I originally imagined I would write this post about a month ago. That would be the post that explained (a) why I haven’t really written much on ThatKidInTheCorner for the past couple months and (b) where I’ve redirected my blogging energies, on the off chance that (c) you hadn’t figured it out and (d) you were actually interested.

The answer? My fantastically satisfying (at least to me) Eagles-only blog: BountyBowl.com.

Quick FAQ on BountyBowl.

What’s a BountyBowl?

I’ve got a more complete description up on the actual BountyBowl site, but the main details are as follows. Bounty Bowl is the name for the 1989 Thanksgiving Day game between the Philaddelphia Eagles and the Dallas Cowboys in which Eagles coach Buddy Ryan allegedly placed bounties on the heads of Cowboys kicker Luis Zendejas and quarterback/ future Hall-Of-Famer Troy Aikman.

In evaluating potential names for this blog, I really wanted something that said “I respect the proud traditions of the Philadelphia Eagles and their famously loyal fan base; also, I could do with a little bloodlust/ glorification of violence.” The Buddy Ryan Eagles were the team that got me excited about the Birds for the first time. I turned 10 a couple months after Buddy was hired, so as I see it, I never really had a choice. OF COURSE I was going to be fired up about that team. That was the team that taught me that rooting for the defense could be more fun than rooting for the offense (especially if your defense was the best in the league and routinely beat the crizzap out of other teams). The Buddy Ryan teams never won anything of merit (sigh) but they DID intimidate the hell out of people. The current administration is obviously a bit more savvy/ competent than those teams (mostly the ownership, STUPID BRAMAN!), but they lack a certain oomph. Those old teams were just meaner. There. I said it. And I kind of miss that.

I really recommend the lovingly maintained Wikipedia entry linked above if you’d like to read more. For the record, the Eagles won said game 27-0. Go Birds.

Why an Eagles blog?

Without going too much into, let’s say that I had a slight moment of epiphany this past spring when a weirdo HR person at my huge corporate job asked what I’d ideally be doing if I wasn’t working for _______ (rhymes with Psycholoft). I thought a moment, and said that I would be the sports editor for Philly.com. And then I realized I could pretty much do that. Like right now. I didn’t even need a reason.

Also, most of my posts on ThatKid during football season were about the Birds anyway, so think of this as just narrowing my focus (and getting to make new logos and graphics!).

How often do you post on BountyBowl?

My general theory on BountyBowl posts is that I’m writing shorter posts but I’m writing them more frequently. The bar for ThatKid posts was getting a little high (at least in terms of length; we can’t speak to quality), and I wanted to make it easier on myself to update the site. So I mostly pound out a paragraph or two, drop a link, and move on. It’s easier for me, and I think it’s a lot easier on readers as well (no gigantic chunks of text to wade through).

What qualifies you to write about the Eagles?

Let’s just say that I consume a LOT of internet content on the Birds. A LOT. It’s my favorite recreational content product. I think that gets me pretty far.

What’s the BountyBowl USP/ Value Prop? What makes you different from the other Eagles blogs?

So while I can’t claim that I have any special insight into professional football or the tactical details of Eagles games, I do think that I have the experience and chops for some solid Eagles media meta-criticism. That is, I try to write about the coverage of the team (especially in the local papers) as much as the team/ games themselves. And when you have a town and a media that’s as frighteningly focused/ neurotic/ delusional/ mean-spirited as Philly, well, there’s certainly plenty to write about. Those people are crazy; they were just asking for some meta-coverage.

Is ThatKid done?

I wouldn’t say done, but it’ll certainly be limited over the next couple months. At a higher level, I definitely was eager for a change in re: my online content generation – I just wanted to try something a little different. I’m keeping all the ThatKid content live and will likely return to it in the future, but I think it will mostly be limited to general personal news and information, as well as the occasional anecdote/ travel adventure.

What about your other online stuff?

All still rocking along. I still put photos on flickr, and my del.icio.us is as live as ever (though, in all honesty, very focused on the Birds). I don’t see that changing. Those are low-impact for me, and have honestly become a habit at this point (especially the del.icio.us).

Any other big news from the past month that you might want to share?

Well yeah, but that probably demands its own post (!).

Admittedly, things have been a bit dark here on ThatKid for the past month, and not just because it's summer here in C@L and I've been out and about most nights and weekends. That would imply that I haven't been playing with the Internets, and that's not exactly true -- though it's more a story for another post. It's really a little from column A, and a little from column B.

Today we'll discuss column A -- being out and about. (Column B we'll share a little later this week, when we're good and ready.) Mostly column A (what you're reading right now) is going to be a little show-and-tell with a bunch of my favorite photos from the past month. It's been a great month in C@L (and Nashville, and Lake Chelan), and these are my key photographic takeaways:

1. Go Mariners!: I actually hit Safeco four (4) times in 10 days in over the first two weeks of August. I can't say enough nice things about Safeco -- it's convenient to downtown, easy to get in for cheap, and -- gasp! -- the home team has actually been playing pretty well (they're the current leaders in the Wild Card race). After watching the Sonics lollygag their way through the season, I'm pretty fired up for a September pennant chase/ meaningful late-season sports here in C@L. Like the Sonics, I can comfortably root for the Mariners (as they're in the AL and have no real bearing on the official hometown team back East) and will wish them the best over the next month. Also, I need some Ichiro swag. Also, the view of the sunset from Safeco is pretty tight.

2. In which I finally eat at Salumi: after living here for two whole years, I finally found a way to get my greedy little paws (and my attendant passion for sandwich photography) on a Salumi sandwich. Or, rather, my gloriously generous buddy waited on line while I looked for parking and picked up two sandwiches so that we could each sample a half of both. Salumi is this outstanding little specialty shop -- with celebirty chef connections, etc etc -- that does a limited run of cured pork products and is open only from Tuesday through Friday from, wait for it, 11 a.m. to 4 p.m. That's right. They're open 20 hours a week. Hence I had never been able to make it for lunch (since I work on the other side of the cursed bridge). For the record, the sandwiches were delicious, though I have some sligght quarrels with the bread. But the actual ingredients (the prosciutto and sopressata) were extremely tasty, and I think i would have been just as happy eating them by hand.

3. In which I give the tour: had a couple rounds of visitors out to C@L this past month, and definitely enjoyed playing the host. For the record, the standard tour includes the following: trip to Ballard locks to see the salmon, trip to Pike Place market to see the salmon get tossed (and possibly to acquire a delicious candy apple), trip to Ray's Boathouse to eat salmon, drive-by of Space Needle and EMP, and, time permitting, missions to the George and Dragon and Olympic Sculpture Park. It was a pleasure to host, and I hope to give some more tours in the coming months.

And that's the update for now. I swear I'll get some more details up here on how I've been spending my time on the Internets, but you might suspect that it has something to do with the topic area that usually consumes a lot of my time, attention, and blogging energies this time of year.

(It rhymes with Thrilladelphia Seagulls.)

So all the sports blathermonkeys have climbed atop their respective high-horsies to tell us that the NBA referee scandal is really really bad. Terrible. The league won't recover. All that. David Stern held a press conference as serious and grave as anything Boosh has mustered up since he decided to explode Iraq. The polls on ESPN reflect the will and whims of the people -- and the people seem to think that the point-shaving by an NBA ref is more damaging to the NBA than the Michael Vick situation is to the NFL.

Or something like that. Mostly people are all screechy and uptight about this.

I gottatellya: as an NBA season-ticket holder, I actually don't think it's such a big deal. Three reasons why:

(1) The NBA is more show that sport: so some ref might have shaved points in a regular-season game. We don't have proof that any outcomes have actually been compromised, but it's safe to say that yeah, maybe some of the games were unduly influenced. Uh huh. That actually sounds encouraging to me; it would demonstrate that at least one person on the floor was interested in influencing the outcome of the games. I like going to the Sonics games for the show. You get to see the stars (look at Bron-Bron!), they do some cool stuff, and if you get a competitive game (which happens about 30 percent of the time), well all the better. But a lot of those games are rather loosely contested (see photo of Chicago Bulls staring at the Sonics Dance Team during a timeout at Key Arena). It's a problem with the product (82 games is perhaps more than is required to determine which 14 teams don't make the playoffs), sure, but it also means that most people understand (and even expect) a certain half-assedness from the action. And if a freakin ref we've never heard of might have cheated, so what? Will Bron-Bron still do some crazy dunking tricks? Cool. People will still want to see Bron-Bron. Enough with all the sanctimonious the-ICBMs-are-in-the-air-over-Canada nonsense. It's half-pro-wrestling anyway.

(2) It's an "isolated incident"/ This Thing Of Ours: The spin machine is already humming. This isn't about the integrity of the NBA. This is about an everyday guy who got in over his head with some scary, scary criminals, and did a terrible, terrible thing because he had no choice. Trust me, by the end of this, not only will we completely absolve the NBA of any blame, but we'll all start to feel sorry for Donaghy. He'll get spun as a brash guy with a gambling problem, who lived on the edge -- and paid dearly for it. I believe this very strongly. They're going to blame it on the mob! Remember them! It's the Gambino family behind this whole thing! And they're bad! David Stern is a Jedi Master -- he's totally going to pull this off. I would hardly be shocked if this somehow turned into the real ending to the Sopranos.

(3) Look at what happened in Italy (which is what we all thought was actually happening in the NBA): we all thought the fix was in in the NBA; we just thought David Stern was behind it. Which is sort of what happened in Italy last year. The top teams in the league (including 27-time champion Juventus and the team that's owned by Berlusconi, A. C. Milan) got caught by the Italian feds for paying off refs to fix matches. Puh-retty bad. There was much consternation among mid-level Italian magistrates, a media sh*tstorm, the whole shebang. And this was like a week before the World Cup. And then Italy won the World Cup, Juve spent a single season in Serie B before getting promoted back to Serie A, Milan won the Champions League, and everything is cool. No kidding.

The thing is, there had been Juve conspiracy theory sites for years. The rest of Italy were convinced that Juve cheated, and had assembled evidence (videos of dodgy injury-time penalties, stuff like that) to that effect. And then everyone's worst fears came true! And even in that scenario, everything was totally chill in a single year.

Obviously, calcio is a bigger deal in Italy than basketball is here, but still. This might alienate some potential NBA fans, but I don't think it will really hurt the League (any more than the lousy state of the regular season product). This isn't the NHL going dark for a year when they were on the fringe of the market to start with. It also isn't baseball thriving even in the wake of the steroids scandal. It's soemwhere in the middle. And they'll be fine. They'll blame it on the mob, push Oden/ Durant on us, and stress that no animals were harmed during their point-shaving scandal.

Done and done.

Were it not for the US U-20s playing in quarterfinal of the U-20 World Cup this fine morning, I probably wouldn't have even gotten my act together for even this meager post. Such is the unique combination of too much salaried activities and the traditionally delayed commencement of summer here in C@L -- it's just been tough to find too much time to play with the electric internets.

(Actually, that's not entirely true. I spent a lot of time on the electric internets last weekend, but that was in the service of commerce. I finally dealt with myself and bought a proper set of golf clubs. My current clubs were fine, I guess, but they were older than I am, and, well, I wanted the new hotness kind that (a) go a lot farther and (b) are a ton easier to hit. And since I've recently decided that I do enjoy golf and would like to improve my skillz ever so slightly, new clubs seemed in order. And by "new" I mean "used and available on eBay." They should get here early next week, and I shall look forward to hitting them. Next up on the commerce list: a used bike. Baby steps.)

(I might also note that said purchase of golf clubs qualifies as my first rent-substitution self-indulgence purchase. That is, the golf clubs were rationalized under Section 4, Article b of the "Now that I'm paying less in rent I can afford to buy random stuff" by-laws.)

In addition to my marketplace commerce, life is pretty good. The sun is shining in C@L, I had a great trip back east for the Fourth of July, and I'm looking forward to a beautiful summer out here. Blogging's been pretty minimal, save for a couple entries on FC Camena in re: the recent spate of international fixtures. Though I might add that I'm pretty good about updating my del.icio.us; I'm thinking about making those a bigger part of the presentation here on ThatKid, if only to make it seem like there's more fresh content than there actually is.

Still, I do need to say something about the elephant on the blog here: the Sonics. In the past month, the Sonics have hired a new GM, a new coach, had their team president resign, moved their two best players out of town (Ray Allen to Boston in a draft-day trade, Rashard Lewis given a pornographic pile of cash -- $126 million -- by the Magic), and drafted two players in the top five in the draft, including chosen one (sub two) Kevin Durant. I don't even know these guys anymore! I mean, it's all pretty interesting, but I don't think that it bodes well for the team staying here in C@L. All these moves feel like the sort of thing you do when you want to clean house and start over before a cross-country move. Kind of like when I cleaned out my t-shirts before moving out to C@L.

And that's what I've got for you. The sun is shining, the game's at halftime, and I need to get me outside.

Onwards!

You'd think after a month of travel and a declaration of abandonment in re: my (now former) apartment that I'd make more of an effort to spend time in C@L. Not so much. Since returning my jaunt around the globe, I spent a weekend in Central Washington, five days in New York (little bit of a detour to the Meetings), and a weekend in Portland. On my lone weekend in town, I moved.

(Not exactly a mellow and relaxing way to kick of the summer. Oh wait; I forgot; summer doesn't start until July. It was 52 degrees and raining this morning. I guess I couldn't have picked a better time of year for all of this!)

This move actually fit quite snugly into what has now become a familiar migratory pattern for yours truly. That is, it was the short move that followed the long move. A brief history thereof:

July 1998: move from Philly to Austin, TX. Roommate/ partner-in-crime and I say yes to the first apartment we see. Decorate apartment with oversized novelty penguins and purchase Nintendo chairs for optimal gaming experience. Learn to play racquetball. (Long.)

March 1999: move a few exits down the Mo-Pac into a glorified frathouse with three friends. House comes complete with swimming pool, pool table, Hot-Wheels-sized cockroaches and laughable $375 monthly rent. (Short.)

October 1999: move from Austin to New York. Long-ass drives and cross-country movers are involved. Settle comfortably into Upper Left Side of Manhattan. Apartment best described as "slender"; rent triples. Begin eating take-out/ delivery food six days a week. (Long.)

October 2001: move a whopping three blocks downtown into glorified frathouse with two friends. Absence of natural light is balanced by presence of both washer/ dryer and dishwaher (W/D; D/W) in unit. Neighbors remain fairly chill with amount of shouting emanating from said apartment; landlords make hobby of sending threatening letters and bickering over trivial rent increases ("it's the principality"). Apartment survives 2003 blackout, Eagles Super Bowl loss. (Short.)

August 2005: following a brief interregnum at other communal Upper Left Side apartment, send sum of worldly possessions to Upper Left Side of America. See 14 apartments before settling on a winner. Live by myself for the first time since my sophomore year of college. Cook most nights; enjoy gorgeous view and comfortable amount of living space. Purchase Nintendo chair for optimal gaming experience. (Long.)

June 2007: curse heavens and decide to vacate bedbug-ridden apartment for good. Pack possessions into storage and move a whopping four blocks up the street into glorified frathouse with two friends. Plant ass on couch and commence shouting at television. Settle comfortably back into roommate lifestyle. (Short.)

Yeah, so that's pretty much how it all works. When I move, it's either 1,500+ miles or three blocks. Go big or go home.

As for the move itself, it was remarkably non-horrific. I am lucky enough to have friends who, even at our increasingly advanced age, were patient/ generous enough to volunteer to sherpa boxes about and twirl random furniture through doorways. I think it was a relatively easy move, but it still took most of the day and involved multiple phases (move a bunch of my stuff into storage, abuse Costo return policy, move into new home). Apart from having to deal with the crank-addicted charm squad at U-Haul (Lake Placid comma get it!), it was actually pretty painless.

And now here I am. This is my first post from the new digs, but certainly not my last. It's a great place, and I feel pretty fortunate to have landed here -- this all could have been a lot more complicated/ awful. As for speculation in re: the likely distance of my next move, well, no need to be daft about it.

So I had really really hoped I wouldn't be filing any more bedbug entries here on the bloggy-blog. After the debacle(s) of last fall, which claimed my bed, my bedding, my carpet, and a bunch of my clothes, and landed me on an air mattress for the better part of five months, I had hoped that the bedbugs thing was behind me. From November until May, it was.

And then we saw a solitary bedbug meandering across the back cushion of my couch on Friday.

(F***********************************ck.)

The malignant little jerks were back, and they'd colonized the one piece of furniture I had refused to throw away the first time around. Within half an hour, we'd located a small group of bedbugs (about 4-5 in total) in a pocket of one of the cushions. Forty minutes after that (following some complicated pushing, tugging, and minor damage to the paint on one of the doorways in my apartment), the couch was curbside, my latest offering to the Gods of Pacific Northwest Karma.

I'll be honest. This was a bit of a gutshot. Not just because it had been so long since I'd had a rumble with the bedbugs. It was more the immediate and drastic implications of the sighting:

(1) The couch had to go. I really resisted throwing it away the first time around, and had received assurances from multiple Terminix staffers that the couch was clean and I was safe keeping it. I didn't question their judgment because, well, I really didn't want to get rid of my couch. I liked this couch. It was the first piece of grown-up furniture I had bought when I moved out to C@L (I even picked up the matching chair, in which I'm now sitting). I spent a lot of time on that couch. So you can imagine I was more than a little crestfallen to have to let it go. (I know, I know: be more Zen. Possessions are fleeting; embrace the void; let go of these things. Yeah yeah yeah, but like I said, I really liked this couch).

(2) I was done with this apartment. Despite what my landlord has promised about Terminix and getting this fixed, and blah blah blah, I'm out of here. Have to. I should have left the first time around. I have some pretty good options at this point -- the only realy question is how soon I leave. Maybe by next weekend? That'd be nice.

So yeah, the bedbugs are back. This time they took my couch, and I can only hope that I can save my new bed (I like the bed more than the couch). I have all the protection I could find on the mattress -- I just hope it's enough. I've been doing my best OCD act on the bed since Friday; I'd be completely crushed if I lost it (and not just because it's a grand and change out the door).

In other news, I did Sasquatch again this past weekend out at the Gorge. Great times to be had there, and a nice (needed) change of pace after the bedbug thing. Really liked the Arcade Fire, but the coup of the whole weekend was the Beastie Boys "instrumental" show that essentially turned into them playing most of my favorite songs from Check Your Head and Ill Communication -- all in front of a smallish crowd on one of the satellite stages. Some great stuff there (video of Sabotage below):

Of course, it wasn't all Sabotage and Sure Shot at Sasquatch -- there were also sausages and my rude comments about the people who ate them:

Sigh.

Also, if you're interested in the couch (for research purposes), feel free to stop by and pick it up.

Buyer be very ware.

I knew something was up when I got off the plane from Dubai the other day and immediately felt like I was home again. (If that doesn't seem to make sense, I spent half a day in Munich before heading the Budapest for the weekend, and then another two days there at the beginning of the week.) Yes yes, I'm not remotely from Germany, and yes yes, it's a completely different culture, but, you know, it's still the developed world -- and one of the tidier representatives thereof at that! You can drink the water, things happen on time, and transactions are conducted in something approximating real currency.

I also think the fact that I'd spent a bit of time in Germany last summer had rendered the place a bit more familiar than it may have otherwise been. But I gottatellya, Germany felt very very comfortable. I was in Munich for a few days for work before heading on to Paris for the past two days. Munich was one of the cities in Germany that I hadn't yet visited. Lovely town. It's no Berlin, mind you, but it did the trick. And it didn't hurt that we had amazing weather and some excellent hospitality.

That at least balanced out the parts where I had to eat German food at multiple meals (for which my digestive tract is still bitter; but what can you do when your hosts plop an inch-think/ plate-sized slab of glorified liverwurst -- they called it "livercheese" --in front of you and demand that you eat/ enjoy it? Still, I did find my way into another Doner Kebab earlier in the week).

And then there was Paris. Oh hell yeah. Everything they say about Paris in the spring is 115% correct. It's an amazing city to start with, but spring really pushes it over the top. I could live in Paris. And I don't speak more than 27 words of French (though, in my defense, I do a really terrible job pronouncing them).

I was going to do separate entries for Munich and Paris, but it's been a long trip, and I spent the entire flight back to EWR working (boooo!), and the flight back to SEA dozing (needed). So you're getting a Western-Europe-though-they-kind-of-fought-in-a-big-war-pretty-recently mashup on ThatKid.

Three (3) things about Munich and Paris:

1. An alarming predilection for boring suburbs: so I work for this company, you probably heard of it, that very famously has its headquarters in the suburbs, so much so that folks around the world know the name of the heretofore sleepy farmtown that it's chosen to call home. Usually I like traveling to field offices because those office tend to be in actual cities in other countries -- you know, all civilized and cosmopolitan-like. Except in Germany.

In Germany, our office (which is gorgeous, mind you, and the Xboxes in the lobby not only work but also offer Guitar Hero on LCD screen) is in this ridiculously quiet suburb. There's nothing there except for other suburban office parks and a McDonald's. Also small tract housing and some bike paths. And we were staying a kilometer from the office. I dunno. A little sleepy for my tastes. Next time I'll know better.

2. Why Don't I Live In Paris?: I had never spent anything more than a blurry day or two in Paris, and I really didn't have a sense for how great a town it was. Yes yes, I know it sounds naive, but hey, I was naive. They've sure done a bang-up job with the buildings and culture there, huh? I felt like a complete goober walking around snapping photos for two days, but there was just so much good stuff there. If I had a single complaint, it would be the overwhleming scent of urine that permeated a solid 15 percent of the town (and, rather curiously, the interior of our office in one of the hallways). And I can't say that I didn't know where it was coming from, since I spotted no fewer than three dudes peeing in public in just under 48 hours in town. I guess humans enjoy the same rights as canines in France, and are empowered to piss wherever they like!

I might also reiterate that Paris, and Western Europe more generally, is just ridiculously expensive to Americans right now. The dollar is just getting crushed, and Paris isn't cheap to start with. The worst offense was the price of internet access at our hotel is Paris. If you were content with a fixed-wire connection, the price was 23 Euros for 24 hours. Gulp. That's about $31 at today's exchange rate. If you wanted wireless access, that's going to run you -- wait for it -- 35 Euros. That's right, about $47 in USD for 24 hours of wireless internet: roughly what I pay per month for web access at home. That's just vulgar profiteering from the hotel. BOOOOO.

3. Because I Can't Help It: dragged some coworkers to a restaurant/ bar for the Champions League Final on Wednesday night. I do have a fondness for watching the football abroad, and I was looking forward to catching the game in Paris. Ugh. If only the game wasn't such a disappointment. Talk about every stereotype about negative Italian football. With a collection of insanely gifted international superstars on the roster, Milan essentially decides to play counterattack football, which might have doomed them had they not scored on a completely sketchy deflection off miserably untalented cheater Pippo Inzaghi's arm at the end of the first half. After that, it was just hunker down and wait. Inzaghi was unbearable. All the sneaking around trying to scoot behind the defense, and the complete lack of initiative when he had the ball (essentially putting his hand into the defender's chest and waiting for the right moment to launch himself at the ground and commence writhing)...ugh. And then to have him score the winner -- unforgiveable. Just a horrible TV show as a result. For Liverpool, it was a shame that Gerrard just didn't have anything in his legs. He looked really tired out there. A shame, really. He had the chances, and he just didn't have the juice to finish them. I hope he gets some rest this summer.

And that's it.

Two weeks later, I'm back in C@L. My plants are looking great (thanks to anyone who helped out there!), and the sun is shining. My tallies for the trip:

Cities: Bangalore, Munich, Budapest, Paris.
Airports: Seatac, Amsterdam, Mumbai, Bangalore, Dubai, Munich, Budapest, Paris (CDG), Newark Liberty.
Airlines: Northwest, Jet, Air India, Emirates, Malev, Lufthansa, Air France, Continental.
Foreign Currencies: 4.
Doner Kebabs: 2.
Books consumed: 2.5 (got hung up in the middle of Guests of the Ayatollah near the end).
Food-bourne illnesses: 1.
Blog entries posted: 5 (including this one).
Photos posted: 119.
Videos posted: 2.

It's good to be home, though only briefly -- heading out to the Gorge tomorrow for Sasquatch (which we did last year as well). I hope they have Doner Kebab!

I was a bad traveler last weekend. I went to a lovely city (Budapest) in a cool country (Hungary) and did about three minutes of research (if that) before I arrived. I knew that Budapest was actually two (2) different cities, Buda and Pest, split down the middle by a river. I didn’t know what the river was called, though. (Turns out it was the Danube; more on that in a moment.) I knew that Ferenc Puskas was Hungarian, that he was totally sweet at soccer, and that he kicked ass on behalf of the all-time F.C. Camena imaginary video game soccer squad. Any sort of color I had on the city was from The Ballad Of The Whiskey Robber, which is the rather colorful tale of a bank robber/ hockey goalie/ folk hero named Attila Ambrus, who spent the post-Iron Curtain years getting drunk and emptying bank vaults throughout Budapest. Cool book, and it mostly convinced me that Budapest was a little rough around the edges, certainly in its post-Communist years. It also convinced me that this was a town that had a sense of humor about drunk people.

And that was pretty much it.

Things I didn’t know (but probably should have): they’ve got their own currency there in Hungary (called the Forint, with at least six denominations of notes, all predictably in the hundreds and thousands – that really never got easier to figger out), how to say hello and thank you in Hungarian (I usually can mange this much – I finally figured out “thank you” on the final night: “Kosono”), and any sort of history in re: the history and culture of the city/ country (shameful really; Wikipedia would have gotten me at least 75 percent of the way there). Like I said, I was a bad traveler.

So wasn’t I surprised to discover an absolutely classy/ gorgeous city (!). Wow. I suppose it helped that the weather was gorgeous, but I was blown away by how breathtaking the city was. Three (3) things about my weekend in Budapest:

1. I definitely picked the right hotel: the hotels in Budapest were pretty reasonably priced, so I decided to go for something on the nicer end of things. I stayed at the Hilton on top of the hill in the Castle complex in Buda. Wow. I had this killer view of the Danube from my room, and easy access to all sorts of good stuff. Additionally, I had the opportunity to look down on the Pest (pronounced, “Pessssht”) from on high. And, like any good resident of the Buda, I know how to look down on the Pest (“Pessssht”).

I might also add that I spent the better part of my childhood playing soccer for the Danubia Soccer Club in Northeast Philadelphia (rep-ruh-zent!), an offshoot of the local German cultural association/ club. For the record, this was the first time I had ever set eyes on the river that was the club’s namesake. Helluva river, that Danube. I’m glad to have played soccer on its behalf.

2. Europe’s Most Charming Visitors: our plan for Saturday afternoon was to check out the F.A. Cup final in a sports pub that had been recommended to us by the fellas in the Doner Kebab shop (see below for gratuitous photo of said Doner Kebab) at 6 am that morning. It was a big game with two high-profile teams (Man U and Chelsea), and we were all pretty fired up about it. Of course, we expected a crowd at the bar, but we figured it wouldn’t be too out of control.

Right. So the guys I was with have been doing a lot of traveling throughout Europe over the past couple months. Allow me to paraphrase: so no matter where you go in Europe these days, you can be sure to find roving packs of Brits. While of course we applaud their initiative in getting off the island for the weekend, they don’t always seem to, um, embrace the local culture. That is, upon landing in a new city, these packs of Brits pull on their track suit pants and golf shirts, locate the nearest pub with a Union Jack out front, and start ordering Guinnesses – it’s as though they’ve never left Brighton!

Our bar was full of these guys. For the most part, they were well-behaved, though occasionally they had moments of self-parodic awkwardness, typically involved a narrowly missed chance and a stream of barely comprehensible profanity (punctuated by frequent and fluent deployment of the c-word). Also, it was pretty funny when they ordered the super-sized portions of French fries…classy!

3. Party Time On The Sidewalk: speaking of dudes getting after it a bit, I got this great video of these older guys whooping it up on the sidewalk. Note that I originally thought that they were singing in Hungarian, before I was corrected by an anonymous commenter on YouTube. To be honest, I have no idea what they’re singing, but I do like the tune, and I was more than happy to capture a little moment of late-afternoon drunken camaraderie – the dancing is pretty tight as well:

In closing, I’d like to take back everything I may have intimated about Malev Hungarian Airlines. ‘Twas a lovely airline, and they were more than accommodating when I rolled in there on no sleep Sunday morning and drooled my way back to Munich. Malev Airlines, Kosono!

Though I said I wouldn't be posting about layovers, we're going to have to make an exception -- Dubai International Airport was just too juicy. While there is only so much one can say about an airport, Dubai actually does merit some minor discussion. Mostly because DUBAI AIRPORT IS WHAT WE THOUGHT IT WAS. That is, as over-the-top and opulent as you can imagine an airport can be.

To shore up my nerd credentials, I'm reminded of the opening lines of The Long, Dark Tea Time of the Soul by Douglas Adams, which go something like this: "It can hardly be a coincidence that no language on earth has ever produced the expression 'as pretty as an airport.'" Maybe not, but this a pretty good-looking airport. I had hoped to get out of there and check out the town (take a cab into the city center for lunch or something), but they won't let you leave if your layover is under eight (8) hours, or some similar nonsense. BOOOO. So I was trapped in the concourse and business class lounge. Luckily, it was a lovely concourse and business class lounge (full bar, free high-end buffet, tons of food, comfy chairs, etc).

Three (3) things about the Dubai airport:

(1) It's sort of like Vegas, only with more duty-free and less oil money: right, so it’s a lovely airport they have there in Dubai. Shiny (REALLY SHINY), new, with all sorts of slick facilities and décor. The duty-free pavilion was, as one might have expected, a caricature of itself. Generally speaking, I’ve always imagined that the duty-free pavilions at major airports exist exclusively for (a) smokers, (b) alcoholics, and (c) oil billionaires whose insecurity demands that they purchase many luxury-branded products at the airport. So you can imagine what things are going to look like at Oil Billionaire Global HQ! My my! It was even crazier than the one at Heathrow (European HQ)! High roller that I am, I picked up a coffee mug (30 Dinars, however in the hell much that is) with “I’m crazy for Dubai!” emblazoned on the side. It was either that or an $8,000 watch.

(2) My most highly anticipated airplane trip since the age of seven: so it probably is mostly about the soccer thing, but I could not have been more excited about my chance to (finally) Fly Emirates (!). First Chelsea, now Arsenal…I’ll admit it, however much Emirates paid for the shirt branding, it worked on me. (I’m also fairly convinced that most of the denizens of F.C. Camena are burning with jealousy right now – so convinced am I of the exotic allure of Emirates Airlines!) Also, I had heard that Emirates was over-the-top with the in-flight service, which made sense, given the general rules in re: airline service (that is, quality of airline service is inversely proportional to a culture’s overall level of gender equality– yes yes, sad but true; Thai Airlines we’re looking in your direction). Right, so correct on all counts. It was a thrill to fly Emirates: the food was outstanding, the service completely obsequious, and they even used real china. Arsene Wenger would have been so pleased!

(3) Shockingly, this was one of those jerk countries that censors the Internet: so I’m sitting in the business class lounge trying to fire up my India post from that morning, and none of the photos are showing up on the page. Huh. That’s weird. Maybe there’s something screwy with the bandwidth in the lounge? So I click through to Flickr. Or not. Instead of my photos, I got an error message that very politely explained that Flickr was bad and would corrupt the values of this vulgar Vegas built on the backs on exploited workers from the developing world and financed by inherited oil money. Fair enough. Have it your way.

But while you might try to ban our Internet, it looks like you and your kids are going to eat our sh*tty poisoned food! Ha! Mmm, the McArabia meal…sounds like a treat. Eat up, b*tches! I hope you’re first against the wall when the revolution comes! (More Douglas Adams! Also, I don't have much patience for the web censorship stuff. Ooooh, I hope you don't chop off my mouse hand! Not sweet.)

In closing, I might mention in closing that I found my experience on my flight to Dubai that morning on Air India (in business class) to be akin to an overnight Greyhound bus trip to Detroit, only with incomprehensible Bollywood musicals playing on a grimy 21-inch monitor. I’m supposed to fly them again next week. Not happening. Not a chance.

And with that, time to head to the airport for my (gulp) Hungarian Airlines flight…wish me luck!

Let’s begin by admitting what we don’t know about India: everything. That is, we shall obviously struggle to say anything comprehensive or conclusive about a country that is home to one-sixth (1/6) of humanity based on three (3) days in one city (Bangalore) – with most of that time spent in a windowless conference room planning the details of an upcoming software implementation. Save for two hours of sightseeing I crammed into the end of my last day here, my time in Bangalore was the standard-issue mix of business travel vignettes that really could have been pasted into my memory from just about anywhere: the too-familiar business-traveler terrarium of airports, hotel rooms, cabs, and hotel restaurants.

Still, I’d be lying if I told you the visit was generic/ boring. It is India, after all, and Bangalore more specifically. Ever since I read The World Is Flat a couple years back, I’ve been pretty intrigued by Bangalore, the epicenter of outsourcing and the future of the globalized tech economy (I even used Bangalore in a post on how to properly update Charlie and The Chocolate Factory a few years back). I wanted to see what all the hubbub was about, savor the contrasts (old India versus new India, thanks to the Internet(s)), and soak up this little slice of our globalized future.

I can’t say I was disappointed. Three (3) things about Bangalore:

1. The tech thing is not overstated: when you hear that all these multinationals are setting up shop in Bangalore, it’s not a joke. In fact, not only are there tons of multinationals building out offices in Bangalore, but they’re all pretty much in the same office park. Admittedly, The World Is Flat comments on this as well, but it’s pretty hilarious to roll into the complex and see the who’s who list of global tech listed on the entrance gate: IBM, Microsoft, Yahoo, etc. We didn’t make it to Wipro HQ (they have their own compound), but the scale of the investment in Bangalore is impressive.

The overwhelming part is really the contrast (highlighted by the gigantic wall, above) between the gleaming office park and the surrounding area. Not that the surrounding area is so bad, mind you – it just looks like most of the rest of India looks. That is, in various stages of development. So that right down the street from the tech park you have random animals wandering the streets (more on that in a few paragraphs), folks cooking street food, and a broad variety of makeshift structures and residences.

I’m sure there are people who have complicated theories/ explanations of what I’m about to say, but Bangalore really struck me as a sort of big step function in development. That is, you have a place that’s skipping directly from developing world to globalized tech center – without pausing to do things like invest in infrastructure, enforce some sort of sanity on the roads, and get the people some nice clean water to drink. I’ll stop before I sound too insensitive (and I don’t mean to be, because the growth and development that is happening is so impressive), but it really leads you to wonder what it’s all going to look like ten years from now. And how the growth in a place like Bangalore might benefit the rest of India. Okay, I’ll stop now. (I really don’t know what I’m talking about.)

2. Bangalore is not exactly a tourist destination: though I spent most of my time in a conference room, I did make an effort to get out and see the town – albeit for two hours on my last day. The crazy thing was that we got most of it done in two hours. I hired a car (about $12.50 per hour) and had him drive me to all the destinations listed on the various tourism web sites. We saw it all, and I was back at my hotel in two hours time. This is mostly because “nothing was open” and “I only got out of the car once.”

Seriously. The driver took me to this castle (above), but we stayed in the car because they charge you if you get out and take a photo. There was even a soldier dude coming at us trying to stop me from taking a photo from the backseat. We also went to the Bull Temple (below), but hey, it wasn’t taking visitors either. Ditto with the parliament building.

The only place that was open was (wait for it)…the knick-knack shop! No kidding! You mean I can’t actually visit any of the sights, but I’ll get a chance to haggle over rugs and crappy little souvenir statuettes? Really? And get hassled by like fourteen different pushy salespeople? That sounds like a treat! Tell me more!

Still, you can’t get too down on Bangalore for not being set up for tourists. That’s not what it’s there for; it’s there to be a global technology hub (and I’m sure they’ll get the touristy stuff figured out soon enough). And that's really what I was excited to see.

3. Look before crossing: I was discussing a trip to Vietnam with a friend a few years back (said friend had also recently done a Vietnam trip), and the topic of traffic in the cities came up. So I started going on and on about how crazy the urban traffic was in Hanoi: the noise from the incessant honking, the seeming absence of any sort of order and/ or traffic rules, and the hideously dangerous mix of different vehicles, motorcycles, scooters, bicycles, and pedestrians that were sharing the same roads. And I distinctly remember him smiling and saying, “Well, you obviously haven’t been to India.”

No. No I had not.

Wow. The roads were complete chaos. I cannot believe I didn’t witness a multiple-fatality accident. Cheers to everyone who manages to navigate these roads without dying each day! I’m really just not that good a driver. If you put me behind the wheel, I can almost guarantee that I’d produce a Grand-Theft-Auto swath of destruction that would end only when they pried the steering wheel out of my cold, dead hands. (Of course, they drive on the wrong side of the road too – that wouldn’t help.) I am in awe of the skills these folks have – and the ability of everyone to so seamlessly share the road, like a big school of fish moving in formation.

And, of course, I can’t not mention the cows thing. That is, I had heard that there were random cows roaming the streets in India, and that no one really messed with them, even if they were in the middle of the road. Right. So I didn’t actually believe that. Now I believe it. There are definitely random cows roaming the streets in Bangalore, and no one really messes with them, even if they’re in the middle of the road.

All in all, it was a great visit, and I feel lucky I had a chance to see Bangalore at this point in history – it’s definitely a signature city for this decade on planet Earth. One more thing I have to mention: I can’t believe how polite, friendly and kind the people were. It was completely disarming. I kept expecting someone to scam me, but no, they just wanted to say hello. Great stuff – just a warm, friendly place.

Oh right, and one more thing – I thought I might get out of here without getting sick in my belly. Most people get sick in their belly when they visit India, but I was trying to be extra careful about what I ate and drank (no uncooked anything, don’t open your mouth in the shower, etc etc). And I was close. Very close. Oh so close! But no luck. Got sick last night. Sigh. It wasn’t too bad, though – all in all, I think I got off pretty easy (considering some of the stories I’d heard). And thus concludes the TMI portion of this post.

Hey, at least I didn't end up in the hospital.

Aight.

My inability to maintain a regular content production schedule continues. After firing up a couple posts a couple weekends ago, I disappeared again. Sure, work's busy, and I went to New York for the weekend, but still. I need to try a little harder.

So here's the plan:

I'm on a(nother) work mission to distant locales for the next two weeks. My commitment for those two weeks is to produce three observations about each place that I visit. And by "visit" I mean spend 24 hours -- airports don't count, unless they're really really interesting. (I'm in the Amsterdam airport right now; it isn't terribly interesting.) At the very least, I'll do my best to put up some photos.

Sound bueno?

In the spirit of things, here are three (3) things about what I left behind in C@L:

(1) It figures that I leave the first week it's sunny: it was absolutely gorgeous in C@L this week. Ridiculous. I thought it was pretty nice in New York last weekend (what with it being warm but not yet humid and smelly), but we got our first taste of the summer in C@L this week. Wow. I don't mean to obsess too too much about the weather, BUT, it's kind of a big part of living in the greater Puget Sound area, and we take our sunny days pretty seriously. So of course the first week of sunshine means that I promptly leave the country. Sigh. Hopefully it'll be around when I return.

(2) What concerns me in my absence: speaking of spring, I got a little antsy about a month ago with the dreariness and decided to celebrate spring on my own. So I rolled up to Home Depot and bought some plants -- you know, new life, rebirth, renewal, all that. I needed a little spring at that point. So far I'm doing a pretty nice job (all three are still alive, and the basil seeds that I bought have turned into little plants(!)). I'm just hoping they don't die like the ones that got killed by my World Cup trip last summer. Friends in C@L: expect e-mails from me begging you to water my plants whilst I'm gone. Check.

(3) Okay, just one about Amsterdam: as a part of my long-term "Read all the non-biographical soccer books" project, I finally tore through Brilliant Orange: The Neurotic Genius Of Dutch Football on the flight to New York last week. So the deal with this book (that I've been trying to track down for years -- it wasn't published in the US) is that it tries to connect the particularly Dutch approach to soccer to some deep-seeded cultural roots in the Netherlands, including (ahem) Dutch architecture, painting, and the aftermath of WWII. Admittedly, I'm definitely not above over-the-top sports metaphors and explanations, but this one was a bit of a stretch. In its defense, I'll argue that it does remind me that Americans don't think enough about the various sporting cultures that produce teams and athletes, mostly because we tend to only pay attention to games we've invented. Anyhoo, you're welcome to my copy.

Off to gate E17 and the subcontinent. Did I mention I have no idea what time it is?

Oh, and before I forget, Happy Mother's Day, Mom.

So this is what I get for feeling fat and happy about the Eagles' decision to trade down out of the first round of the NFL Draft.

They took a what? A quarterback? With their first pick? At #36? The third QB taken in the entire draft? Seriously?

I did not see this coming. Yikes. I thought the Birds would go DB (safety or corner) or DE (since they have mostly stiffs at that position right now). Instead, that take a QB, a position at which they already have three (3) veterans.

WIP is already going nuts. G-Cobb is horrified. Sal Paolantonio called in and completely spazzed. Even Eagles Live! on the Birds' site was screwy; Dave Spadaro was "shocked" by the move. And suddenly, controversy in re: the Eagles and, more specifically, Donovan McNabb has returned! (At least it'll let the Phils fly under the radar for the next couple weeks.) Kolb did his part, by saying he "absolutely" thinks he's the "quarterback of the future."

Ugh.

The implications of this decision are troubling in a couple dimensions:

1. As if the pressure to come back from a serious knee injury isn't enough (and it was going to be brutal all freakin summer), now Donovan is going to have to deal with this crap at his minicamp press conferences? He's a sensitive emotional flower! This is going to hurt his delicate little feelings! Andy, what are you doing?!?!?! We thought you shipped Garcia just to make sure that Donovan (and Donovan's mom) would feel treasured and loved -- now this! I don't believe you when you say "This has nothing to do with Donovan McNabb, let me make that clear." How can it not? It has everything to do with McNabb and your evaluation of his future value. Which means....

2. The spreadsheets must have horrible things ot say about Donovan's knee! As in, the valuation of McNabb -- when mapped to QBs who sufer that kind of knee injury at age 30 when they have a history of injuries -- must have gone down! If it's true, it's true, but it wasn't my understanding. That is, I didn't expect that this was the case -- I figured 5 was good for at least four more years. A second-round pick at QB (with Feeley signed and on the roster through 2010) means that McNabb might not ever pull a John Elway (that is, win near the end of his career). The Eagles have officially hedged on McNabb. And the assumption is that this can't be an accident. You can't use this pick on a guy you don't expect to start for you within three years. So either the Eagles are stupid and irrational (not the case), or McNabb's days are numbered.

And here I thought I'd be crowing about some big-hitting safety or speedy corner!

Sigh.

Go Birds.

So when I posted something here on ThatKid, I had just returned from a trip to Tokyo which included an unexpected mission to the emergency room due to -- in my unscientific determination -- my consumption of an evil poison cookie.

(In case you were concerned about my health, the good news is that nothing remotely like the crazy reaction I had in Tokyo has resurfaced since I returned. I'm a bit more prepared these days (in that I now possess fancy allergy medicine AND an Epi-Pen that I can plunge into my heart...errr, leg...if it happens again), but we still haven't solved the mystery of the Evil Poison Cookie. That is, I went to the allergist and they tested me for a ton of stuff (including mashing up the cookie sample I brought with me and sticking it in my forearm) and I came up negative across the board. So yeah -- the Tokyo thing remains a mystery.)

Still, I've heard from at least two of my seven loyal readers that they're kind of surprised that I haven't posted in a while. That is, where the hell have I been? The answer is: lots of different places, up and down the landmass we all like to call "North America." Details on those missions and some other bits and pieces from the past month (with plenty of photos):

A strict fish-taco-and-beer diet: went on my first vacation-vacation in a while earlier this month to Sayulita, Mexico. By vacation-vacation I mean a mission that was actually restful and didn't involve lots of hotel changes, train rides, and staying-up-too-lates. Sayulita is a small town about half an hour north of Puerto Vallarta. We rented a house for the week (mercifully, Sayulita does not feature any resorts) and just chilled. Typical days included sipping coffee under the palapa (the big straw tent/ roof thingie on our house), ambling down to the beach for swimming and reading, wandering to "town" (really just a walk down the beach) for fish-taco-and-beer lunches, and, um, more ambling/ wandering/ eating fish tacos. Generally speaking, the location was lovely and made for many lovely pictures:

(If you can't link through to the photos, send me an e-mail and I'll get you set up as one of my friends on Flickr.)

Speaking Of Flickr: whilst I haven't been writing all that frequently on ThatKid, I've been taking more photos than ever, thanks to my handy-dandy new camera. The new camera is an absolute difference-maker for me, and I've been pretty aggressive about using it over the past couple months. If you're the sort of person who might look at my blog, then you're probably the sort of person who'll enjoy my photos on Flickr. I'm pretty careful about the public vs. private thing, though, so you'll need to make friends with me on Flickr is you want complete access (as noted, just send me a mail). As for my photos, keep an eye on the feed for my photostream here. Plenty of photo sets, plenty of tags, plenty of stuff to see. Check it out.

New camera, other applications: my new camera also does a pretty good job of taking videos, which I admittedly haven't done much of quite yet. Still, I did get this little sequence from the beach in Sayulita (my first-ever contribution to GooTube!):

(I was going to post some videos from last weekend, but decided against it pending approval of the participants; not everyone is as excited about videos of people shouting "KILL!" during drinking games as I sometimes am.)

The other half of the NAFTA mission: headed up to Whistler last weekend for my second consecutive April ski trip in BC. And by "ski trip" I mean "trip where I ski for at least three hours in between lots of eating and drinking with 24 of my closest friends." Good times were had by all, both on the slopes and in Whistler village. Though I've already posted on the merits of last year's trip, I'll take a moment to confirm that (a) Whistler is a great place and (b) even if you're not doing tons of skiing, you'll still have a quality time.

Oh right, Lisa, a MAGICAL animal: it's also worth noting that said trip to Whistler involved a LOT of bacon consumption. We're talking on the order of 10 pounds. I'm not kidding. Also, I didn't realize that they sell bacon by the kilo in Canadia (that's 2.2 lbs if you're scoring at home). For the record, the bacon-wrapped asparagus was a highlight:

The less we say about the Sonics at this point the better: I'm long overdue for a Sonics Season Summary post, but let me briefly express my disgust with the way they completely limped to the finish line ahead of their "we're getting the hell out of town" announcements, a move whose candidate locations now include (!!!!) Las Vegas. Also, they fired Rick Sund and Bob Hill. You can't really argue with that (though Ray-Ray was polite about it). I wonder which retreads will take their place?

The plan moving forward for ThatKid: yeah, I don't really have one. I should be able to post a bit more frequently in the next couple weeks, but I'm also thinking of shaking things up (ideas include a site that would be Eagles specific). Speaking of the Eagles, I love trading down for more picks at 26; all the guys they probably wanted at DB and S were likely off the board, and I can't argue with more players -- especially since there isn't that big a difference between 26 and 36.

It's good to be back.

While it had been five years since I'd last visited Japan (layovers at Narita -- overnight or otherwise -- don't quite count), it's remarkable how familiar it felt to return to Tokyo. All the essential elements were still there: the tauntingly long journey from Narita into town, the plastic food in the restaurant windows, and the heavily regimented traffic crossings (photos below). All is generally quite well in the land of the rising sun.

The main intersection at Shibuya station in its "Don't Walk" state (wait for it)...

And go!

And certainly, there were some good times to be had as well, despite a pretty agressive schedule of meetings. We managed the obligatory trip(s) to Roppongi, a shopping mission in Shibuya (during which I picked up the new Fountains of Wayne record -- it was at the front of the store; they must be huge there? -- and Twigy), and even a midafternoon sojourn to check out the cherry blossom trees (for which this is apparently the primo week).

And, of course, I took my first trip to the Japanese emergency room.

So the end of the story is that everything is totally chill. I'm fine, made it back safely, all is better. No need for concern.

The middle of the story is that I had a pretty wild allergic reaction that landed me in the hospital. We were sitting down to our first post-lunch meeting and I gnoshed a cookie from the box on the the conference room table. Sure, I had just eaten, but there's always room for a cookie.

Like most Japanese confections, it was delicious.

About three minutes later, I started sneezing. And sneezing. And sneezing. To the point that I had to get up and leave the meeting. I went into the bathroom and sneezed some more. I tried to walk around to get myself to stop sneezing, but nothing. Then I went back to the bathroom and noticed that my eyes were extremely swollen. Also, I was starting to get a little short of breath. Uh oh. This wasn't good.

I ran into a coworker in the hallway who confirmed that I "looked pretty bad" and suggested that I head down to the medical office (yes, my company has a medical office on site). The medic woman in the office as well as the guy on our team who's a doctor (yes, there's an MD that I work with -- he's even a dermatologist) both confirmed that I needed a hospital, and fast. Apparently eveything would have been cool if I wasn't having problems breathing. Breathing problems are a prime indicator of anaphylactic shock, and that means you need a hospital. Within minutes, I was en route to said hospital with a guy from our team and a woman from the Japan office who'd be doing the translating.

The hospital itself was nothing special -- a little smaller-scale than I expected -- and the service was quick and useful. Sure, I was feeling lightheaded and was struggling to breathe, but at least we were there. My doctor was a jolly, rotund little fellow who sized me up pretty quickly and apologized -- through an increasingly overmatched translator whose knowledge of English didn't account for complex medical terminology -- that he wouldn't be able to run a full series of tests to determine the source of the reaction. Right. Got it. Now please fix me so the whole breathing thing gets a little easier.

The plan was to give me an IV with some kind of steroid and some pain reliever/ tranquilizer. The showed me to a little bed (I was definitely a little long for this thing) and I got comfortable. The nurse showed up a couple minutes later with the IV bag and an extremely limited English vocabulary. She held up the IV needle and said, very definitively, "Pain." "Yes," I replied, "pain." Then I pointed at my arm and nodded encouragingly. Convinced that we were on the same page and that I had been appropriately appraised of the risks of the imminent treatment, she stuck my arm and the happiness started flowing.

Forty-five minutes later (the last fifteen of which included a lovely nap), I was feeling about a thousand percent better. Another quick chat with the doctor to go over the particulars of my treatment (he had given me "extra" medicine because I was "bigger than Japanese people") and recovery (take the pills he was prescribing and don't drink alcohol, though that last bit didn't translate very well), and we were on our way to the pharmacy across the street to get my medicinal parting gifts. Said part of the mission was pretty underwhelming -- I just nodded politely as the specific restictions on the medicines were explained. Hope they don't kill me!

I have to say, in a country where I once paid $110 for a pitcher of margaritas, I felt pretty excited to get out of the hospital and pharmacy for about US$80. I got an IV bag, a cure to my anaphylactic shock, and some pills? I'll take it!

I was back in the office the next morning, safe and sound, and feeling good as new. I had never reacted like that to anything before, so I must be allergic to some kind of nut or oil they only use in Japan? I dunno. I guess I need to find an allergist this week. Add it to the task list.

The irony in this whole thing is, of course, that it happened in Tokyo, and not, say, China or Vietnam, significantly less neurotically clean places where I ate God knows what and had zero access to medical care. Or even, say, on a street in Berlin at 3 am after a long day of, um, watching soccer. Nope. It happened in Tokyo, the most hermetically immaculate major city on the planet, and it was an individually wrapped cookie -- and not some street food or even scary Fugu fish -- that got me.

Yes yes, very ironic.

And now, because it couldn't be helped, one more little bit of food porn from the trip.

Sayonara, evil poison cookie!

It's been a while (almost two months) since I've posted in re: the Sonics. Odd confluence of circumstances there. The last couple games I watched in February were just disheartening enough to convince me that the only possible topic for a post would be the official announcement of the Sonics' participation in the Greg Oden/ Kevin Durant sweepstakes. Then they went on the road for a bit, I didn't have many tickets, and, well, ThatKid went radio-silent on the Supes.

Then, amidst minimal fanfare, I attended a whopping three games in five days. Whilst I'm not entirely sure that much has changed from mid-February in terms of the team's prospects, I was at least treated to two semi-exciting NBA games over the past couple days. That is, the Sonics definitely aren't making the playoffs, but not by enough to actually have a legit shot at Oden or Durant, and so they look locked in for the number nine pick in the draft and second-straight meaningless final month of games.

Sigh.

On the bright side, the team will be in Key Arena for at least one more year, and has unveiled its plans for a proposed new arena in the Puget Sound area. They even have a spiffy new web site called Event Center Facts where you can learn The Facts about the new arena and how it won't actually cost any taxpayers any more money (except for the parts where it will).

My big takeaways from the last five days of professional basketball here in C@L:

The Hibachi isn't terrible, though I find his free-throw routine completely boring and infuriating: whilst I was a little late to the party on the Gilbert Arenas blog, I will currently count myself amongst the many recent converts to Hibachi-related enthusiasms. Arenas schtick hasn’t yet gotten old for me, and is a refreshing counterpoint to the pro-wrestling conspiracies that can plague the NBA (here I mean the free-throw thing with the Mavs and the Heat in last year’s Finals). In fact, instead of pro-wrestling conspiracies, Arenas infuses the Association with a bit of pro-wrestling bravado. And though he came up short the evening prior in Portland, Arenas had a huge game against the Supes. Good for him. My one nit on Arenas is the absurd free-throw routine. It’s a little too precious.

The most exciting fan contest of the year so far: after almost a full season at Key Arena, it takes a lot for the TV-timeout entertainments to engage me. So let me tip my cap to the guy who made the shot from half-court as his 60 seconds expired (in which he needed to make a layup, a free throw, a three-pointer and a half-court shot) last Wednesday to win the 50-inch plasma (and it was a Samsung – not even a cut-rate brand). That was an outstanding little sliver of entertainment – and the arena definitely responded, arguably with more vigor and gusto than had been elicited by the play of the Sonics that evening. No comment.

I guess Ray-Ray is going to shut it down for the season: with the Sonics careening toward the lottery, it looks like Ray Allen will be opting for ankle surgery and ending his season. I mean, we can’t really blame him too too much. Apparently the ankle’s been bothering him for a while, and there really isn’t a point for him to be thrashing it around out there. He’s done his duty. See you next fall, Ray.

Rashard is playing for money right now: the converse of Ray Allen shutting it down is that Rashard Lewis most definitely is not. In fact, with trade rumors swirling and phrases like “max contract” being bandied about, well, Rashard has something to play for. And play for he is! With the exception of the stinker against the Spurs (“Looks like Rashard had a big night last night…”), he was dominant against the Wizards and the Wolves. It’s just really hard to guard 6’10” dudes who have post moves and shoot the three. He’s going to make a lot of money this summer.

David Foster Wallace needs to write a fawning essay about Kevin Garnett: I think I may have mentioned this before, but Kevin Garnett is a completely underappreciated pro athlete. Beyond the obvious “he’s really good” parts and the fact that he’s surrounded by a cast of complete assclowns (I imagine that every time one of his teammates scores a basket or collects a rebound, Garnett must experience a moment of silent relief: “Whew, that’s one fewer thing I have to do tonight”), he’s just incredibly graceful to watch. I don’t mean to go all David-Foster-Wallace-On-Roger-Federer about him, but it’s pretty nifty. Anyhoo.

Key Arena Pub Crawl: Friday night was one of those nights where I treated the stadium like one big bar. Specifically, one big sports bar. This was due to the fact that I hadn't really seen enough college basketball last week, and wanted to catch at least the Friday Sweet 16 games. Thus, I spent the first qurter in my seat watching the Sonics lollygag around. For the second quarter, we rolled to the bar on the first level on the Queen Anne side and caught the two-A hoops. Halftime meant the compulsory jaunt to Seatle Sips. For the third quarter, we checked out the Fox HD lounge (my first time ever!), which was bouncing and filled with enthusiastic Oregon fans. And then we rolled back to our seats for the end of the game we had paid ($12.50 scalped!) to see. Whew. Usually you only pull a stunt like that at a baseball game!

The Storm Dance Team...umm, they're children: I guess it's just a, ahem, different market for the WNBA. That is, check out the Storm version of the dance team. I had no idea:

The Spurs are wildly better than the Sonics; it really isn't close: the Spurs wiped the floor with the Supes on Sunday, showing them how it's done to the tune of a 41-point win. That's 41 points ON THE SONICS' HOME FLOOR. Ugh. The most disheartening part was how well the Spurs actually played, especially on offense -- they just play so well. The ball. Just. Keeps. Moving. And then someone's open and they make a jumper. Also, Tim Duncan was completely toying with the succession of folks who attempted to defend him. But it isn't just talent that makes the Spurs better -- they actually have "a plan" on offense and play hard on defense. Turns out that makes a difference! Who knew!

Also, I’m in Japan now. More on that later in the week.

Sonics Attendance Record: 9-7 (still over .500!).