If only they knew...

There is a group of people out there that I call The Oblivions.  You've seen them...at the grocery store they are the ones that stop their carts in the middle of the aisle and start reading labels.  Nobody can get around them so you're left with being rude or waiting.  They'll stand in a doorway during a conversation and be totally unaware of anyone trying to go through the door.  At the lunch counter they will have a conversation with the cashier while everyone behind them is trying to get their food and eat it within the 30 minutes allotted for lunch. 

I don't think they mean any harm.  I don't think they're even aware of what they're doing but that doesn't stop them.  Anyway, in the spirit of revisiting old blogs and essays, here is an essay I posted shortly after our Alaska cruise in 2005.  Enjoy...

The Narcissistic Fog of Oblivion

Okay, I'll admit it. I'm not always the most considerate, most rational, kindest person you've ever met. In fact, I can sometimes be a bit recalcitrant given the proper set of circumstances. But though I've recently come to be pretty comfortable with my own degree of benevolence towards my fellow man, I saw some things on our Alaska Cruise that really showed how rude and insensitive people can be. And the sad part is I don't think they even realize it.
It all started at the Vancouver airport in British Columbia and let me say that I don't blame the Canadians or any other group of people specifically. For those of you that have never flown in or out of Vancouver, it's a lovely airport. Almost on a par esthetically with our airport in Denver. And it's pretty well laid out. You come off the plane and follow the signs, which are clearly labeled, to your destination, which, in our case, was Customs. Once through customs you go to the baggage carousels to get your bags and that's when the problems begin. Vancouver is a bit smaller than DIA so there are only about 4 baggage areas which is not a problem in and of itself but to exit the area there is only 1 door. All the people from all the baggage carousels are trying to get out one skinny little door at the same time. One of the most disastrous bottlenecks I've ever seen.

Logic and common sense would dictate that if folks apply the ski lift line etiquette we may have a bit of a wait but everyone will get out quicker. But like a wise man once said, "Common sense is perhaps the least common of all commodities." Things went okay for a minute or two but when we got within 50 feet of the door, chaos took over. One would think that an extra measure of politeness would assert itself but suddenly it was every man for himself. Several times I had to excuse myself and crowd in front of someone in order to keep contact with Judy. It was madness! My first exposure in a long time to the game of Chicken. We were calm though, knowing we didn't have anywhere to go, and when our turn came we were out the door and into the fresh air. We caught the shuttle and were delivered safely to our hotel with no further mishaps.

This mentality continued to manifest itself in various forms throughout our trip and after a while we remarked on it and started having fun observing it. In Ketchikan and all the other ports it showed its head in a different guise. When a group of people are approaching you on the sidewalk and 4 of them are walking abreast taking the whole sidewalk, wouldn't you think 1 or 2 of them would speed up or drop back and line up to let another couple pass? Not happening. Many times we observed this behavior in just about every place we were from Canada Place to the boardwalk in Skagway and the sidewalks of Seward.

The first couple of times Judy and I stepped aside and let the folks pass but that got real boring real fast. Next I tried making eye contact while continuing to walk towards the oncoming foursome but that had little effect also. Finally I came upon the perfect strategy. When confronted with the choice of getting off the sidewalk to avoid collision, I merely walked up to the approaching group and stopped, forcing them to make a move to step aside or stop.

Another form of Oblivion was the groups of people that stop to visit in a manner and location that totally blocks everyone else from passing. You're left with the choice of trying to squeeze by or waiting until the conversation is through which could take several minutes. After a few waits and a few bumps I finally started alternating between saying "excuse me" in a loud voice, or clearing my throat. Sometimes it worked, sometimes it didn't but the people were usually aware that they had blocked egress and made adjustments immediately

I don't suppose I can hope that these things will magically disappear nor do I think I even want them to. Oblivion serves 2 purposes for me. It gives us something to observe while in public places and thus amuse ourselves, and of course it makes us even more aware of these behaviors in ourselves and hopefully we can avoid being the rude Americans.


So there you are.  Do you know any Oblivions?  Are you a closet Oblivion?  Leave a comment and we can share a chuckle together.

We'll always have Lake Powell...

Not exactly sure how to start this blog.  I usually go for a cheap laugh or a catchy "hook" beginning but words fail me so I'll just start.  Today I had my 14 year old Labrador, Kahlua, euthanized.  She'd been getting more and more feeble recently and this morning after I had to carry her up the stairs to let her out I looked into her eyes and she told me it was time.  Truth be told, it was probably time some months ago but I've been selfishly putting it off.  Sorry old girl..

In an effort to avoid becoming too maudlin and depressed I've been thinking about some of the good adventures she and I had over the years and thought it might be cathartic to share them.  I hope you'll indulge me for a few minutes.

The image above is from a trip she and I made to Lake Powell in 2003.  I had a few extra vacation days and decided to spend a 4 day weekend tent camping so I loaded up the boat, tossed Kahlua in the truck and off we went.  I'll never forget that trip for several reasons but mostly because of Kahlua.  The first evening on the lake I'd found a marvelous little beach and made camp when huge houseboat full of partying 30 somethings decided they needed my camp spot more than I did.  After the usual verbal sparring during which they told me they wanted my camp spot and I politely declined to give it to them, followed by their threat to kick my butt and take it, I had Kahlua do one of her favorite tricks.  She was the most gentle lovable dog around but upon being given the command "Mean Dog" she would growl and bare her teeth.  I knew she was bluffing and it was just a trick she'd learned but the guys on the houseboat thought she was serious and none of them wanted to get chewed up so they left.  I still chuckle about it sometimes. 

In her younger days Kahlua was an amazing retriever.  Maybe too good....one summer she got really disgusted with me while fishing on my In-Laws' ranch in South Dakota.  Every time I fish there I practice catch and release unless I've been requested to supply the makings for a fish fry.  On this one particular trip Kahlua was with me and every time I released a fish she would dive in the creek and try to retrieve it.  After about a dozen tries she looked at me with a puzzled expression that said "What the bleep are you doing?  I can't fetch those things!"  And on the Lake Powell trip I eventually had to stop fishing.  Seems every time I cast a lure she would jump in and try to retrieve it.  I didn't have a doggie boarding platform for the boat so after the first 4 or 5 times of dragging her soggy butt up over the side of the boat I figured my back needed a rest.  Besides, I had visions of her actually grabbing one of the lures...the thought of a Labrador getting punctured by a bunch of treble hooks was not a pleasant one. 

She was quite the retriever though.  Once when my niece, Cathy, and her family were visiting, her son Jared spent all afternoon tossing a ball in the park and Kahlua nearly ran herself ragged fetching it.  We almost placed bets on who would tire out first.  Later, at the dinner table, Jared asked his mom "..when we get home can we get a REAL dog like Kahlua?"  I guess he wasn't so enthralled with their herd of dachsunds after playing ball with my dog.

We had some good times, me and her.  But one thing stands out above all others.  I had borrowed some display tables from my employer to have a garage sale and on Sunday afternoon I loaded them in the truck to return them and took Kahlua with me.  The business was in a less than savory part of town and I almost always saw some homeless guys in the alley or down the block but I didn't want to have the tables sit outside in my truck all night so away we went.  At the studio I backed my truck halfway into one of the rental studios and was in the process of unloading tables while Kahlua explored the new place.  I was finishing the unloading process and walked back into the studio.  I was facing away from the door and Kahlua was in front of me facing towards the door.  All of a sudden she got all puffed up...her hair was standing up and she started growling deep in her chest.  Not the playful growls she made when we played tug of war but a real mean menacing growl.  I turned around to see what she was looking at and saw one of the homeless guys standing about 10 feet away from me with a piece of pipe in his hand.  He looked at me, looked at the dog, then dropped the pipe and beat feet down the alley. 

But now she's gone..and if there's a doggie Heaven she's earned it.  Her legs will work again and she will be able to hear again.  Her eyes will be clear and bright and barking will be fun, not painful. The rabbits and pheasants will be slow and stupid. Best of all, there won't be any cats or if there are, I won't be there to stop her from chasing them.  Enjoy your rest, dear friend.  You will be missed.

Random Musings

Occasionally I write a blog when there's not really anything specific to ramble on about, simply snippets.  This is one of those occasions.  So strap in and here we go.

The picture up top is the new sled.  The Murano is dead, long live the Nitro.  15 days ago I was involved in a minor fender bender and I learned quite a few things.  Mostly, though, I learned about vehicles with airbags.  The Murano had part of the front bumper and front fender carved off.  No big deal...couple thousand bucks of body work and good as new.  But no!!!  During the crash a few wires of the wiring harness were sheared off and apparently when that happens to a vehicle with air bags it's an automatic total.  See, once the wiring is replaced there's really no way to test the air bags.  Well, no way short of running the vehicle into a wall which is sort of counter to the point. 

Anyway, after getting the check for the total I went car shopping last Saturday and ended up with the Nitro you see before you.  It's different than the Murano..(duh)...much more primitive.  Where the Murano was plush and luxurious the Nitro is spartan and functional.  No electric seats, no heated seats, not a spec of leather anywhere....radio controls are (gasp) on the radio instead of  the steering wheel and horror of horrors, there's no compass to tell me which direction I'm going and no outside temperature indicator.  But all is not lost.  I'm fairly certain I won't rip the skid plate off of the Nitro like I did the Murano and I'll have to work pretty hard to get this thing high centered like I nearly did in the Murano last year in the Badlands.  And to be honest, the Murano needed some work...new front struts, new tires, and the CVT (continuously variable transmission) was getting sketchy again.  It was replaced at 87,000 miles which was about 85,000 miles ago.  So maybe it's not all bad.  I'll know more in a few months.

I wonder:  Why is it that the "best ever rock bottom" price of a vehicle can be reduced by nearly 10% by just saying "Let me think about it until Monday."  You tell me this is your absolute best price then reduce it when I stand up to leave...what the bleep?  I hate car shopping.

And to the moron that was running the engine of a Charger inside the showroom at the Dodge dealer, I was absolutely truthful when I told you the carbon monoxide blowing in my face was giving me a headache.  Your wife may fake headaches but I don't.  Get a clue dude.

Unexpected dental work, car wreck, wedding expenses adding up, airline ticket prices doubled...all these things conspired to cause me to cancel my March trip to Phoenix for spring training and my proposed trip to photograph the Palouse region of Washington state in May.  But the good news is Erin is having her wedding in Sedona in September and I've wrapped some extra vacation time around the date so I can spend some time there and then dawdle my way home photographing some neat stuff on the way. 

Rocky Mountain Nature Photographers get together in Moab in May, Sedona in September...2 road trips for the new vehicle.  ROAD TRIP!!!!! Whoooooooooo Hooooooooo!

Speaking of Moab, if any of you are passing through there this summer take some time to check out a couple of photo shows.  In July my friend Bret Edge is having a show of his images along with the work of Guy Tal at the Visitor Center of Dead Horse Point State Park near Moab.  2 of my favorite photographers displaying their work in one place at the same time!  Bonus!  Also, Bret will be having a solo show beginning September 10 at Back of Beyond book store in Moab.  One of the best book stores on the planet and some wonderful images...another bonus!

Speaking of airline prices, what's up with Southwest!  I love Southwest and won't fly any other airline unless SW doesn't fly where I want to go.  But come on, guys...the fares from Denver to Phoenix during the month of March are double what they are in February or April.  I guess they figure what with spring break and the Rockies training in Scottsdale for the first time, they can sell tickets for as much as they want and people will buy them.  Then in April the price gets back to normal.  Freakin shameless profiteers.

Okay, that's all for now.  I've had my monthly quota of ranting and whining.  Next blog will be less rambling and more substance.