The Udvar-Hazy Center

Last weekend we were back in the DC metro area for a family visit and a side trip out to Dulles, VA, to the Smithsonian's Air & Space Museum's Udvar-Hazy Center. This hangar-like building houses many of the large planes, helicopters, and spacecraft that the Smithsonian can't fit in the main museum on the National Mall. In particular I was excited to see the Space Shuttle Discovery, as I've been an astronomy and space exploration geek since I was a kid.

What struck me about the Shuttle is that it's big, but not that big. It looks enormous on TV and in photos. It's about the size of a medium-size passenger jet, like a commuter plane. It dominates the room in which it's housed, but it's small enough that I wondered at how NASA had crammed all of the electronics and mission equipment into the spacecraft. Even without seeing the interior, I could tell that astronauts really didn't have much room to maneuver inside it.

The other remarkable thing about the orbiter was its exterior. While the underside was covered with ceramic heat shield tiles, the upper parts of the shuttle looked like a patchwork of white quilts. For some reason I'd assumed that the ship was metallic. I hadn't realized that its upper surfaces are covered with heat-resistant fabric instead of metal. Of course, a spaceship doesn't have to be completely metallic. As long as it's airtight, you can cover the outside with fabric. Space is a vacuum.

As I walked through the museum and looked at the history of human flight, I marveled at the engineering feats it took to get us from the Wright brothers' plane to spaceflight in less than 60 years. There's a display of different aircraft engines from before WWI through the end of WWII. I hadn't considered what early mechanics and engineers had accomplished with what were little more than automobile engines adapted for airplanes.

In addition to the many photos I took of Discovery, I took far too many photos of some of my favorite planes, like the SR-71, the F-105 Thunderchief, the Concorde, and the "Enola Gay." They didn't have a Messerschmitt Me-262, one of my favorite early jet fighters, but they did have the Me-163 Komet, as well as the F-86 and MiG-15, two planes I remember well from days spent playing "Chuck Yeager's Air Combat Simulator." And I couldn't help thinking about the pointlessness of the inclusion of the X-35 Joint Strike Fighter, a plane that has yet to enter service. It's been in development for 20 years and if drone technology continues to evolve, it might never be finished. It's already a museum piece.

The NSO takes on Messiaen's "Turangalila"

My brother and his girlfriend are going to hear Olivier Messiaen's gargantuan "Turangalila-Symphonie" performed by the National Symphony Orchestra this weekend in Washington, DC.  I'm not a big fan of Messiaen's music but I'd go see this work in concert in a heartbeat.  It calls for a massive orchestra with obsolete instruments and makes demands on the players and audiences that few pieces do.  In short, it's a spectacle.  And I love spectacles, musical or otherwise.  It's disappointing that there were "hundreds of empty seats" at the Kennedy Center last night.  I think that New York audiences would turn out for this piece.  (A quick check of the New York Philharmonic's history shows that they've performed it twice, in 1988 and 2000, so it must have been popular enough for a second hearing.)  I look forward to hearing my brother's review of the performance.

Stradiwho-vius?

On my visit to the Smithsonian's American History museum last Friday, I saw their small (compared to New York's Metropolitan Museum of Art) collection of musical instruments.  What the collection lacked in size it made up in content.  They had an entire Stradivarius quartet of instrument, including the only Stradivarius viola that I can recall seeing in person.  In fact, I wasn't entirely aware that Stradivari made any violas.  It seemed a shame to have the instruments locked away in display cases, but from the audio clips playing in the gallery I assume they see an occasional performance.

I also got to see the World War II memorial for the first time.  I was against the construction of this memorial when it was proposed back when I still lived in Washington, DC.  I'm still not convinced that the veterans of WWII deserve a more majestic memorial than the veterans of the Korean or Vietnam wars.  But the WWII memorial pays tribute to our country's role in that war while fitting into the expanse of the National Mall.  Walking around the fountains and reading the names of the major battles of the Atlantic and Pacific theaters, I remembered the scope of that conflict and the sheer effort the entire country devoted to it.  If we're going to have a monument to our role in that war, I think that memorial was the best we could do.

How I remember Allen Iverson

This evening I watched ESPN's "30 For 30" documentary on Allen Iverson, "No Crossover: The Trial of Allen Iverson" directed by Steve James of Hoop Dreams fame.  The movie is superbly done, focusing on the racial divide in Iverson's hometown of Hampton, VA and the events surrounding Iverson's involvement in a 1993 brawl in a bowling alley that resulted in his spending four months in prison.  Iverson, of course, went to Georgetown University after his release and went on a successful career in the NBA.  But it's his time at Georgetown that I think about when I hear Iverson's name.

I was a freshman at Georgetown when I heard about the brawl and the subsequent trial.  At the time I didn't even know where Hampton, VA, was.  I assumed it was somewhere south of DC (which it is, on a peninsula in the Chesapeake Bay).  I didn't have an opinion of the trial, Iverson's conviction, or his release and pardon by then-Governor Douglas Wilder.  But shortly after Iverson's release we heard that Georgetown coach John Thompson was trying to get Iverson to come to Georgetown.  Even then, I thought that Iverson was just another one of Thompson's reclamation projects.  I don't think anyone I knew cared about his past or worried about how he'd affect the team. 

I didn't realize what kind of talent we had on our team until his first few games as a freshman in 1994.  He was unlike anyone I'd ever seen play basketball.  The way he threw himself into games was unreal.  He could make shots out of nothing.  I only went to one game in person during his time at Georgetown, an ugly, foul-filled game against Boston College, and I don't remember anything specific about Iverson other than his energy and incredible shots.  When the Hoyas played in the 1996 NCAA Tournament, I had high hopes that Iverson would lead us to a championship.  It didn't happen, but he took us for an unforgettable ride.

My only other encounter with Iverson happened a few months later, after Iverson announced that he would leave Georgetown two years early to enter the NBA draft.  My mother was in town for a visit and we were walking from campus to M Street.  As we crossed Prospect Street, a luxury car stopped short about ten feet from us.  I don't remember exactly but I'm fairly certain we had the right of way, though I will admit we might have been jaywalking.  I looked at the driver and it was Allen Iverson.  It was as close as I would ever get to our superstar player.  He and I made eye contact for a second.  As we walked away, I said to my mom, "You know, that was Allen Iverson who nearly ran us over just now."  We thought it was funny.  And no, this isn't the first time I've told this story.  It probably won't be the last, either.

I spent my Christmas weekend in Bowie, MD, this year, visiting my father and stepmother instead of my usual Johnstown holiday vacation. After four years of Johnstown at the holidays, I was ready for a change.

I got caught in the mess at Penn Station on my way out last Wednesday. My scheduled train had a mechanical problem which eventually forced Amtrak to cancel the train. They'd already told the big-city passengers to move to the Acela on the next track, so they sent the rest of us headed for small towns (like New Carrollton, MD, the closest stop to my dad's house) back to the concourse to catch the next train. We boarded another train scheduled to leave at 9:41 AM, but it was sitting on the tracks with no power. None of the tracks had power. We sat on this train for about 45 minutes before the conductor told us all to get off the train and take the PATH commuter trains to Newark, where we could get on southbound trains. So we all trudged over to 6th Avenue and crammed ourselves onto a PATH train. At Newark no one from Amtrak had any idea what was going on. Some of us discussed the idea of renting a car. Shortly after noon we heard that power had returned at Penn Station and that trains were moving again. Around 12:45 my train pulled into Newark and many of us crowded onto it. Somehow I got a seat. After five hours, I was on my way. I got to DC just in time to meet some friends for dinner at Clyde's near the Verizon Center.

The rest of the trip was far less exciting. I spent several hours going over music, recordings, and photos of my grandfather and family for a website project that is scheduled to launch early next year (or whenever I get around to launching it). My mother drove down the day after Christmas for a visit. I got to watch the Steelers edge the Ravens and keep their slim playoff hopes alive. And most importantly, I was able to spend some time with my father, who I never seem to see often enough.

I returned to New York on Monday afternoon, somewhat revitalized. Vacations help but returning home always seems to bring out the same old stressors. Still, it's good to be back and I'm looking forward to a better 2010. This year didn't turn out quite how I'd planned. Next year will definitely be an improvement.

Zima is no more

MillerCoors (I didn't know that was the corporate name) has ended production of Zima, the Sprite of malt beverages. When it first came out nationwide in the summer of 1993, my high school friends who went to Pitt introduced me to it. I wasn't a hard-core beer drinker at the time, and here was this vaguely fruity-tasting thing that was just as cool as beer to drink at a party. Cooler, even. So I became something of a Zima fan. I would seek it out at parties, ask my friends to get it for me, and told everyone I knew to try it. It was a wild ride.

Soon, the wheels came off my Zima party bus. I had a small party for my friends in the Georgetown orchestra in the spring of 1994 and got a six-pack of Zima along with beer and hard liquor. Liz drank a couple of bottles of Zima, then switched to the crappy vodka I had on hand. Her evening ended with her getting sick all over my apartment, then looking like death for a few hours before she pulled back from the abyss. A few months later we had a party to celebrate the end of the semester, and I had five beers and one Zima. But that one Zima got me drunker than anything else I had that night, and I think I made a fool of myself that evening but I can't remember the details. I'm sure there were other instances like these; Zima was a fixture at most parties that year.

It wasn't long before we realized that a) we got too drunk too fast on Zima and b) it tasted like lime juice spiked with urine. Also, everyone we knew thought Zima was for girls. We moved on to beer and bourbon, Zima tried to re-brand itself as a drink for men, and then Smirnoff Ice came along and put Zima out of its misery.

I salute you, Zima. By being so awful, you taught me what good alcohol should taste like.

Tim Page on Leonard Slatkin and the NSO

Sunday's Washington Post had a debate between Tim Page "One" and Tim Page "Two" over the benefits and effects of Leonard Slatkin's 12 years as music director of the National Symphony Orchestra. Slatkin is stepping down in June and moving on to other opportunities in Detroit and elsewhere. I'm not sure the "two minds" approach works as a story-telling device, but it's a unique way to explore the good and bad aspects of Slatkin's tenure in Washington. I was a fan of Slatkin before he came to DC, and a smooth sales rep from the Kennedy Center talked me into buying season tickets to the NSO based largely on the orchestra's hiring of him in 1994 (he conducted a few concerts a year in the 1994-95 and 1995-96 seasons before taking over full-time in 1996). I was a student at Georgetown at the time and I had avoided the NSO up to that point, as its reputation was not that good. Also, I couldn't really afford season tickets, but when the guy told me that getting in early was the best way for me to get to hear Slatkin conduct, I broke out my then-pristine credit card and paid up.

And it was worth it. I was a season ticket holder for four seasons, and the orchestra's playing improved each year. I especially enjoyed Slatkin's renditions of Mahler's symphonies; one of the highlights of my time in DC is hearing the NSO perform Mahler's Symphony No. 2 in January 1995. Slatkin had a particular fondness for the Labeque sisters piano duo, but I think it was justified: two years in a row I made sure to get tickets to their performances with the orchestra. Slatkin also emphasized American composers, and often included new works or seldom-performed works on his concert programs. I moved to New York in the fall of 1999 and so I have missed the remainder of Slatkin's time with the NSO, but I was aware that the excitement about Slatkin had abated. I still think Slatkin is an extraordinary musician and conductor and I'm sure he will continue to make his presence felt on the American musical scene. He'll leave behind an orchestra that is in much better musical shape than when he arrived, and I hope that the NSO continues to grow. I think Slatkin's legacy will be that he gave the NSO the push it needed to become an orchestra on par with other great American orchestras.

quick weekend trip home

I'm averaging a trip home to DC/Baltimore/suburban Maryland every seven weeks or so. This time I went to see one of my cousins from England (as well as the rest of my family). My brother and I spent Friday evening at the Baltimore Book Fair, where we watched a grilling demonstration by the authors of Mastering The Grill (they marinated steaks in Scotch and then grilled them right on wood coals, blowing the ash off the top with a leafblower), listened to a few local bands, and shopped for books. I picked up a dog-eared copy of Dreadnought by Robert Massie, a 900-page volume about the arms race between Britain and Germany at the beginning of the 20th century that led to the construction of the first battleships. I also found DVDs of At Last, the 1948 Show and Do Not Adjust Your Set, the two British TV series that were the precursors to Monty Python's Flying Circus. All of that material should keep me busy for the next few weeks and months.

Saturday and Sunday were for relaxation, visiting with family and hanging out at my dad's house. I watched about half of Lebron James on Saturday Night Live and reminded myself why I don't watch that show anymore. And I overate at every meal, so I think it's time to double my efforts in the gym and finish the cycling season in strong fashion with a few more decent rides.

I'm ready for cold weather now, in case the weather gods are reading this. I'm sick of schvitzing.

DC "Culottes" Party

I went to DC this weekend for another Deadspin baseball game meet-up. The plan was the same as the NY gathering I attended back in June: meet at a local bar in mid-afternoon, get acquainted over beers, then move on to the game (Nationals vs. Cardinals at RFK Stadium), and finish the evening at another bar. The first stop was the Pour House on Capitol Hill. We hung out there from about 3 PM to 6. There was only one other person I’d met in person before, but I got to know everyone else quickly. The bar ran a shuttle service to RFK Stadium, and the bus turned out to be an old yellow school bus. Riding in the back, I felt like I was back in high school, though I’d never been on the bus after having a few beers. By the time we got into the stadium, we’d missed out on the Thomas Jefferson bobble-head giveaway for that night. We all considered rolling some kids for their bobble-heads, but common sense prevailed. (I may look for one on eBay this week, though).

The game was a blowout: 12-1 in favor of the Nationals. We were sitting in the upper deck in dead center field, so we had a good view of the field. But it was HOT. Really hot. Disgustingly hot. It was the kind of heat that just settles in around you. You could see the haze in the stadium lights. There was no breeze up there despite the height, so we just suffered for about three hours. I had a few beers, some food, and lots of water, but it was uncomfortable the entire time. We made the best of it and had fun anyway. I felt bad for my friend Andrea; she flew halfway across the country to see the Cardinals and Albert Pujols. Not only did her team lose badly, for some reason Pujols wasn’t in the lineup. They could have used him.

After the game, we went back to Capitol Hill to The 18^th Amendment, another bar a few blocks from the first one. This bar had a basement that was blissfully air-conditioned. My friend Jon came over from Arlington to hang out with us. There was some debauchery, but I will not discuss that sort of thing in this forum. Around 1 AM we’d had enough, and we took a cab back to his apartment in Arlington, where I crashed on his couch for the night. It was another fun time with the Deadspin gang, and I’m thinking about going to another gathering this fall, possibly in Las Vegas. I haven’t treated myself to a vacation like that in a long time. I think I have an excuse to do it now.

Photos from last night are in the usual place: click on the Flickr gadget on the right.

back in the city

I spent my weekend visiting my family in Maryland, where I got to hear my brother play a concert with the Columbia Orchestra, and have lunch with some of my friends. It was good to get out of the city for a few days. As much as I love it here, I need a break now and then.

I tried to find Ben & Jerry's "Stephen Colbert's 'Americone Dream'" ice cream flavor at my dad's grocery store, but they had every kind except that one. I haven't found it in New York yet. Where is it?! I need my conservative ice cream fix!

I am a mobile road warrior

I can browse the web and read e-mail from the train to DC using my cellphone and a cable for my laptop. The connection's not as reliable as I'd like (it drops occasionally and slows to a crawl at times) but I can't complain too much. I'm writing this post between Wilmington and Baltimore. This is what happens with a 3G phone and an unlimited data plan. If I was really hardcore I'd connect the laptop and phone with Bluetooth, but the cable charges the phone at the same time. And my corporate laptop doesn't have a Bluetooth adapter in it(!).

I'm getting out of New York for the first time since February. Nobody burn down the city in my absence. I'll be back on Sunday evening.