Because the best things in life are free.

 
Curiously, the restaurant went out of business so instead I went to a place called Fado, and Irish pub. I had corned beef n’ cabbage and met a woman named Sandra Smith. She was with another guy, and relax, she was married. Nevertheless, the bar was a total experience with the interior made to look like a real Irish country pub down to fake wells in he dining rooms. I ate at the bar and listened to trivia night and when it was over I retired back to Alexandria, which was beginning to be a real drag.
I woke up late and failed to make my tour for the Bureau of Engraving and Printing. I did make it to Capitol Hill in time to have Sarah Cockerhill of Dave Dreier’s office give me a staff-assisted tour. The tours at the Capitol have been eviscerated and you see barely anything. However, since Sarah only had to guide me, it was nice to get special treatment. In addition, I got to see Dreier’s office which is right next to Denny Hastert’s (the Speaker of the House). Sarah recommended Cosi for lunch and I dutifully obeyed.
Once I finished lunch, I sauntered over to the Supreme Court. Although it is the stuff of myth, the room looks like any federal appeals court. I got the standard tour and then walked downstairs. I ran into an intern from the University of Utah named Laurie. We had lots of good jabs at Mormons (since she was a Presbyterian) and when I said, where do you recommend for dinner? She said “go a couple blocks north to this place called the Monocle. It’s the old hang out for Capitol Hill types.”
Of course, at this time it was only 3pm so I elected to visit the Smithsonain’s American History museum. I spent a while looking at the Japanese internment exhibit, and the one on West Point. From there I poked my head around at the New Mexico exhibit and the like. I walked around the Mall to the Lincoln Memorial and then back to the Metro headed for Union Station. I was worried I would stick out like a sore thumb since I wasn’t wearing a suit, although the Monocle owner assured me I was in dress code. The food was good, not great, but the best part had to be looking across the room and seeing Russ Feingold [D] having yuks with his female staffers. Did I introduce myself to him? But of course not. I left him alone, just as he would have wanted.
I elected that night to take the bus home from the King Street Metro. I waited almost twenty minutes and overheard a conversation between a young man and an older woman. He was talking about his awful life in Hawaii. Namely he said “once you live there for three month you find there is nothing to do there.” I boarded the bus without talking to him, but at least I knew he was telling the truth.
I got up too late to get to the “constituent breakfast” for Dianne Feinstein. It was quite a shock however to find out that it was not an intimate affair at all but about 70 people who sit in a conference room eating bagels. The Q and A session had her repudiate the war on Iraq and say that she had no idea why California gas prices are so high. I nice perk was tickets to see the Congress in session, which I will hope to use later. Also, I was happy to see that Feinstein was eager to close the SUV loophole which was essentially something I thought was long over do. Nevertheless, I left the Hart Senate building sad to be leaving DC since I realize I really enjoyed myself.

posted by Thomas at 12:58 PM 0 comments

 
Sunday was my chance to saunter off and explore the law school and St. Paul. George offered to show me the state capital via the reliable Twin Cities bus system. This would be a great idea in practice save for the fact that it had gotten colder as the week had gone on and now it was several degrees below zero Fahrenheit. George had to be convinced to take a photo in a snowdrift in a park overlooking the Mississippi river. From there, we were both freezing our asses off, so we infiltrated the skyways surrounding the financial district. George suggested we visit the Capitol and then get some coffee.
This was a great idea, but this also meant braving the elements. It was bitterly cold, and after taking a photo op south of the hill, we marched back into safety. Coffee consumed, we took the bus to the St. Paul Cathedral only to find out that we would have to wait until after Mass to tour the premises. We decided to cut our losses and return to Seven Corners, the neighborhood Daria lives in.
Upon arriving there, we learned that my host was sick and couldn’t eat solid food with George and I. The plan for Persian food was off, so instead we were to go downstairs and get food to go. The restaurant of choice, Sergeant Preston’s, was closed so after much deliberation, George and I got Indian food and brought it back to the unit. Once we finished dinner, I began to pack and prepare for the next stop.

posted by Thomas at 10:16 PM 0 comments

 
Dateline Minneapolis

“Ladies and gentlemen, we have been informed that the runways are closed here at Logan.” My heart sank as I watched the de-icing teams spray the plane. At this moment I thought I would be stuck for another night in Boston, and instead, I escaped. The plane, after an almost two hour delay, departed for Chicago, from which I caught the next flight to Minneapolis. Arriving in Minnesota, I realized that the taste of winter weather I enjoyed in Boston had become a full-course meal. Snow was piled onto the streets, and the temperatures were a chilly 25F. I had wondered what I had got myself into.
My Super Shuttle driver, one of countless Ethiopian immigrants to the Twin Cities I conjectured had the hardest time finding Daria’s place. The only problem with this is that it was only a few steps away from the West Bank of the University of Minnesota campus. I was impressed however, to see very nice student housing in an otherwise decent neighborhood. I was also very excited to see the law school across the street. However, I didn’t appreciate fully the temperature drop.
For the next morning, Daria asked his roommate, the 28 year old computer science grad student from Hungary, George to show me around while he was at class. Daria, being a med student, doesn’t exactly lack for something to do. The arctic landscape that passes for the University of Minnesota proved intriguing nonetheless. The student union had been recently redone, and the bookstore made the tony interior of the Duke union look even less attractive. The snow crunched under my feet as George showed me the “horseshoe”, the Armory, the Rec Center, and the McNamara Alumni Gateway. While the campus was nice, I was severely unprepared to handle the frigid temperatures. We could only walk a few yards without ducking into a building to take advantage of the free heating.
George left me at the law school to look around, which I did. Though it wasn’t quite as frilly Duke’s interiors, the school still looked like an excellent place if one could manage the snow. As I coursed through the huge law library, Daria called to say that he was home and I needed to let him into his building. At this point I really couldn’t see myself at Mondale Hall.
Later that night however, Daria invited a cabal of his friends to dinner and drinks at two separate locations of course. While Daria was using the opportunity to do reconnaissance on the opposite sex, I had the chance to meet his friends and discuss how they felt about things. I met Molly, who was going to do a summer job in Miami. I met Manish, the homosexual Indian who had graduated from UCLA a year before Daria and I. There was Shaquita, the sassy and part-black driver and Shawna, a platonic pal. I ordered walleye from the menu and Molly was shocked to hear this was the first time that Thomas had eaten the fish. She didn’t quite realize I was from Los Angeles and shortly after this, as we enjoyed the heat and warmth of the Loring Pasta Company, did I get needled about California. Of Daria’s ten friends, each had at least a partial desire to work in the Golden State. To me, this was very telling. I had two weeks before I could return to California, for good, if I chose. Nevertheless, the people were extremely friendly and all good-natured.
Then came Chino Latino. It started out as a harmless trip to one of Uptown’s trendiest locales. It ended with several people sitting upstairs at the bar staring down at the med schools students gyrating for the chance to do “body shots”. There was moaning, shouting, undulating…well…I suppose I can’t really divulge all that. Shaquita drove the three of us home to the Grand Marc. We all fell asleep pretty quickly, with George already being asleep.
Saturday began with a trip to the Mall of America, Minnesota greatest sucking sound. Daria was recovering for a hangover, so he decided we should go late in the afternoon, catch a movie, and eat dinner at the Mall. George offered to show me into Downtown Minneapolis with its skyways and other allures. However, the temperature had dropped to below freezing and snow blanketed the banks of the Mississippi. I reluctantly decided not to go and subject my neck and face to the punishment. With my new beanie and gloves, only the exposed part of my head found the climate unfriendly. I decided instead to give Darrah, my friend at Berkeley’s school of Optometry, a call while watching the Kentucky-Florida basketball game on television.
Soon enough it was time to traipse through the snow to the bus stop outside the Grand Marc. From there, we connected to another bus at the downtown Nicollet Mall and took the Express to the Mall. All things considered, it was pretty painless. Shivering in the almost sub-zero air was not that pleasurable, to be sure. The Mall surprised me too. It was not that upscale, despite having a theme park inside among other things. It had the feel of an outlet mall in very posh surrounding. Daria led us to a food court with his favorite place for food. It was supposed to be Japanese, but I got the feeling that Jenn would object to it having that title even more than she objected to Tsunami. I was still hungry after the gyoza and shrimp so I ate a hot dog during the movie.
Daria had sought to see this film called “Old School” in which case the breakup of Luke Wilson’s marriage (on a premise sort of like “Sliding Doors”) causes him to move into a house near the fictional Harrison University in New York. Naturally this was the same movie that bribed UCLA big money to film during class and take large portions of the campus hostage with huge sets. There had even been a time during shooting that I had passed Vince Vaughn on the quad at UCLA playing Frisbee in between takes.
The film turned out to be a great improvement, and the wait for the bus home was pretty short. We had to enjoy a great scenic tour of the airport, the VA hospital and Fort Snelling. Around 10:30pm, all of us staggered back to the apartment. I fell asleep not sure who had won the UCLA-Washington basketball game. It turns out the Bruins had won, and consequently qualified for the 8th seed in the PAC-10 tournament next week. The students at Pauley responded by storming the court. I could only laugh.

posted by Thomas at 9:42 PM 0 comments

 
Dateline: North Carolina


Just two days ago as my plane touched down at the Raleigh-Durham International Airport I had no idea what the quintessential North Carolina experience is. I now learn that it can be summed up in a very real and tangible occurrence, potholes. You see, North Carolina has, according to their board of tourism, the most miles of paved road of any state in the Union. If this is true, it must be contending for most potholes as well. So while this jarring sensation reminds from time to time about the suddenly svelte looking roads of California, it’s probably one of the few things that make the place feel southern.
Sure, there are great wooded patches and the occasional Bojangles restaurant. However, in the Triangle the African American population isn’t as downtrodden, jobs are remarkably based around technology, not everyone’s brother is in the armed forces and I have yet to see a trailer park. Campbell, my friend from many a year suggested on Monday we tour the local area and then on Tuesday we would check out the campus as we had class that day.
Monday began with a beautiful tour of the airport. You figure out really quickly where you are…after all…there are trees everywhere. Also, no mountains of any real size are visible, which doesn’t seem right after living in California. Regardless, Campbell and I set off to see the biggest tourist attraction in the entire Durham County. It is called Bennett Place and it looks like a 19th century log cabin in a big, muddy field with a visitor center. Of course, I know you have never heard of this place, but it’s important because after Robert E. Lee’s Army of Northern Virginia surrendered, other Rebel forces still were giving chase to the Union army. Of these was the Army of Tennessee which had brought pitched battles into North Carolina for the only time in the Civil war. Bennett Place just happened to be the place that Confederate commander Joe Johnston and William T. Sherman met and ended the civil war. After the Army of the Tennessee surrendered to Grant, this effectively ended pitched fighting. And yet, when Campbell and I rolled into the site…we were the only people there. It was ominously empty, and it’s only a few miles down the road from Duke University.
Still curious about historical things we drove northeast of town to Stagville, a resurrected plantation house that at one time was the largest plantation in all of North Carolina. It was so large that it covered four counties and employed 9,000 slaves at its height. When Campbell and I arrived we saw a white farmhouse that looked unimpressive. The tour guide, who also had seen no one all day, told us that in the 18th century all the wooded pasture would have been cleared and the house would have been the only thing higher than a row of cotton for miles around. The house itself is a minor attraction: a Thomas Day couch and period design. However, the tour guide then offered to have us accompany him and see the slave cabin and barn. Campbell and I hoped back in the car and drove to the slave cabins, which were huge and state of the art for 1860. There were several of them, and the light filtering through the Carolina pines gave things a particularly menacing quality. The barn was also a marvel, at the size of 130 feet long. It purpose was largely to house the army of mules requires for the more taxing labor. Intimidating to me was that this was not a place of splendor. This was not Baton Rogue, Louisiana or Charleston, South Carolina.
We decided to end the evening by seeing “Gods and Generals”. I warned Campbell the film would be four hours. He was undeterred and we went in. Of course the combination of jet lag and insomnia meant I fell asleep during Bull Run and woke up around the start of Fredericksburg. I managed to catch the cameos by Ted Turner and Bob Byrd and enjoy the battle cinematography. I noticed all the cute touches from the Zouave units traipsing in the background to Stonewall Jackson’s love of lemonade. Nevertheless, the dialogue is painful and the DVD is supposedly longer. Assuming “Full Measure” the last of the Shaara family trilogy, is this long the three movies will run as far as Ken Burns’ documentary.
In the middle of the night, Campbell got a phone call informing him his grandfather passed away. He immediately made plans to depart on Wednesday, so I had to move up the date to my initial run through Boston by a day. I narrowly escaped paying a king’s ransom, but Campbell had the more unappetizing itinerary. He would have to connect twice, once in Chicago, once in Tokyo and arrive in Taipei only to spend 36 hours for the funeral and then fly back to school. I’m not flying that many hours on all my flights combined.
Tuesday began late as I forgot that Campbell no longer had his bioethics presentation to deal with so we both leisurely awoke and prepared for the rest of the day. After lunch, we set off to the Duke campus. I got a tour from Mr. Chiang known as the “functional tour”. I saw the lockers, the Blue Lounge, the library…the admissions office….the Loggia…the….okay so I went to the main undergraduate campus for the afternoon and then came back to the law school before they locked the doors for a presentation.
The Duke campus itself is rather enjoyable to hike around. The centerpiece of the campus is a stone-brick Methodist chapel that reminded me of the Niewe Kerk in Amsterdam. Of course, I understand completely if you have no idea what the Niewe Kerk is but my advice is to see it when you do visit Amsterdam. I also viewed the quadrangle of the Duke campus, which is also stone-brick. The sororities and fraternities are on the west side of the quad while the liberal arts departments are on the east side. The north side is the chapel and to the south is the Garden. I had been told there was an Asian arboretum there. I was severely disappointed to learn that in North Carolina this means a few native plants scattered around some Eastern architecture in the Carolina pine forest. I mean, I doubt they were all Okinawan pines here…but…I digress.
The student union was very attractive, laid out with a country club atmosphere and the main library was also impressive. Furthermore, the paper which sold the most on campus? The News Observer perhaps? The Herald Sun? Nope. The New York Times. And as I walked around campus it became even more clear that the main campus at least was a playground of Tri Staters and other non-Suddern folk who either like the weather, the basketball team, the chapel, or the fact that on campus they fill in those naughty potholes.
I went back to the library only to fall asleep reading the US News. I awoke and went to the presentation called “Looking Like the Enemy: The Japanese American Internment Cases in Perspective”. The speakers were Dr. Peter Irons, who was responsible for overturning the Korematsu case, the darkest chapter of Asian-American history, and Eric Muller, a law professor at the University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill. Both of them didn’t focus on the same tired bit but instead the combination of social circumstance and legal precedent that utterly rocked constitutional law to this very day. What impressed me the most was that Irons brought up Ex Parte Milligan which more or less prevents the federal government from trying terrorists in a secret military tribunal if the charges are not military in nature. This ruling has been on the books since 1866, and yet if Zacarias Moussaoui is not allowed to have his civilian trial continue it will be tested and our notion of due process could be destroyed. This, and the free wine and hors d’ oeuvres after the presentation made me realize all my kvetching about Durham was premature.
So even though I only ended with a two-day tour of the greater metropolitan Triangle, I realized I had seen all I need to see. I had felt the consistency of holes in the road. I had seen the ravages of time consume the odes to the past. I hadn’t seen a basketball game or visited the Research Triangle Park. I never even went into Raleigh. Did I have to, however, as I had already seen the ugly past of slavery and tobacco being replaced brick by brick by Mike Kryzewski, a first rate medical campus, and other development. All this and more to ponder as I head north to Boston only to route myself towards Minneapolis, Minnesota. One down, six to go.

posted by Thomas at 10:17 PM 0 comments