Family in Paris: It's Getting Hotter

I am back from Paris. It was very hot. And I need to vent.

Before I do so, I want to stress that we had plenty of fun on this trip. When I told my mom I was invited to present at the Critical Theories of Antisemitism conference, she seized the opportunity to organize a whole family vacation around the trip, including my parents and my brother, sister-in-law, and their daughter (who's six months younger than Nathaniel). And as far as that project is concerned, it was great. We saw a lot of neat things, and more importantly, we got to spend time together as a family.

But on the travel side of traveling, boy did we get rogered.

As a quick point of reference, here was what the plan was, travel-wise:

• June 12: Depart PDX for Chicago O'Hare, then continue onward to Paris.
• June 13: Land in Paris.
• June 13-17: Stay all together as a family in an AirBnb in Passy
• June 17: Brother and his family leave for wine country.
• June 17-20: Parents and our family go to an AirBnb in the Marais while I attend the conference.
• June 20: Parents leave for Normandy.
• June 20-24: Jill, Nathaniel and I go to a hotel in Montparnasse for the remainder of the trip.
• June 24: Fly home (via O'Hare), arriving in PDX at 9:30 PM.

With that said, here's the actual blow-by-blow.

June 12

• We arrive at the airport three hours early for our international flight, scheduled to depart at 1:45 PM. As soon as we get to the ticketing desk, we learn that our flight to Chicago has been delayed such that we'll miss our connection to Paris. The woman at the desk tries to rebook us on another flight.
• We spend three hours at the airport perpetually almost being booked on another flight. At one point she told us to run to the Delta counter to check our bags for a flight leaving in 40 minutes, only for that flight to get delayed (and thus make our connection impossible). Nathaniel is a good sport for most of this, but by the third hour he's starting to get understandably cranky.
• Eventually, the agent gives up and tells us to call a phone number. The earliest we can get rebooked? 7:30 PM ... the next evening (through Heathrow). It will get us to Paris a full thirty hours later than scheduled.
• We go home.

June 13

• I hear it might be a bit warm in Paris, so I decide to use the extra day to get a quick haircut. I'm so excited, I accidentally back out of our garage before the garage door actually, you know, opens. Now it won't close. Oops. No time to deal with that.
• We get a worried text from our neighbor who noticed our garage door was open. Aren't we supposed to be on vacation? That stung.
• Off to the airport (we manually closed the garage door before we left)! We've actually done the PDX-Heathrow flight before with Nathaniel before, so we're optimistic. And it pays off -- he sleeps through most of the flight! Way to go champ!

June 14

• We land in Heathrow. There is a tram to take us from where we land to the main terminal.
• Just kidding: the tram is out of service. We have to walk the entire distance.
• We get to our departure gate, which is actually apparently a bus depot. And given how long the bus ride to the airplane took, I think our plane may have actually been on a runway in Gatwick.
• We get to our plane. While we've purchased a seat for Nathaniel so he doesn't have to sit in our laps, the gate agent tells us that our car seat won't fit in the plane seat and we'll need to gate check it (along with our stroller, which we had already been gate checking).
• We board the plane and reach our aisle. The flight attendant is confused as to why we don't have a car seat, since it would absolutely fit on the plane.
• We land in Paris. Our "gate checked" stroller and car seat are not gate checked at all but are sent to regular baggage claim.
• Finally we reach the AirBnb 30 hours later than expected. My parents had hired a private chef to cook dinner from us; he's in the middle of serving when we arrive. It looks delicious but we're too tired to really appreciate it. It is a warm evening, but it will get hotter.

June 15-17

• We spend several quality days together as a family. I take the metro to a bunch of art galleries and auction houses (including one that had a very neat preview of a chateau's collection being auctioned off), then walk to the Arc de Triomphe. 
• It is getting hotter.

June 17

• Brother, sister-in-law, and niece all say goodbye, while the rest of us travel to an AirBnb in the Marais. The apartment has two main levels (not including a terrifying basement we don't mess with). The bottom level has two tiny bedrooms and a bathroom. The upper level has a spacious kitchen and living room, all as one space. The problem is that the crib will literally only fit in the upper level, meaning that once Nathaniel goes to sleep we're all trapped in our hobbit hole bedrooms from dusk till dawn.
• I spend the day visiting art galleries. It is a lot of fun.
• It is getting hotter.

June 18-19

• I attend my conference, which is very nice, and my parents are able to watch Nathaniel so Jill can have some personal time as well.
• We book a time at an indoor petting zoo near our next hotel in Montparnasse, since that seems like a fun activity to do with Nathaniel.
• It is getting hotter. News reports speak of a generational heatwave making headlines around the world, with temperatures into the 90s and still rising. Paris is in a state of declared emergency.

June 19

• Our last night in the Marais. We are ready to check out of the AirBnb in the morning and move to our final stay location, the voco Paris Montparnasse, while my parents depart for Normandy.
• At 10 PM, we receive a message from the hotel that the air conditioning is broken. They suggest calling them for compensation and assistance rebooking.
• We call them. Nobody answers. The hotel may not even be open, as it is getting hotter.
• Scrambling, we book a new hotel near the Opera. It is almost three times as expensive as the old hotel -- which is what happens when you book on eight hours notice in the midst of a generational heatwave. Luckily, the email from voco suggested they'd provide compensation.

June 20

• We check into our new hotel. The people there are lovely and we really like the neighborhood. I decide to spend the day with the family to ensure we get settled rather than attend the last day of the conference. In spite of everything, I'm glad to be at this new hotel, particularly given their robust assurances that their air conditioning was in top-notch condition.
• On the other hand, Nathaniel learned how to whine today when he doesn't get what he wants. Literally -- it was a milestone discovered mid-trip. How lucky for us.
• I do go to the conference closing dinner in Montmartre. I consider not going, because I am very tired and it is getting hotter, but I decide to attend. By sheer exhaustion-related luck, I elect to Uber to the restaurant rather than take the metro, which turns out to be exceptionally wise as the restaurant is up a mountain of steps from the closest metro stop and the temperature is now approaching 100 degrees. Disaster averted.

June 21

• Conference is over -- now it's just family time! We decide to go to the petting zoo anyway, even though it is nowhere near our new hotel. It is a lot of fun, though it was extremely hot waiting outside on the building waiting for it to open.
• It is getting hotter.

June 22

• We finally get in contact with the voco to discuss compensation. We ask to be paid the difference in rates between the hotels, since we had to rebook at the last minute. The man at the desk is confused as to why our new hotel costs so much, and says that had we called him, he could've found a hotel for much less money, so no, he will not reimburse us for the difference. After all, what if we had booked the Ritz Carlton?
• We point out that we did not book the Ritz Carlton, that the reason the new hotel was more expensive was because it was last-minute in the midst of a historic heat wave, and that we tried to call the original hotel and nobody answered so we were forced to do our best. These are apparently not persuasive arguments. There will be no reimbursement.
• Defeated, we decide to see the Calder exhibit at the Louis Vuitton Fondation. It is fantastic, and more importantly, extremely well air-conditioned, which is important because it is getting hotter.

June 23

• It's our last full day in Paris. We have some ideas for some things to do, but ultimately we decide to stay close to the hotel and its air conditioning. It is the hottest it has been the entire trip -- over 100 degrees.

June 24

• Time to go home! We leave for Charles de Gaulle at 10 AM. Today will be even hotter than yesterday, but thankfully we'll leave before the temperature peaks.
• Our flight to Chicago takes off on time. But Nathaniel -- who has always been fantastic on flights and has really been a rock star this entire trip -- decides that our luck has run out. He screams for the first third of the journey, then for the second third decides he needs to run up and down the aisle. Finally he sleeps a little bit for the final hour (but starts screaming again during the landing).
• We arrive in Chicago forty minutes early, and we have a three-hour layover. How lucky for us! We can relax, let Nathaniel run around, change his diaper, even grab some dinner. We just have to get through customs, pick up our checked bags, recheck our checked bags, and go back through security.
• Customs line stretches approximately back to Wisconsin. A nice official spots us and moves us up in the line (thanks Nathaniel), but then the customs agent checking people at the front of said line goes on break and isn't replaced. The line stops. It's been an hour since we landed.
• Finally reach the customs agent, who is very interested in exactly what sort of "academic conference" I was attending in Paris. I debate whether telling him I was at a conference on "global antisemitism" will make it more or less likely I'll be thrown into a prison camp. Land of the free, baby!
• We wait for our checked bags. They don't show. Whoops -- turns out there were two flights arriving from Paris at the same time, and this was the other one. We sheepishly move to the correct baggage carousel.
• We wait for our checked bags. They don't show. Whoops -- turns out someone took them off the carousel while we were at the wrong one and set them aside. We sheepishly gather our bags and then immediately recheck them. This process feels gratuitous. It's been two hours since we landed.
• There is a tram to get from the international to the domestic gates. It is up a flight of stairs. There is one elevator with a capacity of approximately 1.5 people, which moves at a speed best described as "glacial", and a line of twelve people in wheelchairs in front of us. We decide to take an escalator, studiously staring upward to avoid seeing any signs suggesting strollers can't go on escalators.
• After the tram and two more elevator rides, we get back into a long security line. By the time we reach the front, it has been three hours since we landed. We arrive at the gate fifteen minutes before boarding, having had no time to relax, let Nathaniel run around, change his diaper, or grab dinner. My eye is feeling irritated.
• We board the plane. The plane then sits delayed on the tarmac for an hour. My eye is getting worse, and starts exploding with tears. Fortunately, being absolutely exhausted and being unable to open my eye without excruciating pain synergize surprisingly well, and I sleep through most of the flight. Even better, so does Nathaniel.
• We arrive in Portland a mere hour late (better than thirty hours, amirite?). Grab our bags, grab a taxi, get home before midnight. Remember we need to call someone in the morning to fix the garage door. Go to bed. Pray that Nathaniel approximates sleeping through the night (he does, but only because he doesn't fall asleep until two AM).

Fin.

Mal Voyage

Greetings from Portland!

That's not a sentence I wanted to write. If things had gone to plan today, Jill, Nathaniel and I would be en route to Paris right now. But a delay on our first flight meant we were going to miss our connection in Chicago, and from there the day devolved into three hours of camping in front of an American Airlines agent as she strove unsuccessfully to find us any alternative flights. 

There were several occasions where we almost got booked on a flight to London, but then we kept being kicked out. But the most comical sequence came in attempting to get us on a flight to San Francisco (to London, to Paris). The timing was tight, since by the time we got around to that solution the flight was leaving in forty minutes (of course, we had been at the airport for almost two hours at that point). So the gate agent told Jill to get in line at the United booth so we could check our bags immediately in the event she was able to get us on the flight. Which she was able to do ... until she wasn't ... and then she was again ... and then she wasn't ... and then she was. And I have a corresponding text chain with Jill where I tell her to come back ... no stay in line! ... wait, no, come back--DON'T COME BACK GET BACK THERE!

And after all of that, the San Francisco flight was delayed too, so we wouldn't make the London connection.

After three hours, we gave up and rebooked a flight tomorrow evening to London and then onward to Charles de Gaulle, which will get us in a scant thirty hours later than scheduled. Huzzah.

A few bits of silver lining. 

1. We'll be able to sleep in tomorrow morning.
2. We've actually done this Portland --> London flight before, and Nathaniel did great on it. To be sure, five months old and seventeen months old are very different in terms of travel experience. But Nathaniel is a phenomenal sleeper and the flight is a red-eye, so we're optimistic.
3. And speaking of Nathaniel, he did pretty great all told. Most of the time we were at the airport, he was cheery and climbing around and generally a happy camper. By the end -- when we had blown past lunch time (we gave him snacks) and nap time -- he was understandably starting to get a bit cranky. But he instantly fell asleep on the Lyft ride home (which again augurs well for sleeping on the plane).

Anyway, the trip is off to an inauspicious start. Here's hoping tomorrow goes better.

Flying Solo

I'm back from my giant transatlantic trip. The schedule was:

• Depart Portland on Monday
• Arrive in Stockholm on Tuesday
• Deliver lecture on Wednesday (read a write-up on it here!)
• Leave Stockholm and arrive in Chicago on Thursday
• Give talk in Chicago on Friday
• Attend remainder of conference on Saturday
• Fly home Monday.

Woof! That's a lot! But it was all good.

The Chicago leg of the trip was relatively normal -- my wife and baby met us there (my mother traveled with them from Portland to make it easier), and after the conference we caught up with various friends and had a nice vegetative Sunday.

The Sweden leg, by contrast, represented my first international trip by myself. Actually, I'm not a big international traveler at all -- this was just my fourth time out of the country. Of those, the first was a cruise with my family through northern Europe when I was in high school (that included Stockholm as a port of call, as it happens) and the second was a college Model UN tournament at McGill in Montreal. After that, I didn't go abroad again for almost twenty years until this summer's England trip (where my whole family came along).

This trip, by contrast, was just me, and I had plenty of time to myself. I landed at around 1 PM local time and I knew I needed to force myself to stay awake until dinner Tuesday to stay on any kind of schedule (even though that would mean having stayed up well over 24 hours). So I went to the Moderna Museet, then took a leisurely walk through Stockholm until I got back to my hotel. On Wednesday, a similar situation -- I delivered my lecture in the morning (I woke up around 4 AM), but the remainder of the conference was in Swedish, so I spent the day walking around town visiting various art galleries until dinner time.

This may seem cheesy, but I'm actually pretty proud of myself. To be sure, "took a solo trip to a foreign country" feels like a milestone one is supposed to hit at around 23, not once one is nearly 40. But I have a strange relationship with travel -- as a young person, I was a great traveler (I jet-setted across the country in high school going to debate tournaments without a care in the world), and then starting around when I graduated college I grew to become an incredibly anxious traveler. I've gotten a little better, but even today I greatly, greatly prefer to travel with my wife.

Unfortunately, with a nine month old baby, it really wasn't feasible for her to come all the way out to Sweden with me (success of our England trip notwithstanding). And ... I did fine! I managed jet lag well, I was able to get around town and see the sights fine, I even was able to navigate the train at Arlanda airport when my taxi driver dropped me off at the wrong terminal. Does it help that everyone in Sweden speaks English perfectly? Of course -- but it's still a big deal to me.

Obtuse Corneal Hydrops

Well, my corneal hydrops are back. And just in time for me to get on a nine-hour flight to London with a four-month-old baby!

I've done some of my own research, which I know are among the scariest words a non-medical professional can speak (but like being a mad, ignorant voter, it's so fun!), but really I don't think I was able to do much damage, because it doesn't seem like much is known about the condition by anyone. 

Corneal hydrops occur when a layer of your cornea called Descemet's membrane rips, letting fluid leak where it shouldn't and resulting in extreme tearing and eye swelling. It is an uncommon side-effect of my already uncommon keratoconus -- don't I feel special -- and nobody really seems to know what causes it or how to prevent it. Likewise, in terms of treatment the prevailing medical opinion seems to be summarized as "suck it up, buttercup". There are some saline drops to draw out the fluid, and you can take Tylenol for the pain, and other similar OTC medications for other secondary symptoms (e.g., Sudafed for sinus congestion) but that's about it.

There was one interesting thing I did find, though. Virtually every source on corneal hydrops appends "acute" in front of it ("acute corneal hydrops"). The "acute" means that it presents suddenly and without warning. But that doesn't describe mine -- in my case, I start noticing symptoms progressively over the course of a week or so. In fact, even that's a bit misleading, since the "symptoms" that correlate with hydrops for me -- essentially, sinus-like symptoms on the left side of my face -- are not as far as I can tell normally associated with hydrops at all. But for me, they always go hand-in-hand, and they predict a forthcoming hydrops event with alarming accuracy.

So a week ago I started noticing those symptoms start to appear and wrote my doctor asking if there was anything I could do to forestall the hydrops before my trip. He replied, in so many words, "nope -- good luck!" I was able to manage the sinus-symptoms with OTC medication, but last night my eye finally -- for lack of a better word -- exploded. Have you ever woken up feeling dehydrated because of the amount of fluid you've lost leaking out of your eyeball? Because I have!

This is the third time I've had hydrops in the past year. The first time occurred while I was on a plane from Portland to Tallahassee, and it was deeply unpleasant (as in, the flight attendants who saw me asked if I needed paramedics to meet me at the gate). I think the dry airplane air exacerbates the effects dramatically. So you can imagine how excited I am to get on a nine-hour international red-eye flight with an infant while ailing with this particular condition.

We leave on Wednesday evening. Saturday, Sunday, Monday, Tuesday ... basically, four and a half days for my condition to improve.  I'll stock up on eye drops and other palliative interventions, but still -- pray for me. (And remember, all of this could have been averted if we had a functioning health care system).

The Third Stage of Road Construction

Years ago, I remember reading a Dave Barry column that was centered around the various stages of road construction. The first stage entailed closing down the road and making everyone's life impossibly inconvenient. "In the second stage", he continued, "nothing happens. This stage may last for several years."

This old column came to mind recently as I was navigating my own commute to Lewis & Clark. This past summer, some signs went up saying that the street which anchors my normal route to work would be closed from July 13 to October 13. Why? I couldn't find any information (finally, just a few days ago, I found this). But no matter -- the detour wasn't too extensive, and of course, most of the work would be done over the summer when I wasn't going into the office that frequently.

July, August, and September go by. I drive past the work site, and I never once see anybody doing anything. There's just a lonely sign announcing a road closure and a promise that the route will reopen on October 13.

Finally, October 13 rolls around. I drive past the work site to see if the closure has ended, and I see two things: (1) People finally doing something that looks like work (at the very least, some construction vehicles and folks in orange vests; and (2) a sign saying that now the road is closed through November 1.

As far as I can tell, for three months from the time the road was closed until the time it was scheduled to be reopened, nothing happened. Work didn't actually start until after it was scheduled to have finished.

Come on Portland -- get it together.

Elevate Your Game (Reconstruction Conference Edition)

I'm in Chicago right now, presenting at a conference on the Reconstruction Amendments back at the University of Chicago Law School. I'm obviously excited to be here -- slightly less excited to have unwittingly been thrust onto a largely-maskless plane thanks to a murder cult judge on an ego trip* -- but I'll leave off on more until after the conference is over.

Rather, I want to talk about my hotel's elevators.

I'm staying at The Study at University of Chicago, which apparently just opened this past October. Overall, it seems nice, and I'm having a pleasant stay. However, there's something weird about the elevators. 

They have one of those sensors where you need to scan your room card to go to your floor. That's normal. What's not normal is that the sensors are approximately 18 inches from the ground. I'm not especially tall, but I have to bend way over just to reach them. They could not be placed in a less convenient spot unless they were on the elevator ceiling.

The reason this baffles me as that elevators-in-hotels-with-sensors are not a new concept. I'm not going to say we've utterly perfected the genre, but they're hardly uncharted terrain. Elevator manufacturers have been building these things for quite some time, and have long since learned (if there was ever any doubt) to place the sensors at a convenient arm-accessible height. That's definitely already the default option. So what possibly prompted this UI disaster? It feels like it must have been a conscious choice by someone, but I cannot for the life of me figure out what prompted it. It's like if, decades after manufacturers started putting radios in cars, one car came out with the radio controls placed inside the glove compartment. Why? Just, why?

Anyway -- as inconveniences go, this is very minor. The rant is not so much because I'm upset by this, but again, because I'm just flummoxed as to how it happened.

* My view on masking on airplanes is relatively straightforward. On the one hand, I get why people would rather be unmasked and are happy to no longer wear them. On the other hand, I also do not get how or why wearing an extra scrap of fabric on one's body -- even one that you'd rather not wear! -- has become the greatest sacrifice and deprivation of human liberty since slavery. Ultimately, I believe the decision on when masking should end in a pandemic should be made by medical experts, not random district court judges in Tampa embodying pilpul.

Moving Into Port(land)

The movers come tomorrow and Wednesday, and then on Thursday we depart again -- this time for Portland. Knock on wood, we will be there for a long, long time (though ideally not in this apartment -- not that there's anything wrong with it, but we do plan to buy a house in a year or so).

Doubt I'll be blogging much, if at all, until we're settled in. Enjoy the rest of the Olympics!

Gone Beachin'

FYI everyone, I'm on vacation through Wednesday. We're in Rehoboth Beach, Delaware right near the boardwalk, and I'm happy as a sitting duck.

The picture is Michael Bedard's "Sitting Ducks", which was featured on the wall of the beach house we stayed in the first time my family took me to Rehoboth Beach as a kid.

Pre-Portland Thoughts

Our move to Portland is rapidly approaching -- more so, because tomorrow Jill and I are actually going to the beach for a long weekend, so we have even less time left in Chicago than the calendar would indicate.

It's an interesting time to be moving to Portland. Fortunately, the city seems not to have been incinerated off the face of the earth. But it still is among the go-to references for conservative pundits looking for an urban hellhole ravaged by antifa and anarchists. "Don't let our city become another Portland!", they say. Meanwhile, the people I've met in Portland all universally rave about how incredible the city is. Other cities should be so lucky as to become another Portland.

Short stint back in Chicago notwithstanding, we're functionally moving to Portland from Berkeley, and that's clearly the best way to do it, because all the potential negatives of Portland are like baby versions of what you'd encounter in Berkeley. Homelessness crisis? I didn't see one person masturbating on the sidewalk on my visit. Housing prices? It's so cute what people outside the Bay Area think is expensive! Pretentiously crunchy granola vibes? Please -- Berkeley will take that granola, spit it out, and then eat it again freegan-vegan style.

So we're really just left with all the positives, including (normally) beautiful weather, lush greenery, a great restaurant scene, and a population that is markedly united in deep city pride. I wish there was an NHL or MLB team in town, but you can't have everything.

I'm so excited -- I can't wait for us to begin our new lives in the City of Roses.

We're Going To Die in Portland!

Tomorrow, Jill and I are headed off to Portland. This time it's just an onboarding/apartment hunting trip -- we're returning to Chicago on Sunday, and not actually moving until August. But by the end of this trip, I'll be officially started as an assistant professor at Lewis & Clark!

"We're Going To Die in Portland" refers to something Jill said shortly after I accepted the job at Lewis & Clark. We've been extremely mobile in our relationship, including one period where we lived in five cities in five years. That's because every single job I've had since graduating Carleton has been temporary -- either explicitly (as in a fixed term clerkship), or implicitly (as in my stint at Covington when I knew I would leave when an academic opportunity emerged). This job, by contrast, is of indefinite duration -- there is a very real chance we'll be spending the rest of our lives in Portland. And Jill expressed that realization by saying, in a voice of pure wonderment tinged even with a little excitement: "I'm going to die in Portland!"

The Chicago Return

Next term I'll be visiting at DePaul Law School, teaching constitutional law. That means that this week, I'm moving back to Chicago. The movers come tomorrow and Tuesday, and we fly out Wednesday, so today is our last "real" day in our Berkeley apartment. 

I have very fond feelings towards Chicago -- I've often described it as my favorite "big" city (I consider Minneapolis and DC to be "mid-sized cities") -- and so I'm happy to heading back. We're actually moving into the same apartment building I lived in my last year in Chicago (all the way back in 2011), which makes for some nice continuity.

Of course, moving to Chicago in the dead of winter after six years in Berkeley will be an ... experience. And the idea of going anywhere in the midst of a pandemic is pretty anxiety-producing on its own. But assuming I survive the move itself -- literally -- I'm glad to be heading back.

There is some bittersweetness, obviously, in leaving Berkeley. While I've never thought of myself as a Bay Area lifer, the apartment I'm in now is actually the only apartment Jill and I have ever re-signed a lease in. Every other place we've lived in, we've lived in for no more than one year. It was really nice to have a place that we actually were able to settle into and call home, and I'm going to miss that terribly.

Also, my friends in Berkeley. I'll miss them too.

Moving is tough under the best of circumstances, and these circumstances aren't anywhere close to "best". But I feel fortunate I'm heading to a place I know and know I like, and of course, I'm going with a wife whom I know and know I like. So in the end, I'd say it nets out positive.

Happy Holidays!

I'm off to the Florida panhandle to spend time with my in-laws -- then back to California where my college buddies will come to me for New Year's!

Whatever you're celebrating this season (Christmas, Chanukah, Kwanzaa, Festivus ....), I hope it is suitably celebratory.

Off To Minnesota

It's double-Minnesota-trouble!

I'm heading off to Minnesota tomorrow. First item on the agenda: a wedding in Lutsen (way in the northeastern corner of the state). That's this weekend. But next weekend is my college reunion, down in Northfield (pretty far south, relatively speaking). We'll be staying with my in-laws in Owatonna (as featured in the New York Times!) for the interim.

So I'll be pretty busy. Looking forward to the trip, but not looking forward to the long flight or equally long car rides. Minnesota is actually pretty big, especially once you stop ignoring the northern two-thirds of it!

Honeymoon Highlights

Greetings from Berkeley!

We're back from our honeymoon, feeling relaxed, refreshed, and (thanks to the miracle of time zones) actually waking up at a reasonable hour of the morning. Here are some of the highlights:

Hot dogs eaten: 5 (each). One of the selling points for this particular resort (the Sheraton Maui) was that there was a poolside hot dog stand. Even as we booked it, I remember thinking to myself "sure, a poolside hot dog stand sounds awesome in concept, but how much of a role will it really play in a honeymoon?" Answer: a massive one. Eating hot dogs and fries in a poolside cabana while watching March Madness on the iPad was the best way I can think of to spend an afternoon.

Fish eaten: 2. Jill and I don't really like fish, but we were on an island and figured why not try something a bit new? The Mahi Mahi tacos weren't really to our taste, but the Ahi Poke bowl was absolutely delicious -- I'd totally eat that again.

Fish seen: countless. We went snorkling! This is actually a big deal, as Jill has for as long as I've known her been deathly afraid of fish (this is independent of her not liking the taste of fish). But she was a very brave girl, and we actually both had a really nice time! The beach by the hotel was amazing for this, incidentally -- ten feet from the shore, and suddenly there are fish everywhere in all the colors of the rainbow.

Sunglasses purchased: 1. I should be wearing sunglasses all the time -- I have an eye condition that makes me very sensitive to sunlight -- but I've never really gotten into the habit. But our poolside cabana came with a free trial pair of Maui Jims and whoa. It was like I was seeing colors for the first time. It was actually almost unnerving how much more vibrant the world was. So I bought a pair, furthering the inevitable convergence of my own sartorial style into my father's.

Waters submersed in: 4. Ocean, pool/lazy river, hot tub, and spa bath ritual. The last one might have sold me on baths, where those baths are in jacuzzis with perfect temperature regulation and some sort of magic passionfruit powder that made my skin super soft and not at all wrinkly.

Private dinners: 1. The most classically "romantic" thing we did -- other than perhaps the spa bath ritual -- was a private dinner on the lawn for just the two of us, looking out over the beach and cliff rocks. It was a really nice experience. They had four menus to choose from, and we kind of had to hack all four of them together to come up with a four-course meal that didn't include pork or shellfish, but it all worked out -- and that's what got us to try the Poke bowl.

New breakfast sensations: 1. Loco Moco! I'd heard of it before -- it's a ground beef patty over eggs and fried rice, with onion gravy -- but I hadn't tried it or even seen it served anywhere until we got to the hotel. But it is so good. And it doesn't seem like it requires any particular ingredients local to Hawaii, so how has this not made the jump to the mainland yet?

Bird alarm clocks: 1. There are many birds fluttering around Maui, singing their sweet little songs. There was also one particular bird who, from roughly 6:00 AM to 6:30 AM each morning, would just start shrieking at the top of its lungs like it just stumbled across the murder room in a horror movie. Thankfully, 6:00 AM Hawaii is 9:00 AM Pacific, so this was about the time we were getting up anyway. But still -- somebody get that bird to therapy. It's clearly seen some stuff.

Lizards in room: 1. Girls like swarms of lizards, right?

Hours spent off the resort: 0. We kept thinking about it. "Maybe we'll do an ATV tour of a neighboring island" (they never got back to us). "Maybe we'll go shopping in town" (we're spending enough here, thank you). "Maybe we'll go whalewatching" (the booking hut seems awfully far away when we're nice and comfy in our cabana). Ultimately, I'm content with our choice here.

The Honeymooners

I'm headed off to my honeymoon!

Technically, I'm leaving tomorrow for my friends' wedding in Durham, North Carolina (at 7 AM, since our original flight was grounded). We get back Sunday, and then Tuesday we fly out to Maui for the actual honeymoon!

But brief stop back home aside, it makes sense to view it as one continuous period where I'm out of commission. And while I don't plan to wholly detach myself from the world, I am going to try to make a conscious effort to unplug a little bit. It's a rare thing for me, but it'll probably be healthy.

I get back home -- for good -- Sunday, March 24. See you all then!

Next Year in ... Boston?

Off to the final leg of our holiday travels: Cambridge, Massachusetts, for an annual New Year's Celebration with some of my best college buddies. Since this is 2016, we need to catch a 6:15 AM (4:15 AM Pacific) airport shuttle to travel hundreds of miles away from where we went to college (Owatonna is just a hop, skip, and jump away from Carleton). But so it goes.

Quite possible this is my sign-off for the year. Soon 2016's reign of terror will close, and 2017 can bring in a new reign of terror all its own. In any event, I hope everyone's celebrations are fun and safe, and if I don't write again, see you on the flipside!

In the future, when skyscrapers yield to spacescrapers that reach out into the heavens, there will be no 2016th floor.

— David Schraub (@schraubd) December 29, 2016

Happy Holidays from Outside the Bubble

Greetings from Owatonna, Minnesota, where I am celebrating Christmas with my girlfriend's family. Of course, for many of you this post is a sheer impossibility, as we all know that liberals (especially Berkeley liberals) never venture and in fact are incapable of surviving outside of our "bubble", and Steele County went for Trump 58/33.

Yet here I am, alive, safe, sound, and perfectly content. It's almost like that narrative was ridiculous on its face (admittedly, the incredible mashed potatoes that were served with dinner tonight are certainly doing their fair share to help with the "content" part, though perhaps not the "alive" part).

Hope everyone is having a lovely holiday season, and best wishes that 2017 somehow is at least slightly better from the flaming trainwreck that has been 2016.

Las Vegas Trip: Recap and Review

Jill and I, along with my parents and brother, all were in Las Vegas this weekend for a much-needed vacation. All of us love it -- which is amazing, because we're pretty different types of people. My dad and brother are into the traditional Vegas life (playing craps into the wee hours), while Jill and I (and my mom) aren't really gamblers at all. But for us there is great food and other fun activities, and we can keep ourselves amused with video poker without breaking the bank. Highlights:

* Gambling: As mentioned, I'm not a big gambler generally. Mostly I just play video poker, interspersed with some video blackjack. This trip, however, my brother discovered a video craps table and taught me how to play. I certainly see the appeal, and I even was able to fly solo for awhile (it looks more intimidating than it is). But even still, most of my time was spent doing video poker. And luckily for me, I had a bonanza Saturday (for me -- I don't bet large enough figures to actually have a true bonanza) which included hitting a straight flush. While I ended up giving all of the money back on Sunday, it was nice to play with house money for the majority of the trip.

* Boxing: This trip was not originally envisioned to be a "boxing" trip. But that ended up being somewhat of a theme. I found reasonably priced ring-side (fourth row) tickets for Friday Night Fights card at the MGM Marquee ballroom, so Jill, my father, and I all attended. It was a fun show (all but one of the fights ended in knockouts). There was also boxing on NBC Saturday -- putting all my wagers together on both evening's entertainment, I ended up $6 (hey, being up is being up). But in reality, my overall win/loss stat for this trip hinges entirely on a bet that remains pending. I put $60 on Mayweather by decision (technically, Mayweather and "will go" 11 1/2 rounds); a bet that will pay slightly over double if it hits. Getting 2:1 odds on Mayweather by decision? I'll take that action all day.

* Other sports: A few years ago, we were in Las Vegas for my brother's birthday. My gift was a bet on the Cowboys game, and we just hung out in the sports book watching the game with a rooting interest and chilling out. It was really nice. This year, Jill and I had some time to kill on Sunday, so we decided to do the same thing with the Maryland/Nebraska basketball game. I bet on Maryland to win (they were favored by 3), and Jill picked the "over" on points (123). It was a fun and exciting game that (in general and from the vantage of our bets) went to the wire. Final score: Maryland 64, Nebraska 61. My bet pushed, but with 125 points Jill collected on hers.

* Food: Since (despite what the last three entries indicate), I'm really not a huge gambler, the highlight of any Vegas trip for me is the food. This trip we mixed up some old favorites with some new entrants.

* Noodles (Bellagio): My favorite Thai dish is Pad See Ew (or Gway Teow -- as best I can tell there is no real difference between them). The best Pad See Ew I've had in a place I've lived is at Amazing Thailand in Minneapolis, though Asia Nine in DC is a close second. Frankly, Berkeley should be ashamed at how badly it is losing this category. But anyway, the best Pad See Ew I've had anywhere is at Noodles. Just spicy enough to be perfectly flavorable, and delicious in every bite. Jill, Jason and I had been before and we nominated it for our first restaurant Thursday night. It was a hit with the parents as well. And when Jill and I had one more dinner before we left Sunday night, we thought about trying someplace new -- then decided we'd rather just close the show at Noodles again. And it was delicious. Again. I will, however, agree with everyone who says it is overpriced. 9/10.

* Burgr (Planet Hollywood): Another repeat for Jill and I, new to Jason and the parental units. This is a high-class burger joint, and the burgers were exceptional. Dad and I also shared a pudding shake (half traditional chocolate milkshake, half caramel pudding), which was excellent (and impressed dad with the novelty). French fries were wonderful -- I brought the extras back to my hotel and tried in vain to keep nomming on them (unfortunately, I was too stuffed from all the other meals). The only thing that didn't match the memory was the spiced "devil dogs". Though impressive in length -- at least 1.5 feet -- they weren't sauced with quite the kick I remember. 8/10.

* Crush (MGM Grand): This was the first newbie for us, which Jill and I attended late after the boxing match. We weren't super-hungry, so we kept it light -- a caesar salad for her, a bowl of french onion soup for me, and a margherita flatbread for us to share. Of the three, the caesar was genuinely bad with an overwhelmingly mustard flavor. The french onion soup was genuinely excellent -- savory with a perfect cheesy crouton on top. And the flatbread was fine but unspectacular. It's hard to screw up a flatbread. The highlight might have actually been the blackberry cocktail Jill ordered, which even non-alcoholic I thought was wonderful. 6.5/10.

Trevi (Caesar's): Jason recommended this one (I don't think I had been, though I admit it looked somewhat familiar. I have spent a lot of time in the Forum shops). Jason raved about it, but I was a little underwhelmed. The mozzarella fritta had virtually no flavor (and nowhere near enough marinara sauce to make up for it). Their specialty was a "lasagna pizza" that they graciously made with ground beef instead of ground pork. It was good, but nothing eye-popping. This was still a good meal under any objective metric, but given what one can find in Vegas I can't say I came away impressed. 6.5/10.

Mastro's Ocean Club (CityCenter): We always try to do one nice steakhouse, and the Ocean Club was this year's pick. Mom and Dad had been to the version in Scottsdale, but it was entirely new on the rest of us. I ordered a bone-in filet (I always get a filet), which was excellent. My dad kept insisting that the mac-n-cheese here was the greatest dish ever invented, but I can't say I shared his enthusiasm. Other sides (and the "butter cake" dessert) were right on par with the filet though. But the true highlight was Jill's "Kansas City Strip". If there was one dish this entire trip that knocked my socks off, this was it. And the thing is, a New York Strip (I checked -- they're the same thing) is by far my least favorite cut. Yet this rendition just melted in your mouth like butter. It was absolutely unbelievable. Also, I have to compliment the ambiance of the restaurant, which had this very cool inside balcony thing going on. On price points -- well, you're going to be paying a bit to eat here. The party behind us (15 people) reportedly racked up a $3700 bill. 8.5/10.

Gordon Ramsay Pub & Grill (Caesar's): Jill and I are big GR fans, and we had already been to Burgr and (on a previous trip) GR Steak. So we wanted to complete the Ramsay trifecta. While still quite enjoyable, Pub & Grill definitely ranks last of the three. For someone like me who doesn't eat pork or shellfish, the menu ended up being surprisingly limited (and even the pretzels we ordered as appetizers turned out to have bacon in them! They did take them off our bill). The ale onion soup was quite good, and the wings Jill got were delicious. But when you're up against Burgr and GR Steak, that's tough competition. Oh, and I think this is massively overpriced -- the pub burger, for example, is far more expensive than what you'd get at Burgr. What's the point of that? 7/10.

Bonus hearsay entry -- Tao (Venetian): This was the scheduled meal that got bumped for boxing. But my mom and brother still went, and they thought it was great. But they did say that it might not have been for Jill and I. It was absolutely for the bachelorette party that was knocking back sake bombs like there was no tomorrow.

* Unbreakable Kimmy Schmidt: This might get its own post, since it's not really Vegas-related except for the fact that Jill and I started watching it there. So all I'll say here is that (a) it rapidly shifted from "show we'll watch after we finish House of Cards" to "show that we'll finish binging before returning to House of Cards" and (b) we watched 9 episodes in 24 hours, including one in the back of the Planet Hollywood sports book waiting for the Maryland/Nebraska game to begin. It's really good.

One More Fast

It has been a busy few weeks hasn't it? Packing for my move, driving from Minneapolis to DC, Rosh Hashanah, moving into the new apartment, trip to Vegas, unpacking boxes ... it goes on. Today was supposed to be cable and internet installation, but, you know, it's Comcast, so obviously that didn't happen (I'm using the internet in the resident lounge, which was its own special saga). Tomorrow is Kol Nidre and Yom Kippur is on Saturday. I'm hoping to duck out of the break fast to watch the Mayweather/Alvarez PPV -- I bet a total of $80 on that fight ($40 on Mayweather and $40 on it to go 12 rounds).

How was Vegas? Well, on the gambling side, let's just say that I'm suddenly very glad to be starting work at a big DC law firm. But the food was magnificent. In addition to Gordon Ramsay steak, we also ate at Central (I'd been to the one in DC and knew I liked it), Noodles (the penang fried kway teow needed some soy sauce and sriracha, but was fantasstic once I mixed those in), Gordon Ramsay's BurGR (delicious, even it did take me way too long to recognize the play on the spelling -- we're going to try to make our own devil dogs), Julian Serrano's Tapas (awesome), and D.O.C.G. (excellent homemade pasta).

Still, I'm quite tired, and ready for all the chaos to end. We probably have to do some shopping on Sunday (our dresser didn't survive the move), but after that it's clear skies ... I hope.

Greetings from (near) the District!

Happy Labor Day! We're in DC (well, technically Bethesda), staying at my parents house for the next few days as the moving truck catches up. But soon we'll be moving into our DC (well, technically Arlington) apartment. This, of course, is the first time I've really "lived" in the DC area (not counting some stints of summer employment) since I left for college. I'm very excited.