And yet another locale...

Now that Vox has bit the dust, I can be found here:

http://randeedawn.typepad.com/blog/

See you over at TypePad!

Movin' on...

So for those of you who might peep in here but wonder why posting has ceased, I've decided to give Vox a shot. So head on over here and keep on reading ....

Fire! Fire! Fire!

Said in a Beavis voice.

Went to a party a few weeks ago and, after watching some amazing fire skills by the professionals, I stepped forward and held on to some wire contraptions with lamp-oil soaked ends, lit up and danced around with drums a drumming in the background, until they went out.





Yes, I know the photos are dark.

These people know what they're doing, and still someone's trousers briefly caught on fire. No damage done, just some fabric that looked melted. They made sure I was only wearing organic fabrics first, in case of, well, catching-on-of-fire, because synthetics will stick to your skin. That's a nice thought. And they made me pin my hair up.

It was quite thrilling.

***********

Admin note: I am considereing abandoning Blogger, for various reasons, and Vox has been wooing me quite pleasantly. So I am testing things out over there. But in order to read posts, you will need to be a Friends or Family, and you'll need a (free, but for right now limited) Vox account. You can snag an invite here.

Courtesy the amazing Go Fug Yourself.

Anyway, for now posting here will be limited, as I'm curious to explore some Vox. Head on over!

Yes, but how can we blame the Jews?

I'm no fan of Pope Benedict XVI, for religious, social or personal reasons. But the man made a speech. He made a specific reference to an old text, noting multiple times that he was quoting it, not stating it as personal opinion. And yet, that's not good enough.

Here's what he said:

Quoting a 14th-century Christian emperor who said the Prophet Muhammad (pbuh) had brought the world “evil and inhuman” things, the pope said, “He said, I quote, ‘Show me just what Muhammad brought that was new, and there you will find things only evil and inhuman, such as his command to spread by the sword the faith he preached.’”

The German pope was quoting from a book recounting a conversation between 14th century Byzantine Christian Emperor Manuel Paleologos II and an educated Persian on the truths of Christianity and Islam.

The instantaneous analysis of what he said boils into this:

1) He said Islam was a religion of evil and violence.
2) We've been insulted. Islam is not a religion of evil and violence.

Which has led to reactions like these, and actions such as:

1) His being targeted in a suicide attack
2) At least one cleric calling for the equivalent of a fatwa
3) A nun being shot dead
and
4) A Greek Orthodox church being burned

Among no doubt many other expressions that wholly refute the notion that the religion has any connection or ties to violence, or that terribly-relative concept of "evil."

I took classes on Islam pre-9/11 and post 9/11. I know that in its heart, Islam is no more about violence and evil than Christianity or Judiasm. They're all steeped in blood up to some level thanks to so-called leaders and their history, yet that's not the true meaning.

That said, d'you think there might be better ways to decide to protest such statements than by, uh, killing and burning and calling for murder? Just -- maybe?

Well, at least there's Egypt's Muslim Brotherhood, who know how to gracefully accept an apology and be reasonable. In this case, at least, if not always.

I frankly don't get it. Is Islam so fragile that a hateful (if poorly conceived) set of cartoons, or a centuries-old quotation will so damage it that the only recourse is death? It feels like when you read those stories about someone getting gets shot because the victim dissed the shooter's mother. Is there no sense of proportional reaction? Or are we just supposed to blame the clerics, who look for any opportunity to blow up any and all perceived outrages until it becomes an abusive "it's just you and me against the world" relationship with their followers? At what point do the moderates and peace-loving Muslims stand up and say "this is not us?"

Because someone really needs to.

Also: An analysis I rather liked - And the Offended Shall Inherit the Earth?

Brings new meaning to 'don't shoot the messenger'

Sent from a friend. Not that I'm looking, but it's good to know what the options are out there:



Of course, if you find an individual who "loves guns" and is a "weapons enthusiast," you'd better hope they work well under pressure. As for the quick on your feet part, well, you'll only really need that skill if it turns out the other gun-lovin' editors don't perform well under pressure.

That's all I gotta say there.

Miracles never cease

Sometimes, you just don't know what to say.

I'm frankly flabbergasted: If this pans out, I think we can safely put one miracle in this particular doctor's permanent record.

From the long "deck" The Guardian has supplied for the article:

We have always been told there is no recovery from persistent vegetative state - doctors can only make a sufferer's last days as painless as possible. But is that really the truth? Across three continents, severely brain-damaged patients are awake and talking after taking ... a sleeping pill. And no one is more baffled than the GP who made the breakthrough. Steve Boggan witnesses these 'strange and wonderful' rebirths.

Amazing, truly.

Anniversary

Five years ago post.

Five years ago, plus two days post.

There is a sense that something profound must rise from the ashes of tragedy, that if you can't say something with depth and clarity that somehow reaches into the heart of what went on you might as well say nothing.

I can't do that. I have nothing profound, moving or deep to say about the loss of nearly 3,000 lives (and counting, more in a moment); I have nothing to say about the loss of two extremely ugly, if anchoring, buildings in this city of otherwise lovely architecture; I have nothing to say about the turn our politics have taken in the past five years. I have nothing to say here and now about any of that because I feel, exhaustively, that I've been saying, thinking, living and feeling it for four years and frankly -- I'm tired. Having it all rehashed on TV and radio ("Jack FM will be going all acoustic for the day, in honor of the anniversary") and in magazines and, well, shit, blogs makes me tired all over again.

Many things are not better for many people since September 11, 2001. Right now, for me, in my small little microcosmic world, I can't say that. Things are not so bad, at least for the present, and in some areas they are quite spectacularly good. I was at one job when the towers fell; I am now at a better one. My thirties have continued to be better than my twenties. And I have become more politically active.

Outside my little world, there are many people whose lives are much worse off, however, and I am trying to think of them instead.

I am also trying to avoid shaking my head at the short-sightedness of those who were in charge on that day, how they were unable to project into the future even the slightest bit of imagination, and how, being unable to do that, they just blundered forward -- into Afghanistan, into Iraq, into our civil liberties, and forgot all of the details. Tonight, Katie Couric (another one who changed jobs since 2001) popped up on "60 Minutes" to do a story on all of the poor first responders who ran into save people at the site of the disaster and have since come down with black lung, lung cancer, or an inability to use their lungs at full capacity, among other debilitations.

I remember thinking at the time that it was a story that could have been written in 2001 and put in nitrogen until tonight. Who didn't know this was going to happen? Who didn't wonder how it would affect the health of anyone who ran in there, or around the city? Who didn't give then-EPA Director Christine Todd Whitman the finger when she insisted there was no real danger posed?

And yet workman's comp cut them off because they filed too late. Or they're being tangled in insurance red tape. Or this, or that. Could no one have sat down on September 13 and said, "This is going to be a continuing health issue for those men and women who are trying to help clean things up. Let's get something set up now for them, so in 5 years we don't have to try and CYA."

But, no. We suffer in this country not from a lack of will, or a lack of desire, but a lack of imagination. If I could sit in my living room, stunned at the one channel of news I could get at the time, eating some comfort ice cream, and imagine this was coming, so could someone who could actually make it better.

Yet, here we are. What was that line from the New York Times editorial page today -- "We have moved on, but no one can argue that we have moved ahead."

Indeed. The best we can do for the 10th anniversary is to climb out of this quagmire. And truly, in a heartfelt and meaningful way, move ahead.

Getting through

I love the Internets.

Meet "Get Human," the web page that's doing its darndest to prevent you from having to sit through computerized "press 1" phone systems unto eternity. Go here for a list of phone shortcuts for over 450 companies, and go here for tips in general on how to get through.

When I had my recent contretemps with Earthlink Voice, I managed to get their Level 3 direct line, which means you don't have to deal with outsourced ninnies who don't know what a "FAQ" is and who make you run on a hamster wheel. I'm at least a Level 3 customer, so I deserve an instant Level 3 customer service. Anyway, I have that number -- and I know the system by which they change the pin every month -- so I'm keepin' it.

Probably I should share it. But if you need it, just email. I'll share.

The Minimalist Approach

Ah, so ... yes. Posting is scant at the moment.

(But so are readers, so that's OK.)

I've been traveling, and when that happens, sometimes you run into unexpected detours. Which are sometimes the best way to get where you weren't expecting to go.

I shall return, soonly.

Cornwall: The Update!

At long last, the Cornwall pages are done.

Head on over here to delight in the highs and lows and horses and cookies of the trip.

Enjoy (and please let me know if there are any broken links)!

Lotion-Gate, Take 2

I'd kind of wondered about this:

Airport Retailers Are Left With Uncertain Future
By JEREMY W. PETERS and MICHAEL BARBARO

Airport retailers, who scrambled to adapt to post-Sept. 11 rules that forbid anyone without a ticket from crossing security checkpoints, are now facing the possibility that they will again become unintended victims of enhanced airport security.

With the decision by the Transportation Security Administration on Thursday to ban all liquids, gels and creams from carry-on luggage, newsstands and other airport retailers selling everything from fragrances to frappuccinos have been left wondering about the future of their businesses.

Although it is too early to tell what economic impact the new rules will have on airport stores, many of the merchants are worried and some have already felt the pinch.

Okay, dudes. Nobody asked me, but -- surely there is a relatively simple answer to this.

Has nobody ever heard of "duty-free"?

When you buy duty-free on the plane, you get it in a bag at the end of your journey.

Why would it not be possible to purchase something once you've gone through security, but not actually receive it until you landed at your destination?

"Here's your receipt. Hold on to it or you won't have proof of purchase when you land in Los Angeles ... London ... Dakar ... South Bend."

Nobody needs lotion in-flight. Nobody needs Chanel No. 5 in-flight. (Well, you may need it, particularly after a 22-hour flight, but if you spray it you're going to get smacked by your seatmate.) You need it when you get there. So God forbid, you maybe didn't get it in time and maybe there's no such thing as a drugstore on the other end of your trip. Load it on the plane, or have it waiting from supplies on the other end. If I can get my Glenfiddich once I disembark from my London flight, there's no reason I can't get my tanning lotion.

C'mon, people.

Semitic Semantics

From another gem of an article in the aftermath of Mel-tdown:

(Focus on the Family ministry founder James Dobson) said in a statement that "we certainly do not condone that racially insensitive outburst," but added "Mel has apologized profusely for the incident and there the matter should rest."

For the perhaps 0.8 people who will eventually read this, I would like to make a statement for the record:

Judiasm is not a race.

Let's say it together:

Judiasm is not a race.

It is a set of beliefs, part of which are that Jesus was not the Savior, that the Messiah is still yet to come. From that you can extrapolate a whole two centuries of liturgies, canon and so forth.

As noted on answers.com, among many other places:

The traditional terms for these populations—Caucasoid (or Caucasian), Mongoloid, Negroid, and in some systems Australoid—are now controversial in both technical and nontechnical usage, and in some cases they may well be considered offensive. (Caucasian does retain a certain currency in American English, but it is used almost exclusively to mean “white” or “European” rather than “belonging to the Caucasian race,” a group that includes a variety of peoples generally categorized as nonwhite.)

Hey! They didn't mention Jews! Oh, wait. That's right.

Because Judiasm is not a race.

Neither, for that matter, is White, Black, Asian, or Aboriginal. But you just try go try using the actual words.

In the meanwhile, use words like you actually know what they mean.

I thank you for your attention to this matter.

The Friendly Skies

From this article on the new flying regulations, Day One:

From London to Los Angeles, travelers on Thursday had found themselves unpacking carry-on bags on the floor in the terminals. Some tried to squeeze makeup, sunscreen and other toiletries into their checked baggage, where liquids were permissible. Others filled up the bins at security checkpoints, abandoning everything from nail polish to a bottle of tequila.

"I literally lost about $50 or $60 worth of things we were told to throw out," said Terry Asbury, who flew into Cincinnati from Albuquerque, N.M., and found herself dumping all her cosmetics.

At Minneapolis-St. Paul International Airport, Kristin Reinke, of Champlin, Minn., complained to her husband, Mike Reinke, "I just threw out $34 worth of hand lotion."

I wasn't there. But I'd reallly like to think that the Reinkes, Asbury and all of those other thousands who were left throwing out lotions and toothpaste and so forth actually considered taking clothing out of their bags and fitting all that expensive stuff in, while taking the clothing on board, which was allowed. I'd like to think that.

I tend not to, though.

In completely unrelated news, since yesterday turned out not to be a day of disaster, thanks to the Brits who are apparently paying attention to these sorts of things, I ended up having a very, very Duran Duran day. How did this happen, you may ask? (Or not.)

Morning:
Because I am a freak (and because I like to donate to good causes), I had ordered from the fan site a DD towel. Shut up. It arrived, this big fluffy blue thing with their block-letter logo on it. I left it in the FedEx bag to carry home.

Later Morning:
Had a legitimate, work-related reason to interview Nick Rhodes. The band is going to create avatars for this online MMOG called "Second Life" and have their own islands. Seriously. Anyway, they're all about self-marketing and branding, and we like that at work, so on the phone we got. He was lovely. He even made (at my request) a "get well" message for my friend Lynda, who's not feeling so hot lately. Nick Rhodes is a prince among men.

Evening:
Met up with H for dinner before heading to see "The History Boys," which won best actor and best play at the most recent Tonys. As we were leaving to walk the three blocks to the theater, it was raining torrentially. Insanely. Get wet in five seconds type of rain. We held back and waited for it to slack off. I rooted through my bag (because of course neither of us had an umbrella, though H decided he could carry his bag over his head). I found ... the towel.

Perfect. As Ford Prefect learned, it is always good to travel the universe with a towel.

Then, we got to the theater. I knew the play was full of Brits, which is always a pleasant thing if you're trapped in a small seat for 2 hours and 45 minutes, and I knew it took place in a grammar (aka high) school, but I didn't know it took place in the 1980s or that there would be a giant screen at the back which, during scene changes, showed the actors running around the halls and encountering one another or teachers or such like, set to the beat of various 80s music. The first song? "Rio."

Continuing into this morning:
VH1 Classic played "New Moon on Monday," the video in which the devilishly cruel director decided to keep in the brief scene where Simon gets rear-ended by a passing horse.

Aaaaaand....

The radio played "Ordinary World."

Either they're inextricably attached to the cultural bloodstream, or I'm being followed. Either way, it's all good.

Pre-baby Update

Nice profile!

Syd already has a shirt that reads "I'm the big sister."

Now, I'll jump on the bandwagon with everyone else

His mug shot may have made him not seem so crazy, but give that man some alcohol and watch the words fly. And truth is, when you're drunk, you don't usually say things you would never think or believe. You're actually more free with your emotions. So, there it is.

My point remains the same: Wait for actual evidence before trying someone. The police notes were, for at least two days, only available on a questionable web site; everyone else linked to them. Now that we have Gibson making a specific apology (this one is new today), I don't have a problem with rendering judgment.

Here's his latest mea culpa, from The Hollywood Reporter:

Aug. 02, 2006
Sorrowful Gibson asks forgiveness, help

By Gregg Kilday

Mel Gibson has issued a direct apology to the Jewish community for the anti-Semitic remarks he made early Friday morning when he was arrested for driving under the influence on Pacific Coast Highway.

"There is no excuse, nor should there be any tolerance, for anyone who thinks or expresses any kind of anti-Semitic remark. I want to apologize specifically to everyone in the Jewish community for the vitriolic and harmful words that I said to a law enforcement officer the night I was arrested on a DUI charge," the filmmaker said in lengthy remarks issued Tuesday morning through his publicist Alan Nierob.

"I am a public person, and when I say something, either articulated and thought out, or blurted out in a moment of insanity, my words carry weight in the public arena. As a result, I must assume personal responsibility for my words and apologize directly to those who have been hurt and offended by those words," Gibson continued.

The statement went on to say: "The tenets of what I profess to believe necessitate that I exercise charity and tolerance as a way of life. Every human being is God's child, and if I wish to honor my God I have to honor his children. But please know from my heart that I am not an anti-Semite. I am not a bigot. Hatred of any kind goes against my faith.

"I'm not just asking for forgiveness. I would like to take it one step further, and meet with leaders in the Jewish community, with whom I can have a one-on-one discussion to discern the appropriate path for healing."

He said that he would turn to the Jewish community for help in his battle with alcoholism, saying, "I have begun an ongoing program of recovery and what I am now realizing is that I cannot do it alone. I am in the process of understanding where those vicious words came from during that drunken display, and I am asking the Jewish community, whom I have personally offended, to help me on my journey through recovery. Again, I am reaching out to the Jewish community for its help. I know there will be many in that community who will want nothing to do with me, and that would be understandable. But I pray that that door is not forever closed."

He concluded, "This is not about a film. Nor is it about artistic license. This is about real life and recognizing the consequences hurtful words can have. It's about existing in harmony in a world that seems to have gone mad."

And baby makes four....

Ah, kid, you have no idea what you're in for.

The good news is my brother and his wife are pregnant again! Due in February. I'm tres excited to be an auntie again.

But having been the older sister -- it's one of those things you just don't get over. Syd's gonna need some extra attention come February, I bet. The good thing is she'll be older than I was and may not be moved to pour the entire bottle of baby oil over the new kid....

Congrats, guys!

We all scream

Dear Cold Stone Creamery,

I do dearly love your confections. I don't get to your stores as often as I'd like; by that standard I'd have to move a cot in and start paying rent. And soon, I'd be too big to get out the doorway. But I digress.

While I do appreciate that on my recent visit I ordered an "I Like It" size and was given an "I Love It" size instead owing to the absence "Like It" cups (apparently there was a run on liking rather than loving at CSC, and it would have been too gauche to simply put the "Like" into a "Love" sized cup), I would like to briefly comment on your semantics.

Starbucks started this, I grant you. I blame them first. But no one said you had to change "Small" (or "Regular") to "I Like It" and "Large" to "I Love It." It's twee, and confusing, and doesn't indicate to me whether "Liking It" means I'm getting a small, regular or medium. Why not have a third size, the "I'm Doing This To Win A Bet" size, and make it bottomless? So, quit it.

Secondly, along those lines, and this goes for everyone who ever creates a chain from now unto eternity: Do not require your employees to use specific statements when interacting with the public. I am certain that in the boardroom, deciding to have your scoopers (I wish we could still call them soda jerks) say, "May I help the next awesome customer" seemed like genius. But clearly none of those marketing talents ever had to say such a thing 856 times a day, 1284 on weekends.

As a customer, there is nothing more depressing (on many levels) than to go for ice cream (the happiest of food!) and find myself greeted as the 855th customer that day, with the flattest, most desultory, abstracted and bored rendition of "May I help the next awesome customer," which really came out as "MayIhelpthenextawesometcustomer."

It was not awesome. It took some of the happy out of the ice cream, frankly.

But then I got a larger size, so I was loving it.

Sincerely,
Armchair General

Traipsing through Cornwall, Part 1 (and) Another Thing

So, at long last, some of the Cornwall pictures and descriptions are up. I'm sure my vast reading public can breathe a sigh of relief knowing this, but for anyone who's wanted to know how it all went, it's there, rash and all. At least, the first three days of it. Still have a few more to append on, but it could be a couple of days. Head over here to enjoy (or to find an easy way to take a nap at your desk).

* * * *

In otherwise completely unrelated other thoughts:

In the newly-released "Scoop," Woody Allen gives himself a line that goes something like this: "Jewish? No, those people sense any kind of slur and they start writing letters." (He's got a better one where he talks about growing up in the Hebraic persuasion, but then converting to narcissism.)

There's a lot of letter writing going on, at least on the Web.

I've got so many conflicting emotions about what's going on between Israel and Lebanon that there's no way to put them into a blog without sounding like a complete moron. So I'll stick with something I think I can at least put my mind around: The massive attack going on following Mel Gibson's recent arrest. It seems that a large number of blog sites, both attached to the MSM and amateur, have leapt on TMZ.com's PDF of "notes" that were allegedly made during Gibson's recent drunk driving arrest, but suppressed by the police (or thrown out, depending on who you talk to) in order to save the actor from embarrassment. (Or, if you believe the people who think that in addition to the Jews Having All The Money, the Jews Run Hollywood, ergo Mel will be run out on his ass for what he said.)

Allegedly.

Look, I've been to the TMZ.com site. I've read the article, I've downloaded the notes. Here's why I don't yet buy them:

a) they're barely legible (like a fax of a fax)
b) they start on page "5 of 8"
c) there's no connection on any page to any kind of official paperwork source
d) I could have written these up on my own.

I find when I bring this subject up with others, I'm immediately told:

a) Gibson made "Passion of the Christ," and that proves he's an anti-Semite
b) Gibson's father is a Holocaust denier
c) Gibson has take a full dose of the crazy and is out of his mind
d) We're just tired of Gibson, so let's toss him out.

The thing is this: Even if a, b, c and d are true, that does not mean he said what he's alleged to have said. TMZ does not resemble anything like a MSM or legit news site, and the fact that the only other sources who have reportd on this have referred to TMZ is like the Washington Post calling Nixon out on Watergate because of documents found in the National Enquirer.

Gibson may well have said those things. He's offered a blanket statement for saying "despicable" things, but that's not the same as admitting to all of the alleged statements. I'm waiting for a fuller analysis, particularly from the Smoking Gun. It's what I would want, were I in his position.

An addendum: I might be a bit softer on Gibson than some others, because he called me once. Not like out of the blue, precisely -- it was for a 2003 article in which Peter Weir, the great Australian director who directed him in "Gallipoli" and "The Year of Living Dangerously," was being honored. Anyway, Gibson called me direct, didn't reach me at work and left a message: "Hi, this is Mel." Etc. Later on we hooked up on my home line, and he and was genial and not crazy and answered even unrelated questions, even though he was in the midst of making "Passion" at the time.

Afterwards, I joked with others: See, he can't be an anti-Semite, 'cause he called a Jew. See?

I'd like to think better of him. So sue me.

Now go look at some pretty pictures of ponies.

Over the hedge

So, a few weeks ago I saw the film "Over the Hedge." First sighting of an opossum cartoonishly rendered on screen in quite some time. Perhaps ever.



And then the other day on Cute Overload, I came across this little bundle o' joy (who apparently crawled up through the pipes into someone's (blissfully unused) toilet.



And tonight, we get the three-fer: While taking Ciara out for her nightly wee, what should come strolling down the sidewalk (carefully keeping to the sides of the buildings where possible, before strolling into our building's grassy knoll area)?

Yep, a real-live opossum. About the size of the dog. I think the guy outsie on the cell phone thought it was a large rat, but I assure you: Possum.

How the hell does an opossum get out into Jackson Heights? Should we be watching the trees, where they nest?

Apparently I'm not the only one who has spotted 'possum in Queens. I am not, however, going to pelt it with soup cans.

And here's some fun 'Possum facts.

The Maine Event

So, if you like beaches and lobster and quaint New England cottages (and aren't too much of a Red Sox hater), go visit Ogunquit, ME, a town I still can't quite pronounce and often misspell, but which I think is just wonderful.



The base of town ends with Perkins Cove, but there's a small walkway called the Marginal Way that rings around the cliff and curves towards the beach, which has two elements -- a broad tidal basin that leads to the ocean, and a little fast-moving creek which eventually feeds into the water. I went with the guy and his family and we stayed in a family home in the middle of town, and while there, H and I walked the Marginal Way (just about a mile) and passed some amazing sights.



If you could see these houses and the view just outside their front doors, you'd move in a minute. Hell, I'd live in the guest house. Imagine how dramatic in the winter!



A view down to the beach, from the Marginal Way.



And a lovely winding tree perched right on the cliff's edge. The curves were so smooth and sensual. Once we walked around the remainder of the Way (which led back into town and then curved towards the beach, cutting through a small collection of B&Bs/hotels/homes with immaculate manicured gardens and children tossing balls at one another -- an image that seemed to come from somewhere between David Lynch and Norman Rockwell) and down to the far end of the Ogunquit beach, over a bridge.



This sign greets you; we scrambled down to the sand by the creek and immediately got bit by some kind of iridescent sand fly, but otherwise went pretty unmolested.



The water in the creek, which ran in rivulets and small streams here and there, cutting through the sand in unusual patterns, was cool but not cold, and very pleasant.



Pre-beach, we ran into plenty of these trash bins, all labeled with individual inspirational signs, for reasons unknown. Ogunquit isn't exactly a crystals-and-faeries kind of seaside town, but it does have its own way of doing things. One thing I particularly like: No chain stores or restaurant. Not a Starbucks in sight.



H's mom wanted to get a lobster roll in Kennebunkport, so we headed out of town into Bush territory; wonder if the lobstahs are redder in that part of the world. It was tasty....



And afterwards we headed up to Freeport, home to loads of outlet stores like L.L. Bean so H's dad could return some shirts. This was one street which held particular significance.



I wondered if when you got fired from the Bean if they just came out here and said they were giving you the boot. I kill me.

A lovely, lobster-filled weekend! Go now. Or don't -- there actually are plenty of tourists already. Just don't ask me about the ride home ... and when you go, pick an off-hour. It's supposed to take 5 hours from New York City: Going up, it took us over 7. Seriously.

* England recap coming soon! Really! This was just easier...