I just stumbled across an account I wrote up a long time ago, that I thought I lost, of a trip I took to Germany for work in 1994. I post it here so I won't lose it. Man, those food descriptions make me hungry still.

Oddly, I can find no mention of the "Rabenleitte reservoir" I mention, anywhere else on the web except in this report.

Sometimes You Have To Tough It Out
For those of you who didn't hear, I traveled to Germany on business a few weeks back. It came about by a lucky "break" -- my project lead hit a patch of gravel while bicycling and broke his collar bone, leaving me to go in his place (the voodoo doll seemed to do the trick nicely). What follows is the complete trip report, in full boring detail. Because I ate and drank so well during the trip, I even decided to include a complete reporting of my meals.

*** Saturday, Oct 29 *** "More of anything?" "More of everything!"
Because my company travels by plane so much, we routinely get upgrades to first class. The beautiful thing here was, I *was* the first class section. That's right, I had all of first class to myself, including my own private (and rather comely) flight attendant, for eight hours. I was even offered any movie I wanted to watch. It's the only way to fly.

It seemed a crime to be getting paid for all this. Although, it soon dawned on me that figuring out the breakdown of work hours between Saturday and Sunday would be no easy chore -- flying across midnight over six time zones on the day they set back the clocks for daylight savings time. Oh well, sometimes you have to tough it out.

(The meal: Some sort of duck appetizer, greens salad, chicken in apricot glaze, heated raspberry tart, topped off with a whole bottle of German riesling.)

*** Sunday, Oct 30 *** In which Mark falls in love 37 times in the airport
I arrive in Munich, rent a car and drive two hours north to the US Army base at Grafenwohr, arriving at 11AM. The exercise our company's software was supporting was being run out of a large Oktoberfest tent there. I was unable to sleep on the flight, so I just decide to stick it out and stay up as late as I can to get over the jet lag. I put in a nine hour shift.

Hotels and guesthouses in the area are booked solid for the exercise, so the guesthouse (Gastof Weich) I end up in was a half hour drive away, in Hirschau. My room was a converted attic, very cool.

(Lunch: Schweinenschnitzel with potato balls. Dinner: Jaeger Schnitzel mit Spatzle, and a Pils. This was the meal I had been salivating for since two years ago, when I visited Bavaria for a couple of days.)

*** Monday, Oct 31 *** In which Mark visits Amberg
I visit the city of Amberg in the morning, just to walk around. Other than that, just a long day of work.

(I am forced to eat on base. Lunch: ChiChi's, taco and enchilada. Dinner: Hamburger from Burger King [the Burger Fuhrer, as it is known].)

*** Tuesday, Nov 1 *** In which Mark almost visits Czech
Drove out to the Czech border in the morning. The car rental place made me sign an agreement that I wouldn't take the car into any of the former Eastern Bloc countries, so I was hoping to just walk across the border. Nothing doing -- there is a very long line of trucks and cars waiting to get across.

(Lunch: The Burger Fuhrer again [sigh]. Dinner: Josefshaus [Hirschau] -- Jager Schnitzel again, plus several Thurn and Taris Pilsners.)

*** Wednesday, Nov 2 *** In which Mark enjoys the night sky
Long work day again.

At night, while driving back to Hirschau I notice how clear the sky is. I stop for about twenty minutes to lie on my hood and look at the stars. It is so quiet that the only car that drove past the whole time I am stopped is audible two miles away. Not for the last time on this trip, I think "life is good".

(Lunch: Fig newton from the PX. Dinner: Rahmschnitzel with noodles [excellent] and several Patrizier braus at the Gasthof Specht in Grafenwohr.)

*** Thursday, Nov 3 *** "My hovercraft is full of eels."
Long work day yet again, nothing terribly noteworthy, so let me wax philosophic on the subject of the German language and German phrasebooks.

German, at first blush, seems like it would be simple to learn. It is typically spoken loudly and clearly, and shares many words with my native English. I had in fact vowed to learn to speak it passably in time for the Schnitzius family reunion (which will be taking place in June 1995 [in Krov on the Mosel river in southwest Germany]), such was my confidence. Looking into the matter some, though, it seems that the German language is a nightmare of genders, declension, odd cases, and strange word orders (worse than English, from what I can tell). I will still be taking a course in it, but I am no hopeful of achieving anything close to fluency.

I tried to use as much German as I knew in every situation, figuring that was the only way to learn it. Also, it really is true that the locals will treat you better if you at least make an effort to communicate on their level. I had a German phrasebook which came in handy, sometimes. Most phrases in the book, however, such as those for asking directions, generated only a flurry of incomprehensible German in response. At this point I would always have to interrupt with a phrase I grew to know and love: "Ich spreche wenig Deutsche" ("I speak little German"). So the phrasebook was for the most part useless, except as a vocabulary builder.

(Lunch: I satisfy my chronic pizza addiction at the food court on base. Dinner: Jaegerbraten mit bratkartoffelen, "Eis und Heiss" for desert, plus several excellent beers.)

*** Friday, Nov 4 *** In which Mark meets an old German man by accident
Work is slow in the middle of the day, so I take off to find Rabenleitte reservoir, a place recommended in the tourist guidebooks that happens to be relatively close by. I soon discover that driving the back roads during the daytime can be a harrowing experience, due to the combination of slow- moving farm vehicles and impatient drivers more used to the autobahn. The reservoir was pretty interesting, as far as reservoirs go.

On the way back I make a wrong turn and end up having to make a U-turn in a parking lot. An old German man in a big beat-up van backs into my front end. We both get out of our respective vehicles but can do little more than point and shrug, since neither knows the other's language. Fortunately there is no damage. I was afraid I would have to dig into a certain section of my phrasebook that I was hoping I would never have to.

*** Saturday, Nov 5 *** In which Joe and Mark are the Ugly Americans
Long work day again.

This evening, after dinner in Grafenwohr, Joe (a cow orker) and I decide to drive back to Hirschau where we are staying and have a couple more beers.

(First, a quick word about the pubs in Germany. At least in Bavaria, all the pubs I went to were exceedingly similar, always consisting of the following ingredients:

they are part of a guesthouse;
they serve excellent food, consisting mostly of pork dishes;
wooden fixtures everywhere;
the feature beer of only a single brand from a nearby brewery, mentioned on a lit sign visible from the street; each brand, though, has several different varieties (pils, weiss, dunkels, etc.);
a gambling machine;
a long table at which the regulars sit
The German solution to drunk driving seems to be to always have one of these places within walking distance.)

Joe and I make our way to one such pub (Goldenes Lamm) just down the street from our guesthouse. We are the only ones there, except for the long table of regulars (who were eyeing us suspiciously). Eventually, though, they wave us over to their table.

In the ensuing mayhem, we manage some level of communication, despite the language barrier and copious quantities of beer. At one point I think we played darts, but I could be wrong. I do remember Joe teasing the waitress several times during the evening, and her successfully communi- cating her response through the effective use of sign language, if you catch my drift.

(Lunch: Fig newtons from the PX. Dinner: [Gasthof Specht] Rahmgeschnetze- something.)

*** Sunday, Nov 6 *** In which Mark recovers
Had a beer-free day today. The resulting sore throat I develop could just be coincidence.

(Lunch: Mexican food at ChiChi's on base. No dinner.)

*** Monday, Nov 7 *** In which the Tailhook Incident is relived
During dinner at a guesthouse in Grafenwohr, we are sitting at the long locals table because of the size of our group. A young GI approaches Mike (a member of our entourage) and out of the blue says "I think you're a scumbag. I saw what you did to that waitress, and I don't appreciate it." and walks away.

We sit in stunned silence for several seconds. We eventually figured out what happened: at one point earlier, Mike had turned around suddenly in his chair, and accidentally elbowed the waitress; he had to reach around her quickly to keep from falling over. The GI at the next table saw this and interpreted it as a grope.

We explained this to the old man that was sitting next to me at the locals table. With a dismissive wave of his hand, he said "Dvink more bier" (this guy was cool). "She can take care of herself." As several in our party were getting steamed, we leave before there is any incident.

(Dinner: Gasthof Specht, Rahmschnitzel again.)

*** Tuesday, Nov 9 *** In which Mark sees a musical god up close
During the week the military newspaper Stars and Stripes had mentioned a concert scheduled for this day in Munich that I desperately wanted to see -- Paul Weller (for the unlearned heathens, he was front man for the Jam and the Style Council). Since the excercise wrapped up early, I check out of my room and head down towards Munich again. Not knowing where exactly to go, where to buy tickets, or even how to speak the language, I am non- theless successful.

Paul was absolutely brilliant. Hairs were standing up on the back of my neck at several points. The only down side of the concert is that I am now addicted to secondhand menthol cigarette smoke. Muncheners are like chimneys.

Driving back to my guesthouse in Starnberg (outside Munich) I come to several disheartening realizations:

I have only just enough money to pay for my room;
There are supposedly a couple of teller machines in Munich that take American bank cards, but I have no idea where they are
The instructions for how to call back to the states are safely locked in Joe's head, which was now rapidly traveling westward.
I sleep fitfully.

(Lunch: Bavarian pretzel on streets of Munich [tough and stale]. Dinner: schweinenbraten and Hacker-Pschorrs at the guesthouse in Starnberg.)

*** Wednesday, Nov 10 *** In which Mark breathes a sigh of relief
I eat a big breakfast, because I do not know when I'll be able to eat again.

I manage to figure out how to dial the American Express emergency travel number; they inform me that there is an AmEx travel office in Munich that would let me essentially forge a check from my bank for cash. After getting lost several times I manage to find it. When I finally get the cash in my hand, I guess the relief is evident on my face, because the cashier says "You can eat now, yes?"

I head out to Ottobeuren, which features a Benedictine abbey that is really phenomenal. It is supposedly the crowning achievement of the Baroque period; so incredibly detailed that it is almost tiring to look at.

I then decide to head down and spend the night in the Alps. I find a guesthouse in Tiefenberg, outside of Oberstdorf, that has a nice view of the Alps from my balcony of my room. As it is nearly winter but skiing season is not yet in swing, I am the only guest.

[Breakfast: standard German fruhstuck with big spread of meats, breads, and cheeses. Dinner: [Oberstdorf] Chicken heine-something mit brat- kartoffelen. I discover why Germany is not famous for their chicken dishes.]

*** Thursday, Nov 11 *** In which Mark visits the Royal Castles
After getting desperately lost in the Alps, I make my way to two of the Royal Castles of King Ludwig II, Neuschwannstein and Hohenschwangau. Hohenschwangau is impressive but I would have enjoyed it more if I could understand a word the tour guide was saying. Fortunately, Neuschwanstein has a tour in English (Neuschwannstein, by the way, is the one that the Cinderella castle at Disney World is modelled after).

After these castles I dip down into Austria. I blow just about a whole roll of film in the vicinity of Plansee, at a beautiful emerald-green lake nestled in the Alps.

I return to Germany and check into a hotel in Oberammergau, which incidentally is the city where a massive world-famous Passion Play is performed every ten years. They apparently do a massive business of selling crucifixes and other religious knick-knacks here.

(Breakfast: basically the same spread as before, only with addition of a bowl of cold cereal in what appears to be curdled milk. Not wanted to offend my hosts, I try some, and am relieved to find out it is just peach yogurt. Dinner: Rinderschmorrbraten, with several Paulaners, in Oberammergau.)

*** Friday, Nov 12 *** In which Mark castles again
I set out for yet another Ludwig castle -- Linderhof. While smaller than the other two, Linderhof is nontheless very impressive inside.

The rest of the day I had just set aside to wander around through the Alps some more. Some cities I travel through: Garmisch-Partenkchn., Mittenwald, Walchensee, Bad Tolz, Gmund, Bad Weissee, Tegernsee, Schliersee.

I plan on just sleeping at the airport my last night so I head back into Munich. After pizza dinner (I was Jonesing again) I wander the streets in search of a bar to kill some time; I settle on a little French restaurant that has two beautiful women working the bar. Flirting in an odd mixture of German, French and English, I discover my favorite beer yet (Wiehanstephan Export Dunkels); after a few of these, I buy a couple to go and head for the airport.

(Breakfast: usual. Denied lunch because of the idiotic German law where all businesses close from 2PM to 5PM. Dinner: pizza in Munich.)

*** Saturday, Nov 13 *** In which Mark flies home
I sleep well in the airport, and board the plane in the morning. The flight home didn't quite compare with the flight out -- I was stuck back in Business class with the common folk. Oh well, sometimes you have to tough it out.

Some photos from the Perth trip here.

Good fun. Drank wine, spelunked, saw new birds, smelled flowers, saw Australia's southwesternmost point, listened to burned CDs of Fresh Air, Prairie Home Companion, All Things Considered, and What'Ya Know?. We miss NPR!

The cloud hanging over my trip to West Australia (which I'll be posting pictures of soon) was the fact that I have to give a speech tomorrow at work, to a big group of invited clients, on the subject of Web 2.0 as it relates to content management. Surely the biggest such speech in my career, and all the scheduled practice sessions and feedback from partners of the firm really bring home what a big deal it is. It's also really making me face up to my limitations as a speaker. I simply can't speak extemporaneously, and so I'm memorizing as much of it as I can, and relying on my notes much more than the two other speakers. I only have to speak for 15 minutes, but it may seem like an eternity, and I'm still worried that I'm going to get flustered or something, as I still sometimes do. But oddly I'm not really nervous. I just want it to be done with at this point. In fact I'm just posting this because I'm so sick of practicing this speech. I'll let you know how it goes.

Update: It went about as expected. I was a bit nervous, certainly noticeably so, but not debilitatingly so, and got through it okay. The last talk I blogged about I mentioned liking public speaking, but this one seemed more like a chore, and I'm just glad it's over.

You'll notice I have updated the Computronium blog in a while. I did take a couple of weeks off, but when I came back, I couldn't seem to log in, and so put off debugging the problem for another night. Well, it looks like the reason I couldn't log in was because the site was hacked. You'll notice that now all the posts are signed "Mazhar_Fashist", who is not me, and is probably a team of guys.

I'm steaming mad right now. Guys who do this sort of thing are like bombers at 30,000 feet who don't see the damage they do. Or worse, they know and don't care.

I'm having a hard time finding a description of how the hack was done (probably some sort of SQL injection) so I haven't fixed things yet. Fortunately it looks like their only goal is defacement. I'll probably have to reinstall the whole mess, but even if I do, how will I know it won't happen again? Wordpress, which the blog is run on, is a nice slick piece of software, but suffers from its own popularity, and thus is a target for hackers. I could try something less popular but there's always a tradeoff between popularity and slickness.

A festering pox on those assholes!

Weekend wrap-up.

Thursday night: The Hoodoo Gurus concert was fabbo. I forgot how many great songs they have, and left wishing they'd played for another couple of hours. Quick set list, from memory: I Want You Back, Leilani, I Was A Kamikaze Pilot, Bittersweet, In The Wild, Like Wow - Wipeout, Out That Door, What's My Scene, Come Anytime, Miss Free Love '69, 1000 Miles Away, Form A Circle, and a lot of newer stuff I wasn't familiar with. Oddly, they didn't sound as tight as they did when I saw them (cough) eighteen years ago, but they were still great. Opening act was Radio Birdman -- one of Australia's very first punk groups -- and Marjorie bought the t-shirt.

Friday: My soccer team's "vote count" night, where they tallied all the votes we'd been submitting after each game for top three players. As I knew, this was an off year for me, and I wasn't even in the top three vote getters for any individual game. But I finished tenth overall, which is not bad. Fun night though.

Saturday: Watched the first three installments of the "Up" Series, which chronicles the lives of a group of Britons from different classes, starting at age 7 and revisiting them every seven years. I highly recommend it; it's thoroughly engrossing. We'll probably watch the next three tonight, which will only leave the most recent episode which just came out (49 Up).

Today: Laika's getting a house call from the vet. Who makes house calls anymore?

Marji votes and Marky votes and little dogs need surg'ry.

After taking Laika to another vet and confirming that she needs surgery (worse still, her other leg is likely to come down with the same issue), we went off to vote for the first time since becoming Australia citizens. It's a local election, and seemed pretty similar to voting in America, except 1) it's mandatory, and 2) we had to fill in a number for each candidate, from one to nine, in the order of our preference. It's an interesting system -- if my first choice isn't in the running, my vote goes to my second choice, then on to my third, etc... I think it's a brilliant system, much needed in America, but will probably never fly, due to those with a vested interest in keeping the system two-party.

Then we went and saw Ratatouille, which gets my vote.

Our broken family. Marjorie: sprained ankle from rolling it off of our too-high welcome mat.

Mark: Two sprained ribs from a vicious kick to the chest. Oddly it took a week for any discomfort to appear.

Laika: Ligament damage to left rear leg, which will require surgery. The answer to your next question is "lots and lots of money".

Everybody out of the water. Marjorie is an expert on sharks, despite or because of being somewhat phobic about them, but her famous meltdown on a reef in Cancun is a story for another day.

For some reason, I've never seen a shark while snorkeling, and I've done a lot of snorkeling. I must emit a natural repellent. But being in and around the ocean much of my life, I've definitely seen a few.

The topper was one day out surfing in Melbourne (the Florida one) with my friends Earl and Mike just after high school. The conditions were perfect; warm sun, clear water, good sized waves, glassy conditions. There were probably thirty guys out, but there was no peak spot so everyone was getting a lot of waves. Things were fine and carefree until a school of sharks, each probably six to eight feet long, decided to mingle with us.

Things can get exaggerated in memory, but I'm sure there were at least twenty of them. The weird thing is, only a couple of guys went in to the beach. The conditions were so nice, and the sharks were swimming about so lazily, that it was hard to believe that these sharks would want to spoil the party.

They definitely added a nervous tension though, like bikers crashing your keg party. You could see that, where surfers normally sit on their board waiting for waves, a number of guys were lying prone instead, so their feet weren't quite so dangly. To make the sharks seem less dangerous we started naming them. One in particular (who I think we named "Fred" for some reason) popped his dorsal fin up right in the middle of the triangle formed by myself and my two friends, as we were sitting only twenty feet apart or so.

There's no exciting ending to this story, fortunately or unfortunately; we just shared the water with them for a while without incident, and came in, a little bit exhilarated and maybe a little bit relieved.

Marjorie and I both cracked up over this New Yorker article. Jim, this one's especially for you.

I had pretty much given up on social networking websites, after efforts on Friendster and MySpace, but I've been convinced by workmates to give Facebook a go. It does seem a good bit livelier in general on first blush. So like come join and stuff.

The days are just packed. On Saturday, golf with my soccer mates; I shot a 76. Okay, that was thanks to Calloway scoring; in the real world, I shot a miserable 110, and that's parring 3 holes. It's like, I'm playing at least once a year, but for some reason am not improving. Still lots of fun.

Sunday, our soccer match was an absolute classic, and reminded me why I still play. Fought back from 3-0 down against a bunch of prats; took a 4-3 lead, let them tie it again, then won the day with a late goal.

Last night we saw Ryan Adams from a far closer to the ceiling of the venue than the stage. Unfortunately he's still going through his tortured artist phase and played in near darkness all night; for the first two songs, I even thought the black silhouette of his backup guitarist was him. But they at least sounded amazing.

My trip home today took a little longer than usual.

I was leaving on our office elevator when it decided it didn't want to go any further. It clunked to a stop and the digital readout switched off. I looked at the clock on my phone: 5:35pm. There were five other people stuck with me; we called the emergency line and settled in for a long wait. One woman had just talked to her husband who was waiting by the curb. Another was on his way to a movie. Nervous jokes were made about how much air we had, how high up we were, etc. Everyone had cell phones and could connect out, fortunately, so there wasn't a lot to fret about. We weren't sure where exactly we were stuck, but had guessed in the basement carpark level, because we were only hearing noises above us. The repair guys made it there relatively quickly and the doors finally opened at 6:20. Turns out we were on the 14th floor. Not fun, but without plans for the evening, I figured I was better off than some of the others stuck with me. Forty-five minutes can't be too bad for elevator repair time.

We have a new nephew! Wesley was born to Marjorie's sister last night our time. A little before predicted, but well within the drop zone. Weighing in at 5.8 pounds. Huzzah!

On several occasions in the past I've used this forum to geek out a bit, but I usually hold back.

So for my birthday this year I bought myself a new website, with the primary purpose being to start a blog where I have free reign to geek out. I've spent a couple of weeks setting it up, and now it's pretty much ready to go. I also spent some time just writing down topics that I want to blog about -- I came up with about sixty-five, plus another dozen or so that could be attempted with a little investigation, so I'll have no shortage of things to write about!

The main theme will be computer programming, with occasional asides into astronomy, math, and physics. So I hereby annouce Computronium: the blog. Let me know what you think!

Took a nice long walk around Albert Park Lake today. Saw a rakali, which was cool; I've never seen a rat dive before!

During a stop for lunch Laika escaped and bolted off to confront a black swan. Bad idea. Luckily Marjorie was able to grab her lead, but not before Laika crashed into the water. The lady serving us lunch told us that these swans have a tendency to drown dogs by sitting on top of them while they're trying to swim.

Through a combination of nature shows and personal experience, we have learned that you NEVER mess with swans, badgers, hippos, cassowaries, or hyenas (besides the obvious poisonous critters).

There's a tradition in my family that whenever we would move somewhere new, I was always the first family member to need to visit the emergency room.

I kept this tradition alive since marrying, too -- in Singapore I had to go in for kidney stones. Well, today I got to visit my first Melbourne emergency room. Nothing serious -- I knocked heads with a guy on the soccer pitch and lost. Three stitches in my hairline at the very top middle of my forehead, and an ugly abrasion on my cheek. I think it's the first time in soccer that I ever went down and stopped caring about the run of play. Head wounds bleed, big time, so I as soon as I put my hand to my head, it came away covered in blood.

Luckily there's a guy on our team that used to do facial surgery. He set me up right, and got me on my way. I was in and out of the emergency room in just over an hour, and all covered by Medicare. I even was back to work the bar for the first team three hours later.

Today for my birthday Marjorie stayed home from work and cooked me a Thanksgiving dinner. How good is that? I skipped lunch just so I could make a bigger pig of myself. Turkeys are pricey down here but we get a lot of meals out of one bird. She invented a new dessert for the occasion, too -- she blended vanilla ice cream with Maltesers in the food processor and refroze. Yum!

Friday night we invited people from our respective workplaces out for drinks to celebrate citizenship. It was good fun, especially now that the pubs are smoke free. Marjorie led a quick "Aussie Aussie Aussie!" ("Oi Oi Oi!") cheer during a toast.

Sudden citizenship realization: we have a queen!

Aussie Aussie Aussie! Our nationality is now officially hyphenated. We had our Australian citizenship ceremony last night. Check out some random photos (sorry about the random ordering, but Flickr stupidly allows you to only create three photo sets for free, so those are retrieved by tag).

It started with the mayor reading a huge list of apologies from elected officials that couldn't make it. Then there were speeches from the two (besides the mayor) that did attend; one was Aborigine and talked about her ancestors, which was interesting. Then we did the swearing in, and the handing out of certificates. They pronounced my name as "Schitznius". *Sigh* We also got plants to plant, and a pin. Finally we sang the national anthem (badly).

There were maybe thirty of us who were getting sworn in, and surprisingly, twenty-one different countries represented. The ones I remember are: Vietnam, New Zealand, UK, Samoa, Poland, Singapore, Sri Lanka, South Africa. I think we were the only Americans this time around.

They signed us up to vote straight away. There were tea and sandwiches afterwards, but we went out for a nice dinner at The Dogs Bar (sans dog) instead.

To infinity and beyond! I never understand people who denigrate anything modern, and pine for an earlier time, when art was better. They miss out on so much. I'm sure people like that will have ancestors who will look back on our time as a golden age, and continue to ignore the great works produced in their own future time.

Today we checked out the Pixar exhibit at the ACMI. I'm a big fan of all the Pixar movies I've seen (and am looking forward to Ratatouille). Even without the animated exhibits, this would have been worth attending, just for the artwork. The skill involved in their storyboards, color sketches, and close up studies is plainly evident. Add in the brilliant characterizations, story lines, dialog, and world-building, and it's clear that these movies will be timeless. It's amazing also to see how much work they do and later discard. One quote they had posted gave an idea of what it must be like to work on one of these movies; they describe it as everyone involved holding hands and jumping from an airplane, and then building the parachute on the way down.

The highlight, though, was the zoetrope. This video doesn't quite do it justice but you get the idea.

Back in my old hometown of Atlanta, they're tearing down the old party district, Buckhead. While I long ago outgrew it -- well before I even left Atlanta -- I must admit I had some excellent times there, back in my post-college, new in town, swinging bachelor days.

But now is not a time for talk of such things. Today marks the nine-year anniversary of Marjorie and I's [*] first date. Happy anniversary, baby! She's all sickly though so it doesn't look like we'll be doing much.

[*] Surely "Marjorie and I's" is wrong? But "Marjorie and my" doesn't sound right either.

My company had its end-of-the-fiscal-year party Friday night, which I had an excellent time at (well, I'm almost certain I did). It was held at the bowling alley downstairs from our office, and we had a tournament. I bowled out of my skin all night (136, 148, 144, and 115) and ended up finishing fourth. It was won by our resident Olympian (he actually has a gold medal for playing on the field hockey team for Australia) who was a no better bowler than anyone but turned it on at the end, finishing the final round with three consecutive strikes in the final frame. I guess that's why he's an Olympian.

There was a company bar tab, which I overindulged on, shall we say. Marjorie came to join me later in the evening but pretty much had to just rescue me. I don't remember anything after about 6 p.m., including the tram ride home and the pizza that Marjorie made me eat (bless her heart).

When I lived back in Orlando I famously passed out in the back seat on the way home from club hopping one night, and suddenly startled awake saying, "David Koresh!" for no fathomable reason. Well, I've got some new ones from Friday night; as I was passing out on the couch I apparently started saying nonsensical things, like "George Clooney is kind of creepy" and "Look, Tony got a split" (the latter apparently having something to do with bowling).