Sticks of Fire: a Tampa blog

I’m leaving very soon for a month in China and parts east!

Please don’t tell me (like everyone does) that I’ve missed the Olympics.  My favorite part of the Olympics is still to come.

The Paralympics are the Olympic Games for physically disabled athletes. They are always held in the same city, at the same venues as the Olympics, just a couple weeks afterward. The Paralympic cauldron has now been lit in Beijing.

I’m flying from Tampa to Beijing as a die-hard Paralympic fan, but another Bay-area resident is going to represent our country as an athlete.

Bradenton’s Paul Schulte, of the Tampa Bay Rays Wheelchair Softball team (I wrote about them before) will be playing on the U.S. Men’s Wheelchair Basketball Team.

A captain for the silver medal-winning 2006 World Championships Team, he also earned a gold medal and MVP honors at the 2002 Gold Cup. After sitting out the 2004 Paralympic Games, Schulte returns to the team looking to put the U.S. atop the medal stand in Beijing.

Schulte made his Paralympic Games debut during the 2000 Games in Sydney. At age 21, he was Team USA’s youngest player. That year, the team went on to win the bronze medal.

Our long association with Wheelchair Rugby (aka “Murderball”) has earned my husband & I accreditation and prime seating at the 2008 Games. I’m looking forward to seeing our old friends in this small world of sports, learning about Asia, and cheering for Team USA!

More links:

• Paul Schulte personal website
• Tampabay’s 10 story: 2008 Paralympics: Bradenton man ready, willing and able

Please tell me why the person used to demonstrate the new body scanning machines at Tampa International Airport - as seen on the Metro front in Friday’s St. Petersburg Times -

Why not an old fat guy?

is a buff young woman and not a fat old man?

Whomever she is - let’s call her Big Boobs Girl - certainly does not represent most of the people I see at TIA or at the mall or at the grocery store or in the mirror or at just about anyplace in America. Aren’t we having an epidemic of obesity?

But the larger question - not boobwise, but otherwise - is regarding the technology.  Is it an invasion of privacy?

Does it smack of Big Brother?

And who really believes that those images can’t be saved, reproduced, e-mailed around the world?

Hi y’all, I know I’ve been missing for a while, and I had just gotten started here at Sticks, but this is why:

Have you all seen the new Master Card commercial where the SNL (Saturday Night Live) cartoon buffoon Mr. Bill goes flying off the back of a treadmill? Yeah, well don’t try it at home… or at the gym!

For all you younger folks who don’t remember Mr. Bill, the hilariously ill-fated floppy doll, you can jog your childhood memories or get new ones at YouTube, where they have this and several of his other misfortunes (YouTube has everything!). But I digress…

So I was up in Chicago visiting the family for Mother’s Day, and my sister convinced me to get up two hours earlier than we needed to and go work out at her gym. We get on the treadmills, and set them for 40 minutes.

“These are powerful. Whatever you do, don’t let go,” she says, and I laugh because I’ve been on treadmills many times before. But, of course, with only 5 minutes left out of 40, I proceeded to let go because I’m such a well-balanced sports pro (ha-ha). All of a sudden, my left foot caught the side, I was whacked over into the handlebar, and I heard this crack. Then, before she could get to me to turn the machine off, I tumbled first onto my back and end up on my stomach. Not pleasant, and very humiliating! The place was packed with people!

In immense pain, I figured I broke a rib, but told her I was fine - resisting every impulse to make her feel guilty as sin for dragging me there.

Next day, the pain was so bad I got up really early, figuring I’d sneak off to a nearby emergency room before meeting up with the family again. I called my insurance company for a network ER. They sent me to a hospital, I drove there, and found out it is now a public library!

So, I thought, “I’m going home in 2 days, I’ll live with the pain.” They don’t do anything for broken ribs anyway anymore, it just has to heal naturally. I figured as soon as I get back to Tampa, I’ll go get X-rays and see how bad it really is.

But one day after returning, I found out my husband’s brother, suffering with a glioma brain tumor just like Ted Kennedy’s for two years, was finally near the end of his pain. We left for South Carolina for a sad but also relieving ending to a long road. He believed in God and looked forward to a better place. During the wait at the hospital (4 days), I did stuff for his side of the family like go get take-out and sundries. My pain was minuscule compared to theirs.

Long story short, I finally got X-rays and did have a broken rib. It hurt pretty bad for 3-4 weeks - no treadmills or upper-body exercise for me - but then started clearing up suddenly. I haven’t been able to sit really comfortably at the computer until last week.

And so, that is my story and the moral is - don’t let go of the handlebars. And I hope everyone’s family is OK this summer.

(For more hilarious treadmill terrors, see this video, or this one. I’ve been getting them from everyone!).

wifey’s life tips:

Sure, give your college-bound kid responsibility. After all, they are old enough to begin looking out for themselves. It’s even ok to assume they are doing everything they need to do. However, if YOU are going with them on a congraduation trip, double- and triple-check EVERYTHING for them, even if they get annoyed. You know, cuz they are dumb.

The Graduate went out with friends on Thursday night to the Dallas Bull (watch volume!). It’s one of the places they like to go, since eighteen year olds are allowed in - with picture ID, of course. But you know about going out - you don’t want no extras. Just bring some a bit of spending money and your ID - no need for a purse.

But here’s a hint for all of you girls who roll like that. PUT YOUR ID BACK IN YOUR WALLET WHEN YOU GET HOME. Because if you are flying off to California, you will need it. From the Transportation Security Administration:

adult passengers (over the age of 18) will be required to show a U.S. federal or state-issued photo ID that contains the following: name, date of birth, gender, expiration date and a tamper-resistant feature…

The key words in that sentence are EIGHTEEN and REQUIRED.

So, by now you can probably figure out that The Graduate forgot her ID in the back pocket of her shorts that she had worn to the Bull. We were not being allowed to bored our plane! After 30 minutes of crying (The Graduate) and me on one phone trying to get her ID faxed to the airport and tommy on another trying to change to a later flight, one very nice Delta lady came to our rescue!

She begged and begged her boss to accept Graduate’s Busch Gardens pass (has a photo of the Grad at 12), a Voter’s Registration and SS card for us. The less convinced boss finally accepted those “documents,” and we had 10 minutes to run to the terminal, go through security and get on the plane. Luckily, the plane was 20 minutes late boarding, and we all (including luggage!) made the flight.

Wifey’s first advice of the trip:

don’t drink a twelve pack the night plus two whiskey & diet cokes before you are flying first thing in the morning.

Oh boy!

I’m wearing my ugly shirt today.

The HighSchoolSenior recently walked across a stage, grabbed a piece of paper, and just like that became TheFreshman.  Her proud family let her choose this summer’s vacation destination, and she decided that she wanted to see if she could get on TMZ TV.  So for a full week, we’ll be in Los Angeles / Hollywood / Malibu / Sherman Oaks / Beverly Hills (swimming pools, movie stars).

Of course, ya can’t just up and go somewhere.  There are certain things that must be done in preparation for a week-long trip.  And you damn near wear yourself out just trying to remember everything.  In fact, special haircut calendars were calculated for Wifey and TheFreshman weeks ago.

After making the reservations months ago, you have to check with the airline, hotel, and rental car to make sure your confirmation number is still something they recognize.  While confirming, you can find out all the arcane rules about baggage size, number of bags, what is and is not a carryon, and which liquids to leave in Florida.  We’ll still have to check in online the day before. 

Then there are the critters.  Sophie is a fat cat.  All she does is eat, sleep, and want outside/inside.  She can sleep on her own, but someone’s gotta do the feeding and the letting out/in.  So the neighbor kids have offered to take care of Sophie for us.  I’m gonna try to convince them to go ahead and grab the newspaper each day too, and pile up the mail.  Hopefully, they don’t get too curious, and start digging through the closets.

Then there’s the packing.  Or rather the pre-packing.  Laundry had to be done at unusual times, just to make sure we had all our choices available.  That’s followed up by the reason for the ugly shirt:

“Don’t wear anything this week that you want to bring to California, cuz I ain’t doing any more laundry.”

Slightly similar to that is the refrigerator checkup.  Ya don’t want any food going bad, so all the leftovers are being cooked this week, which is… Well, let’s just say that they are left over for a reason, ya know?  (just kidding hunny - it’s ALL delicious!)

Along with weird times for housework and odd foods to eat, yard work is thrown a swerve, too.  You gotta mow the grass / trim the hedges / edge the drive / whack the weeds one night after work.  Otherwise the HOA comes a knocking, or you’ll have a hella time come Monday next.

Then there is work to consider.  We are all given off from work for vacation, but why do we feel so guilty piling on the coworkers?  Doesn’t really matter - that’s how it goes.  So ya bust yer tail to make sure it’s all caught up the week before you go, ask your peeps to hundle just the minimum to maintain, and when you get back, you bust yer tail catching it all up again.

By the way - Sticks of Fire may or may not be updated all next week.  We’ll have to see what happens.

I think that’s all for now.  We still have to actually finalize our personal itineraries (hunt down George Clooney (wifey), hunt down David Cook (thefreshman), La Brea Tar Pits! (who else)), decide what to bring, pack the bags, arrange for transport to the airport, arrange for transport from the airport…

We may need a vacation from just getting ready for vacation!

Darron Derrick missed his plane out of Tampa International. He says it’s because the Transportation Security Administration uses “Nazi-style, police-state tactics.”

At the X-ray machine, he placed his laptop inside its case on the belt and went through the metal detector. An officer informed him the computer and case had to go through again separately. That’s when Derrick, frustrated and anxious, made his unfortunate vent.

He says that after explaining it wasn’t personal, he told the supervisor that screeners were going to make him late for the plane by using “Nazi-style, police-state tactics.”

The TSA officer didn’t like that at all, and sent him to get a body pat-down and a scan with a hand-held metal detector. Darron refused to give his phone number, and refused a private room for the pat-down. Airport police escorted him out. He’s angry:

“I didn’t go in there and yell ‘terrorist.’ It’s the system. Everyone’s treated like a criminal,” he says. “It’s dehumanizing.”

There are plenty of reasons to be upset with “the system.” But this small delay is not one of them. Back at the beginning of the story:

Derrick was very late for his flight to Detroit. He checked in 38 minutes before the scheduled departure and found a long, snaking line to the security checkpoint at Airside A. Derrick asked a line attendant if he could move ahead of others. She ignored him.

Darron is a smart guy - he’s an engineer (a Google search uncovered this local engineer Darron Derrick and a Ron Paul supporter with the same name). You would think he knows that you can’t show up at the last minute to catch a flight. Conventional wisdom says to get there two hours beforehand, and Tampa International recommends you show up 90 minutes before your flight:

Arriving at least 90 minutes prior to scheduled departure allows for 60 minutes to proceed through screening and arrive at the gate 30 minutes before departure.

That’s the system, and Darron chose to ignore it. The screeners did not “make him late” - he started out late. I’m not sure how you can expect everyone to facilitate YOUR personal plans because YOU didn’t get there until the last minute. Man up, Darron.

Here’s what I accomplished during my public office hours yesterday:

1. I cemented my plans for FX 2008, a convention I’m going to Jan. 25-27.

2. I read the Sunday St. Pete Times.

I think it was a success.

I also discovered that talking to publicists to grant access to some pretty big Sci-fi TV and movie stars wasn’t enough. The number one request (from the one person I talked to at Panera) for a star interview was Fat Momma from Who Wants to be a Superhero.

If anyone else has suggestions for attempted interviews with film folks or comic book creators, authors, or artists, leave a comment.