Tag: KcM

Whisker in the Jar.

Enjoyed a new experience today – my first beard trim at the barber’s. At this point, the whole beard experiment is at a strange stage. I’m not sure if I really like the look (Despite the grad student thing, I just don’t feel like a beard guy), but, like a long relationship gone to seed, I’ve got so much invested at this point that I might as well keep it going. Besides, I do in fact look closer to my age now, which was part of the point, and I have gotten some very enthusiastic compliments from some corners – it’s like I now appeal to a completely different female demographic (although some cats now hate me.) At any rate I suppose I’ll keep it up at least until the warm weather sets in – and given that it’s currently snowing outside, that could be longer than it seems.

Stick ‘n’ Move.

On Thursday morning, 3/4ths of the way to Las Vegas, I was ambling across LAX to catch my last connecting flight, and everywhere I looked the war was on. Airport lounges, fast-food places, and even the sports bars had foregone the beginning of March Madness so that travelers could keep abreast of the then-unchanging greenscreen views of Baghdad. An hour later, I stepped off the plane into Las Vegas and the war had disappeared. TV’s everywhere were tuned into the basketball games and – should a station break in with some news on the events in Iraq – all the televisions switched immediately to another feed. By the time I entered the taxi-line at the McCarran Airport, which looked and moved exactly like the line for Pirates of the Caribbean, my suspicions were clinched – On the Strip, there is no war, nor much of an outside world, for that matter. Vegas will be Fantasyland, whether you like it or not.

It’s probably unfair to the people of Vegas to contrast the environment with what was going on in Iraq, particularly as I never got off the Strip and saw the local scene. Nevertheless, it was that discrepancy between war on the Strip and war everywhere else that weighed on my mind most of the trip. As I was exploring all the various casinos one morning (to be honest, once you get past the lobby, they’re basically the same – low lighting, ugly carpets, intentionally confusing layout, and depressed-looking, bleary-eyed people glued to their Skinner box of choice), I took in the Fountains of Bellagio, wherein a number of impressive water jets danced in unison to the strains of Lee Greenwood‘s “Proud to Be an American.” To be fair, this was as close to a concession that a war was going on that I saw all weekend – nevertheless, something about the faux-opulence at that moment just turned my stomach.

Even putting the war aside, though, I think I’d be a bit down on Vegas. For one, there was something inherently unrelaxing about the beeps, blips, and whistles resounding from every corner – as the weekend went on, I found myself spending more and more time outside just to take in the breathtaking landscape and find sweet respite from the flashing lights of the casinos. For another – and I know this is hypocritical – after a few days all the vacationers were getting to me. Everywhere I looked, there were gangs of drunk guys constantly hooting, hollering, and acting like they owned the place. True, I was with a group of male college friends, and while we weren’t raging drunkards, we too were comping free drinks like they were going out of style. Nevertheless, I often got the sense I was stuck at the world’s largest neverending frat party, and as the weekend wore on we all spent more and more time staying in our room, where we could watch the games and keep up on the war without being surrounded by rampaging hordes of Men Behaving Badly and vacationers blowing off steam. Most of the locals working on the Strip must have a really depressing view of the human condition, a suspicion confirmed by what conversations I managed to strike up with bartenders, dealers, etc.

So, to sum up, I had a good time, I suppose. But the carefree veneer of Vegas glitz barely concealed the sick undercurrent of desperation that seemed to permeate the Strip, and should I visit again, I’d rather (a) leave the vacationer spots and get a sense of local culture and/or (b) head out into the desert and see a bit more of nature. It was great to see all my friends, of course, but by 48 hours into the trip we were already making plans to meet up next time here in NYC rather than at NY, NY (a mid-range and kinda tacky casino – we spent most of our gambling time elsewhere.)

Speaking of gambling time, a quick note on how I made out. I had allotted a small amount of cash to be used as losses for the weekend, and it barely lasted the first day and a half of blackjack. But as I was leaving for the airport, I threw in one last twenty into a Deuces Wild Video Poker machine, a game which my friend Danny had been telling me all weekend was the best bet in Vegas. On the last hand, I improbably hit the jackpot, and flew out of Vice City $2000 richer than when I entered (That money has since been transferred to my good friends at Mastercard.) Clearly, the city wants another chance.

Vegas, Baby.

GitM will be silent over the weekend, as I’m off on my first trip to Vegas for my college friends’ yearly March Madness reunion. I must say, I’m quite curious to see what Vegas is all about. And, although I have neither the resources nor the inclination to do much serious gambling, particularly given the state of world affairs, it never hurts to know the odds…

You got to give for what you take.

I should have posted this a few weeks ago, but it’s been sitting forlorn in the bookmark section. Freedom: A History of US, the American history-for-kids site I helped build over the holidays, is now online. (I’m listed as a “history consultant…” woohoo!) Content that readers might find particularly interesting includes the quick historical primers I wrote for the teachers’ section and the many sound clips throughout of various celebrities portraying historic Americans (scroll down for a full listing.)

Cold Snap.

Hey y’all. Sorry it’s been quiet around here the past few days. The new semester is starting here, and I’ve been busier than usual perusing various classes and fashioning section lists. (Also got a chance to meet up with Genehack for a few drinks prior to the Linux expo, which was good fun.) Right now, I’m teaching a class on America between the wars (1918-45), and taking both legal history at the law school and an APD survey in the poli-sci department. Should be grand.

Ballet mistresses and Web masters.

Over the break, I took over webmaster responsibilities for my ballerina sister’s website from my parents. And after a move over to Cornerhost (whom I can ‘t say enough good things about. It’s a great place to reside.) and a quick redesign, GillianMurphy.com is open for business. If you’re interested in ballet at all, you might want to check it out.

Enterprise? More like Voyager.

So Berk and I are spending the holidays with the family in Norfolk, VA, and all is well. But the trip down here…that’s a different story. I’d be remiss if I didn’t warn you all never, ever to rent a car from Enterprise Rent A Car. My Monday morning went something like this:

THE PLAN: Pick up car from Newark International Airport and get on road by 9:30am.


7:30am: Leave apt., Get on A train to Penn Station.

8:00am: Pay $30. Get on Amtrak to Newark Airport.

8:25am: Train stops in Downtown Newark

8:30am: Train arrives at airport. Get on Newark monorail.

8:55am: Arrive at rental car stop. Wait for Enterprise off-site bus.

9:15am: Bus arrives. I find out from bus driver that, despite my twice-confirmed reservation, I’m not allowed to rent a car from this Enterprise because I didn’t just get off a plane. No boarding pass, no car. But I’m told that the Enterprise in Downtown Newark (where I’d been an hour earlier) will honor the reservation.

9:25am: Get back on Newark monorail.

9:55am: Get back on Amtrak.

10:00am: Arrive in Downtown Newark.

10:10am: Arrive at Downtown Newark Enterprise. I wait while they give the suit in front of me the full customer service treatment (“You want to upgrade? Sure! We’ll just drive an Altima right over.“), etc. etc. When my turn comes, they look at my reservation printout like it’s a dead animal. They tell me they have no cars to give (despite upgrade of aforementioned suit) and that they can’t honor the reservation. I call the Airport Enterprise back to see if the car in my name is still there. They tell me they gave it away and that the only thing to do is try to make a new (read: much-higher-priced) reservation with an Enterprise somewhere else in the Tri-state area.

10:15am: I get very irate.

10:20am: The Kraken is released.

11:00am: To get me out of their hair, they finally ship me to a third Enterprise, in the Newark environs.

11:40am: The third Enterprise honors the first reservation at the first price, and I leave Newark in a Ford Focus, headed back for NYC (to pick up Berk and my friend/co-rider Amanda.)

Of course, getting back into the city is no picnic then, but you get the idea. Suffice to say, I’m never doing business with Enterprise again, despite the friendlier folk at the third franchise.