Day 1259: Second Annual ‘Hug Against Hate’ Award – Matt Harding

Well, I know I promised to only post ‘The Chair’ until it’s done… but seriously.  There is no end in sight and I should probably spin the whole story off onto its own dedicated blog, but by the time I have time to do that, the story will be close to over anyway… so please, forgive the interruption.

Anyway, today is my birthday!  Happy birthday to me!

And if you read the blog last year, you’ll know that I have decided to do something different, in relation to the blog, every year on my birthday.  Here is a quote from last year’s post:

“I would focus on something more positive.  After all, it’s the end of the year, so why don’t we honor someone who is doing something amazing to unite the world?  There are tons of people doing incredibly simple, yet powerfully inspiring work that should be recognized.  So, from now on, on my birthday, I’m going to give out the ‘SchutzHappens Hug Against Hate’ Award”

And in keeping with that tradition, I would like to close the year honoring video game developer Matt Harding, who is best known dancing horribly all around the world.

Now, I’ve talked about Matt, and his website www.wherethehellismatt.com a couple times on SchutzHappes (Day 712 and Day 798) and I just can’t get over his amazing spirit and sense of humor.  I highly recommend everyone visit his website’s ‘About Me’ page.  And you should also check out his ‘Journal’. 

And if you aren’t familiar with his hilariously simple, yet awe-inspiring, contribution to making this world a smaller place and his dedication to getting American’s to travel abroad more… you should really check out his videos:

Amazing simple, right?  Did you get goose bumps?  I always do and I’ve seen his videos a lot.  Interestingly enough, Matt has started lecturing about his travel experiences and talking about how he’s able to bring so many people together to make such silly internet videos.  Has now has an entire lecture series available on youtube, but this is his first quick and dirty talk:

BTW: Matt welcomed a new member to his family, his son Max, on April 30^th… which is way cooler than my silly little award.

Congratulations Matt and keep on trucking!  Kids are very adaptable to traveling as long as you just do it!  (Although traversing international airports with children is probably the most stressful thing you will ever do, but it’s totally worth it!

Day 1251: The Chair, Part 42 – The Cushion

It didn’t take us long to fine aisle 21.  And they even had a display version of the rocker I wanted at the top of the aisle so Costello and I were able to find the box we needed rather quickly.

However… there was a problem.

The whole point of going to IKEA in the first place, despite our blood sweat and tears, was to get the best possible deal. And for those of you familiar with IKEA and their ‘Poang’ series of arm chairs, you’ll know that the chair, itself, is nothing more than a frame and pretty much useless without a cushion… and the cushions are sold separately.

At the time, IKEA had the plain, off-white, ‘Poang’ cushions on sale for £10, (roughly $15.00).  Plus, since the rocking chair frame was also on sale, I was looking to get the whole set for around £75 - £80, (roughly $120.00, which is less than what it costs on IKEA’s website today and way less than the $550.00 a glider chair would cost at Hammond’s Department Store).  So yeah, I thought I was getting a great deal, which was why I ventured out to IKEA in the first place! 

Well… have you ever heard of a bait and switch?  Yeah… well listen to this:

After Costello and I grabbed the box containing the rocking chair frame, we ventured down to the other end of aisle 21 to find the cushions; however, there were not any of the $15.00 plain off-white cushions available, only very expensive printed cushions… all ranging in the £60 - £75 range (roughly $105.00).

In sheer panic and desperation, do to my IKEA delirium and intense cheapness, I continued to look for the cushion I wanted and I noticed two things:

1.  IKEA had about 20 ‘Poang’ chairs scattered around the warehouse on display and every single one of them had an off-white cushion with a sign reading, “Only £10!” 

2.  At the very top of the enormous shelves of aisle 21, I noticed a stack of the off-white cushions I wanted.

So, I ran to get a warehouse clerk who told me, “I’m sorry we are out of those cushions”.

Me:  “What about the cushions on the display?  I’m more than happy to buy one that is already open.”

Clerk:  “No, I am sorry, we can’t sell display models.”

Me:  “Well, what about the ones on top of the shelves?”

Clerk:  “Where.”

I led the warehouse clerk to where I saw the cushions, perched way at the top of the aisle 21 shelving unit… probably a full story up.

The clerk seems surprised.  “It looks like it is your lucky day… I will need to get a crane to get them down.”

“Yes, please, I’ll wait.  Thank you!”

I got very excited as I watched the warehouse clerk go over to talk to the crane operator.  And Costello went to scope out checkout lines… we were going to make a mad dash as soon as we had a cushion in our hot little hands.

Then… all of a sudden the clerk came back, “I’m sorry, those are not cushion.”

Me:  (Shocked)… “Then what are they?”

Clerk:  “Mattresses”.

I was terrible confused.  “Mattresses?  I don’t see any mattresses in this aisle.”

Clerk:  “They are up there”.

Me:  “No, I mean on display… down low for people to buy.”

Clerk:  “That is because mattresses are normally kept on aisle 18.”

Me:  “But you are keeping extras in aisle 21?”

Clerk:  “Yes sir, I am sorry.”

Me:  “Mattresses with cresses in the exact same places as chair cushions?”  (I could see the cresses from the floor).

Clerk:  (letting go of a nervous laugh), “They are special mattresses for babies.”

Me:  “You mean a crib mattress?”

When I threw out the term ‘crib mattress’ the clerk seemed even more uncomfortable… like he had miss judged two random American guys and had been caught in a lie… he quickly said, “I am very busy, I must be going,” and disappeared.

I was stunned.  But I was I was stuck.  In the States, I would probably have thrown in the towel and worried about it later… but I didn’t know London well enough for back-up options.

Costello was getting antsy because we were burning lots of time.

We had already invested over two hours to get this chair… by God I was not about to go home empty handed.  So… I did the math… I could still get the chair frame and the overpriced cushion for around $200.00, which was still a lot less than buying the $550.00 glider chair at Hammonds. 

So we grabbed everything we needed, paid, and darted out into the cold rainy night. 

We made much better time on the way back… and by the time we got back to my apartment, the rain had stopped… but we didn’t have time to breath, let alone eat… we only had thirty minutes to get across town for out Jack the Ripper Walking Tour.

So we darted back out into the night.

Unfortunately… Costello and I were so cold, tired and hungry that we didn’t really enjoy the tour.

Day 1248: The Chair, Part 41 – ‘Lost’ in IKEA

I feel bad.  If I had know that Costello has never been to an IKEA before I wouldn’t have taken him.  I never wanted to be the person who ruins anyone’s world view… but apparently it was meant to be.

We were running late… waiting for the nonexistent IKEA shuttle had set-up us back considerably.  And not only did we need to buy the rocking chair… we also needed to take it all the way back through the Underground to our flat in the city, get dinner, and then trek across town to make our ‘Jack the Ripper Walking Tour’ which was scheduled to start at 7pm.  It was already 4:30pm… and it had taken us almost two hours to get there.  We were on a mission… and we couldn’t be stopped.

As I led Costello through the winding aisle of IKEA, at close to a jogs pace, is when I realized Costello was an IKEA newbie.   At my heels he kept asking, “Where are you going?”  “Shouldn’t we ask someone?”

At first I just ignored him… focused solely on finding the chair I wanted on the showroom floor.

Costello:  “Dude, we need to ask someone!”

Me: (Finally), “You have to trust me; I know what I’m doing.”

Costello became even more confused when I grabbed a pad of paper and a golf pencil off the wall without breaking my stride… and then finally came to a stop at the chair I wanted.

As I wrote down the item number, Costello tried to catch his breath… but then I darted off again.  And this time Costello became increasingly confused.  “Where are you going!?!  You really need to ask someone!”

Me:  (Calling behind me), “I know where I’m going, come on!”

Costello:  “But the chair was back there!”

Me:  “I know, but that was the display model, we need to get to the warehouse!”

Must like my first trip to IKEA, Costello just couldn’t seem to wrap his brain around the experience… especially at the pace we were plodding through.  And his confusion and concern heightened every time we turned a corner and found more random displays and bins of stuff:  Office furniture… kids bedding… house wares…

Costello:  “We’re going the wrong way.”

Me:  “No we’re not… you have to trust me.  Come on!”

Honestly, it really felt like we were running for thirty minutes.  And all the while… with every stride, Costello was the voice of descent… not trusting… not understanding… and I just kept going, unwaivered by his calls to ask for help.  And in his disorientation… his only choice was to keep pace and follow.

And then… finally… we rounded a corner and BAM!

We were in the warehouse… Costello stopped for a split second, his jaw opened… and it only took him a second to find his words… “You have to be kidding me…”

Me:  “Come on!  We need aisle 21!!!  Aisle 21!

Day 1236: SchutzHappens, November 2011 - Beautiful Day

Day 1220: The Chair, Part 40 – The Curse of Being Thrifty

The lengths Serena and I have gone in order to save a few bucks tend to borderline on the absurd. 

In order to save money on our first house, we opted to do the renovations ourselves… although neither of us had ever tiled anything beyond a six inch mosaic square in an art class.

On our first trip overseas (before joining the service and after having Grayson) we decided a 6 hours layover after an 11+ hour flight was doable… since the layover would also come with a minimal cost savings.

While on our six week Home Leave to Atlanta… we decided not to rent a car.

Hey!  Let’s setup our own wedding!  (The Chair, Part 3)

And when we needed a stroller in London, we ask our friends to bring one with him…

For some reason, when it comes to saving money, Serena and I still behave as if we are poor college kids just trying to scrap by… then again we have two kids and a mortgage payment… so… we might not be in college anymore, although I was in the process of writing my Graduate thesis during the time period of ‘The Chair’, we’re still poor in our own minds.

Although… I prefer the term ‘thrifty’… and someday I hope we learn how to do a cost/benefit analysis… because… well… sometimes the savings isn’t worth it.  Like when we need a new rocking chair, because ours is packed in a storage container in Hagerstown, (The Chair, Part 5). 

About a week before Costello arrived with our new stroller, Serena and I had been on a quest of our own.  To find ‘The Chair’… a rocking or gliding nursing chair… and honestly, they were pretty hard to find… and the ones we did weren’t VERY expensive.  The cheapest we could find was at Hammonds, a prominent department store in London, for about £350.00 (roughly $550.00).

Aghast at the price, I suggested we go to IKEA… a suggestion that has become my great folly in life.  With Costello at my side, fresh off the plane/bus/train, I would never have been able to predict how ridiculous our adventure would become… and most importantly, the ridiculous number of blog entries I would get out of this horrible period in my life.

The trip to IKEA took an EXTREMELY long time:

The Chair, Part 1

                The Chair, Part 4

                                The Chair, Part 6

                                                The Chair, Part 9

And there we were… on a cold rainy January evening, somewhere outside London, staring up at the behemoth… the worst place ever created by man has ever created (Part 7 and Part 8)… and we were about to walk into the heart of the beast.

Dang it… why do I need to be so darn thrifty all the time!?!

Day 1207: SchutzHappens, October 2011 – ‘Rain On Me’

Day 1203: The Chair, Part 39 – The Arrival

I think you’re all eating right.

Today I was planning to post our October Family Video, but just before loading it I noticed something didn’t render correctly… so instead… you get another episode of ‘The Chair’.  Lucky you!

So… yeah… Costello spent about seven hours on a full bus with a stroller on his lap… and if this feat of human endurance and commitment weren’t impressive enough on its own, remember, Costello did this right on the heels of some other serious traveling without any sleep.

Now, the timeline has probably seemed a bit farfetched.  To be honest this all happened over a year and a half ago and some of the timing is a bit fuzzy.  So, for this post I went back and found Costello’s old itinerary and things seem to check out.

He started at 3:40pm (EST) the previous day when he flew from Atlanta to Charlotte.  Then, after an hour and a half layover he boarded a second flight leaving at 6:20pm that evening.  His scheduled arrival in London was supposed to be 7:20am (3:20am EST) the following day.  Roughly 12 hours of ‘normal’ scheduled travel time.

But, as we all know… he didn’t make it to London… for quite some time.

So, with the three hours on the tarmac, two wandering around Manchester airport, and seven on the bus… his travel time is up to 24 hours making that about 7pm London time.

To me, this timing sounds about right based on how my day turned out.  You see, as I’ve hinted in previous posts, I had planned to take that day off.  I had originally planned to meet Costello at Victoria Station as he got off the Gatwick Express.  (In previous posts I might have mentioned Heathrow, however, after reexamining his itinerary, Costello was supposed to land at the Gatwick Airport).  And after picking him up, I had planning on just hanging out for the day.  However when his flight was diverted to Manchester to wait out the ‘snow storm’ I decided to go to work until he landed safely in Gatwick and boarded the Express… I figured I would only end up putting in a half day… however… I ended up working the entire day.  A little after 5pm I walked home.

I probably got home around 5:45ish… and during our time in London, we normally ate dinner about an hour or so after I got home.  And that faithful day, Costello called around the tail end of dinner to tell me they were finally pulling into the Gatwick Airport.  He called again about twenty minutes later to tell me he had boarded the Gatwick Express.  And that is when I left to meet him at Victoria Station. 

About 30 or 45 minutes later, Costello arrived in Victoria Station.

Now… as you can imagine, after a journey like this we probably shared a very Hollywood-style reunion.  The two of us running through a crowded British train station trying to seek each other out while violin music soared to a crescendo… calling each other’s names loudly and rushing together for a well earned man-hug.   

Well… this is probably how the story will end when Brian Grazer finds my blog and hires Ben Stiller to play Costello. 

But, no… that’s not what really happened.  Sure the train station was crowded… and British.  And I we did have trouble finding each other… but when we finally connected there was no man-hug.  No, Costello simply shoved a large plastic bundle into my arms and said, “Here’s you f---ing stroller.”

Day 1195: The Chair, Part 38 – The Unbearable Awesomeness of Costello

Yes Becky… Costello is awesome.  And to be completely honest, this chapter of ‘The Chair’ was going to be called ‘The Bottle of Booze’, but your comment inspired me… yes… if nothing else, ‘The Chair’ should be a testament to Costello’s commitment and loyalty.  However, Costello is also the guy who made me watch ‘The Room’ during my home leave… which was probably the worst movie I’ve ever seen in my life… and he made me watch it on purpose… so… for that… I hate him.  BUT, for the stroller and what he went through to deliver it?  For that, we honor him today.

So yes!  Costello boarded the bus from Manchester to London with no place to store the stroller.  So, he opted to ride holding the stroller on his lap.  Little did he know how long the, normally three and a half hour, trip would take.

The first issue they faced was weather.  Although it wasn’t snowing, it was raining A LOT and the bus drivers were compensating due to lack of visibility and the fear of black ice.  Costello called me about an hour into the trip and he estimated they were probably going a little faster than half the normal speed limit.  And based on his calculations we estimated the three and a half hour trip would take about five hours.  For most people this would be death… but Costello is pretty easy going and pretty much said he was enjoying his ‘tour of the British countryside’… and then he said something about the ‘damn stroller’ on his lap… but I had already tuned him out.

Anyway… it looked like the bus ride was going to take longer than normally expected… which is understandable when traveling by bus… however, an hour later Costello called me again… and well… apparently we overlooked something; our five hour estimate was going to be on the low side.

You see… two hours into the bus ride everyone was a bit tired, however they were in good spirits.  Like Costello, they had accepted the fact the trip would probably take five hours… but then… then the bus drivers pulled over and informed the passengers they would be taking their mandated one-hour break.

Yeah… so… you see… apparently, bus drivers in England have to take an hour break after ever two hours of driving.  At least that is what THESE bus drivers claimed… I haven’t been able to verify this as an official policy though.  Costello and I figure these guys were being paid by the hour and were milking it. 

Anyway… you do the math.  We estimated the trip at five hours… so there were going to be at least two hours worth of breaks scattered into the timetable. 

As you can imagine, the passengers didn’t take the news very well.  Even Costello sounded pretty melancholy when we talked during the first rest stop.  However… when he called me from their second ‘mandatory’ pit-stop his spirits seemed up… mainly due to the consumption of ‘spirits’.

Apparently when the road weary travelers re-boarded the bus after the first stop… a few of them broke open their duty free bags.  And well… let’s just say bottles started getting passed around and the somber mood of the bus became more social.  Folks began swapping stories and singing songs… and once they had imbibed enough… like yourself… the passengers on the bus clambered to hear one story in particular.  They wanted to know why the hell Costello had a stroller on his lap… and with one more swig of Jack straight from the bottle… Costello told them… and it was awesome.

Day 1192: The Chair, Part 37 – The Stroller, Part ‘Who Cares’

Now, there is an element of Costello’s story that I’ve been ignoring.  And in case you have forgotten, it is now time for a reminder: throughout his entire trip, Costello has been carting around our new stroller.

http://www.amazon.com/Graco-SnugRider-Infant-Stroller-Frame/dp/B0007KMUH4/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1319471839&sr=8-1

He was bringing it to us in London because the box was too large to ship through our diplomatic mail service, and in addition, Costello had done a fancy two-step in Atlanta to get the stroller on the plane for free, without actually traveling with a child justifying the need for the stroller.  This is a very important distinction because I was once charged for checking a car seat when I wasn’t traveling with Grayson.

So… imagine if you will… a man in his early thirties… carrying a knapsack… looking like your average American backpacker… getting off an airplane and wandering around the Manchester airport for a couple hours pushing an empty stroller.

Well… let’s just say… it rose more than a couple eyebrows.  Nothing major… nothing particularly blog worthy… however he was asked where his child was so many times by airport security that he decided fold up the stroller and carry over his shoulder rather than have to explain how he’s the world greatest friend one more time.

Anyway, once the British Transportation Authority gave their ‘all clear’ for the passengers of Costello’s flight to clear customers and take possession of their checked baggage… it caused… well… it caused a few more issues.  Most importantly… it caused a significant space issue on the busses. 

You see, prior to the release of their checked baggage, when American Airline thought they would be forced to transport everything to London before folks would be allowed to clear customs, they hired a separate box truck to take the luggage.  A truck they no longer needed once the passengers got their hot little hands on their luggage!

So, American Airlines canceled the box truck and instructed the passengers to take their luggage on the busses.

Well… this is all fine and dandy… except they had only hired two busses with just enough seats for all the passengers.  And if you are familiar with bus travel you will know that busses have far less cargo space than airplanes AND considerably less overhead and under-seat space as well.

So… rather than describing in great detail how they quickly ran out of space for luggage… let me just throw out the word ‘sardines’ and move on. 

Honestly, the only reason they were able to get all of their luggage on the busses at all is because a handful of the passengers, who were actually headed to Manchester anyway, changed their rental car pick-up location and departed immediately after clearing customs. 

However… gaining those few seats weren’t enough to save Costello from his fate… to ride in a bus from Manchester to London with a stroller on his lap.

But then again… it’s only a three and a half hour drive, right?

You’d like to think that, wouldn’t you?

Day 1187: The Chair, Part 36 – The Checked Baggage

I’m glad it took me a couple days to pen this next segment of Costello’s journey to London, mainly because of Pauline’s comment on my last post:  “I just love the real world implementation of what seem originally like reasonable rules and regulations.”

Yes… well… it didn’t just stop with passport control… those seemingly ‘reasonable rules and regulations’ continued being tested by the practicalities of implementation.

This time, it was Costello’s checked baggage.

You see folks; Costello wasn’t simple ushered off the plane, through passport control and onto a bus destined for London… no… the ushering stopped after passport control… at which time the WAITING started once again.  Costello waited in the Manchester airport for almost two MORE hours, all the while he and his fellow passengers were told that they were waiting for the busses to arrive.  Well… that was only part of the story. 

You see… checked baggage is a funny thing.  Especially when it comes to who is liable for the baggage.  Despite what we’ve seen with United and their treatment of guitars, in theory, when you check your bags with an airline, they take over the chain of custody of your bags, thus becoming liable for them. 

Apparently, American Airline didn’t want to be liable for Costello’s bags while they were being transported from Manchester to London.  And frankly, I don’t blame them. 

American Airlines felt it was unreasonable for them to maintain control of the bags since they would be forced to hand them over to a third party mover in order to adhere to a British Transportation Authority policy.  In short, for almost two hours American Airlines was insisting the British Transportation Authority either take custody of the passengers checked bags during transport to London, OR, let their passenger’s clear customs in Manchester. 

In the end… after milling about for quite some time, Costello and his fellow passengers were called to baggage claim and were allowed to clear customs… and then… and only then… were they allowed to board the busses… busses that had been parked outside for over an hour and a half.

Day 1185: SchutzHappens, June – September, 2011 – On the Road to Find Out

I know, I know… I promised not to post anything that wasn’t directly related to ‘The Chair’ until the saga was finished… but… come on… you can’t expect me NOT to post my monthly family video (that I haven’t done for four months)!… it’s not like I’m interrupting the story to post a video of a ninja answer questions!

Day 1180: The Chair, Part 35: The Stroller, Part 8 – The Diverted Flight and the Facebook Fan Page

When we last heard from our hero and stroller schleper, Costello, his flight destined for London, England was diverted to Manchester because of “snow”… snow that wasn’t actually falling from the sky… or sticking to the ground… it was simply the idea of “snow”.  And to Londoner’s, it was a very scary idea indeed.

As for me… I walked to work… never once encountering a snow flurry or a patch of ice.

Over the next few hours Costello and I stayed in pretty close contact… all the while… Costello and his merry band of plane-mates continued to sit in their seats on the Manchester tarmac.

It was really quite something, at least from my perspective.  When they landed in Manchester, it was with the intention to wait-out the ‘snow storm’ and fly back to London the first chance they had… at least that is what the flight crew was feeding their passengers. 

About every 20 minutes or so I would received a text message from Costello saying, “We’ve been cleared for takeoff!”  And then about five minutes later I would receive another one saying, “Never mind.” 

This when on for three hours.

Until finally, they told the passengers they would not be flying back to London after all.  Instead US Airways had chartered buses to pick them up and take them back to Heathrow Airport so they could clear passport control and customs.

That’s right… I didn’t stutter.  I really said “passport control” and “clear customs”… in London… a 3 and a half hour drive from Manchester.

Apparently, the United Kingdom has a pretty strict rule about entering the country at your ticketed port of entry.  Since the final destination on Costello’s ticket said “London” he needed to go there to ‘enter the country’.

However, no matter how much a rule like this made sense when pressing ink to page… I don’t think anyone anticipated the logistic of busing a plane load of people through the English countryside in a controlled environment.

Evidently, those logistics were discussed for another hour until finally, the US Airways flight crew announced that passengers would be allowed to disembark and pass though passport control in Manchester… however… their checked luggage would still be bused separately to London. 

So… finally… at around 11:30am… Costello entered the United Kingdom… stroller in hand. 

And to cash in on Costello’s misery, I started a Facebook Fan page called “Costello’s Never Ending Trip to London”… and if you ask Costello… he’ll say is still on his way there now.  “It’s just another detour JP… just another detour.”

Costello’s Travel Time:  14 Hours and 25 Minutes

Day 1171: The Chair, Part 34 - The Procrastination

To my ‘adoring’ fans.  With all my heart.  I apologize.

I have strung you along for too long and enough is enough!  It is time to bring this saga to its rightful triumphant conclusion!

However, to simply slap an ending onto ‘The Chair’ would be unjust to the story and unfair to my readers.  ‘The Chair’ has become legend beyond reason and to honor this legend I must continue where I left off: spinning a seemingly random tale of a man, his best friend, a stroller, Ikea… and ‘The Chair’.

To my loyal fans, my promise to you is this: I will post NOTHING except episodes of ‘The Chair’ until I have completed the saga and given you, the reader, the ending you deserve.

Although… between you, me and the brick wall… I’m afraid you’re in for a letdown.

Now, for the rest of you.

Those of you who haven’t a clue as to what I am talking about… well… all I can say is “Welcome to ‘The Chair’”.  For better or worse… you’re going to hear the meandering tale of ‘The Chair’… a tale so epic a traveling minstrel would need to restring his mandolin eight times before coming to its conclusion. 

You see, over a year ago, on August 1^st, 2010, I started telling a story about a chair I bought from an IKEA in London… and well…  I must have been in a bit of a playful mood because the telling of this story got WAY out of hand… and well… 32 posts later I still hadn’t finished the story… and then… I never finished it. 

The last time I posted an entry bearing ‘The Chair’ moniker in its title was September 15, 2010… and that was just to make fun of a friend who was making fun of how long the story was taking!  I haven’t actually posted anything substantial about ‘The Chair’ since September 4^th, 2010!

Anyway… over the last year I’ve been receiving hate mail from readers who STILL want to hear the end of the story… and now… they get their wish.

So… I would suggest you get take a moment and get acquainted, or reacquainted for that matter, with ‘The Chair’.  Here is a link to all 33 posts so far: http://schutzhappens.blogspot.com/search/label/The%20Chair?updated-max=2010-08-14T05%3A57%3A00-04%3A00&max-results=20

(You will want to scroll down to the end of the page and read UP so you can experience the story from the beginning).

Cheers!  The procrastination is over!  Well… almost…

Coming soon: ‘The Chair’, Part 35: The Stroller, Part 8!

Day 1160: ‘EGOTing’ - A New Beginning

Three years ago I started ‘SchutzHappens’ (schutzhappens.blogspot.com), a blog chronicling my life as a husband, father, and United States Foreign Service Diplomat.  When I started writing, the intent was merely to keep my friends and family back in the States up to date with our travels… however, two years in I discovered ‘SchutzHappens’ was being syndicated (via RSS feeds) on numerous Foreign Service and travel oriented websites… honestly, I had no idea and up until then, I was pretty sure my mother was my only reader.  I was wrong.  Apparently, my musings on fatherhood and life overseas had become quite popular.

However… there is slight problem. 

Although ‘SchutzHappens’ is (seemingly) widely read… the blog itself suffers from a general lack of focus.   Since I didn’t think anyone was reading, I pretty much talk about whatever I want.  And to be completely honest, when I’m not talking about my beautiful wife and amazing kids… or our random misadventures around the world… I have a tendency to write (ad nauseum) about another passion of mine: the entertainment business.  I’ll admit it… I am a complete freak about movies, television, music, and theatre.

As avid ‘SchutzHappens’ readers know, I wasn’t always planning to be Diplomat.  Once upon a time I was an actor.  I was an honest to God working actor (and theatre director)… who got paid for it and everything.    Now, keep in mind, I was mainly a stage actor, so if you’re tempted to ask, “Having you been in anything I’ve seen.”  The answer is more than likely ‘no’.  However, I still got paid for it… but as glamorous as it might sound, theatre work isn’t always stable and I found my life moving into a slightly different direction.  Luckily, my theatre connections opened a lot of doors and I ended up teaching high school theatre and eventually moved into public arts management; which I did for over seven years… before my professional life took a much more dramatic turn and I found myself working overseas.

Anyway, when it comes to ‘SchutzHappens’, over the last year its thematic divide between my new Diplomatic life verses my old Theatrical life has become more and more defined… and as a result ‘SchutzHappens’ now appeals to two very different audiences: those who want to read about my family and our life in the Foreign Service, and those who want to read my overly analytical opinions about the entertainment business.

So… what is my point?  Well… I think it’s time to make a thematic split.  Don’t worry.  ‘SchutzHappens’ isn’t going anywhere.  It will always be my primary blog of about life.  However, it is time to give my entertainment obsession its own home… and that is why I created ‘EGOTing’ (egoting.blogspot.com)… a place to let my movie freak flag fly.

Anyway, if you are reading this on ‘SchutzHappens’, sit tight!  I’ve been back from Pakistan and with my family for two months now, AND we arrived in Paramaribo, Suriname last Friday.  And get this!  Our car, UAB, and HHE from Serbia arrived before we did!  Stay tuned, I have lots of stories to share about our Home Leave, our move, Suriname, Grayson’s first day of school… and an xBox I rebuilt for $32.00.  Oh, and to my ‘Adoring Fan’ who commented on my July 15^th post about ‘The Chair’… you are my number one priority.  The fun starts October 1^st. 

As for ‘EGOTing’… there are less than 100 days left in the year and you know what that means… less than 100 days to qualify for the Oscars.  There are going to be some SERIOUS movies coming out and I live down the street from a movie theatre… that actually screen movies in ENGLISH!!!! 

Sweetness!

Day 1090: That’s All She Wrote

Well… today marks the end of my 353 days in Pakistan.  Actually, by the time this entry posts I will be 10 hours into my trip home… and I’ll still have about 14 hours until Belgrade. 

Let’s see… at the moment of this posting (10am EST) I will be about halfway into my second of three flights… somewhere in-between Dubai, UAE and Frankfurt, Germany.  Erg… that flight is seven hours of pain!

After a three and a half hour flight from Islamabad to Dubai and a three and a half hour layover… getting onto a seven hour flight is not my idea of a good time… but totally worth it.  I just hope there will be some good movies.

Anyway, I am REALLY looking forward to get home, although it’s all still a little hard to fully process. 

Now, there is nothing hard to process about getting back to what I do best: being a husband and father… but I am having trouble processing the fact I don’t have to come back to this place.

Don’t get me wrong, I don’t want to come back… but a year is a VERY long time.  And every time I’ve been home in the last year we’ve always had the knowledge of my return to Pakistan looming over our heads… and it’s pretty stressful.

So now, I haven’t quite processed the fact that this year is actually over… that when I return home there will be nothing looming. 

I am sure an overwhelming rush of relief is coming my way… and I can’t wait to feel it. 

Anyway… when it comes, there’s no time to truly enjoy it. 

We’re only going to be in Belgrade for about a week and then we’re off to Washington.  I decided to schedule my consultations and training before Home Leave… at this point I’m not very happy with that decision, but flight routing from Atlanta to Paramaribo is much better than from Washington, so… yeah… what are you going to do?

So… all you folks rocking the Oakwood save some room at the pool for the Schutz’s!  We’re on our way “home”!

Day 1078: Another Gift from the Carpet Brothers

I’m starting to think the Carpet Brothers have been following my blog… although… if they were… they wouldn’t have needed to call me for the correct spelling of my name.


Anyway, they just called me wanting to know how much longer I was going to be in town and they also wanted the spelling of my name and Serena’s.  “My Brother’s and I wish to have a special gift made for you and your wife; we will certainly have it made before you leave.  We will call you soon.”


Honestly, the two coasters were enough and I am feeling quite touched and very excited.  Of course I told them it wasn’t necessary, arguing that a gestures of friendship isn’t necessary is pretty futile over here… so I didn’t object too much.


Who knows what it will be!  Or if it’s something Serena will want to show off in her house… but regardless, it will be something special with a great story.  We shall see.


The odd thing is this.


The call was the second time the Brothers have reentered my life, in a way, since posting my last entry.


Yesterday, a work buddy of mine named Bruno, who bought three rugs from the Brothers (after I introduced them) came up to me, “Hey, the Brothers keep calling us to see if we’d like to go out to dinner.”  (I’m using the word ‘us’ because Bruno is one of the lucky few here with his wife.  Unaccompanied posts pretty nice for couples without kids.)


Oh, and by the way, dinner invitations from the Brother’s are normal.  They are really into networking… they have invited me numerous time, but I’ve never been free… and to be honest, I’ve have shied away from their invitations because I didn’t really have anyone to go with.  I really like the Brothers, but in general I don’t feel comfortable going out to a dinner in Islamabad alone.  


So, yesterday Bruno opened the door.  


I didn’t really know where he was going at first.  Bruno is well over six foot, former marine, build like a brick house, and his normal everyday tone of voice is “I hate you”… he’s a teddy bear once you get to know him, however, because of his tone you never know where he’s coming from.


“Yeah, so these Brothers of yours keep calling us, they want to take me and the wife out to dinner.”  


Since I’m never really sure where Bruno is coming from, I never beat around the bush with him… so I just blurted out, “So, are you guys going to go?”


Bruno just paused for a minute and said, “We’re thinking about it…  But we’re only going to go if you come with.” 


There is was… 


Me:  “Let’s do it.  Set it up and tell me when.”


Sooo… looks like my last couple weeks are going to be action packed!

Day 1076: The Carpet Brothers

The other day I teased at my carpet buying experience and the plethora of stories I’ve collected as part of that journey.

Honestly, there are a TON of stories here, BUT, the most important is my story of ‘The Brothers’, as I call them, and the very sweet gift they gave me as a farewell.

I met The Brothers last fall at a Diplomatic Bazaar… you name it, there was someone selling it.  And honestly, there had to have been 15 to 20 different carpet venders.  It was kind of a mess.  They were all grouped together on the same lawn... no discernible breaks from one vender to the next and no aisle to walk through. 

Remember, back in the States before joining the Foreign Service, I used to plan and manage Arts Festivals… which is pretty much the exact same concept as this Fall Bazaar I was attending.  And when planning an arts festival (a good arts festival) the number one rule is to spread your product around the venue.  You don’t want two landscape painters next to each other, you don’t want two jewelry artists next to each other… you get the idea.

Well, at this Bazaar all of the venders were clumped together based on what they sold.  Brass was with brass, furniture was with furniture, and all 15 to 20 carpet venders were jumbled together in one huge mess.

Imagine living in a city designed on a grid with no roads, where all the buildings butted up against each other.  Imagine how hard it would be to get home if your building was in the center of that grid.  Well… that was where The Brothers were.

I wasn’t really looking for carpets that day… honestly, I hadn’t been in Pakistan long enough to know up from down, let along the fair price for seemingly random items.

But I was looking for carpet coasters.  Carpets small enough to use as coasters… for drinks.  Serena didn’t ask for much that early into my tour (going into Christmas), but she had specifically asked for carpet coasters… so I went looking.  And you know what?  None of the venders had them, at least not the venders with the primo locations around the edge of the carpet enclave.  

The carpet vender grid was pretty darn intimidating.  Everyone was going for the hard sell… and to get to the interior venders, you literally had to trample on layer upon layer of carpets, so the idea of walking into the center of the beast wasn’t really my idea of a good time.  But I teamed up with a couple friends and we ventured in.

It was one… big… crazy… melee.

“Sir!  Look at this!  You must buy this!”

Me:  “Do you have carpet coaters?”

“No!  But I have lovely bed sheets!  Here feel the bed sheets!  Rub them on your face!”

Me: “Do you have carpet coasters?”

“No, but I have this very beautiful table cloth, you must buy it for your wife of she won’t love you or bare you children!”

Me:  “Do you have carpet coasters?”

“No, but I have three slices of cucumber.  Don’t you like cucumber?”

Finally, I stumbled across a young man in tradition Muslim garb.

Me:  “Do you have carpet coasters?”

Him:  “Yes, I have many different varieties.”

And he did.  And he turned out to be the ONLY vender carrying such a small and simple item.

He made me a good price and I bought quite a few.  And as the day wore on and my friends saw my coaster loot, they made me introduce them to The Brothers… by the end of the day I probably took about a half dozen friends to buy coasters from them.

And with each visit ‘The Brother’ chatted me up a bit.

On the day of the Bazaar I met the Middle brother and the Youngest brother… and I have to be honest, I was very impressed with the Middle brothers English.  And when I compliment his English I’m not talking about his accent or my ability to understand him… I’m talking about his use of the language.  He was using a lot of western colloquialisms which is not the norm here and he was also laughing at my dry sarcastic jokes… legitimately.  

When you’ve been overseas for a while you quickly realize sarcasm and dry humor almost NEVER translate even when you share a common language.  Most of the time you just get a blank stare or a confused smile… and then you have to explain the joke… which never goes over well and you end up saying, “Nevermind,” and look like an idiot… which I’m pretty good at.

Anyway, I could have a normal conversation with the Middle brother without having to be self conscious about words I chose to use, or more accurately, the words I blurted without thinking.

Needless to say, when he invited me to visit him in his store I legitimately took him up on it… although because of work and R&R travel, it took me a few months to organize my initial visit.

When I finally did, I had the opportunity to meet the Older brother, who was very candid and honest… and very western in speech, while being very traditional in dress.  I immediately like him.

Shopping in Pakistan is a very interesting experience and it takes some getting used to… mainly because it’s not a cold and disconnected chore like it is in the States.

When you shop in Pakistan, it’s more like a visit.  You sit, you talk, you get to know each other, have a cup of tea, show off photographs of your kids, and exchange stories of the world.  It’s not uncommon for 30 minutes to pass before you even look at a product, let alone discuss price.

And interestingly enough… the venders who want to talk price and push a sale up front are usually the ones who are trying to rip you off.  It’s the venders who behave as if you’re a guest in their home and are in no rush are the venders you want to invest your time in, because after your visit, they believe they are selling to a friend rather than a customer.  And at the same time… I feel like I’m buying from a friend too.  It’s actually pretty darn fun… and not to sound overly cynical… it’s a great sales tactic as well.

ANYWAY, as I visited with the Brothers their story came together… explaining why they were so adapt to western vernacular and understanding of western culture and thought, while also balancing their traditional religious beliefs.

They were educated in Canada.

At least the two eldest brothers, the youngest is probably only twelve or thirteen and speaks limited English… only what his brothers have taught him.  

As their story goes, the brothers are sixth (or whatever) generation Turkmen carpet dealers.  They specialize in Turkman/Afghani Tribal rugs and their great-grandfather had become very popular in the Diplomatic circles because of his honestly and fair dealings.  

I actually saw a lot of this while working with them.  The Brother would go out of their way to point out flaws in their carpet, “See here?  When we got this rug, it was damaged here and we had to repair it… however, this rug is 60 years old and after the repair, the only way we could match the vegetable dyes was by using chemical dyes… so I cannot tell you this carpet is 100% natural.”  

And this wasn’t an isolated occurrence… they did this a few times… occasionally… and only once did I find the flaw glaring.  Most of them were so perfectly mended that I never would have noticed if not told.

Anyway, they great-grand father handed the family business of to their grandfather, who handed it off to their father… each generation building their business and reputation even bigger and better.  They had become so big and integrated into Diplomatic community that their father decided it was important to send his sons for a western education… and so the two oldest moved to Canada to attend college.

Then, their father passed away suddenly.  Unexpectedly.  Probably a heart attack.  

The boys instantly inherited a business they understood… grew up in… but weren’t properly prepared to take over.  It hadn’t been the family’s tradition to write things down… they were a family of oral tradition.  And their father died before he had passed his knowledge onto the next generation.  Their father passed with all of this business contacts tucked away in his head.  

The boys moved home and were forced to start over from scratch.   

They’re smart though, they knew embedding themselves in the Diplomatic Community was the best way to go… and the generations before had taught them that going for the quick sale/rip off wasn’t the key to success.  Diplomats have money… and they have friends… and being fair and honest is the best way to meet their friends.

They must have made me for being someone with friends and clout among his friends when I brought so many to buy carpet coasters.  But, they treated me right and gave me great deals… at least I think they were great deals.  

I ended up buying quite a few rugs from them.  And I know a number of my friends had also visited their store and bought from them.  I know, because my friends told me they were going… and they show me what they buy (if they buy).

And every time one of my friends visits them (whether they buy anything or not) The Brothers always send me a very nice thank you email.  

However, what impresses me the most about their emails, as if I wasn’t impressed enough already, is that they never say, “Thank you so much for sending your friend to our store.  He looked at many rugs, did he say anything?  Do you think he will come back and buy?”

No… when the brothers email me.  They never mention my friends visiting… the never mention sales… all they say is, “Thank you for being a kind and generous friend.  I hope all is well in your and your family’s lives.  May God bless you.”

Short and sweet… you know?  I didn’t really grow up in a ‘thank you’ card writing family, but my step-mother-in-law swears by it… and I’m starting to recognize the impact.  

Anyway, now for the point of my story… however, to truly appreciate the POINT, you probably needed all the exposition.

The Brothers had been holding quite a few rugs for me, but I was having a devil of a time getting to their shop to pick them up.  And I was starting to get nervous about my upcoming pack out, so I asked if they would be able to deliver.  And of course they were more than willing to accommodate, but while I was on the phone they said, “Are you leaving for vacation?  Or are you leaving permanently?”

I could tell they were sad when I told them the answer.

Well… then they came to deliver the carpets the other day I had a chance to host THEIR visit my home.  And have one final talk.  I like them a lot.  The Brothers are good people.  

And when the time came to say goodbye, The Brothers gave me two carpet coasters.  

“These are for you as a gift from us.  One for you and one for your wife.  So you can always remember how we met.”

Yeah… seriously… true story.  

The gift totally took me off guard.  I remember a lot of things, but at the time of their presentation the circumstances surrounding our initial meetings had completely slipped my mind.  

It’s amazing though.  I’ve done my fair share in keeping the Pakistani carpet industry gainfully employed… but these two small, simple carpet coasters will probably be my most prized mementos of my time in Pakistan.  

They certainly have one of the best stories.