December 30, 2002

Adventures In London (And Neighboring Areas)

24 Dec 02 :: 1200 -- 30 Dec 02 :: 1800

December 20, 2003

Rain, Pain, Disdain

I had possibly one of the most miserable flights home yesterday that I could have ever had in my life. Flying home from Berkeley has always been a shitty experience, ever since my first year, but this trip broke all records. It was so bad, I almost started laughing and crying all at the same time on numerous occasions!

December 30, 2003

Nightmare on Century Blvd.

Perhaps nightmare is not the correct word. A nightmare implies a dream. Something invented by your subconscious. Something that didn't really happen. Maybe I should use the phrase waking nightmare. Or maybe one of the worst experiences of my life.

April 05, 2006

Confessions of a Prolific Profligate

Perhaps twenty years from now, as the pressures of mortgages, marriage, middle age, and mediocrity mount, I will look back upon the decisions I took in my early twenties with a mixture of regret and nostalgia, simultaneously pining for and revolting against the licentious lifestyle that came to embody my yuppie years. Certainly, the same cannot be said for the self-righteous hordes that look upon my actions with contempt and condemnation today, secure in their oft-preached, rarely practiced virtues of purity, security, and monogamy.

Perhaps the future for me holds nothing but repentance, but for the moment, there are no apologies, no remorse, no contrition. You see, dear reader, for my colleagues and I, philandering isn't so much an indulgence as it is a necessity, borne not of desire, but of decree.

August 28, 2006

Mission to Miami

My week-long stint in the Sunshine State, or Florida as it is referred to by those not enamored by its rather dubious and suspect moniker, ended today as my flight left Miami International Airport a little over a day before Ernesto is scheduled to hammer south Florida, and landed at SFO several hours later. Stepping off the airplane into the mild and beautiful San Francisco evening, and for the first time in a long time, not feeling the intense moisture in the air like a punch in the stomach, I could not help but be happy to be returning to California. Not that my trip to Florida wasn't fun--it was--but there's only so much one can take of the tropics.

December 28, 2006

Across the Pond

For the particularly incompetent readers of this blog, let me clarify: I'm currently writing this entry from an Internet cafe near Trafalgar Square in London, England. Our flight left San Francisco last night at around 6 PM and was (surprisingly) one of the best international flights I have ever taken.

December 29, 2006

An American Tourist in London

My second day in London was significantly more hectic than the first. Sadly, none of my tiredness tonight is a result of public transportation, bums, or any other unsavory elements; I'm just tired from cramming in almost all of London in one day. Between visiting St. Paul's Cathedral, Tower Bridge, the Tower of London, the British Museum, and the Parliment, I am surprised I am still capable of typing.

January 05, 2007

The City of Lights (and Luxembourg)

Three countries and five days have passed since I last wrote, but c'est la vie. In this entry, I will attempt to summarize the remainder of London, four days in Paris, and a day in Luxembourg faster than I blazed through all those countries.

January 08, 2007

Update from Amsterdam

Greetings from the Red Light District in Amsterdam, Netherlands, where I currently find myself. I only have 5 minutes left on my Internet Cafe ticket, so this one is going to be fast.

January 11, 2007

Bonjour, Au Revoir

Pardon my French, but I think that given the circumstance, it is justified. In other words, I'm now officially back in the good ol' U.S. of A., though only peripherally (San Francisco can hardly be considered America, House Speaker Nancy Pelosi notwithstanding). And after two weeks of roughing it in hostels of varying disrepute (and cleanliness), I cannot necessarily say that I'm all that disappointed to be able to finally sleep in my own bed again.

January 16, 2007

Your City Ain't Shit (Unless It's Got a River)

Having spent the first two weeks of 2007 wandering through Western Europe, I have arrived upon one resounding, ground-breaking conclusion: your city ain't shit unless it's got a river running through it. That's right. It's the river that makes the city.

May 24, 2007

Perfect Strangers

When I originally began this post, some 12 hours ago, sitting in an uncomfortable chair in Omaha's Eppley Airfield (it isn't even big enough to be considered an airport, I suppose), I had intended to discuss all the memorable events in my three day venture to what has to be the most bucolic and mind-numbingly nondescript city in vast, abysmal expanse known as Middle America. However, upon further reflection, I realize that besides arriving on a plane in which I was literally one of four people under 200 lbs. (the other three were the female flight attendants—enough said), nothing about this trip was worth remember beyond a week (or even a day)—that is, until my flight from Denver to San Francisco, when I met what in another time and place might have very well been my soulmate.

September 05, 2007

Au Revoir California

Nearly 20 years ago, in October of 1987, I moved to California from the dirty confines of Baltimore, MD; tomorrow, having spent more than 80 percent of my (necessarily futile) life in the Golden State, I leave for hitherto uncharted territory: Chicago, IL. Though I should probably be feeling sad, or nostalgic, or at least something, strangely, I am not. I guess when I left San Francisco last month, I was already mentally prepared to leave California; the past three weeks loafing in Irvine at my parents' house have barely registered at all.

April 02, 2008

The Spring Break That Was Neither

Spring Break. The phrase conjures up images of warm, tropical beaches, scantily-clad women, and tequila—lots and lots of tequila—in your mind, does it not? Unfortunately for me, I sort of hate the beach (despite having spent a little less than half my life in (the) O.C.), have already been to such destinations as Cancún and Miami, and in any case, stand no chance with scantily-clad women of any sort, no matter how much tequila they may have consumed. Instead, I chose to spend my break on a bicoastal whirlwind tour that left me perhaps more tired than before. And considering that today was probably the first day where it was both sunny and above 45° F here in Chicago, one might say that my so-called Spring Break was neither spring nor a break. [...]

June 29, 2008

Wet, Hot, Sticky American Summer

Seeing as how this is my first time living on the Right Coast since the mid 1980s (B-more represent!), one of my goals for the summer when I moved out here was to check out the bigger cities on the eastern seaboard that I have either never been to or not been to in decades. In that vein, on Saturday I tossed a change of clothes and a copy of Guns and Ammo into my briefcase, and hopped on the (Chinatown) bus to our nation's capital, Washington, D.C. It promised to be a wet, hot, American summer—if you know what I mean.

August 26, 2008

Second Time's (Still) Not a Charm

Nary three weeks after announcing the continuation of my much-touted romantic quest (to ruin my life), and hardly a year after finding—and losing—a potential soulmate, I once again found myself on a flight, this time from Orange County, Calif., to Chicago, Ill., seated next to an (attractive) woman and engrossed in conversation. As the flight lifted off, and as the brief initial exchange with the passenger in the window seat gave way to a conversation interesting enough such that I was persuaded to put down the (obviously pretentious) book in my hand, my thoughts immediately turned to that fateful trip last year and the opportunity I had let pass me by. Determined not to let the pitch sail by yet again, I steadied myself for the swing. The second time would be the charm, I assured myself.

Alas, if only it were so. Unfortunately, as much as I would like to report to you, dear readers, that my second foray into meeting potential soulmates on airplanes was more successful than my first, I cannot. This is, after all, the Realm, a place of little happiness and less success, a place where there are no happy endings, only soul-crushing disappointments and heart-wrenching failures.

September 21, 2008

Window Seats, Shocking Feats

Apologies, dear readers, for my extended absence from the wonderful world of worthless blogging. Between the loathsome task of moving (which I alluded to earlier), the soul-crushing work associated with legal journal membership, and the angst-inducing experience of on-campus interviewing (of which, more later), I have hardly found the time to sleep or eat, let alone spew incoherent vitriol for the disaffected readership of this most meaningless of blogs. Rest assured, however, that my three-week hiatus does not mark the end of the venerable Realm, merely a brief respite from the pursuit of nothingness that continues to serve as its purpose.

May 04, 2010

Thoughts on Montréal

Redemption, alas, is not as easily achieved as it is written about. My lofty goal of approximately a month ago—finish two books for fun prior to the end of my Spring Break—was a calamitous failure. Indeed, even today, I have not managed to complete that second novel. (Choosing a dense and lengthy Russian novel as my second book might have been ill-advised.) The result should not come as much of a surprise to long time readers: woeful inadequacy, all consuming and everlasting, is as much a part of my (necessarily futile) existence as dark hair and emaciation.

Such failures have not, however, stopped me from continuing onward in the meaningless drift toward ultimate demise. The last weekend saw me in Montréal, Canada, and I recount my impressions and experience below.

August 19, 2010

R and G's Excellent Adventure

Road Trip Route
August 7–12, 2010

Last I left you, dear readers, I was in Chicago and in the midst of a two month long stint in hell, otherwise known as preparation for the much anticipated bar examination. Today, about a month later, the setting is quite different: I am about 2,000 miles away from Chicago in the OC, and with little but inanities and existential angst to occupy my time. As the story of my road trip from Chicago to California is far more interesting than either the fear or self-loathing leading up to the bar, or anything that has elapsed since, I begin with that. The rest is for another time—or more likely, never.

Before delving into specifics, a summary is in order. The journey was six days in my dear old car, the RSX, departing Chicago, IL, on August 7, 2010, and arriving in Irvine, CA, on August 12, 2010. I was accompanied by my friend, known for purposes of this most worthless of sites as G-Force, and notable stops along the way included: allegedly one of the largest crosses in the Western Hemisphere in Groom, TX; the International UFO Museum and Research Center in Roswell, NM; four tire stores in Van Horn, TX; the Prada Marfa art installation in Valentine, TX; a Walmart Lube and Tire Center in El Paso, TX; the south rim of the Grand Canyon; the Hoover Dam; and unexpectedly, Las Vegas, NV. The map nearby reflects the course we took. More detail after the jump.

October 14, 2010

Touch the Magic: the Bay Area

Last I left you, dear readers, I was ensconced in a most melancholy state, brooding somewhere in the depths of Orange County. A lot has transpired since then. For starters, I have moved to a new time zone and am writing this from my new apartment. But more on that (very) soon. Today, I discuss what passed in the interim, namely a trip to the Bay Area for my five-year college reunion, Cal's Homecoming Game against UCLA, and most importantly, a reunion tour with the maladjusted boys formerly of 1524.

December 30, 2010

Go East, Young Man

Snowpocalypse, snowmaggedon, blizzaggedon, the Bloomberg Blizzard (really, clowns, did the Mayor cause the blizzard?)—whatever it is the internets finally decide to call it, the Boxing Day Blizzard (my preferred term) on the East Coast this past weekend completely ruined an otherwise peaceful Christmas holiday for me. What should have been a six hour flight from LAX to JFK on Monday afternoon turned into a two day, four airport, two train station, five subway station, one hotel room affair; I finally made it home to New York late Tuesday night, and that was three whole days earlier than what should have occurred had I taken the airline's (ludicrous) offer to rebook my flight to a red eye on New Year's Eve. (Thanks, but no thanks, assholes.) While this colossal mess was definitely one of the more unpleasant in recent memory, there were a couple surprises, and those, along with the awful story prompt me to write tonight. More (worthless verbosity) after the jump.

April 17, 2011

Boston and Back

Fenway Park
April 2011

Back in the luminous days of 1524 SF, there was a common phrase deployed by the house (as we called our collective unit) whenever any member proposed an idea or activity: idiotic or genius? And as might be expected out of a collection of maladjusted twenty-something miscreants, the ratio of genius ideas to idiotic ones tended to hover around 1:10, as judged by the house. As assessed by normal folks, I would imagine the ratio was closer to 0:∞. Some things don't change.

A few weeks back, G-Unit, a former 1524er now also in New York City, asked if I wanted to go up to Boston to watch a Red Sox game for which he had a few tickets. I liked the idea: I had never been to Fenway Park, and getting out of the rat race in New York for a weekend seemed like a good idea. I agreed to go. But as we approached closer to the planned trip, it began to become clear that I could not commit to the whole weekend (largely for work reasons). And there was born an idea that would again test our judgment of genius and idiocy: travel to Boston and back in one day solely to watch a game at Fenway Park.