards for them. Some of the other gun rights locals showed up and we all just sort of milled around talking with the cops there. The Phoenix mayor showed up and came out to chat with us, seeming not to understand or care why we were there. Someone took a photo of all of us, so it might make the papers. We saw no one else bringing in guns, so we left to go to one of the churches. I left my bike at the police station and rode in my buddy's car. First church had nothing going on, but some middle aged white guy with three beaters that probably weren't worth $50 each. Amazingly, the church folks said they were already out of gift cards. So we headed over to another church. And this was where it was at.
The cops there knew what we were doing and, at first, left us alone. First guy we saw get out of his car with a plastic baggy, we approached. He didn't speak a word of English. He handed over the baggy for us to look at. As soon as my buddy saw "Ruger" on the grip, he whipped out his own gift card and made the swap. The other guy just got back in his car and left, probably thinking we were part of the buy-back. Ha ha. My buddy got a very sweet Ruger .22/45, though its mag. release button was loose in the bag. Still, a nice score. The cops were watching us now. We were both carrying concealed, but printing pretty obviously. We saw another guy get out of his car with a plastic baggy. I yelled out, "Whatcha got there?" He said, "It's just a Makarov." I almost broke into a sprint. Walking briskly, I said "Is is East German?" He said, "No, Russian." I was reaching for my wallet when three very serious looking Phoenix PD were upon us and said, "You guys need to roll now." One cop even had the nerve to say we were taking advantage of people. I said, "But you guys are out of gift cards and we're not AND we have cash." Cop said the church folks wanted us gone, which was the threshold for a trespass cite if we argued anymore. So we left.
Figuring those cops had radioed the other locations to tell them to watch out for us, we decided to head back the police station and get my bike and go home.
But wait! There's more.
Seems the cops at the police station really didn't care about what we were doing. Some lady with her little girl got out of her car with an S&W hardcase. We swarmed her. After fiddling with the lock we got it open and it was some old CZ beater. Another guy handed her a C note for it and she went on her way. I think the cops were still out of gift cards, so we spared her some disappointment too. Cops, meanwhile, were pulling up in their squad cars with piles of handguns in plastic evidence bags and long guns with bolts open. What a sight. Then another guy pulled up in a truck with a cardboard box under his arm. We swarmed him too. We looked like paparazzi stalking a celebrity. He had a decent condition Bersa .380, which my buddy took in exchange for another one of his gift cards.
By then the media were showing up and wanted to interview us. Cops didn't care at all. Because of where I work, I chose not to be on camera, but I spoke with two of the reporters and the guys that did speak on camera were standing next to my bike. So my bike might be on the news tonight. Anyway, it was about 100 deg. with no shade by then and I was getting lightheaded after 30 min. of this. So I headed home with only the gun I was wearing when I got there. Still, it was pretty exciting and also interesting to see how cool the cops were with us outbidding them and buying guns under their noses. What a country!
Saturday, June 28, 2008
Sunday, June 8, 2008
A few photos from China
The stories I have from this trip could fill many pages here. For now I'll just post some photos and short blurbs. This trip was in May and June of 2006. A lot of these areas are in the earthquake zone from May 12th. I hope to someday return to these areas and see how they look afterwards.
This was a Qiang village on our route to a Tibetan community in northwestern Sichuan, a few hours outside of Chengdu.
This was my bathroom for a few days.
This is all I had to break into our guide's car when he locked the keys in it. It worked though. Sure am glad I got that Tetanus shot before I left for this trip.
Such a gorgeous country.
This one has to be my favorite photo from this trip. Tibetans are a beautiful people. I was probably the only white person she'd ever seen, so I doubt they dressed up for me.
This was a Qiang village on our route to a Tibetan community in northwestern Sichuan, a few hours outside of Chengdu.
This was my bathroom for a few days.
This is all I had to break into our guide's car when he locked the keys in it. It worked though. Sure am glad I got that Tetanus shot before I left for this trip.
Such a gorgeous country.
This one has to be my favorite photo from this trip. Tibetans are a beautiful people. I was probably the only white person she'd ever seen, so I doubt they dressed up for me.
Another airport security story
We all have airport stories. If you don't, you either don't travel or you've been incredibly lucky. In Jan. 2007 I had a business trip to Vegas. My company would only pay for travel to and back from Vegas, but I wanted to visit a friend in CA for a few days first. Amazingly, I found a flight on United from Dulles to Vegas that first stopped at LAX and then backtracked to Vegas. I picked this one, as it would get me to CA and the company would cover it since Vegas was the final destination. I figured I'd just get a flight on Southwest from LAX to San Jose to see my friend and then back to Vegas in time for my conference a few days later.
In Vegas I planned to rent a BMW R1200GS (then my dream bike, now my current bike) and spend a day riding around Valley of Fire (I later got married there). Of course, this would require lugging my riding gear with me on this trip, which was plenty of girth and weight - helmet, gloves, boots, riding pants, jacket and lots of warm layers. It turned out to be 37 deg. the day I rode and that was just the ambient temp. Add a 50-80 mph wind chill for the ride and it was coooollllldddd.
Anyway, I had all this shi.....stuff packed up neatly to check for the flight. At the check-in counter, I asked the lady to have my bags tagged for LAX, as I was getting off there. She said that was not possible, as my ticket was for Vegas. I told her I was getting off in LA and really needed those bags to be with me, especially, since I was planning to rent a bike when I later got to Vegas, which I could not do without riding gear. She said the bags could not be on the plane without me. I countered by saying that's why the bags should get off in LAX, since that was where I was getting off and she couldn't stop me from getting off there. The robot lady was having none of it. She then said it was a security issue. I asked how it was a security issue if I was asking to have my bags get off with me in LA, while she was insisting they continue on the plane to Vegas without me. Can you believe this? Oh, it gets better.
Finally, she said it would be a $100 charge to redirect my bags to get off the plane in LA. Of course, I had to ask her why, if it was a security issue, I was able to get out of it by paying $100. Whatever. These days you never win by using logic or reason or making a scene at the check-in counter. While she was processing my payment, I commented that I'd gladly spend more than $100 to not have to fly United again.
The trip went fine and, immediately upon my return home, I fired off an angry email to United's customer service. I got a $100 voucher for my trouble.
In Vegas I planned to rent a BMW R1200GS (then my dream bike, now my current bike) and spend a day riding around Valley of Fire (I later got married there). Of course, this would require lugging my riding gear with me on this trip, which was plenty of girth and weight - helmet, gloves, boots, riding pants, jacket and lots of warm layers. It turned out to be 37 deg. the day I rode and that was just the ambient temp. Add a 50-80 mph wind chill for the ride and it was coooollllldddd.
Anyway, I had all this shi.....stuff packed up neatly to check for the flight. At the check-in counter, I asked the lady to have my bags tagged for LAX, as I was getting off there. She said that was not possible, as my ticket was for Vegas. I told her I was getting off in LA and really needed those bags to be with me, especially, since I was planning to rent a bike when I later got to Vegas, which I could not do without riding gear. She said the bags could not be on the plane without me. I countered by saying that's why the bags should get off in LAX, since that was where I was getting off and she couldn't stop me from getting off there. The robot lady was having none of it. She then said it was a security issue. I asked how it was a security issue if I was asking to have my bags get off with me in LA, while she was insisting they continue on the plane to Vegas without me. Can you believe this? Oh, it gets better.
Finally, she said it would be a $100 charge to redirect my bags to get off the plane in LA. Of course, I had to ask her why, if it was a security issue, I was able to get out of it by paying $100. Whatever. These days you never win by using logic or reason or making a scene at the check-in counter. While she was processing my payment, I commented that I'd gladly spend more than $100 to not have to fly United again.
The trip went fine and, immediately upon my return home, I fired off an angry email to United's customer service. I got a $100 voucher for my trouble.
Your airport security at work.
In March I rode my bike from DC to Jacksonville, FL to load onto a friend's truck for transport to Phoenix. I usually carry a sidearm when I ride and always on long trips. I had bought a one-way flight on United for around $79 back to Dulles and brought my factory case and lock with me for checking the gun. As usual, the ticket counter folks were pretty fast about it, didn't ask to see the gun and just had me sign the tag stating that I had checked it, locked it up and put it back in my bag to be checked.
On the plane I had an aisle seat in the very last row. As we were just about to land, a flight attendant, sitting in her jump seat, tapped me on the shoulder and said the captain would like to speak with me before I deplane. I asked if I was in trouble and she shook her head. I had a long wait before I was able to start walking toward the front of the plane. As I approached the cockpit another flight attendant stopped her conversation with someone else, looked at me and asked that I go see the captain. I said I was going to do just that. Geeze, she knew who I was from way up front and had been watching me approach from her peripheral vision.
Finally, I got to the cockpit, walked in and introduced myself. The captain said, "Are you a 'lee-oh'?" I thought for a second and replied (in all seriousness), "No, I'm a Taurus." Then I realized he meant "LEO" and so I said, "Oh, you mean law enforcement. No, I'm not a cop. Why?" He said he had me on a list of having brought a firearm aboard. I said, "Yeah, but I checked it with my luggage." He replied that he didn't have that info. Without thinking, I blurted out, "And you're waiting until we've landed to ask me about it?!" He said it was no big deal and figured I might have been the sky marshal. Kidding me? What good would a sky marshal have been in the very last row, had something really happened?
I have a co-worker whose husband is a Secret Sevice agent and she's told me he has to meet with the sky marshal if he carries on a commercial flight. So I guess the sky marshals aren't a total secret and I'd think the captain might want to know who he/she is in case he spots their sidearm printing in their clothing.
On the plane I had an aisle seat in the very last row. As we were just about to land, a flight attendant, sitting in her jump seat, tapped me on the shoulder and said the captain would like to speak with me before I deplane. I asked if I was in trouble and she shook her head. I had a long wait before I was able to start walking toward the front of the plane. As I approached the cockpit another flight attendant stopped her conversation with someone else, looked at me and asked that I go see the captain. I said I was going to do just that. Geeze, she knew who I was from way up front and had been watching me approach from her peripheral vision.
Finally, I got to the cockpit, walked in and introduced myself. The captain said, "Are you a 'lee-oh'?" I thought for a second and replied (in all seriousness), "No, I'm a Taurus." Then I realized he meant "LEO" and so I said, "Oh, you mean law enforcement. No, I'm not a cop. Why?" He said he had me on a list of having brought a firearm aboard. I said, "Yeah, but I checked it with my luggage." He replied that he didn't have that info. Without thinking, I blurted out, "And you're waiting until we've landed to ask me about it?!" He said it was no big deal and figured I might have been the sky marshal. Kidding me? What good would a sky marshal have been in the very last row, had something really happened?
I have a co-worker whose husband is a Secret Sevice agent and she's told me he has to meet with the sky marshal if he carries on a commercial flight. So I guess the sky marshals aren't a total secret and I'd think the captain might want to know who he/she is in case he spots their sidearm printing in their clothing.
Monday, June 2, 2008
How I learned German
I don't think anyone debates the importance of learning a foreign language anymore. Americans lag far behind kids of other industrialized nations, not only in math and science, but also in foreign languages. Kinda ironic for such a melting pot like the USA, eh?
Well, I didn't start out wanting to learn German with any goal other than to understand more about WWII history. I used to watch the old World at War series with my dad when I was very young, long before anyone knew what cable tv was. One day in church, the pastor announced he needed a few host families for a group of Germans coming to our town for about six weeks. I quickly ran up to my folks afterwards (they sat in the choir loft) and asked if we could do it. They said yes. And so began the first step in my lifelong relationship with all things German. I'll leave the countless and exciting exchange student and travel stories for future posts, as I want to focus on how I got to learning German.
On or about the last day our German exchange student, Thomas, was with us, he asked when I might come visit him near Heidelberg. I was 13 at the time and just about to start 8th grade. My mom interjected and said when I can speak German as well as Thomas spoke English, I could go visit. That very same day I bought a book called "Learn German in 10 Minutes a Day". It was nothing intense, but definitely had the basics like noun gender, verb conjugation, simple phrases and best of all, a few pages of decals to peel off and stick on things around the house, sort of like flash cards, with the German word and phonetic spelling for each object. I am now 37 and my parents just recently sold that house. I believe some of those decals were still on closet doors, light fixtures, mirrors, etc. on the day of closing.
At the time my public junior high school only had French and Spanish classes, so I knew I'd have only myself to rely on for learning German until I started prep school in another year. In those days long before the Internet, people kept in touch the old fashioned way - pen and paper. And I figured being a pen pal was the next best thing I'd have to German lessons for quite a while.
I had gotten to know several of the other students in Thomas's group and we all exchanged addresses. Though I was about three years younger than most of them, we all got along very well and kept in touch for several years. One girl in that group I still keep in touch with to this day. She's a doctor and mother of three in Austria. I've visited her many times and know her whole family well now. I lost touch with Thomas a year or so after my first visit to his house in 1987. In a strange twist, on a trip to Germany about five years ago, I was driving back to Frankfurt after a tour of the Porsche factory, when I saw a road sign that I was approaching Thomas's home town of Schriesheim. I had a few hours to kill, so I stopped at a gas station and bought a map of the town. And I remembered Thomas's street name from the countless letters we had written one another. You don't get that with email these days! I vaguely remembered riding with Thomas in his old VW Scirocco up the very long, twisty, steep road to his folks' awesome mountaintop house back in 1987. This time there was snow on the ground, but the road came back to me as soon as I started up the hill. I knew Thomas's house was the last one at the top of the mountain, so I was pretty sure I wasn't gonna miss it. Sure enough, I found it. His father ran an insurance business and had an office attached to their house. So I got out and knocked on the office door. A younger guy answered and I asked him if this was still Thomas's dad's business and home. He said yes, but the father was out on a trip.
I remember Herr Metzner being frustrated when I met him in 1987 because he was so interested to talk with me, but my German and his English were equally bad. By that time Thomas's English had atrophied some too. So the dinner conversations were slow and limited. I decided to write Thomas's father a note in my now near-perfect written German (spoke is already perfect). I was sure he'd remember me, though the polished German might throw him off. I handed the note to his employee, told him some of the above story and asked that he give the message to Herrn Metzner. Unfortunately, he did not know how to reach Thomas and I never heard back from his father. But I felt like I had some closure and had at least attempted to get back in touch. No big deal though. I had countless longtime German friends by then and still do. That first experience with a foreign exchange student changed my life forever and I'll write more about it in future posts.
Anyway, learning foreign languages has certainly become easier in this age of laptops, the Internet, CD's, email, satellite tv, etc. And there are countless products out there to help you get started. No, I don't think you'll be reading War and Peace in original text anytime soon with one of these teach-yourself packages. But as you can see from just one of my many stories (more to come) on this subject, learning a foreign language can be an enriching and life-changing experience.
Well, I didn't start out wanting to learn German with any goal other than to understand more about WWII history. I used to watch the old World at War series with my dad when I was very young, long before anyone knew what cable tv was. One day in church, the pastor announced he needed a few host families for a group of Germans coming to our town for about six weeks. I quickly ran up to my folks afterwards (they sat in the choir loft) and asked if we could do it. They said yes. And so began the first step in my lifelong relationship with all things German. I'll leave the countless and exciting exchange student and travel stories for future posts, as I want to focus on how I got to learning German.
On or about the last day our German exchange student, Thomas, was with us, he asked when I might come visit him near Heidelberg. I was 13 at the time and just about to start 8th grade. My mom interjected and said when I can speak German as well as Thomas spoke English, I could go visit. That very same day I bought a book called "Learn German in 10 Minutes a Day". It was nothing intense, but definitely had the basics like noun gender, verb conjugation, simple phrases and best of all, a few pages of decals to peel off and stick on things around the house, sort of like flash cards, with the German word and phonetic spelling for each object. I am now 37 and my parents just recently sold that house. I believe some of those decals were still on closet doors, light fixtures, mirrors, etc. on the day of closing.
At the time my public junior high school only had French and Spanish classes, so I knew I'd have only myself to rely on for learning German until I started prep school in another year. In those days long before the Internet, people kept in touch the old fashioned way - pen and paper. And I figured being a pen pal was the next best thing I'd have to German lessons for quite a while.
I had gotten to know several of the other students in Thomas's group and we all exchanged addresses. Though I was about three years younger than most of them, we all got along very well and kept in touch for several years. One girl in that group I still keep in touch with to this day. She's a doctor and mother of three in Austria. I've visited her many times and know her whole family well now. I lost touch with Thomas a year or so after my first visit to his house in 1987. In a strange twist, on a trip to Germany about five years ago, I was driving back to Frankfurt after a tour of the Porsche factory, when I saw a road sign that I was approaching Thomas's home town of Schriesheim. I had a few hours to kill, so I stopped at a gas station and bought a map of the town. And I remembered Thomas's street name from the countless letters we had written one another. You don't get that with email these days! I vaguely remembered riding with Thomas in his old VW Scirocco up the very long, twisty, steep road to his folks' awesome mountaintop house back in 1987. This time there was snow on the ground, but the road came back to me as soon as I started up the hill. I knew Thomas's house was the last one at the top of the mountain, so I was pretty sure I wasn't gonna miss it. Sure enough, I found it. His father ran an insurance business and had an office attached to their house. So I got out and knocked on the office door. A younger guy answered and I asked him if this was still Thomas's dad's business and home. He said yes, but the father was out on a trip.
I remember Herr Metzner being frustrated when I met him in 1987 because he was so interested to talk with me, but my German and his English were equally bad. By that time Thomas's English had atrophied some too. So the dinner conversations were slow and limited. I decided to write Thomas's father a note in my now near-perfect written German (spoke is already perfect). I was sure he'd remember me, though the polished German might throw him off. I handed the note to his employee, told him some of the above story and asked that he give the message to Herrn Metzner. Unfortunately, he did not know how to reach Thomas and I never heard back from his father. But I felt like I had some closure and had at least attempted to get back in touch. No big deal though. I had countless longtime German friends by then and still do. That first experience with a foreign exchange student changed my life forever and I'll write more about it in future posts.
Anyway, learning foreign languages has certainly become easier in this age of laptops, the Internet, CD's, email, satellite tv, etc. And there are countless products out there to help you get started. No, I don't think you'll be reading War and Peace in original text anytime soon with one of these teach-yourself packages. But as you can see from just one of my many stories (more to come) on this subject, learning a foreign language can be an enriching and life-changing experience.
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