I write from the Cleveland airport, where I just found that my flight is overbooked. Before I checked in, I was offered the chance to give up my ticket. I declined. I am yet to determine whether my flight to Tulsa is a direct flight or not. On the ticket, there were two cities listed: Cleveland (the origin) and Tulsa (the destination), and there were no transit times. But on the screen at the gate, it says Cleveland, then that flashes away and disappears, Minneapolis appears, and then Tulsa. So I'll find out shortly whether or not we'll be stopping over in Minneapolis. It matters little to me. My bag is checked in and my hand luggage is fairly light (one wheeled bag and a very large purse that contains 2 smaller purses). It sounds like a lot, but it really is not. I'm accustomed to carrying lots of weights (as a geeky high school student, I hurled lots of textbooks to school every day). In addition, I have a very large purse (hell, I have 2 large purses, so this is nothing new to me).
09:38pm ET: I am now in Minneapolis, and there is an African-American woman at the terminal, gossiping on the phone. She opened by talking loudly about some friend of hers who wrote a play and is now about to hit the big time. Now she is talking in normal tones, conspiratorial tones, if you please. But I have good ears. She is talking about her job and her company and her boss. Being in Minneapolis brings memories of the trip I took here in February this year, for some personal development session when I was still a (disgruntled) employee of my former company. I can't say I have great memories of the place, since it was bitterly cold when I arrived there, but visiting in transit is a totally differenty experience.
On the plane from Cleveland, there were a number of unusual things. First was the extremely skinny kid who sat next to me, wearing a T-Shirt that read Oklahoma State. Since I will be visiting Oklahoma State, I tried to pick up a conversation with him, but that died a quick death, since this chap appears to be an absolute social failure. More importantly, his mouth reeked of carbide. I think I need to look into the origin of carbide, and the reasons some people have lots of it, and others don't. To make matters worse, he sneezed a lot on the flight. As did the woman in front of me, and the man sitting across the aisle to my left, and the people in the 2 rows behind him. Indeed the man sitting to my SouthWest was coughing so intensely that I was convinced he would expel his lungs right unto the seat in front of him. Furthermore, the couple that sat across the seat from me had a strange condition: the woman had something covering her nose, akin to a surgical mask. When she briefly took it off prior to boarding, I noticed that she has one nostril, with a black hole for the other nostril. Something made me suspect that she has cancer. In addition, there was a smell around this couple: the smell of disease and decay, and (morbid and heartless as this might sound) a smell of impending death. I was frightened and eventually very guilty, especially because I only realized very late in the flight that the odor which I had noticed upon arrival in the plane, was coming from the couple. I thought of the fact that they already have a nasty invader in their lives, in the form of a potentially incurable disease. How dare I complain about the fact that I was inconvenienced for all of 90 minutes?
Anyway, away from that, I spoke extensively with my boss today. He is, like I have mentioned many times before, a very bright man - a very strategic brain. We plotted the path for my plant for the next year. It was great just speaking with him so extensively. Unlike my previous bosses, who were bright eyed and clueless about manufacturing, here is a man who knows exactly what he is talking about. I love that about him! I have learned more from him in 8 weeks than I learned from my bosses at my old company in over a year. That's how awesome this guy is. And the entire plant is full of people like that. I have also found that he is a perfectionist, so I know I have to step up my game.
In other matters, there is a white couple here at the terminal, with a little black baby (very cute baby). Everyone is staring at them, open-mouthed. I love it when people just forget their manners and allow their curiosity to take over. It's hilarious!
Meanwhile, Rafael Nadal beat Andy Murray to reach the Wimbledon Finals. Britain, still reeling from England's pathetic display in South Africa, invested a lot of expectation in this match, and there was the usual shameless hype from the blinkered British Media: endless articles about how this is Murray's time, shows about how Murray has all it takes to beat Nadal, etc. Well, the good news is that Rafa did not read the script. Furthermore, I think the British are probably reluctant to admit that Murray might not yet have what it takes to win a Grand Slam. He has all the shots. He has all the skills, but one thing he does NOT have is the mindset. Tennis is at least 50% mental - I know this despite never having played it professionally. Even when I hit with my sister (who is by no means Steffi Graf), I can tell just how mentally exhausting it is to do well under pressure. That's what matters more than your footwork or the quality of your ground strokes. Plus, Murray relies more than anything else on consistency. Nadal, on the other hand, relies on explosive points - turning defense into offense quicker than possibly any other player on either the WTA or the ATP, and yes, that includes the GOAT.
Another really funny thing, there was some article yesterday on the internet by Nick Bolleteri, who is responsible for producing some of the greatest tennis players of all time i.e. Andre Agassi, Maria Sharapova, etc. Mr. Bolleteri gave a number of reasons why this was Djokovic's year. How the real Djokovic, who had charmed the tennis world with his imitations and his humor, had returned. How Djokovic was free swinging again. How Djokovic's game is dangerous when he is in this sort of mood, and yada yada yada (you get the point). Turns out Berdych did not get the memo. It was apparently a routine straight-sets victory for Berdych, with Djokovic providing little resistance to Berdych's power. I didn't see the match, but that's what I was told. So Bolleteri, the guru of tennis, got it wrong this time.
Edit: This is being posted on Monday 5th July, as I didn't have internet access in Oklahoma.
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