Join the Mile-High Club

Beginning next year Dutch Airline KLM is introducing a program called Meet 'n Seat which will allow travelers to use social media to check in and choose their seat alongside other passengers based on technology profiles. We've all been on long flights where the person next to you just won't shut up about their grandchildren or some other stupid thing you have no interest in. I myself have drooled on a man I met in Amsterdam and went home with. Rephrase - We traveled stateside on the same plane and I fell asleep on his shoulder only to wake up drooling on him.

Imagine if you could hand select the person you sit with for endless hours of confinement and you actually have something in common. Maybe it's a business connection, maybe a love connection or maybe just interesting conversation to pass the time. Recently on my flight to San Fransisco I sat between two young people and had fun and informative chats with each of them. This union was serendipitous but in the future you won't have to rely on chance.

Below is a synopsis of the offering. Be sure to watch the accompanying video.

http://www.stuff.co.nz/travel/international/6168776/Meet-n-seat-mile-high-matchmaking

Home Away From Home

I've written about San Fransisco before, not only because it is a place I frequent but because there's so much to write about. In this recount I'm combining the last few visits since I've been remiss. Preliminarily, I want to mention how ecstatic I am that Virgin America is in my neighborhood. This is bar none the best commercial airliner in this galaxy. I first flew them years ago to the UK and wished I made more transatlantic flights just for the superior service. The mood lighting on these sexy planes makes you want to lose your "virginity" to the mile high club.

A stunning masterpiece in its own right, the DeYoung museum curated a collection of masterpieces from Le Musee D'Orsay in Paris, France earlier this year. I had to see it knowing before I go back to France I want to visit Argentina, China, India, Russia, and all the other "ias" and "inas". Post-impressionists en mass and their exorbitant bodies of work were stuffed into the basement crowded with hoards of admirers. The only respite is a pub crawl through North Beach.

The 1st place I ever had my signature sidecar cocktail was at Rose Pistola. And it's still the best, if only for the memorabilia. Too much cheer later and we exit through the back door only to see Tony Nik's right across the street. Comfy, casual, cool. So much so that it garners a repeat the next night with an introduction to the "dark and stormy". But one of our favorite watering holes is the Cafe Meuse run by our friend Eric Meuse. It's a quaint spot on the corner of Hyde and Pacific, on the cable car line, boasting a palatable wine menu, small plates and homemade desserts. The last time we were in town Eric was giving a Chilean wine tasting and many of Damon's old friends turned out to pay a visit. Our friend joshes that he's a rock star on that corner.

Man cannot live on liquor alone so it's lucky that SF is also a culinary mecca. The lobster bisque at Hyde St. Seafood and Raw Bar will leave your head spinning. Their specialty is Dungeness crab and other fresh catch prepared en papillote (cooked in parchment paper). The garlic blossom at Liverpool Lil's in the Marina will render you unapproachable for a week and if you take in the French Onion soup loaded with cheese so will be the toilet bowl. The cheese pizza at North Beach Pizza, sauce and crust perfectly complimentary, soaks up any excess alcohol you may have imbibed. As SF is walkable there are restaurants on every block, many of them exceptional. Bix is one such place downtown in the Financial District. Located in an alley illuminated by only a small sign indicating it's exclusivity, Bix takes you back to another era. Posh art deco decor, decadent continental menu and nightly jazz makes this modern day supper club such a hot spot that reservations well in advance are compulsory.

Years ago some friends introduced us to a Vietnamese restaurant called the Slanted Door which was somewhere out near the Castro. This may have been my first experience with Vietnamese food and it's now one of my favorite genres. They have since moved to the Ferry Building down on the Embarcadero, which has become a popular spot for specialty shops and restaurants. I had never been before so I walked down from Union Square while my friend was working planning on getting some pho. It was a gorgeous afternoon on the bay - warm and only slightly breezy. Boats and ships puttered in the harbor, farmer's were out for market and the place was bustling. With so many choices, Ferry Plaza Wine Merchant being one of them, I opted instead for a glass of California Pinot accompanied by a platter of Cow Girl Creamery cheese and epi baguette from Acme Bread. Oh so delish.

The Occupy San Fransisco encampment was right across the street so I felt obligated to at least walk through it. My first impression was that that these people are NOT the 99%. Not even close. These dirty, dread locked, pot smoking hippie types represent only a small opportunistic fraction of the percentile touting the Fuck Wall Street agenda And Their Washington Cronies too. Admittedly it was the tail end of the national movement but by then the message was diluted (and deluded).

My latest infatuation in San Fransisco is the Kabuki Springs bath house in Japantown, near Pacific Heights. Step inside and be transported. You can feel your heart rate slow and worldly concerns melt away. Strip down - this is not an experience for the modest - and enter the communal relaxation room of slate covered floors, warm teak ceilings, and diffused lighting. Essential aromas envelop and caress you as do the gentle ambient sounds of the ancient orient. Every appointment is perfectly placed and well designed. It's modern, classy and spic 'n span - not dodgy like some other baths. Pots of hot peppermint tea and cool water surrounded by bowls of ice, lemon, cucumber and mint can be spotted throughout the room. An icy dunking pool is strategically placed amid chaise lounge chairs, and jacuzzi at center with sauna and steam rooms on the perimeter of one end, bathing stations and showers on the other completes the space. Zen is a good word in sum.

My friend lives adjacent to Union Square above Cafe Royale and we endearingly refer to it as her living room. Despite the bartender's "I'm too sexy for my shirt" flippant attitude this is a great place to linger over a pint from a decent selection of local micro-brews. Each month various Bay area performing artists entertain. From poetry readings to Jazz quartets there's performance art practically every night of the week behind a gallery wall featuring local artists' works. No cover.

Journaling over a stiff and frothy cappuccino at Cafe Trieste rounds out a nice morning. It's a high traffic coffee house in North Beach and table sharing is common which makes it really convenient for meeting people and finding out what their weekend was like. I love this kind of vibe because you share ideas, discover things you didn't know and voila your next trip is already planned!

Th "G" Spot

Somehow I got wind that it was going to be a glorious hot weekend out in the desert so I got the idea to spend Thanksgiving weekend in Palm Springs. Of course we do just about everything willy nilly so I started calling around on Tuesday for rooms on Thursday through Sunday. Unexpectedly, everything even remotely close to town for a reasonable rate was booked. I guess people would rather forgo the family drama and give thanks in a more unconventional way. I gave up after calling every boutique hotel in town. On Friday afternoon I was depressed and not looking forward to a slew of chores staring me down at home so we packed our bathing suits and took off, come what may. I figured it'd be a nice road trip even if we had to turn around and come home. Lo and behold, things have changed and there's room at the inn. I'm starting to feel like Jesus, or at least lucky.

The desert is so alluring to me with its dramatic landscape and starry skies I forget that unless you have your own party (which is difficult to rally when you do everything spontaneously) it's dead boring. Palm Springs is literally the G spot - geriatrics and gays galore. Forget impromptu pool side parties. So you end up frying yourself to a crisp in the sun and then going to bed when the sun goes down. Well almost. There are fantastic hiking trails, biking paths and plenty of shopping. It's the mid-century modern furniture and design mecca. We thoroughly enjoyed the restaurants: amazing wood-fired artisan pizzas at Matchbox, grass-fed Venison and farmer's market menu at Zin, and cool cocktails and affordable bites at Lulu. I can effuse with certainty that THE BEST COCKTAIL in recent history is the zintini, made with vodka, cucumber and pineapple juices, topped with mint sprigs and a twist. Yum!

Fresh-baked chocolate chip cookies and a warm (half-baked!) friendly staff define The Chase as a low-key, unpretentious alternative to some of the other hotels in the desirable Tennis Club neighborhood - eh hum, The Viceroy. The location is unbeatable if you want to walk downtown and the mountain vistas are incredible shielding the beautiful pool from typical desert winds, although in winter the sun disappears behind them around 3:30 pm.

While not the raucous destination as some other desert towns there's something rejuvenating about this melanoma oasis what with the blistering sun and cool cocktails that always hits the spot. ;)

Firsts

I've done and seen a lot of things bu not everything. And this weekend I witnessed a couple of fascinating things I'd never seen before.

First first:
I saw the glow of plankton as the waves curled over the shoreline just after sunset. It looks like there's hundreds of blue neon lights under the ocean. It is a phenomonal chemical reaction taking place in the plankton called bioluminescence and it is a sight to behold.

Second first:
I saw pigeons humping. Like copulation in much of the animal kingdom it was a violent act that, although obscured by a bush, drew our attention because of the furious flapping and flattering of wings accompanied by screeching.

Dog Days of Summer

The remaining days of summer in LA, at least on the westside, are glorious with warm, breezy, cloudless skies. It's lovely to just meander our coastal towns and explore some of the unique and treasured offerings. The Venice canals, once reviled, have been cleaned and preserved by insistent neighbors paying a ghastly penny to live on them. I think the canals are part of the Ballona Wetlands conservancy and home to a multitude of birds such as geese, egrets and herons. Other wildlife species are attracted too like butterflies, lizards, and small fish as a result of the abundant food supply, no doubt. The dirt pedestrian path is maybe a couple of miles round trip from the jetty in Marina del Rey where you can gaze upon million dollar yachts, chartered fishing boats and small sailboat rentals alike cruising out to the open sea. Likewise, you'll pass multimillion dollar mansions and beachy cottages along the edges of a marshy estuary. The history of the canals is sordid beginning with a dream of one man to emulate the legendary Italian canals in this similarly Mediterranean climate but then as funding became scarce and the Beatniks and hippies became enamored with the area it just became overrun with algae and derelicts until the gentrification of the 1990's. Now it truly is one of the hidden LA treasures unifying birders, sun-worshipers and real estate developers. It's just far enough off the beaten track that it's mostly locals and their leashed friends which makes it a really nice experience, presuming you scored parking - not an easy task near the shore in summer. We even snooped around a 6 level house being built that looked like it had an elevator shaft going through the middle of it and then got in the dirt to rub the belly's of a couple of wanton basset hound pups. It's a lovely way to get a little exercise, a little vitamin D and an education in what lurks in your own back yard.

ATT SUCKS!!!!!!!!!!!!

With great regret my ISP and wireless phone services are both with ATT. I have been a customer for roughly 20 years in one capacity or another. Serious consideration as to my loyalty has come into question as I'm continuously sucked into their vortex of horrific service. I've had spotty internet service for the last 3 weeks and have called as many times to get the issue resolved. I am currently on hold now for 42 minutes and 49 seconds. I keep getting transferred around and told to call back Monday because they cannot locate my account record. I would gladly provide my account number if I could access my email to get it off the electronic statement. Finally after an hour on the line they are dispatching a technician to hopefully correct the problem once and for all.

Mid-day Reset

Atop a bustling, frenetic Los Angeles rise countless hundreds of hills and canyons, creeks and crevices to which one can easily retreat to find quiet and solitude. Today at lunchtime I left the cacophony of LaLa land behind and took a hike.

Only 15 minutes drive from my office I shed high heels in favor of Keens and started a gentle ascent up Rustic Canyon in the Topanga Canyon State Park. I've decided I'm going to climb Mount Whitney next summer, which is the highest peak in the Continental US at 14, 496 ' so it's going to take some training. While local canyon hikes alone aren't enough to accomplish the job it's a nice respite from work and every little bit of effort counts. In addition to strength conditioning I'm going to have to ramp up my endurance and aerobic threshold. Though gentle enough it was still a climb and had me sporadically winded. I can't say exactly how much distance I covered because I forgot to turn on the nifty pedometer app I just put on my phone but I was walking for 1 1/2 hours. Part of that time was spend descending 504 steps to get to the creek bed. My car was parked at the top and we all know the laws of gravity.

It's amazing what you notice when you step away from the distractions of city life. The first thing that hit me was the fragrance of fennel. That distinctive smell of black licorice mixed with underlying hints of pine and the wet hayish smell of late summer grasses. Simply fresh. Padding along the path, alternating composites of dirt and pavement, I followed the trajectory of butterflies storing up what's left of summers nectar. I swear I was even followed by a lizard because everywhere I turned there it was. I even spotted him or one of his cousins doing push-ups on a tree trunk. I wondered if it was some kind of machismo mating exercise or maybe he was just telling me to buzz off. Other than oodles of song birds the only other noise I could detect was the faint hum of single engine airplanes swooshing the clear sunny sky. The majesty of coast live oak trees high above the path along with welcoming ocean breezes made most of the hike a considerably pleasant one.

I even stumbled upon an old compound no longer inhabited but I read that it was owned by Nazi sympathizers back in the '30's. It was surrounded by 3 layers of barbed wire and hidden behind a crumbling wrought iron and stone gate. Once inside the parameters there was a huge deep concrete cylinder, now gutted, burned out and riddled with graffiti. I was totally creeped out wondering what it was used for and even more so when the wind kicked up and made the eucalyptus trees sway, creaking as if someone was there. Chilling! But even the weirdness is beautiful. And the fact that I only encountered 4 other souls, mountain bikers, was even more blissful.

I realize I've been remiss with keeping up this journal of sorts. I am backlogged with months of material and drafts that I couldn't find the interest to complete. So forgive me if I go backwards in time to catch up now that I've found my voice again.

Terrorists!

We live in urban Los Angeles but there is a lot of wildlife right in our back yard. We have squirrels which eat out of our hands and respond to the names we've given them. A family of opossums has to been known to set up camp in our neighbor's walk-in closet. Over the years we have been awoken many nights by raccoons playing on our roof or jumping from tree to tree outside the window. It's actually quite amusing and feels like we're living in the wilderness at times. Jackson was always very keen to pesky little intruders onto our property and charged out from a snoring slumber to chase them off. Now that our dutiful watchman has retired the antics have been ramped up.

Frankie, our 7 1/2 year old cat, has a penchant for indoor/outdoor living. (No wonder, it's like a jungle out there!) We used to have a winterized pet door in our bedroom before the new construction started but it was relocated to the garage during the project. Frankie would never use the door and I couldn't figure out why until I observed him one day. It had 2 thick plastic panels so I presume he couldn't smell through both to determine what dangers lurk beyond. As a consequence we've had to replace the access panel with a flimsy flap that he'll use. We also have a little cut out in the door between the garage and the kitchen just big enough for Frankie to fit through - mind you, he's a pretty big cat. Basset Hounds are one dog breed that will eat themselves to death so we could never leave his food down and Frankie's was always elevated so Jackson wouldn't scarf it. Frankie has been eating his food atop Damon's workbench in the garage for his whole life. All aforementioned details aim to set the stage for what happened last night.

We pulled in the garage using the opener and noticed that Frankie's food station was in utter disarray - water and food dishes tipped over - the Tupperware canister storing his food opened and laying in the puddle of water on the floor, the trash can was askew with its bag shredded and hanging half in and half out of the pet door with wet tracks scurrying away from it. Damon grabbed a flashlight to see a gigantic masked rodent hurdling the fence and shooting a perturbed glance our way. I, myself perturbed, cleaned up the mess and brought the food in. Knowing that raccoons are highly adaptable creatures I thought perchance I was making an error. I have no interest in having the cat food inside our house - it's messy and it stinks; a dirty outdoor cat is bad enough let alone having his food and litter inside as well. With that I brought the cat in and we went to bed.

Frankie is a bed hog and I nodded off feeling him nuzzled into my legs restricting any movement not unlike any other night. Some time later I shot straight up in bed hearing an alarming noise. Someone was inside our house! So I shook Damon awake and we lay there listening a moment so we knew what kind of weapon we'd need to combat our perpetrator. I realized Frankie was no longer on the bed and said "oh it's just Frankie having a midnight snack." Damon wasn't satisfied and grabbed the flashlight and headed quietly down the hall. What he saw was a small family of raccoons noshing on Frankie's food in our kitchen! He obviously startled them and one by one they scampered off through the hole in the door.

So here we are strategizing at 3 am about how to outsmart raccoons, which unless you have a gun is no easy feat. I have no intent on killing or trapping the little vermin as our neighborhood is where they've made their home. I imagine the family has outgrown the food supply or perhaps they are simply opportunistic and the temptation was far too great. What I know for sure is that we must coexist. I need the raccoons to remain somewhere on the perimeter of my house and my cat needs to feel comfortable in his environment. If they run into Frankie he will lose that vicious battle. I think he recognizes these odds as evidenced by curious behavior that warned me he knew something had overrun his rule for which he was no match.

We have decided to test the boundaries of nature. Tonight we are leaving a small amount of food in Frankie's dish on the workbench with the lights all ablaze. If the light doesn't deter these nocturnal creatures we'll pick up the food for a few nights and establish a pattern of fruitlessness. Maybe they'll pass us up if there's nothing to steal. When we can decide on the esthetic we'll install a motion light in the backyard which should spook them enough to skidaddle. As a last resort we've learned of a special cat door with RFID collar whereby the cat approaches an electric door and his personalized collar activates a sensor which opens the door securing the notion that only authorized entries allowed. Terrorists be gone.

No tampering and nonsense last night. Fingers crossed.