On Rush Hour in D.C.

Lines and Other Existential Musings on a Wednesday

2007-08-29T20:41:00.000-04:00

Today was an Al Hirschfeld sort of day. It seemed every person I passed on my commute—the woman in the gold Mercedes SUV applying her eyeliner, the man hawking newspapers at the intersection of 9th and Massachusetts, the woman on the scooter wearing her helmet so snugly it looked like a part of her natural features, the gangly guard at the entrance to the parking garage—could have been or had just jumped out of a Hirschfeld. At any moment, I expected strains from Modest Mussorgsky’s (1839-1881) Pictures at an Exhibition to burst forth from the radio and underscore my oddly illustrated world.

****

Do you ever wonder about the lives of others?

Normally, at the intersection of 9th and Mass is a woman hawking the aforementioned newpapers. She’s average in height, thin. Her hair is long and often looks stringy and unwashed, except that I think perhaps she’s just come out of the shower and is going with the wet look. Probably in her fifties, though she may be younger. It’s hard to tell. What does seem readily obvious is, life has been hard for her. It is etched deeply in the tanned, creased lines of her face and the hollow vacancy of her eyes. I often wonder what her story is and what she once hoped her life would be. If her dreams were dashed, I wonder what she hopes each day will now bring. There is a seemingly contradictory mixture of resignation and tenacity about her that worries and awes me and it begs this existential question: If life is meant to be meaningful, what is the meaning for her?

****

On my way into work every morning, I pass a coffee shop — Breakwell’s — in the struggling-to-gentrify area around the new D.C. convention center. Some mornings, one of the baristas is taking a break. She sits in a cane-backed chair, casually smoking a cigarette and intently reading her latest literary choice. She looks serene and content and I ask myself the same question I’ve asked myself for years. Why can’t I do something like that and be content?

****

There are a million little proverbs and sayings that have been bandied about for decades, if not centuries, in one form or another—each meant to inspire, uplift, give hope, bring perspective. When life hands you lemons, says one of the more cliché, make lemonade. It seems so straightforward and simple. And yet, I’m lousy at making lemonade. All that keeps me from being a sourpuss is love and laughter. My sanity/insanity is a mix of quiet desperation and outright panic tempered by rational thought about cause and effect. Somehow, perhaps merely by the grace of God, I hold on and function aptly. But is it enough?

****

I’d like to be the barista at the coffee shop, but I worry that one day I might be the woman hawking newspapers, cars streaming past me in a perpetual procession of hurry and scurry. Those in the cars will drive by without noticing, save at least one person — a person of heart and conscience, a person of kindness and thought — who will drive by and wonder, “If life is meant to be meaningful, what is the meaning for her?”

Illustration copyright: Al Hirschfeld. All rights reserved to him, may he rest in peace, and his estate.

Vegas, Baby!

2007-08-12T13:12:00.000-04:00

Yet another postcard from one of my lobbyists. This one is from Sin City, where said lobbyist just spent a weekend schmoozing and wheeling and dealing with a congressperson and staff. When my lobbyist returned we both agreed that Vegas is "Disneyland for Adults." Anyone with an addictive personality should definitely not go there!

P.S. See! I told you I'd be back. Sort of.

Big Sky Beauty

2007-08-12T13:10:00.001-04:00

And another postcard. This one also from one of the lobbyists I support. (I have two of those, plus two PAC people, and a policy wonk.) This particular lobbyist spent a weekend in Montana as part of a fundraising/schmoozing event for one of Montana's two senators. Said lobbyist forgot to actually mail this card whilst in Montana. This same lobbyist is off to Jackson Hole next week and, as I left on Friday evening, I said, "Don't forget to send me a postcard." My lobbyist whipped out these three, asked me to choose one, and then wrote on the back, "Dear Janet: Wish you were here! Lobbyist." Priceless. Here is Big Sky, Montana.

P.S. And now I'm going back on recess.

Hey! You! Over there! Get off my swing, ya big bully.

Recess

2007-08-07T18:44:00.000-04:00

August is usually recess month for Congress in D.C. It's also the month where a lot of Washington goes on vacation and commuting to work is actually enjoyable. It will stay that way until the end of August, when every one will rush back to get their kids ready for school. Then, after Labor Day, it'll be back to "crunch time", Congress will be back in session, the presidential campaign circus will kick into full and sickening throttle, and commuting will become a four-letter word again.

All that to say, I'm going on a sort-of recess, too. Meaning, I'm noodling whether to revamp this blog or jettison it altogether and start anew, which means I won't be posting as frequently on Rush Hour. When I come back--if I come back--it may be with a new blog name and a pseudonym. I'll continue to post over on D.C. Confidential and if any postcards wander in between now and the end of the month, I'll post them here. (Rumor has it, I have cards headed this way from Las Vegas and Oregon!)

P.S. Knowing how long I lasted the last time I said I was going on hiatus, I wouldn't worry too much about my self-imposed recess. I'm lousy at keeping my thoughts to myself. No doubt I'll be posting something here in no time.

Photo copyright: Cedar Works

Lose-ee-anna

2007-08-06T19:21:00.000-04:00

A friend of mine was in Louisiana last week with a group from her church. They were down there helping folks, who were devastated by Hurricane Katrina, rebuild. This is the postcard she sent.

Thanks, A, for the @#*$... er... darn postcard!

Loose Ends

2007-08-05T08:13:00.000-04:00

Sometimes, I can be a dope. Like the times when I say, "Hey! Looky here! I'm having a wee contest on my blog. Please play along. Pleaseeeeeee. I'll tell you how it all turns out in a week..." and then I don't.

A few weeks ago, I held a "Vote for Your Favorite D.C. Rush Hour Blog Entry" contest as part of my self-congratulatory celebration on having reached the 400-posts-mark in my blogging... er... career. It even featured on DC Blogs Noted (Thanks, KOB!), which surely meant a few more folks might weigh in. Since I don't have a stat counter on my blog (I'm cheap. I refuse to pay for that and, as far as I can tell, but maybe I'm an idiot, Blogger doesn't have one just built in like some other blogging sites do), I have no clue how many people actually thought about playing along, but then didn't.

Regardless, several of my more faithful readers did weigh in. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you.

I thought I'd have one cut-and-dried winner out of the ten blogs I highlighted, but alas, 'tisn't so. Seems each of you liked a specific one for specific reasons. Still, at least two of you liked one entry in common which, I guess, makes it the winner. So, here's how the votes were cast:

Alliteration 1
Articulate 0
Green River... Wider Than a Mile... 2
In a Perfect World I'm Not Too Late for a Pink Martini, Am I? 1
Jesus Is a Stinker 1
LEGOs: Life's Philosophical Metaphor 1
Merry Christmas, Happy Holidays, Season's Greetings, Blah, Blah, Blah... 1
One Happy Meal for the Queen, Please! 0
What Price, Freedom? 1
World Famous in Poland Oatmeal 1

And the Oscar goes to... Green River!

Huh. That was sorta anti-climatic. Well, it's never too late to vote. And thanks to those of you who did.

This next loose end is, as they say, earthshattering.

Several weeks ago, I stumbled upon a change at AOL's website that looked surprisingly like Yahoo's interface. It was up in the morning, then gone in the afternoon. Some would call this a non-event. I called it a mystery. After a couple of weeks of the old interface and wondering what I'd stumbled upon, I'm pleased to report that AOL's new interface officially looks like Yahoo. I'm sure you're glad to know that and you'll sleep better tonight.

In the meantime, I need to find my life. I put it down somewhere and can't remember where....

Oh, and P.S., I'm behind on my email. So if you've sent me a message recently and I haven't gotten back to you, it isn't because I'm hatin' on you or anything. It's just been one of those weeks where I'm hatin' on me and my life. See aforementioned comment about the need to find my life again.... Applicable here, too.

Photo copyright: Muppet Wiki

Wishes

2007-08-04T21:42:00.000-04:00

Another postcard arrived today. This one from Adriana, who is summering in the Bay Area with her husband, Lane and their son, Jasper. I'm thinking Adriana is grooving on California! Big time. Here's her postcard from Stanford.

And A: I wish I could quit it, too, but "this thing get ahold of ya... It stays with you and if [you're] not careful, it will suck [you] in...."

In the BIN: Honorable Mentions

2007-07-27T00:01:00.000-04:00

There are so many great posts out there, I thought I'd do another addition of In the BIN. This one will require Kleenex for a different reason entirely. Why? Because you'll start off with some giggling, then find yourself flat out ROTFLYAO. In the end, though, you'll wax nostalgic.

I start with my friend, Holly, who just acquired a new piece of technology and coins two lines that have her readers laughing at her wit and whimsy. Here is Okay, This One is a Toy.

Meanwhile, over at Alice's Adventures Underground, fellow blogger NG continues to chronicle her daughter's 'inappropriate songs.' This is Vol. 16. They're all worth reading, if you want to go back through the archives and read the first 15 volumes. Love these. Love the Dormouse! Go, Dormouse, go!

Continuing on with the humor, my friend, Merujo writes about an intimate encounter with a squirrel that involves her dinner. Trust me when I tell you, stuff like this only happens to Merujo and she doesn't make it up. (You couldn't.) Here is Awake. (And stay tuned because down the road, this piece will no doubt feature in a radio commentary on WAMU. Can't wait!)

And finally, I saved the very, very best for last from my friend, Sister Mary Lisa. At least, I think it is anyway. I'm just going to let it speak for itself. Here is Just for Today.

Happy Friday, friends!

Postcards x 3

2007-07-26T21:51:00.000-04:00

Lest you thought I'd forgot... er... forgotten... I'm still collecting postcards! These are three I've received over the last month. (I temporarily misplaced the first two. The last one arrived a day or two ago.) So, here they are...

From the beautiful French city of Lyon, a postcard from my friend and Scary Feminist, Sylvia, who was recently over there on business and sent this back. Thank you, Sylvia! MWAH.

From sunny Florida, a postcard from Key West sent to me by one of the people in my office who was recently there on vacation. Thank you, you-who-shall-remain-nameless-here. (One day--if you haven't Googled and found it already--I'll share this blog with you and then you can enjoy seeing your very own card posted here.)

And finally, from somewhere between here and Lincoln, Nebraska, a postcard from the Mattress Factory and my friend, Sister NoMo, who is (was) en route to Salt Lake where she will be pursuing a doctorate in psychology. Apparently Sister NoMo watched episodes of Big Love because she wrote this on the back: "Big Love confirmed the things I dislike about polygamy. The wives had no say as the husband cheated on them to court a fourth wife using the destiny of celestial marriage as justification. As a woman and a feminist, it made me angry. On my way to UT...." Ah, dear friend NoMo, you are gonna have a ball in SLC!

Thanks to all of my friends and fellow co-workers for their cards. Keep 'em coming, folks. (If you want to know where to send me a postcard, email me and I'll send you my address.)

An' I Cans Rite Purty, Two

2007-07-24T18:11:00.001-04:00

There's nothing an editor or writer loves more than a good, solid typo. Case in point: the caption that goes with this photo from the Washington Post's Camera Works feature. (To see a larger image, click on the picture.)

And this one is a shout out to my friend, Sister Mary Lisa, who had tickets to sell to exactly this concert. Obviously Jon Bon Jovi loved Cheyenne!

Before One Dies

2007-07-22T05:19:00.000-04:00

What is it with me and meme's lately?! Here's another one I found while randomly clicking on blogs in the blog list on DC Blogs. This one is "Five Things One Should Eat Before One Dies" or something along those lines. I found it on Lost in Somewhereistan.

Here's my list...

1. Fresh, hot, slather-them-on-my-thighs, please, Krispy Kreme Original Donuts. Ambrosia!

2. A plate of fine cheeses--Humboldt Fog, Wisconsin Smoked Gouda, Manchego--and a hearty loaf of crusty sourdough.

3. Crepes from Ti Couz in the Mission District in San Francisco. Most especially, the Tod and the La Delice. Divine! (The restaurant doesn't have a website, but here's a good review of it by a foodie. One day, I'm going to write my own review.)

4. Fresh strawberries from the farm stand on Lucas Valley Road in Marin County, California, or the Point Reyes Station Market in Point Reyes Station, California. So naturally sweet and delicate, it would be an insult to dust them with any kind of sweetener.

5. My mom's homemade crescent rolls. There's so much butter in these puppies, it's amazing the Surgeon General hasn't declared them a hazard to one's health. But they are sooooooo good. Mmmmm-mm.

If you were about to die, what would you eat?

Silence Falls Across the Land...

2007-07-21T13:42:00.000-04:00

In cities and towns nationwide, a hush falls over the land.

Main Streets, normally bustling thoroughfares of commerce and traffic on beautiful Saturday afternoons, are empty.

Neighborhoods, usually teeming with kids and teens, are eerily silent.

In homes and dwellings across the country, millions of readers--young and old--are cracking open a book and reading these first words:

The two men appeared out of nowhere, a few yards apart, in a narrow, moonlit lane....

Happy reading, Harry Potter fans everywhere!

ADRIAN FENTY: It's 10 o'clock on a Friday Night...

2007-07-20T23:06:00.000-04:00

...Do You Know Where D.C.'s Youth Are?

And further more, do you care?

Last year, in an effort to stem the tide of crime and homicides being committed by and on D.C. children under the age of 18, then-Mayor Anthony Williams and then-Chief of Police Charles Ramsey declared a "Crime Emergency" and asked the City Council to institute a curfew on the city's youth. The council voted in favor of the curfew with, if I remember correctly, only one 'nay' vote, which was cast by our now-Mayor, the lithe and youthful, brash and swashbuckling Adrian Fenty, who claimed that young people were not the cause of crime and it was a crime and a non-solution to make them be in their houses and, perhaps even in bed, by 10 0'clock at night.

I don't have all the statistics or the quotes or the actual votes that some readers will demand in the interest of "fair reporting." I'll leave that to others to cull and post. What I do have, though, is a D.C. address, taxes that I pay, and experience with unruly youth who roam the streets until midnight disregarding the fact that their neighbors may actually want to go to sleep between the hours of 10:00 and 12:00. And even if we don't, we'd like some quiet enjoyment in our own homes without the need to be hypervigilant about kids trespassing in our yards, whooping it up in the street, banging into and boucing themselves and each off of our cars, and just causing general mayhem.

It's been a year since the curfews, which were welcome and effective. Last night, we had "police action" on our street. Last night, the pack of kids across the street were out in all their boisterous, fuck-you-neighbors noisiness, as were a number of other packs on virtually every street corner I drove past between my end of upper NW and downtown. (A route I drove to take a friend home.) Last night, I spoke to two officers of the MPD, both of whom expressed disgust with Mayor Fenty's "liberal policies" and short-sightedness for not enacting a curfew on the city's youth.

Yo' Adrian! Listen up man.

I work hard.
I pay taxes. A lot of taxes.
I expect, in return for my hard work and taxes, to enjoy some modicum of peace and quiet in my neighborhood.
I believe children and youths under the age of 16 have absolutely no business being out on the streets after 10:00 p.m. unless they're working and enroute to/from a job.
I believe you are an idiot and full of shit to not listen to those who are on the ground, day and night, charged with serving and protecting our city. People who see what young people are doing to each other and their neighbors and who know that a curfew is a good thing.
Curfews save lives. Curfews keep the peace. Curfews lower murder rates.

The cop I talked to suggested I write you a letter. This is the first. There will be others. I want our city's kids to enjoy being outside and hangin' with their friends, but I also want to enjoy some peace and quiet after 10' o-clock at night. Any decent, respectful person would want the same.

Sincerely,

Janet M. Kincaid
D.C. Taxpayer and Home Owner

In the BIN: The Tissue Issue

2007-07-18T06:54:00.000-04:00

Thought I'd revive In the BIN again. Take a survey of what's out there. See what's percolating and bubbling to the top in all it's excellence.

This post, about a vasectomy, is by far the funniest thing I've read in ages. My favorite line: "It felt like a toothache in my pants." Here is Somewhere in the Masthead. Look for the entry titled In Which I Have Bagged My Limit (and vice versa...) dated July 15, 2007. Priceless. Truly priceless. (And a shout out to my friend, Merujo, who turned me on to this outstanding blog.)

My buddy, the Gunfighter, just started a second blog called Real Dads about and by fathers. It's an excellent blog and I hope he sees more folks stepping up and participating in his venture. I want to highlight this entry he recently wrote as a note to his daughter. If this one doesn't make you cry, you have no heart! I've met the Gunfighter and have had him and his wife and daughter in my home for dinner. There isn't a nicer family out there and Gunny is doing a great job as a dad. So, go get your Kleenex and read Through the Upstairs Window.

Thanks to my friend, JaneAnne, at Fugue Salad, I just stumbled onto a blog by someone I met briefly during my grad school days. Jana Reiss is a scholar, writer, and editor. She recently wrote about her dog, Halilah. Again, grab the Kleenex. (I swear, there isn't a theme here. I promise!)

And, finally, over in the stacks, Liz writes wittily, but seriously, of course, about a stuck bird. All of her writing is excellent, I think. Especially the bits where she shares conversations. Here's a perfect example. Read Oh My GOD.

Enjoy and happy Wednesday! We're half way to the weekend. Yeah!

Rockin' Baby!

2007-07-17T20:26:00.000-04:00

My friend, Adriana, over at What I Made For Dinner, just tagged me as a "Girl Who Rocks."

Hm.

Cool!

I'm suppose to name five other women who rock. (Only five?!!!) Since she tagged all of the other Scary Feminists already, then I nominate HM, Merujo, Alice's Adventures in Wonderland, Quiet in the Stacks, and Sister Mary Lisa for the Rockin' Girl Blogger award.

Thanks, Adriana! The feeling is mutual!

More Meme

2007-07-16T21:23:00.001-04:00

And while we're on the subject of meme, this one comes via Sideon. Here are the rules:

Grab the nearest book
Open the book to page 123.
Find the fifth sentence.
Post the text of the next four sentences on your blog along with these instructions.
Do not dig around for the 'cool' or 'intellectual' book on your shelf. Do not go to the other room to find an old textbook. Just pick up whatever is lying at hand.

My book: Literature from the "Axis of Evil". This is taken from the story "A Tale of Music" by Kang Kwi-mi of North Korea. The book is a collection of essays and short pieces by renowned authors in countries the Bush Administration considers "evil."

Soon after, I discovered a surprising bit of news in the Rodong Sinmun. The government awarded citations to those who had achieved great feats in building monuments, and my brother's name was on the list of recipients. Pak Song-won. It was clearly my brother.

And again, as with the other meme from tonight, if you want to participate, go for it!

Totally Missed It

2007-07-16T20:54:00.000-04:00

So, obviously, I haven't been over at Every Wrong Move (aka LiseysMom) in a couple of weeks, because this evening I was over there and discovered that I had been tagged. Where the hell have I been?!

As much as I claim I don't do memes, I'm a total sucker for them. Here goes.

Eight Random Facts/Habits About Me, Myself, and I

1. I'm a blog squatter. I've created several blogs that don't have any content--at this time--and I'm just sitting on them. I don't know why. It's like owning random pieces of real estate in the hope that one day you'll plop a house down on it, sell it, and make a mint. Only in my case, it's in the hope that one day I'll have an epiphany of such bright and shining brilliance that I'll plop it down on a blog and make a mint!

2. Like she-who-tagged-me, I, too, clean my ears every single day. I went to the ear specialist a year or so ago to have my hearing tested yet again (I do this every so often just to make sure that a) I'm not going profoundly deaf and b) to see if the technology has advanced such that they can correct the total deafness in my left ear), and the nurse told me my ears were "too clean." Well, tough cookies, sweetheart. Nothin' oogier than sticky, gooey, waxy ears. I'd rather see boogers than ear wax! TMI?

3. And speaking of ears and hearing, if you walk with me, I'll inevitably walk in a circle around you to get on your left side so I can hear you. People initially find this disconcerting, but the longer they hang with me, the more accustomed they become to it until I finally have them trained and they remember to walk on my right!

4. I think I said this in a previous meme of similar content, but I love James Bond movies. I can't explain it, especially as a feminist, because they're so incredibly misogynist--particulary the pre-Brosnan/pre-Craig era films. Still, I adore them.

5. I make the best peanut butter and jam sandwiches ever. EVER.

6. One day, I'm going to have a pair of dachshund and when I do, I'm going to name them Geronimo and Timber.

7. I will listen to my newest CDs until I practically run them into the ground. I've just about done that with Madeleine Peyroux and Pink Martini.

8. I put on my pants one leg at a time. (Okay, I know that last one isn't random or weird, but it is a fact!)

I'd tag eight people, but I think I've tagged everyone I know at least once, if not twice. If you want to play along, feel free. Leave me a link in the comments, so I can check out your eight random facts and/or habits.

"Will You Like This Site?" I Asked Rhetorically

2007-07-14T22:53:00.000-04:00

Dr. Gradgrind answers rhetorical questions. (Or, his alter ego, Dr. Brians of WSU, does.) See here.

This one is for my friend, Aitch Em in the Ewe Kay, who I know will get a kick out of this! Enjoy HM.

So Original

2007-07-14T07:28:00.000-04:00

It's 7:30 on a Saturday morning as I type this. I just got up a bit ago (~ 7:00) and, after the obligatory morning activity or two, I came in to check my e-mail. Like the dinosaur I can be, I'm still using AOL. (I have a Gmail account, for those to whom it shallowly matters, but I rarely use it.)

So, I go to AOL's homepage and this is what greets me. What?!

It being 7:15 in the morning, I do a double take and think, "Damn! I typed in Yahoo's site. This isn't AOL" But no. This is AOL. I go to bed. I get up. Bam! Makeover.

Then I go to Yahoo's homepage. This is what it looks like. And has looked like for, well, nigh unto half an eternity.

Could AOL be any less original? Oh sure, I get that it's an interface style to which users probably respond well. And yeah, AOL is probably losing market share to the likes of Yahoo and Facebook and MySpace, though I don't track that stuff (better things to do with my life and its limited time), but could you be anymore obvious and lacking in creativity?!

AOL, thy name is Microsoft.

*********************************

* * UPDATE * * UPDATE * * UPDATE * *

Oddly, AOL has gone back to its previous format. I just checked my email again and it looks like it has for months and months. Go figure. I wonder what I stumbled upon?

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Shameless Self-Promotion Here:

(So I like a good survey. Shoot me for being shameless. )

A shout out to KOB of DC Blogs Noted for noting my 400th blog entry. If you haven't voted for your favorite blog entry on D.C. Rush Hour, please go here and vote.

400

2007-07-11T19:55:00.000-04:00

This blog entry--yes! This exact one!--is post number 400 for me.

As such, I thought I'd be a little egocentric and
highlight my ten favorite posts since I undertook this blogging venture
exactly two years ago today.

And, I'm taking a vote.
Which of these ten would you vote the
Very Best of D.C. Rush Hour?

Alliteration
Articulate
Green River... Wider Than a Mile...
In a Perfect World I'm Not Too Late for a Pink Martini, Am I?
Jesus Is a Stinker
LEGOs: Life's Philosophical Metaphor
Merry Christmas, Happy Holidays, Season's Greetings, Blah, Blah, Blah...
One Happy Meal for the Queen, Please!
What Price, Freedom?
World Famous in Poland Oatmeal

Let the voting begin! Post your vote in the comments section.

Next week, when I'm feeling humbler (or is that more humble? JaneAnne?), I'll peruse other blogs and pick my ten favorite and have another vote. (Or not.)

Unhelpful Behavior

2007-07-11T19:12:00.000-04:00

Note: I recently shared the content of this entry with a group of friends. The feedback was so interesting and--dare I say it?--thought-provoking, I thought I'd post it here.

*************************

As a woman, I have occasion to reflect not only on my own behaviors, but also to observe the behaviors of other women. Despite all the strides that have been made in women’s rights, there are still things we do that seem to me to hold us back. Here are just a couple of observations:

1. We apologize too much.

When we make mistakes or gaffes, we own them (or we should), but we also seem to over compensate in the area of apologizing. Most folks aren’t looking to hear an apology. They’re looking to hear how we’re going to fix what we flubbed. If someone has helped us remedy our gaffe, they’re also looking to us to express appreciation.

For example, I recently noted that I forgot to make a copy of an important document for my files at work. I had to go to the manager of my group and ask him to contact the folks to whom I’d sent said document and request a copy. I also told him that I’d make copying important documents a priority upon our future receipt of them.

Today, he e-mailed me and said he’d been in touch with the folks with the document. I replied back and said I appreciated his assistance with this matter. End of story. No “I’m sorry again for the oversight.” Please note: watch your male colleagues. They rarely apologize. They just state whatever it is they have to state and move on.

2. We do things that are certainly polite and seemingly helpful, but in fact reinforce our subordinate stature.

When we’re with our male colleagues—whether it’s arriving at a meeting or going out to dinner or collaborating on a team—we defer to them in ways that send the subtle but unmistakable message that we agree with the outdated notion that we’re subordinate.

For example, I watched this morning as our gaggle of consultants arrived for their weekly meeting with our vice president. We require all guests—whether they are employees of our company or not—to sign in at reception. I watched three women arrive with their male counterparts and every single one of these women, in addition to entering their own names into the log, entered the names of their colleagues. They prefaced the action by saying things like, “I’ll take care of signing you in” or “Let me do that for you.”

Ladies! These are grown men. They can write their own names in a book, just as you can write yours. And don’t rush to get them a cup of coffee or a bottle of water, either. Oh, sure, I know. You’re already in the kitchen and it’s easy enough to do, but again, think about the message it’s sending. Unless they’re reciprocating, knock it off!

And in meetings, don’t defer to your male colleagues as the only ones who can impart further light and knowledge on your project. Own that project! Know your talking points! Be bold and confident. And while it is certainly important to ask the guys what they think, don’t start with a man. Turn to one of your female colleague and say, "Rebecca, what do you think of X?”

3. Stop using that ‘little girl’ voice and grow some vocal chords!

I’m noticing a trend lately where many 20-somethings and even a few 30-somethings women talk in voices that are better suited to teenagers and little girls. While this may seem warm and endearing, it isn’t. Trust me. Now, I’m not suggesting that you have to go all butch and lower your voice to match a man’s, but taking it down a notch wouldn’t hurt, either.

When you sound like you’re 16, you’re doing little to prove that you’re professionally competent. In fact, a recent study reported on NPR has shown that women who talk like adolescents are less likely to be taken seriously by their male counterparts.

Think Kathryn Hepburn not Jessica Simpson. Think Charlize Theron not Paris Hilton. Or Helen Thomas not Peggy Noonan. Or Maggie Thatcher or Angela Merkel or Elizabeth Edwards or Jodie Olsen. Or your favorite aunt or grandmother or mom (assuming they don’t sound like they’re 16!)

You can still be feminine without sounding like you’re underage.

Oh, and knock it off with the hee-hee-hee giggling in the workplace, too! Not cute. Definitely not cute. Learn to chuckle. You don’t have to guffaw, but those little twitters all the time are just silly.

Of course, all of this is a fine line and a double-edged sword. I’ve worked with women who were unnecessarily boisterous and inappropriately flirtatious and I’ve worked with guys who were the same. Neither is impressive. Likewise, I’ve worked with women who were perceived as bitches while their male counterparts were seen as assertive. This is an inappropriate double standard. Finally, there’s nothing to say we can’t be polite and helpful, but we should be mindful of when and why we do it and how it might be received. Somehow, we must strike a balance between the radical, bra-burning feminism of our mother’s era and the neo-classic feminism¹ of today’s young woman.

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1. Better paid, more educated, more opportunities for professional advancement, independent longer, less likely to have to fight for fair treatment in the workplace, etc., yet also less likely to appreciate or grasp the effort it took to create a world and workplace that is a little more equal for them.

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Illustration copyrights: Unknown (Google Images) and Kirk Anderson, Kirktoons, 1991, respectively.

Not Thinking

2007-07-10T06:14:00.000-04:00

I'm thinking I'm not living up to my Thinking Blogger Award... er, award... lately.

I just did an informal survey of my material from the last couple of months and it's crap, I tell you, crap!

I haven't posted a single thought-provoking thought since... wait... lemme see... Oh, yeah. Here it is. Since May, when I wrote about bullying. (Well, with the exception of Dr. Lala's rant against BAA. That wasn't crap. That's been a public service.)

Hm. That's sad.

I've got to get back on my high horse, dust off my soap box, brush up on my pontificating 'cause otherwise I'm just another puddin' head with a computer postin' crap to the 'net. (Again, see aforementioned BAA PSA by Dr. Lala as an exception to the current state of content around here.)

I'm opening the suggestion box. Name a topic. (Keep it clean. Sid... I mean you!) ;-) If I like it and it makes me think provocative thoughts (again: note rule about cleanliness), I'll noodle it and attempt to write something remotely approaching intelligent.

Image copyright: Tom Otterness. All rights reserved to him.

Area 57

2007-07-07T23:10:00.000-04:00

At 11:08 p.m. tonight, these were the headlines at the washingtonpost.com:

Lead Exposure Linked to Crime
New Seven Wonders Named
Revisiting the Five Second Rule
Uncovering the Truth in Roswell
Pagans Can't be Pegged
In France, Sarkozy's Jogging Is a Running Joke

Either it's a really slow news day in D.C. (and thank goodness for that. We need a break!) or the aliens of Roswell have decamped to the Nation's Capital.

Attention British Airways and British Airport Authority: Rant to Follow

2007-07-07T17:00:00.000-04:00

D.C. Rush Hour is proud to introduce Dr. Lala--a good friend of mine who works for an ABC NGO and who travels. A lot.

This is her report about dealing with flight delays at Heathrow on her way back to her post in Continental Europe. Please note, as you read this, that Dr. Lala's job is to find and implement solutions to complex problems--like how to eradicate measles and improve immunization globally. In other words, she puts a lot of thought into things, and this piece is no exception.

Have you had similar experiences? If you have, you should know that more and more airlines monitor blogs, especially those written by travelers, and many of them respond to complaints they read in the blogosphere.

So, without further ado, here is Dr. Lala and her report to British Airways and the British Airports Authority.

************

As a (very) frequent traveller, it was inevitable that one day I would get caught up in an incident of some sort. At least it's not of my own making, this time (knock wood... although I'm still missing one of my bags after 5 days, but I'm having trouble seeing how Ouidad hair products, cheesy Utah DVDs, and my dirty laundry could have been the cause of a security threat... of course, the bag smells a bit musty, but really?)

I'll start with the good news first: my BA flight from LAX to LHR (Heathrow) was delayed by two hours, which meant that I'd been moved from flight BA 730 to BA 732 out of Heathrow. Why is this good news? Well, the unfortunate souls "lucky" enough to board BA 730 apparently also got to spend a happy 8 hours sitting on the tarmac in Heathrow, before being unloaded off the plane (presumably, to, like the rest of us, fend for themselves in finding food, shelter, and toilets, before being able to get out either via Gatwick or the Eurostar... or, if brave and/or stupid, via Heathrow the next day).

I fared better (since, eventually, I got home a mere 12 hours later than planned). I had just comfortably ensconsed myself in the BA Terminal 4 lounge (after enduring Heathrow's ridiculous security procedures, re-screening passengers who had just gotten off of arriving flights - procedures which, by the way, for the 100th time since 9-11, did not catch the pen-knife in my ONE measly carry-on bag, but did gripe over the three tiny tubes of liquids I had leftover from my long-haul amenities kit) when the announcement came over the PA to evacuate Terminal 4. Nobody seemed to be in a huge rush, so I (I note with self-congratulatory smugness) used the potty, grabbed a few diet cokes, and calmy made my way into the main terminal... to discover the most horrible bottlenecked traffic jam ever seen.

At this point in my diatribe/monologue/lecture, I will start to point out the first of the many flaws in the British Airport Authority's (BAA, to be carefully distinguished from BA, which is British Airways) grandiose evacuation plans.

FLAW #1: If you are going to evacuate an airport, you've got to have more than one way out. Otherwise, lock people down where they are (at gates, in lounges, etc) and take them out in a systematic fashion. But crowds milling around, pushing and shoving to get through the funnel... it's not pretty. It leaves everybody unhappy and stressed out. EVERYBODY. And think about the poor people with kids, who were having trouble not LOSING their kids in the pressured mass of humanity.

FLAW #2: Um, you know that people in Terminal 4 haven't been through Immigration, right, since it's a transit terminal for international flights? You do remember this? So letting all these people just loose in the parking lot...where many of them made their way, no questions asked, to the trains, easily paying cash for a ticket to Central London, with no records of their ever having entered the UK? I'm just sayin'... if I were a terrorist mastermind (which I am not), and I wanted to get a bunch of my people into the UK without any records, lesson learned - just have one of them drop a bag somewhere in Terminal 4 and watch the chaos ensue.

Now, we all figured out that they were possibly looking for somebody as we exited... the funnel approach to the exit, plus the fact that you had to walk a gauntlet of 15 security guys with machine guns to get out who all gave you "the stare", and that they let us out in small groups of 20 so they could peer more intensely, was a giveaway. You'd think they might've checked boarding passes and passports as we left...but no. Didn't happen.

So then, there you are, outside. And they are trying (with very limited staff) to herd everybody onto the 4-story parking structure. The 4-story, unsecured parking structure. The 4-story, unsecured parking structure, that we don't know if it can take all that weight. Good plan!

FLAW #3: So, again, let's pretend I'm a terrorist mastermind. (I'M NOT, OK?). Hmmm... not only have I managed to disrupt air traffic across Europe (actually, probably worldwide), but now, the authorities have (MWA-HA-HA-HA-HA) nicely herded the thousands of people scattered over the W-I-D-E expanse of the 25 gates at Terminal 4 (it can take 30 minutes to get from one of that terminal to the other), into a 4-story structure that has the footprint of a football stadium. And has no security. So all my victims are nicely positioned for the BIG car bomb that can be set off by remote control (as opposed to a little tiny thing I might be able to get into a bag and sneak past airport authorities but probably can't get too far away from). Nice. Really Nice. Thanks guys!

(Needless to say, I kind of stayed on the airport side of the bridge of the parking structure for quite some time, to see if my theory was going to play out. I was aware, however, that I'm probably several IQ points ahead of the average terrorist, and they might not have plotted
this one out).

So everybody's milling around outside Terminal 4 at the Departures level. Nobody is saying anything. At some point, they start forcing everybody who wasn't already on the parking structure over there. They call back the flight crews. It starts to rain. People are getting tired/thirsty/hungry/wet/needing toilets. They hand out (some) plastic rain covers (but I never got one...I just saw other people with them). It starts to hail. They announce that everybody should head for level 3 of the parking (which is covered) but provide no instructions on HOW THE HELL TO GET DOWN TO LEVEL THREE. (It wasn't obvious, especially since the line for the stairs and elevators was clearly at least 45 minutes long).

FLAW #4: If you are going to consider evacuating the airport a valid control measure, HAVE A PLAN, PEOPLE. It was abundantly clear there was none. There were no megaphones; no real attempts to get people information. Total lack of coordination! And it would be SO EASY!!!

Let me explain: (1) Have a box outside the airport with megaphones and whiteboards and sticks in it, plus walkie-talkies. (Markers, too, since I need to be explicit here). (2) Have all airport and flight crews automatically report to the location of the box in the event of an evacuation. (3) Use the staff, the whiteboards, the megaphones, to organize the evacuated passengers by flight and/or destination. This has several merits: (a) people are less likely to be anxious if they feel some semblance of a plan and that somebody is thinking; (b) when you have to start bringing passengers back in, you can bring them in by flights and get planes off the ground faster instead of having to wait for all the passengers to get back inside...plus, you'll know who has given up because they can tell their group leader, so the flights don't have to wait for them; (c) If (as was the case on 3 July) a decision is made, even before re-opening the airport to cancel flights, the passengers can be informed as soon as possible, and taken over to other terminals at Heathrow to make alternate arrangements, reducing the strain on the (limited) remaining services at Terminal 4. But all of this is apparently too logical for BA or BAA.

Because what happened to me? Well, during the hailstorm, I made my way over to the third floor. From the view that I ended up with, I realized (they had not told us this) that Arrivals was still open. So I made my way down there, waded through the morass of people, found the BA Arrivals lounge (closed, of course, because the BA lounge staff from the Departures level of course, would not think that maybe they should open it up??? Hello?), but also found a plug... where I was able to charge my cell phone... and called the BA Service Center in Switzerland. Where, they were able to tell me that they had known - for hours already - that all European flights in or out of Terminal 4 were cancelled. (This, they told me at the same time that the PA systems was announcing that they were still securing the Departures level and that passengers would be informed about their flight status only AFTER that was completed. Can we say "lying through your teeth?"). I got rebooked out of Gatwick - I had to take the train to Terminal 3 and shell out $40 for a bus ticket over to Gatwick, but I eventually got there.

The flight from Gatwick to Continental Europe was late, and there was no meal service (they had to hurry to make it to my European city before the airport there closed for the night). I got there, and filed my bag claim. That was Tuesday. One of my bags made it home by Wednesday
night, but they never told me ("Airport policy is to not contact the passenger until ALL bags have arrived"). I finally called Saturday and found out my one bag was there (a bit pilfered!) and went to retrieve it. Bag #2 is apparently somewhere at Heathrow, and they cannot tell me when to expect if (if ever).

So what's the moral of my lessons?

(1) THERE IS NO PLAN. The airports have no idea what to do in a real emergency.

(2) If you have to transit through Heathrow, bring warm clothes, food, socks, a charged cell phone, and the phone numbers of your travel agent and the airline service centers.

Oh, and you wanted to know what caused all this hubbub? I don't really know. While at the airport, I heard different stories - one is that a guy ran off with his bag at security control, when they wanted to search it, and it took a while for the (intimidated) guard to inform a supervisor, and by then the guy was loose in the airport (and may have boarded a flight). A second story is that somebody dropped a bag somewhere in Terminal 4 and they wanted to find the guy (this doesn't entirely wash... shutting down an entire Terminal because of a suspect bag? Just take the bag and blow the thing up). A third story is that there was a bomb (again, unbelievable... they would've evacuated people much faster).

The real story? We probably won't ever know. My personal opinion? The whole thing happened because of poorly trained, poorly educated security staff, and a lack of a plan for how to deal with incidents. Ultimately, people's characters are far more important than what they managed to have with them in their bags. Haven't any of these guys ever watched MacGyver?

What Price, Freedom?

2007-07-04T12:25:00.000-04:00

As we celebrate our nation's independence from tyranny 231 years ago, let us not forget that others suffer.

At Safeway again last night, I saw the walking wounded from America's 'War on Terrorism'--young men and women missing hands, legs, eyes. Shrapnel wounds that have left ugly scars and pock marks in their young bodies. And who knows the depth of their psychological trauma.

And for every one of our soldiers who needlessly dies in Iraq, there are scores of civilians in Afghanistan and Iraq who are dead, dying, or wounded. What a waste.

Photo caption: An Afghan boy cries after learning two of his uncles were killed during a raid east of Kabul. (June 29, 2007)