This Old Geek

Ladies and Gentleman, boys and girls, Geeks got to explore. There is stuff that geeks gotta do. There are some worthy rambles to be taken.  That’s doesn’t immediately mean Comic-Con (not that there is anything wrong with that), but there other worlds to conquer.

There is a vast world of geekihood out there, that calls out to step away from your screens, and come look at ours. One of the things that music geeks (you know who you are, current downloaders, former gawkers at Carly Simon album covers while you listened to Zep or AC/DC over the record store sound system, thrift store rummagers,  the t shirts in your wardrobe that aren’t superhero laden) and make the pilgrimage to the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame in Cleveland.

I mean the place is literally calling to one’s inner and outer geek. We are all collectors in some fashion, be it comics, dvds, blue rays, what have you and if you schlep around the first few floors of the Hall of Fame, you can’t help but think you got in on somebody else’s treasures. You did.

Journey forth and be one with the music geeks, some of us, hell most of us are playing in these multiple dimensions. Okay, so you might not be a Springsteen acolyte, a Deadhead, but as that seer, sage, soothsayer Ice Cube notes: “Rock and Roll is a spirit.” There is so much to move the spirit inside these walls, even beyond the gift shop.(Photo: Author)

Regardless of your dispensation, part of your record collection is lurking in there, along the way, you will find some things that ought to be. You might a few bands that made you change the radio dial with manic like lightspeed, but there is also bands that you stayed in the car waiting for their song to finish on the radio. This was my second spin through the Hall, and just like rummaging through found comics or album covers, there is good stuff waiting to be checked out.

(Photo: Author)

(Photo: Author)

Prince wore this ensemble when he literally made his guitar gently weep in a tribute to George Harrison some years ago.

(Photo: Author)

Elvis’ chopper, presumably for leaving the building

(Photo: Author)

This is the B-3 organ that Gregg Allman played on stage for many years with the Allman Brothers.

(Photo: Author)

Springsteen, a longtime presence for me.

(Photo: Author)

(Photo: Author)

This piece of history literally speaks for itself(Photo: Author)

This is a pretty awesome site to see. Most of the artifacts can be found on the first two levels, the next two are lot of video and audio offerings including the Sirius Radio home and numerous theaters, all worth checking out. The main theater was dedicated to “The Power of Rock” an exhibit that runs into the fall. That show was a compilation of the best bits from performances of the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame Induction dinner, but there are some amazing legends to that voodoo we love em to do. The featured exhibit does change with some frequency so it is worth heading to the Hall’s site to have some heads up knowledge ahead of time (and to buy tickets ahead of time).

(Photo: Author)

(Photo: Author)

Lest you think geek worlds don’t collide, as my son and I walked passed the AC/DC exhibit, a young voice yelled out “Hey, the Iron Man song.” No, it didn’t come from either of us.

(Photo: Author)

Gotta go, I mean, what other museum will have action figures….Go, now.

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Travelin’ Band

My work related travel took a big increase with my current posting and that is a good thing to get that kind of experience. It can a bit of stretch at times however, but you try to find some fun along with the myriad of long security lines and barely made connections.

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You have to be amused a little at the human condition, but especially at the times of air travel. The announcement of boarding makes everybody mill about like we are Black Friday shoppers waiting for Walmart to open. I’ve noticed a big of a swagger among some travelers.

There is no greater locale for people watching as all sorts come through airports. My most recent travels took me from Buffalo to Boston to Philadelphia in what might have been the longest 30 hours in recent memory. It was a pretty convoluted itinerary, but it’s what you do when you are told on Monday that you have to be someplace on a Friday morning, and that someplace is across the next state.

And the next thing you know, you are watching four women in full berkas cueing up at Checkers for some quick take out (or one going up many times quickly).

But, it’s not without its moments where you can’t help by laugh a little, like the Boston security guard watching me make my late arriving connection from Philadelphia to the other end of the c terminal to get to the Buffalo bound plane on time. His cheer of “Go, OJ, go” was pretty funny. Their placement of gate c29 away from c21 was not, but lesson learned: 35 minutes between flights is shaving it pretty close.

And never count on the booking site to be accurate with telling you where you’ll actually stop

 

Flight Plan

It’s funny. I don’t travel for work often, but there appears to be common threads to those instances. Perhaps it’s the destinations, employers sending me, what have you, but the “adventure” is lost on this casual traveler.

It doesn’t always go like that, but any excitement about a trip seems to have been snake bitten.

One thing that jumps out at me is the plane. Despite modern advances, improvements in technology, and the like, I am consistently on a vehicle that most likely has Wrong Way Feldman in the captain’s chair. If that reference escapes you, think of a flying hoopty. If that reference escapes you, google it. And if that reference escapes you, get out more. And today wasn’t really different, with my being placed on the United version of a minvan. Some of these folks are crafty. Most airlines charge to check bags these days, but some of these folks brought large bags only to surrender them on the jetway, beating the charge. It gives one pause, but not on that jetway, a rickety looking structure ever there was.

The whole morning surrounding the pretty short flight time is a great festival of people watching, starting as the folks assemble in Buffalo. The airport wi-fi got interrupted momentarily and one goof who was plugged into the charging tour acted like his world collapsed, personifying the spoiled brat in Louis C.K.’s “Everything is amazing and nobody’s happy.”

I arrived in baggage claim at the same time my bag did, not bad considering it got a ride.

Anyway, here I sit at 32000 feet with the jamoke behind me kicking my chair repeatedly as I stare out the window waiting for the clouds over Michigan to break up so we can see what kind of day it actually is here in the central time zone. The captain was good enough to trace the route for us. “We’ll be flying over London, Ontario, down along the lakes, into Michigan, and finally into Chicago land.” While that was nice to know, it didn’t mean anything as there was no discernible difference from the canadian clouds to the michigan clouds to the Illinois clouds (Except those were an hour later). So, you couldn’t see much, dig?

I was actually disappointed to see no sky mall catalog in my seatback, but given how old the plane is, it would all have to be in black and white.

But it gives one pause. The folks at the terminal outward bound were downright pleasant, security was a breeze. If your only downside in the arrival point is that I knew where I was going better than the cab driver, that’s doing okay.

“I’m sorry, Sir, I can seem to find it”

As he was parked under the sign of my destination.

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