Things I learned on our trip to Las Vegas and San Diego

Gary and Jackie (for those who don’t know Jackie is Jan’s twin sister and Gary is the brother in law/my cousin) invited us to go with them to San Diego to see BYU play San Diego State. On Friday Jan and I flew to Las Vegas where Gary and Jackie picked us up in their shiny new truck and drove to San Diego. After the weekend we flew back to Medford on Monday.

Allegiant Air flies very cheap flights out of Medford to Las Vegas. Part of this is to encourage flyers to stay at the casinos and lose their money. Allegiant cuts on expense waste by having the counter people also load baggage on the planes. The fares were cheap but I kept wondering if the counter people/baggage handlers were also the flight crew. I was a little scared wondering if the pilots were working for minimum wage.

We stayed on the fourteenth floor at the Omni in downtown San Diego next to the bay. A few blocks prior to getting to the hotel Friday evening we heard loud bass bumpity bump music and noticed girls walking around in little black dresses. We figured out that these were “clubbing” dresses. The short black dress must be mandatory. Seemed like guys could wear whatever they wanted. This should bring a feminist outrage. When we got into our room we looked out the window and noticed the club was on top of the Marriott a few blocks away. I wanted to join the rooftop party but Jan wouldn’t let me put on my little black dress.

I’ve always avoided valet parking. I didn’t know what was expected with the tipping ritual. I figured the joy of parking my ‘96 Corolla would be tip enough for any valet. There wasn’t much choice but to use the “tip takers.” We never did figure out where the cars were parked. Could’ve been at a McDonalds.

We had a great view of downtown San Diego from our hotel window. The room was comfortable but there were a few notable things about the hotel. San Diego must be the bottled water capitol. I believe some water company intentionally clouded the city water so all would need to drink bottled water. The shower would alternately give you hot water then quickly change to cold. This caused various screams and other utterances.

We were excited to see the room had a little snack bar with candy bars and drinks, alcoholic (we weren’t excited about that) and sodas. The snacks however were in a vending machine the size of a hotel room refrigerator. The vending machine was locked like a safe and I think special passwords and chants were needed to open. After reading the little hotel brochure we found why the machine was locked. Candy bars were $3.50 each, water bottles $3.00 and pop similarly expensive. This stuff had to be gold lined with diamonds replacing the nuts.

One more thing about the hotel: the bathroom had an opaque glass sliding door that, when closed, still had about an inch of openness on either side. We made secret pledges not to go to that portion of the room when someone was using the shower or for any other reason not to be mentioned here.

The hotel was located just across the street from PetCo Park. No, this wasn’t a huge dog park, but the stadium where the San Diego Padres play. No, not a Catholic mission. The Padres is the baseball team. As we walked around the stadium we came upon a formation of tourists on Segways, looking very much like a small flock of baby ducks closely following their mother. They were taking a tour of the bay front. I’ve always wanted to ride a Segway. When I’m old and can’t move, instead of a walker strap me onto one of those and I can zip around the nursing home with my one hair flapping in the air stream.

The USS Midway, an aircraft carrier, is parked in the harbor. The tour was interesting. Sailors lived in very cramped, hot, noisy, claustrophobic quarters. I imagined the air would also have been filled with cigarette smoke. I had more admiration for the sailors.

Next to the Midway is a 25 foot tall statue from a famous photo of a sailor kissing a young nurse in Times Square in August 1945. Couples stand beneath the behemoth statue and try to recreate the same pose while friends or relatives captured the moment on camera. I asked Gary if he wanted to try it. He looked at me funny and declined. I meant try it with our wives.

Along the wharf we ran into many visitors donning BYU paraphernalia, shirts, hats, tattoos. I was excited to see them at such a remote place. As we passed them I’d tip my Cougar cap and say, “Hey Cougar fan.” Most just grumbled and looked like I was an annoyance. I almost resorted to trading in Cougar Cap for a San Diego State lid.

We missed the opening kick off because our twin wives insisted on seeing one more room off the deck on the Midway. Jackie and Jan will do just fine in the next life because time seems to not exist in their world when together.

As we walked toward the stadium low flying jets roared overhead. I hoped this was part of the pregame activities and that the stadium was not on the air base landing approach. As the jets flew over, the sonic blast caused car alarms all over the lot to start honking in tribute.

Backpacks or other carry on items were allowed in the stadium if the packs fit with in the box by the entry. Gary’s back pack was rejected, even though it seemed to fit. We told Gary we’d get seated as he ran the pack back to his truck. Moments later we were surprised to see Gary standing next to us.

“How’d you get back here so fast?”

“I just tried a different gate and they thought the pack was fine.”

I learned an important lesson from Gary about trying all your options before giving up in defeat and taking the long walk back to the truck.

Whenever Gary and I get together we discuss the similarities of our wives. We feel better when we find out Jan and Jackie could be the same person split in two. Jan and Jackie always walk together in front of Gary and I. We’ve accepted that as part of the deal. It’s interesting to watch people’s reaction to the identicals. Older twins usually aren’t seen together, sort of like seeing a snow leopard in its natural Himalayan environment.

The San Diego temple is beautiful. With it’s spires scraping the sky, many believe this temple reminds them of Sleeping Beauty’s castle at Disneyland. Although closed Sunday afternoons there were several groups or families walking around the grounds. Grandparents reading a child’s point of view book about the temple to a grandson, a group of people from Europe strolling through the gardens and a crying infant who’d had enough. There were also families taking photos of each other with the temple in the background along with the customary young couple with spires in their eyes, holding hands and occasionally pausing to look at the temple then at each other.

After visiting the San Diego Temple we got back on the road heading to Las Vegas. Once back, the first thing Crime Scene Investigator Gary did was scan the newspaper. Most of us look for the comics, but Gary scans the pages to see what murders took place during his absence. He’d find a story and say, “Sure glad I missed that one.”

So, there’s a quick wrap up. Those were good days.

These are a few of my creepiest things:

(sung to the tune of These are a Few of My Favorite Things)

It’s said they appear in the late evening, when the sun is just setting and darkness begins to steal the light.

The Old Navy store manager’s voice began to rise as he introduced his employees to me with their stories of the frightening phenomenon.

“I felt a chill run down my spine,” one witness shuddered. “I turned around slowly, not knowing what to expect.”

The employee pointed towards the top of a clothing rack, “There, it was right there. I didn’t know what it was. It looked like a disembodied child.”

“A child?"

“ Yes, a child, except there were two of them, with feet and hands like sock monkeys.”

“Although tragic, children with no fingers or toes do not qualify as supernatural. However, it would be interesting to discover how the youngsters climbed onto a clothes rack.”

The employee’s eyes widened. “They had no head, either! A neck, but no head!”

“OK, now we’re getting somewhere!”

A quivering voice from another witness confirmed the sighting, “I saw it, too. I ran out of the store like a shoplifter whose pants were stuffed with ripped off sweatshirts. I didn’t want to come back the next day. It took three quarts of Dr. Pepper to stir up the courage to walk back into the store.”

“Is there any other place in the store where these experiences have occurred?”

"Yes, I’ve seen something,” a young woman added. “Something in the back room. We call it….the mannequin morgue. It’s where the mannequins for our store displays are pieced together.”

“Pieced together?”

“Yes…when we can’t find an arm or leg we steal an appendage from another to complete the model.”

“So, is that why some of the male mannequins have nail polish?”

“Not necessarily. Some of the males are, well…they’re just different.”

The body of a third employee began to shake, “I won’t go in there when it’s dark.”

“Why not?”

“Because it’s dark.”

“What do you mean, dark?”

“It’s dark, I can’t see.”

“Have you ever witnessed anything in that room you’d consider unusual?”

“No, it’s dark.”

“Let’s get back to the manifestations of what I’ll refer to as the partial-child.”

Another witness timidly raised his hand. “It was wearing an Old Navy tee. The tee shirt was a youth small with crew neck and short sleeves, grey, one had Batman on the front, the other Wolfman.”

“You seem to have sharp eyes.”

“I just know my tees. Well, actually, I wear those. See, it’s my undershirt.

“Enough already! I don’t want to see any underclothing! I just want to know if this place has supernatural activity. Now, did you really see something?”

"When I saw this, this apparition…this horrible thing, my hair stood on end.”

“I find that interesting because you’re bald,” I pointed out.

“Well, I do have hairy arms. See… feel, nice and soft.”

“So, Mr. Smith, what do you think is happening in this store?" the manager asked. “Do you think it’s haunted?”

“Actually, I find all of you sorta scary. And the prices on your sweatshirts are horrendous.” I gathered my notes and walked towards the exit doors. “Hey,” I shouted back. “Did you know you have a male mannequin up here wearing a bikini?”

“Like I said,” replied one of the witnesses, “some of them are… just different.”

Below is a photo taken with a super sensitive high density retro glow hieroglyphic camera. See for yourself and make your own conclusion…

"Boundless" Playground

Recently there were a series of articles in the Mail Tribune concerning a new “Boundless” playground at Hoover Elementary School. “Boundless” means the playground is accessible to all children, including those in wheelchairs or with other disabilities. The idea for the playground came from a local mother. To quote the article:

“When the Hoover Elementary School Parent-Teacher Organization met with the principal nearly two years ago about raising money for a new playground, one image came to parent Tracy Dillard's mind: children in wheelchairs sitting on the edge of the school's playground watching other kids play.”

The new playground is to be fully wheelchair accessible “with wheelchair ramps to all five levels of the main play structure, engineered wood-fiber bark and sensory activities for children with autism.”

“The playground also includes two bucket-seat swings, six regular swings, three climbing walls, slides, monkey bars and a sidewalk with surfaces that rock back and forth.”

OK, I know where some of you think this blog is going…don’t sell me short here. Honestly, I have great empathy towards those who are disabled, particularly those confined to wheelchairs. I can’t imagine what that would be like. A playground where these kids could enjoy fanciful freedom and all children could play would be tremendous.

When I first read about the playground I wondered how children in wheelchairs are going to benefit from this? What sort of play activities can they participate in?

So, I paid a visit to the playground. Obviously, I went when there were no kids; middle of an afternoon on a weekend. I didn’t need the tense glares of mothers who were guarding their cubs as I took photos of the structures. Sans kids was a better alternative.

As the photos indicate this is a great looking playground. I love the rubber matted play area. I’d like to have this stuff in my bedroom so I won’t get so banged up falling out of bed.

There’s a ramp that goes to the top level of the play structure. I searched for other indications of how a child in a wheelchair could really play here. My investigation led me to this conclusion: that was it, a ramp leading to the top of the tower. The Boundless Playground has taken the kids and their wheelchairs from the sidelines watching other children play to a lookout post where they now can watch children play from a different perspective.

The other playground equipment, such as monkey bars, climbing walls and slides, I doubt any of those are wheelchair accessible.

If I was a child in a wheelchair I’d want to have real fun. It wouldn’t cut it to just be pushed up a ramp into the middle of the structure. Whirl me, twirl me, thrill me…so I can have real sensory experiences.

What I’m about to share are a few of my ideas on how to help these children have similar playground experiences as healthy kids. I hope you don’t think this is meant to be funny or mocking those with disabilities. I think these are great ideas and the children would cheer with excitement at the play opportunities.

Most likely these ideas can never be implemented, given the laws and regulations on preventing true childhood adventures. But, I’m throwing these out there. If you have additional ideas let me know.

Swings: this is basic playground equipment. However, the swings would need to be bucketed and enclosed with lots of straps and restraining belts. Sounds like a torture device but safety concerns come first. The swing wouldn’t be attached to a low cross bar that limits altitude but to a bar as tall as other swings, giving full pendulum experiences to these kids.

Merry go round: the merry go round that kids push in circles until their guts explode is another sensory opportunity. Deep grooves would need to be cut into the floor to accommodate the wheels of the chairs. The chairs would be backed into these ruts and secured. Then an adult or other child could spin to dizzy oblivion.

Slide: Using the same futuristic technology developed for pinewood derby ramps, wheels on the chairs fit into groves. The slide sides would be chair high to prevent falls. The end of the slide slowly declines easing the chairs to a gradual stop.

Coaster: The other kids will be jealous and ask their mom’s if they could be handicapped if this last suggestion was ever created. This is similar to the slide idea but a small roller coaster track, complete with modest climbs and descents would whirl kids around the outskirts of the playground. Now, the able bodied kids will be standing on the sidelines, staring at the wheelchairs, wanting to be included but can’t.

This could be a valuable life lesson for these kids and greater compassion for the handicapped.

Trapped in the Women's Department

I try to avoid embarrassment as often as possible. I doubt that any of us thrive on feeling our faces turn various spectrums of red, our heads slinking toward our shoulders in the classic turtle maneuver. Occasionally our hands spontaneously cover our faces. When we face embarrassment, well, we don’t face it.

I’ve had several encounters with this mortifying experience.

Jan likes to take me shopping. She asks my opinion on how she looks in a multitude of blouses, pants and shoes. Not wanting to get trapped in a female scheme I tell her that it doesn’t matter, anything looks great on her.

Jan likes to wander when shopping. Often I’ll turn my back and she vanishes. Adding to the disappearing problem is that Jan’s stature is about the same height as the clothes racks. I’ve come to recognize the extreme top of her head.

As Jan plucks clothing like ripe peaches from a tree I know the inevitable is coming. This is planned humiliation. Naturally, any piece of clothing she gathers needs to be tried on. It doesn’t matter if everything is the exact size she’s already wearing, each item needs to be experimented for proper fit, length, color or pattern.

Of course, the only place to scrutinize the experimental frocks is in the dressing room.

“I’ll be just a minute” she tells me while pointing to a metal folding chair and non-verbally telling me to sit.

That minute turns into ten, fifteen then twenty. I shift constantly on the chair, sitting straight, bending over, crossing my legs, and stretching. The longer I sit, the more stares I receive from the sales clerk who apparently just started her shift.

I stand, shouting plea fully into the dressing room, “Hey honey, are you still in there?

Three yeses from different voices answer.

I start to pace, constantly scanning for a way out. In my impatience I didn’t notice how far I’d wandered from the women’s clothing laboratory. My eyes darted to the right, then to the left. I started to sweat. There I was, right in the middle of lingerie.

I closed my eyes tight, wishing I could teleport to somewhere safe, like the men’s restroom.

I stood motionless like a captive in a game of freeze tag.

Someone grabbed my arm and a husky voice whispered, “Sir, you’re coming with me.”

As I was escorted from the department I stammered, “MyMMMy wife’s in the dressing room. I’m jus-jus just waiting.”

“Jan, help me!” I screamed.

“Hey, he’s with me” Jan shouted from the dressing room door.

The security guard let go of my arm and I ran back to my heroine, hugging her tightly.

Jan’s eyes squinted and began to twitch. “I asked you to sit on that chair. I was only a few minutes.”

“But I…”

“Never mind, let’s go.”

“What clothes are you buying?”

“I didn’t like any of them, let’s go to a different store.”

As Jan grabbed my hand I looked for anyone with a gram of compassion, “Help me!” I pleaded with the women still in the department, “Help me!”

One woman we passed shook her head and muttered, “Husbands.”