Peer pleasure

Jay participated in a recent kayak/camping trip I organized. He heads a paddling group in another state. It’s always a pleasure to have him along, but this time in particular. Just before adjourning the campfire activities for one evening, I explained the itinerary for the following day. The group nodded and went off to their tents. Jay lingered long enough to comment, “That must’ve taken some intense research to set up.” A simple remark but it was gold to me. Very few people give any thought to the research, planning, arrangements, negotiations, advanced payment, problem solving and myriad of other things that go into bringing off an event for their enjoyment. Or, anything else, for that matter. I don’t expect it. All I ask is that, in return for all the effort and risk, they follow instructions, reimburse promptly and generally try to be more of an asset than a liability. Even that’s too much to ask in a few cases, but I don’t stop doing it because of a small minority. I appreciated Jay’s observation and it meant more coming from an esteemed peer. Complaints and criticism mean nothing coming from those who offer nothing to the greater good, but this came from the other end of the spectrum.

iBad

Once again, I get dragged, kicking and screaming, into the 21st century (are you smarter than a Vice President?). In this case, I just purchased an iPad. When this device emerged, I only had a dim understanding of exactly what it was and why anyone would need one. I didn’t delve into that for clarity, but it seemed like smart phones, laptops and desktops covered the spectrum of functionality. My son got one and has enjoyed it immensely. He’s also been on me to get one. On the one hand, it looked like fun as his fingers moved with lightening speed, generating a variety of delightful outputs. But, I’ve seen this kind of thing before and envisioned myself plodding up and down blind alleys, regardless of how the younger generation fared. Then, I took a long plane trip with multiple connections. Fate seated me beside people enjoying movies, books and games on their iPads (save for the 400-pound sumo wrestler who spilled over the armrest), making their time fly. To me, it was one long water torture. I bought newspapers along the way but quickly burned through their prosaic crossword puzzles, cryptograms and other mental exercises. I envied the iPadders their imaginative brain teasers. As luck would have it, a local retailer ran a significant sale on the devices this week. How could I resist? I opened the box to find the device and a couple attachments. I shook it. No manual. I thought Apple was known for that. But no, I would have to go on line. I’m a paper guy and 200 pages is a test of my endurance on the web. If you’ve followed my prior forays into techdom, you already see what’s marching down Main Street. One of the first required steps was to hook up with a WiFi connection. That entailed the customary prolonged false starts with menus I couldn’t locate and passwords I couldn’t recall. After web searches for ways around network and router passwords and extensive trial & error, I achieved connectivity. It was exhausting. But now, I stood on the brink of nirvana. I could download books, stimulating puzzles and fun games. Except, I couldn’t find the promised iBook app anywhere on the device. Okay, we’ll skip over that. I still have some paper on the night table. I clicked on the Games icon. No games. None? Oh c’mon. Even Microsoft provides you with some chewing gum for the mind. Wait! There’s movement. Now it wants me to establish a game identity for when I lock horns in mortal combat with fellow iPadders in the ether. I just want to play the software, not have to worry about Caleb who has a closet full of assault rifles and gets teed off when you thrash him in 20 consecutive games of Hearts. I try to move on but it’s having none of that. Finally, after numerous cycles of closing and opening, I find myself at the Apple Store. It has about a million games and the ones it’s throwing at me all involve lasering my way through hordes of fantasy creatures and require the manual dexterity of a centipede on speed. How about the New York Times crosswords or maybe just a decent Sudoku? That would probably require drilling down to the musty basement, reserved for the minute market segment who want to stimulate the grey matter. Which means, it’ll have to wait. I’ve exhausted mine just getting this thing minimally functional and will endeavor in the search another day.

Gear hounding

A participant from my Alaska trip emailed that she just completed her rain gear outfit via a purchase on the web. I understood. Immediately after returning from sea, she found the top at a store in Seward, but they didn’t have the bottom. She found it online. Yes, it is after the trip. And yes, “rain gear” is an understatement as the outfit is more like those on “Deadliest Catch.” The opportunities to need this in the wilds of Cincinnati, Ohio are virtually nil. But, I understood. As a matter of fact, most of the group hit outdoor gear stores in Seward, Anchorage and Seattle just subsequent to returning from sea. They were in search of gear employed by our guides or something close to it. In the case of the rain gear, several had been enamored by that worn by the crew of the water taxi that ferried us to our remote launch point. I understand the phenomenon and it isn’t unlike kids buying Michael Jordan athletic shoes. You go on a guided trip, acquire some respect for the leader and maybe even admiration and you implicitly assume they he/she knows best when it comes to gear. You may even think it engenders ability enhancement. There could even be an element of it being a treasured souvenir of the trip. I am not a dispassionate observer of this as I have succumbed. In this case, I believe I pre-empted most of the temptation by purchasing the required rubber boots ahead of time instead of using those available on loan by the trip outfitter. Experience has taught me to be leery of gear on loan. Most people probably associate snow and ice with Alaska. In summer up there, such as it is, they should factor in rain and muck. The residents swear by “Alaskan sneakers,” winter or summer, on land or on sea. The brand of choice is Xtratuf and you can readily find Alaskan photos of weddings, funerals and almost any other occasions where they are being worn. I found an outlet with discounted factory seconds and rationalized the purchase with the supposition that I had other uses for such footwear. My back yard does tend to retain water and I don’t like to mess up my “normal” shoes going out to the shed, etc. That’s my story and I’m sticking to it. That explains the boots. As for the other stuff I bought on the way home, I’m still working on the rationale and will get back to you.