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Shopping on Lordag

Hot Texas skies over the IKEA parking lot

 

Such a day I had today. First was a family lunch to celebrate a 65th wedding anniversary. Afterwards, since I was in that part of town, I went to IKEA. I’ve always thought it interesting how in the cities where there is an IKEA, there is but one. The Bay Area had two, but they were in two different worlds, because the bay seems just seems to be as such. So in Houston, now that I live far north of the loop, it’s a big deal to get there, so I took advantage, against my better judgment of doing so on a Saturday, of being inside the loop to do some shopping.

It’s been over twenty years since I lived in Houston, so when going back to those old parts of town I’ve mostly forgotten about, I now use my car’s navigation. I told my car I was wanting to go to IKEA. My car gave me the directions to IKEA, but I guess my car had no further information, which was a shame. I mean, she tells me about traffic and which roads are closed, why can’t she give me some really useful information, like “You’re about to make a big mistake…are you sure you don’t want to just go home?” I pulled into the IKEA parking lot and quickly began to wonder what it was that they were giving away for free.

Everyone was at IKEA. If you were not at IKEA, where the hell were you? Nothing was being given away for free, but as I was buying a “Malm” dresser (Malm having a definition as being an artificial mixture of chalk and clay for making into bricks, which didn’t seem to have anything to do with the product I purchased, but they do have some weird names in there) I did learn that everything in the store was 15% off because of Hurricane Harvey. Nice.

An old photo of the Astrodome and its huge parking lot.

IKEA has a very large parking lot. I think the only Houston parking lot I’ve ever seen that is larger was the one at the Astrodome. One would go to the Astrodome for an Astro’s ball game, or the Houston Rodeo, or a few times I saw big concerts there, like Pink Floyd and The Rolling Stones. It would take half an hour to walk from the car to the entrance. It was a very large parking lot.

This was IKEA on a Saturday with a 15% post hurricane sale. Every space was taken. It was to the point that I got behind a car that was slowly trailing a young man with his flat-bed cart to his car. This flat-bed cart was filled to the brim. There really was no brim, but that’s the saying that comes to mind in seeing how full this man’s cart was with boxes, crates, bags and all sorts of nifty things from Sweden, or where ever they make Turd Berglin toilets, Fartful desks, Godis Skum marshmallows, or Stenklover bedsheets. (Those are all actual product names, I’m not making them up!) I mean, I saw trucks loaded with this much stuff when I was in India a few years back, and I was always scared that they would fall over onto us as we would pass them.

So I’m behind Mr. Dood in his big black Texas branded pickup, who is trailing this poor guy who is seemingly furnishing his entire house from IKEA, and thinking, dude, it’s going to take this guy another hour to shove all this crap into his compact car. Because that’s the kind of luck I would have, that he is driving a compact car. Finally, I get around Mr. Dood and find a parking space five spaces from San Antonio! I looked back towards IKEA, now a distant blue speck wavering in the heat of the parking lot. I felt like a kid again, off to the Astrodome, but instead of bull riding and pig races, I was surrounded by what, in many ways, seemed to be the same kind of animals, just not as much riding or racing going on.

With my purchases complete, I started back to my car at the far end of the west forty. It may have been the first full day of Autumn, but no one told Houston. It was broiling outside, and the sweat was now starting to soak my shirt. I was fading fast, but soon had entertainment. In front of me was a couple looking proud of the wares they were about to take home. The husband must have been bright enough to leave the shopping to his wife, while he sat upstairs eating Kottbullar (Swedish meatballs) and Knackerbrod Rag (cookies), because he was looking over the items for the first time. She had two large boxes on the bottom of her cart and he asked why she bought two.

“They were 15% off,” she gushed, “so together, I got 30% off!”

I nearly choked, but no one seemed to notice.

He caught on pretty quickly and responded with “Well, don’t you think we should go back and get four more and get 90% off?”

She stopped dead in her tracks, “Can we do that?”

“I don’t think it works that way, dear. I’ll explain it to you later.”

They reached their car long before I did, and wouldn’t you know that they had a Trump bumper sticker!

Again, taking advantage of being in this part of town, I decided to do another stupid thing. Costco on a Saturday. I could have just as easily walked into a biker bar and made an off-hand remark about Tankwelder’s mom, for I must have been out for punishment. One of the things I love most about my job is having weekdays off for such adventures as shopping at a Costco. I learned quickly to avoid this place on weekends like a cat avoids hairballs on a hard surface and instead makes sure to aim for the carpet. But the store near me was out of the candles they had advertised on sale and I knew the one on Bunker Hill had them.

Some funny IKEA names I found on line.

If you know Costco, like IKEA, you know that parking can be troublesome. I usually just aim for the far away spots and forgo the slow search up down the rows of shiny cars. As I got closer to the entrance, I kept seeing parking spaces closer and closer to the entrance. I wound up with rock star parking, space number one. Any closer and I would have been in the handicap spaces, of which in this row, there were only two. I couldn’t believe this prime score!

The walk to the entrance was now short, which sort of made up for the long journey to and from my car at IKEA. Then my heart sank as I saw the door to the entrance had been rolled shut. It’s funny, I never before realized that the entrance doors at Costco were really garage doors that rolled up and down. There, before me, was a large sign with red letters stating that Costco, on Saturdays, closes at 6pm. I looked at my watch. It was 6:14pm. No wonder I got such a close parking space.

I could see inside the exit door. There were still quite a few checkers working down the long lines of shoppers. There were still people meandering back and forth with their oversized shopping carts of such items at twenty-pound boxes of peanuts and bags of five loaves of bread. Emboldened, I meekly approached the two employees checking receipts and gave them my most tired-looking and yet pleasing smile that I could muster.

“I know you’re closed,” I said, nearly water-eyed, “but I just drove all the way from the North Houston Costco because they were out of the LED candles you have advertised, and they sent me here because you have them in inventory on the computer system.” (I’m not above innocent white lies to Costco employees fourteen minutes after closing.) “That’s the only thing I need to buy,” I continued, “could you let me in real quick, and I promise, that’s all I’m buying.”

Underpowered, they had to call for a supervisor’s approval. I repeated my story and he gladly let me in, showing me the way to the location of the candles in the huge warehouse. I was so glad they actually had them, because it was actually three days ago that I was at the North Houston location when I learned that they had sold out. I was told that the Bunker Hill store had over one hundred of them. All right, so I fibbed twice.

Closed entrance door to a Costco (not my image).

A mocha freeze

I’d spent nearly two hours in IKEA and felt like I had walked half way across Houston to do so. I was hot, sweaty and tired and I looked up on the wall across from the register for which I was in line and saw an image. Like a most wondrous mirage to one trapped for days in the desert, was an icy mocha freeze. It was only $1.45. It looked so cold and frosty, with a hint of chocolate. I think I would have paid $5 for it! It was just what I needed to cool me down on this first day of autumn, also known as the 216th day of Texas summer. There was still a line, so they were still open. So sue me, I lied a third time and wound up buying more than just the candles, but it was one of the best iced mochas of all time.

On the drive home I was treated to a fantastic sunset, complete with silver lined clouds and orange hues. There was no traffic until I got to my exit, which made me smile that I was avoiding it by such a close margin. It was a successful shopping trip. I found some needed items for my home, got some exercise, sweat like I was in a sauna, was entertained by a dim-witted woman who thought she got 30% off because she bought two items instead of one, and talked my way into a super-sized box store after closing. I’m in a good mood right now. Just wait until I start putting together my Malm dresser! Anyone want to come lend a hand?

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Black Friday comes to Thursday by PenguinScott

This year’s holiday internet battle cry apparently centers on Thanksgiving and workers not being able to spend it with family for having to do their job. Post after post from people I know deplores Americans to avoid shopping on Thanksgiving. “Think of the employees!,” they read, and, “They deserve to be with family like you do!” Is it only in America that we constantly have the need to project our desires onto everyone else? A few things came to mind around the 80th time seeing one of these posts.
                Anyone who gets a job in retail certainly doesn’t do so with the expectation that they will have the holidays off. I’ve worked in retail and I knew this going into the interview. I’ve worked the holidays as everyone in retail has. Sure, the first time I spent the holiday away from family was a bit tough. But I had something else working for me- pay.
                A lot of people enjoy working holidays for the holiday pay. I’m sure these days, in these hard times, these people depend on working Thanksgiving for the holiday pay that I hope they are making. Even if they only earn their normal rates of pay, let us not assume that everyone wants to be home not earning money.
                Then, there are those who don’t have family to spend the holiday with. Maybe they are college students too far from home or too broke to afford an airline ticket. Maybe it’s the crazy cat lady who has no one of the human kind to be with. Perhaps it’s someone who just can’t stand to be with family so bad that they shiver at the suggestion of staying home so they can be with those who judge, condemn, argue, smother or push other’s down in a competitive nature. I know I can only handle being in close proximity to my family for about 5 days, max (not for the reasons I just mentioned, in case they’re reading this). Some people can’t stand to be around family for 5 minutes.
                I hear the cry- stay home. Don’t go shopping. Avoid the malls. But for me, it’s about bucking the system; I’m such a rebel. I don’t want to shop on Black Friday mainly because it’s become expected to do so. I don’t want to shop on Black Friday because I’m saving money and I don’t have a lot to spend. I don’t want to shop on Black Friday because there really is very little that I need. I finished my holiday shopping weeks ago. Big screen TV for $100? I’ve already got one. DVD player for $20? Got one of those, as well. I think I’ll avoid the crowds and make a turkey sandwich, thank you. And I certainly don’t want to go shopping on Black Friday and join the fray of morons clamoring with fellow white trash royalty and ne’er-do-wells as they literally bust down doors and claw their way over their fallen to reach the stack of made in (insert foreign sweat shop country here) electronics, which will probably explode in 13 months, right after the warranty expires.
              
Penguin, post feast

  This year, I spent Thanksgiving with friends in Santa Rosa. These are good friends, and they know they are after hearing how I spent over 2 hours driving up from my home in Pacifica. Normally, that drive should take just over an hour and it’s no secret that I hate driving, especially in heavy traffic. But it seems either the city was being evacuated, or everyone and their dog was going to Northern California for the day…and apparently left about half an hour before I did! “Aren’t you people supposed to be at home cooking things?” I yelled from within my car (the Peng-U-V). There were as many people, or more,  walking on the Bay Bridge as any weekend during the summer! I was absolutely blown away. Maybe people were taking heed of the cries on line to spend the holiday with family; they just didn’t see the words, “at home.”

A line forms for a shop opening at midnight.
                The interesting thing about this Thanksgiving was that the daughter of our host had to go to work that evening. She worked at the mall, which opened at 8PM on Thanksgiving night. I’d never in my life thought I would see Black Friday come to Thursday evening! The question went around the group as we loosened our belts after the feast, seeming to knowingly save me for last, “Are we going to go to the mall tonight?” “Do you want to go to the mall and watch the chaos?” “Who wants to go to the mall?” The questions shot around the group like if asked enough, someone would win a prize. The prize was that when finally asked, I said, “Sure, let’s go!” After all, I didn’t want to be the only ‘no’ and I’m all for watching a train wreck.
                I did have some ground rules; I’d already posted that I would not be seen in a shopping mall on Thanksgiving and hoped to keep my reputation up to par. “No checking in, post no photos of me and if anyone ever asks, I was never here.” They were in total agreement, so off we marched to join the throngs of humanity at the mall.
A line for a bra sale outside Victoria’s Secret

                The mall was much like a mall would be on any Saturday afternoon…but it was nearing midnight! I couldn’t believe all the people shopping this time of night on Thanksgiving. It was as if we have been doing this for years. Sleeping children were pushed in their strollers or sleepily clung to their parent’s hands while wearing cute PJs. My parents would never have brought me shopping at this time of night when I was 5! Groups of high school kids hung out like something from a teen movie and roamed in small packs. There were a few lines and mostly very well behaved people (we did see one fight nearly break out, but fisticuffs and weapons were not involved, although, I had my camera’s video function ready, just in case).

             
This boy kept watch over the family plunder.

   We laughed that we would make great hecklers as we observed the insane. Seeing the signs for “Doorbuster” deals, I made a comment about how it was amazing that, upon seeing some of the deals, the doors were actually still on their hinges! We commented on how some dressed, observing which stores remained closed and looked in wonder at the people eating in the food court, while our bellies were still so full.

Then, like flies, we went down. M found thermals normally difficult find, let alone for half price. C found sweaters that would make a great gift for family. But I held out. At least until I found the 800 thread count 100% Egyptian cotton sheets half off, followed by the cutest little shirts for my nephews. An $80 pillow for $25? Yes, please. Underwear for 25% off? I could use new underwear- I’ll bite.
Oh, no. What have I done?

            Dammit, my friends lured me to the mall under the pretense that I could go and make fun of those who bought into the frenzy of Black Friday on Thursday evening, and there I became one of them. In fact, after going back to C’s house, we returned to the mall for more, shopping until 2AM so C could buy a jewelry stand. You’re welcome analysts and retail giants. I’m happy to help your numbers kick off the season. I will sleep very well at night doing so- on my soft bed sheets and sensor gel pillow – that I found fifty percent off!  
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A Trip to Beijing, China

August, 2013
The smoggy view of Beijing I’m used to, taken from my hotel
Before going to bed I checked the computer. I was number 2 for a 4 day trip and there was 1 on the board- to Beijing. I think I rolled my eyes. I’ve been trying to get to Beijing for over 5 years. It’s been at least 9 since the last time I was there. It’s a neat city to visit, I wanted to return to the Great Wall and do some shopping. But it’s the most senior trip in the system and continually eludes me. I was so close. So yes, I rolled my eyes; so typical, the rotten luck! I hoped that something would happen; maybe another 4 day trip would pop up overnight and the flight attendant in front of me would get that, leaving me in line for Beijing.
      My phone rang at 0600hrs. I knew who it was by the ring-tone. The crew desk advised me they had a trip for me. As soon as she read the trip ID number, I recognized it…Beijing! I remained calm as I wrote down the information, thanked the scheduler, hung up and closed my eyes with my head dropping and a smile upon my face, full of joy. Finally, I would return for my 3rd visit.


A child’s ride outside the local grocery store.




      Unable to sleep, I simply got up. I grabbed my Chinese money, packed, had breakfast and left for SFO. There would be no tardiness for me today. I felt on top of the world as I drove to work. Traffic was light and I caught all the lights green; fortune shown upon me. Did I hear singing? Some angelic choir, perhaps?
      Trips to China can be difficult to work. I love how some of the passengers say hello during boarding, but then later in flight, when told to be seated because the seat belt sign has come on, suddenly, don’t speak English! It seems like most passengers don’t like staying in their seat. They roam around the plane, visit friends and congregate. They go to the jump seat windows, raise the blind and look out, often taking photos. We’re over the Pacific Ocean. What are you taking photos of? When the chime sounds and the pilot comes on the PA to ask everyone to be seated is when many decide to get up. They ring the call bell to ask us for another customs form when they make a minor mistake, not understanding that at least when coming to the US, it’s all right to cross it out and make the correction on the form. And perhaps most irritating is how so many don’t put their tray down for us. It’s like a shock to them that we are asking what they want to drink or eat. Why do you think I’m pushing this heavy cart down the aisle…my health? You see the cart coming, start thinking of what you want to drink and have your tray ready!
     And the trip home was especially difficult for me, as I’ve never seen more passengers on our flights who didn’t speak any English. It was frustrating asking what they wanted to drink to have them point at the cart, full of sodas, teas, coffee, water, juice, milk and beer. What are you pointing at? All right, don’t learn how to say tea, orange juice or water. Maybe have someone make you a card with both English and Mandarin so you can show me what you wish to order, since showing you the menu with drink logos doesn’t seem to work either. I thought the Coca Cola brand logo was international. A mechanical issue delayed our takeoff nearly two hours, yet one yahoo rang the bell to ask me if we’d be landing on time. Yes. Yes we are landing on time because Santa is our pilot, and you know, he tends to fly fast! It was trying at times, to say the least. “Where are we?” another passenger asked. We all laughed out loud. Um, I don’t know…Boston? I’ve not looked out the window in 6 hours. I have no idea!
      The crew was great to work with. Everyone got along and worked very well as a team. There was much humor and I enjoyed my time with them. Asian crews are different from other crews I work with. They have unique culinary needs that they remedy themselves. It’s not unusual to see them bring soups, hot wings, steaks, legs of lamb, citrus and one time they even baked a cake on the flight. Many are bringing things difficult to fine in Asia. I’m always fascinated watching the culinary skills of Asian crews.
     Not having been to the Chinese capital for such a long time, the crewmembers were a wealth of information about the new hotel, where to find good deals on the products I wanted to shop for, and who to seek out for a great massage. These are the things important to a flight attendant. This trip, I decided was about shopping more than sightseeing. I had just picked up a trip to Beijing for the following week (when it rains it pours; 9 years without a trip to Beijing and now 2 trips in as many weeks) and I would put off a visit to the Great Wall for then.
My hotel room with glass bathroom walls.
      China is a great place for massages, as they are so cheap. In Beijing, an hour massage with tip costs about $25. They aren’t always the best massage. The first one I had on this trip was a petite woman with pink toenails who basically just wanted to rub the same 4 spots on my back for 20 minutes each. I had to ask her to start on my arms and legs and when she was finished, I asked for my hands to be done. She balked, but I told her I’d tip her for it. The massage felt very good at the time, but the next day I was sore on those 4 spots she had rubbed so vigorously.
      Shopping can be a pain in China. Fortunately, there are places frequented by airline crew, and these places aren’t as annoying as others. After all, they have to keep us happy or we all leave and find a new place. But in the markets, as you walk past the stalls full of wares, the workers stand at the entrance and call out to you, “Hey, you look. You want glasses? You need watch? I have purse! Come look, you buy!” No. No. No. As much as a glance into a shop turns these Chinese merchants into a bunch of seagulls and you have a nice big piece of shrimp on your forehead!
      I went to the Pearl Market with 4 other flight attendants on my crew. It was about 20 minutes from our hotel via taxi in the heavy morning traffic. I found that in the 9 years since my last visit, drivers seem to be catching on. Last time I was here, lanes were merely suggestions. Riding in a taxi was a horror, or a thrill if you are into such things. And I was always juniored into the worst place- next to the driver. Most motorists now do a very good job at keeping in their lane. And there were much fewer bikes on the roads, weaving in and out and playing Tetris at the lights, squeezing past stopped cars.
Shopping in Beijing; photo not mine.
      I’ve found the weather in Beijing to be oppressive on my past summer visits. Between the heat, humidity and smog, it’s not a great place for a picnic. I couldn’t get over how clear it was as the plane neared the airport and the city spread its complex carpet of buildings, parks, roads and entertainment complexes below. The skies were uncommonly blue and the weather was very nice; only slightly muggy and quite comfortable at night. The next day was slightly warmer, but still very manageable. The day we left, however, some 44 hours after touching down, the smog was a bit more noticeable.
      My shopping was a success, but Vaughn, Kitt and Sandy were ready to return to the hotel before I was. Vaughn asked if I had plans for dinner. Since I didn’t, I asked if he would like to join me. He said yes and Marianne and I continued our shopping pursuits for another couple of hours. We then returned to the hotel, where I set out to find a good foot massage. The woman I was told gave wonderful massages had moved and I had the old information, so finding her was a fail. I returned to my hotel and found another woman who would come to my room. My feet were sore, but not as much as my right ankle and left knee. Between the long flight the day before and all the walking I’d done in Beijing, my dogs were barking, and you know how I don’t like barking dogs!
      My foot massage (which in China includes the back, arms and legs) was the kind where you close your eyes and they constantly roll back. Your inner dialogue repeats, “Oh, my gods.” Every now and then she’d hit a sweet spot and I’d think, “Fudge.” Only not fudge, but the full-on F-word. After all, it’s just my inner dialogue. Even if she could hear it, she doesn’t “speakul the Englais” and she really does know how to give a sweet massage! I had her go easy on the sore spots that still resided in my back muscles. The part where she got to my feet and legs was bliss.
      She finished just in time for me to change clothes and meet Vaughn for dinner. In the lobby, he told me Kitt would be joining us. Good news; the more the merrier! With none of us knowing the area, we took the advice of another crew member and went to the food court in the mall across the street. Food courts in China are so much more interesting than those in the states; not full of mass-produced meals from national conglomerates.
     After ordering an oyster pancake and some dim sum, I found Kitt and Vaughn and took my seat at the smallish table with silver metal chairs. Kitt, wanting beef, had gone across the hall to McDonalds for a Big Mac and fries. I know, right? Who goes to Beijing and eats at McDonalds? I could tell his was a foreign value meal; the soda cup was the size of a can of soda and not the huge monstrosities served in the US.
      Vaughn, wanting vegetables and rice, had gotten a variety-pack meal from the food court; rice, soup, diced chicken and some vegies. He said it was good, although he seemed a bit uneasy with the whole deal and only finished half of what was on his tray. It was his first time in Beijing, and perhaps his first time in a Chinese mall food court, where one purchases a debit card for each station; no money changes hands. There were all sorts of great looking Chinese dishes. There were soups, dim sum, dumplings, noodles and all sorts of foreign oddities to delight the palate of those bold enough to try something new.
Gyoza and dim sum at the food court.


      The conversation came easily between the three of us. Vaughn was full of questions for both of us and Kitt was very outgoing. I enjoyed the conversation as much as my dinner companions obviously did, as we sat there for about 90 minutes- long after we had finished eating.
      People watching was fun as the conversation meandered around our lives and interests. Suddenly, I became very much aware of how great my life was. Here I was with two people I had not known before the previous day half way around the globe. Vaughn and I had worked together a few years prior going to Sydney, but we had not spent any time together. I love that I get to meet new people all the time with my job. I love that we bond over our jobs and sharing a city and new experiences. I love that in a short amount of time, I get to learn so much about people, and chances are, I won’t see these guys after this trip for months. Maybe years!
      Kitt is Swedish, hailing from a small town almost an hour north of Stockholm. He left for New Jersey at 17, although I didn’t ask why he moved. His parents still live in Sweden and he goes home once a year, although it’s been 2 since his last visit.
      I was amazed when he met us that morning to go shopping. He wore a grey tee shirt and jeans with the legs rolled up to the middle of his calves, very European. I had to comment to him at how well his uniform had hidden his muscles. I could tell he was in good shape, but now one could see just how well developed, and large, his muscles were. So large, in fact, that his veins sat above them, restrained by skin, looking like a map of German roads. Obviously, a guy who spends a ton of time in the gym.
      When I first met Kitt, I couldn’t tell he was gay. He did look German, with facial features typical of such, and blond hair with a hint of wave in the front. During the whole flight, it was hard to tell if his demeanor was slightly effeminate or just European. But when he spoke now, out of uniform, he definitely sounded gay. He began to speak of his partner, who he had married 14 years ago. I asked if he was a body builder as well. He is, but Kitt says he’s not as big. Well, If he were half as muscled as Kitt, he’d still be ripped.
      His partner owns a car dealership in the Denver area that specializes in luxury cars. They drive a used Bentley that was originally over $200.000, but they got it for “cheap”; a measly $50K! I looked at Vaughn, who looked at me, and said, “Obviously one person’s cheap…” Vaughn finished the sentence for me.
A street near our hotel.
      Vaughn is a larger black guy who lives outside Vancouver with his wife and daughter. He has two boys, as well, both in college. He normally only flies to Sydney, but has decided to start flying Beijing trips to do what so many other flight attendants do; sell inexpensive Chinese merchandise in the US. He told us of his plans to build a customer base through a web site to sell iPhone charge packs. But after he saw the quality of small Bluetooth-enabled speakers, he’s’ now convinced he can make over $900 in just 4 months.
      When asked about his plans for his first trip to Beijing before we left San Francisco, he told us that other than shopping, he was only going to stay in his room. He had no interest in seeing the Great Wall of China, Tiananmen Square or the Forbidden City. I was actually a bit surprised he was open to have dinner with me, thinking maybe he’d stay hidden in his hotel room that evening.
      He comes across as a shy, quiet type, who doesn’t like adventure or risk. In fact, he admitted as much at dinner. We started talking about cruises (Kitt has been on over 30) and he mentioned his fear of being at sea. “I can go all around the world and have no problem walking in bad parts of town, but being on the water in the middle of the sea…”
      Vaughn was very inquisitive and often kept the conversation going with a line of questions – what’s a luxury car to tell someone to stay away from? What’s your favorite city? What do you like most about going on a cruise? I could have sat there another hour, but when Kitt suggested we head back, we all just got up. I was eager to hit the gym, sauna and soak in the pool on the 27th floor of the Renaissance Hotel with a grand view of the moon rising over the ancient and now modern looking capital city. That was sort of surreal; being in a pool with such a view.
The pool at the Renaissance Hotel. Great views.
      As I clung to the side of the pool, I thought about dinner. It was very much like dinners I’ve had before in cities like Sydney, Seoul, London, Frankfurt or even New York, Miami and Chicago, getting to know crew members for a short time. I love my job and how I get to peek into the lives of so many interesting people while seeing so many wonderful places.
      After my soak, I returned to my room and opened a beer. My view from the 17th floor was the same as from the pool, only ten floors lower. The moon was rising. The buildings flashed images of children jumping rope. The Chinese do love flashing buildings at night! Tomorrow would be breakfast, packing and taking the bus back to the airport for my flight home. I can’t wait to return. Next time, I will go to the Great Wall of China. They say you can see the wall from space, but did you know you can see space from the wall? Lots and lots of space.