An Underdog Wedding

On Friday, we awoke in Iowa City at 4 am and by noon we found ourselves eating Los Angeles' best sushi at Sasabune on Wilshire. 

I love modern air travel.

Although it will eventually the end of our species thanks to rapidly transmitted virus (you need to go see Contagion- an awesome movie that is pretty much 100% possible), the wide availability of jet travel can get us anywhere in the world in 24 hours.  Fortunately for us, we only needed 8 hours to get from a sleepy midwestern college town in landlocked flyover country to the capitol of the Pacific Rim.  Our first stop was one of our two most-missed culinary experiences, Sushi Sasabune (the other, of course, being In N Out Burger).  Sasabune doesn't have a menu.  You get to eat whatever the chef thinks is good and whatever the fishermen have caught the day before.   The classic sign behind the sushi bar reads, "Today's Special: Trust Me".  Believe me, you can trust him.  The fish is delectable and delicate.  It literally melts in you mouth as you are consumed with ecstatic moans of delight.  I usually get a little lightheaded and buzzed eating there, even when I don't have sake- a natural sushi high.

We were in town for GoBlue!'s wedding on Santa Monica beach and many fellow poolers made the trip.  After lunch, we met up with Mouse and Geodog to walk down the California Incline to the beach.  The California Incline is a steep road that clings to the bluffs over Santa Monica, leading from California Ave (very close to Wilshire) down to the Pacific Coast Highway.  With a panoramic view of Santa Monica Bay, it is one of the most beautiful roadways in Southern California.  Sophie played in the sand with her cousins, we rehearsed the wedding, and went out to an excellent Italian dinner at Il Fornaio. 

Awakening to College Game Day, we stumbled sleepily up Wilshire to The Huckleberry Cafe, a local favorite.  It is renown for its inventive recipes using local and organic ingredients.  We enjoyed a maple bacon biscuit, fig almond tart, chocolate croissant, a scrumptious and huge breakfast burrito, and poached eggs with spinach over heirloom tomatoes and fresh snap peas.  Wow.  Here's a sample of their menu; ( http://www.huckleberrycafe.com/Huckleberry_MENU.pdf). 

Many from the wedding party marched down the 3rd Street Promenade to the local Michigan alumni bar to watch the Wolverines beat the stuffing out of their coach's old team.  We wandered through the stalls of the Santa Monica farmer's market, marveling at the quality of the produce at a time that is very late in the harvest for Iowa.  Californians can enjoy fresh peaches and strawberries when Iowa's markets have dwindled to squashes and apples (but the apples are really good!).  After the Sierra, the thing I miss the most about California is the produce.

We gathered at the beach club with the rest of the wedding party to eat In N Out, sip aged Nicaraguan rum, and watch the afternoon football games.  For the 4th year in a row, Texas A & M and Oklahoma State played an amazing, tight contest.  This is a match that will missed when the Aggies jump to the SEC next year.  Clemson pulled a mild upset of Florida State in a rivalry that has evolved far beyond the Bowden bowl it once was.  Many of us were stunned by Temple's drubbing of Maryland, proving that the  Owl's close call with Penn State was not a fluke.  5 of us saw that coming, happy to the earn the 9 points for their win.  (note: although highly controversial, I liked Maryland's flag-imitating uniforms they wore against Miami.  The brown "Turtle" outfit they chose for the Temple loss were hideous.  I am so glad USC is above such gimmicks)

The wedding began at 5pm, with guests huddled together against a brisk, cold Pacifc breeze.  I was assigned a pair of readings for the event, one from Victor Hugo's Les Miserables and one from Mark Twain.  Les Miserables happens to be one of my most favorite musicals of all time (along with Mamma Mia and Wicked), but I have never tried to read the book.  As readers of this column know, I am a big fan of Mark Twain (http://underdogcontest.blogspot.com/2008/07/coldest-winter.html).  I ever had to teach a literature course, I would definitely include his collection of short stories (along with Tolkien's Lord of the Rings, MacLean's River Runs Through It, Cather's Death Comes to the Archbishop, and Mayle's Year in Provence).  Here's the passages that were selected by the happy couple:

"You can give without loving, but you can never love without giving. The great acts of love are done by those who are habitually performing small acts of kindness. We pardon to the extent that we love. Love is knowing that even when you are alone, you will never be lonely again. And great happiness of life is the conviction that we are loved. Loved for ourselves. And even loved in spite of ourselves."- Victor Hugo, Les Miserables

"A marriage makes of two fractional lives a whole;


It gives two purposeless lives a work,

And doubles the strength of each to perform it.


It gives to two questioning natures a reason for living


And something to live for.

It will give new gladness to the sunshine,


A new fragrance to the flowers, a new beauty to the earth


And a new mystery to life."

- Mark Twain, letter to Olivia Langdon

To justice to these fine words, I read them as the authors would have: in a horribly mangled fake French accent for Hugo and a perfect Dixie gentleman for Twain.  

It was a wonderful party, with dancing, singing, smores, and champagne.  I even got to watch the USC-ASU game, to my ultimate demise.  I fell asleep after watching the horrifying 2nd half.  I tossed and turned all night with nightmares about fumbling the ball in Tempe.  When I awoke Sunday for the return trip home I hoped it had all been a champagne induced nightmare.  Unfortunately, a glance at the morning paper confirmed my horror.  Such a fabulous weekend made bitter by a awful finish.  Worst hangover ever.

Fight On,

Hans

PS: After reading an interesting article in the New York Times about paying extra for privileged economy travel (link to article "Practical Traveler"), I signed up for a new American Airlines executive Master Card.  With it, I was able to check in, check two bags without charge, and bypass the line at security at LAX.  We were at the Admiral's Club travel lounge in less than 15 minutes from drop off.  It pretty much rocked.  Try it! 

What's Really Important

Every time I take a trip with My daughter, we sit down beforehand with iTunes and select a new movie to download and watch on the plane or car ride.  Naturally, the film remains on my pad afterwards. As a result, the vast majority of my 64GB is bloated with Pixar movies, including all three "Toy Story" films. (ok, I keep them around for me as well).  For last weekend's trip to San Francisco, the mutually agreeable selection was the Disney classic Mary Poppins.  Loaded with classic songs and amusing dance routines, Mary Poppins tells the story of a nanny bringing a family together by indulging in the joys and fantasy of childhood.  By the end, the father, Mr Banks, realizes that having fun and playing with his children is more important than being respected as a banker.

Nothing reminds you of the importance of family faster than caring for an ill child.

On the way to San Francisco, Sophie developed a fever and vomiting.  Her symptoms were manageable with Motrin and fluids, but it made for a very long first night in the hotel.  She is such an amazing traveler; she insisted on going despite the symptoms, ramping up into usual play mode between temperature spikes.  As the plane landed at SFO, we discussed our options for the day.  The plan to hit the Science museum right out of the gate fell apart.  I suggested that we just go back to the hotel, cuddle in bed, eat ice cream, and watch TV (which is pretty much heaven for me).  She said she liked the idea and we headed to the hotel.  To get there, we had to walk by the cable cars going up Powell St.

Sophie saw the cable cars and it was game over.

She insisted on riding.  Despite the viral gastroenteritis, despite no caloric intake for 24 hours, and despite the  hour long line wrapping around the square, she had to ride.  Her peppy insistence provided me a glimpse into her psyche and sense of values.  Sophie inherited my wanderlust and sense of adventure.  I'm not happy traveling unless I am going somewhere and finding something new.  I am not interested in sitting on a beach with a book- I need to move, connect, and explore.  She has a toy cable car at home I brought back from last year's San Francisco adventure (see Football in Exile from 2010: http://underdogcontest.blogspot.com/2010/11/football-in-exile.html) and seeing the real thing represents the essence of this city and the goal of her journey.

We climbed aboard and chugged up Powell street.   We got a stern reprimand from the conductor for swinging on the overhead leather straps, but the fun was worth the trouble.  Suddenly, she admitted she was hungry.  This is a really good thing- she hadnt eaten anything solid for a day.  I hadn't eaten much myself- it's hard to have an appetite when you spend all night cleaning up kid vomit.  When she mentioned she wanted to eat, I suddenly realized how hungry I was.

We left the cable car in Chinatown (Sophie called it "China Land") and wandered into the first hole-in-the-wall eatery we could find, the Cafe New Honolulu.  It was a shoddy little bakery and cafe: what you might get if you took a Parisian Bistro and dropped into Hong Kong and then didn't update the decor for about a generation.  I was concerned how her sensitive stomach would react to real food, so I took things slow.  No General Tsao's chicken or spicy salt shrimp; I went for basic.  I ordered a bowl of clam chowder and some steamed  rice.  When they brought the soup, I thought I had made a mistake in coming here- it looked runny and thin. But when tasted it, I was surprised- it had a wonderful briny taste; something like fish stock with cream  The chowder also came with a bun: a hot, gooey sourdough roll that was just sinful. Sophie piled rice into spoonfuls of the the soup and made a delicious porridge.  It might just be the best clam chowder I have ever tasted.  And all because we jumped off the cable car at a random street and we were so hungry we ignored the decor.  Such is the miracle of travel!

We wandered through Union Square back to the hotel, collapsed into bed with our well deserved ice-cream and dozed as Alabama thumped Penn State and Georgia got nipped by South Carolina in a shootout.  When mom returned from her meetings, I left Sophie to enjoy some mother -daughter time and grabbed a cab across town to the Blarney Stone, the official bar of the Michigan Bay Area Alumni Club.

For all those who watched the game, you know how amazing it was.  For those of you at the Big House, you were treated to a special moment.  I can say that watching the game in a San Francisco bar packed jowl-to-jowl with blue adorned Wolverine fans must be the next-best thing.  Having visited the USC bar earlier, I was wearing cardinal.  I was a lone speck of red among a throng of blue- one lone salmon fighting against a mighty blue tide.   Pooler GoBlue! Was there, screaming and signing at the top of his lungs like the rest of the fools.  You know you're a die hard when you blow out your voice cheering for your team 3000 miles from the stadium in a bar. Here's a video of the crowd reacting to one of Michigan's late touchdowns:

The next day I drove across the bay to Berkley to have brunch at the amazing Claremont hotel- a white wooden palace perched above the Berkley campus.  In the parking lot was a classic cherry red mustang decorated with just married signs.  That's the right way to start your new life together; a send off in the sexiest car Detroit has ever made   I was there with pool founder Kurt and His wife Joyce, who have recently given birth to their first child, Declan Hercules.  (yeah, his middle name is really Hercules- that's so cool it's worth the teasing he'll get in grade school).

I drove out to the hospital to meet Declan, still in the NICU due to prematurity.  He may be young but his will is strong, just like his namesake.  Witnessing the joy and wonder of this new arrival was another reminder of the priorities in life.  The fragile being, so full of hope and potential, is worth every sacrifice.

Brought together by happenstance and our newest member, the family gathered  together for dinner. Faced with the thousands of fabulous restaurants in San Francisco, choosing one to suit the varied palates of nine attendees (including one adorable yet precocious preschooler) can be a chore.  As I walked down the street pondering this problem, I thought to myself, can't we just go to some simple steak and potato grill?  I glanced to the side, eying a dive-y antique of a restaurant called "John's Grill", and thought, like that place.  Then, actually reading the awning, I discovered I had stumbled upon a local legend and a forgotten gem.  This is the John's Grill made famous by Dashiell Hammett and his Sam Spade detective novels.  This is the restaurant mentioned and shown in the prototypical hard- boiled PI film, The Maltese Falcon.  Decorated in wood panelling and plastered with signed photos from celebrities, it even features a glass display case with the Maltese Falcon statue and a collection of signed Hammitt books.  I enjoyed their signature lamb chops with a 2008 Chateau Montelena Cabernet while sitting beneath the photo of the man himself, Humphrey Bogart.

On the last day of our trip, I had the pleasure of introducing Sophie to the Golden Gate bridge.  Her virus had been beaten and her youthful joy was in full splendor. To most people, the Golden Gate is just a really big, really orange bridge.  But to Sophie, it was a magical symbol of this city; a city that she has fallen in love with and her dad right along with her.  But sharing it with someone you love brings us all closer together.  In the end, the importance of family remained the enduring lesson.

Fight on,
Hans

Never Strikes Twice

If you don’t like the weather in Iowa, just wait a minute.

This cliché has been applied to many locales (such as Paris), but it is especially true when the Midwest is being assaulted by a line of thunderstorms.  Frequent travelers have come to dread hearing the phrase, “thunderstorms in Chicago.”  A few bolts of lightning and O’ Hare is shut down for hours, delaying flights across the country.  These rolling storms move quickly, turning a blue summer day into a hurricane and then clearing again before the gameday pancakes are cool.

We have had a weird Spring and Summer this year.  The Spring was unusually wet and cold, adding an annoying month onto Winter.  Our lawns and herb gardens relished the drenching rains, but farmers couldn’t get into their fields to plant: too muddy to plow the soil and too cold for the corn to sprout.   Then Summer came, the weather warmed dramatically, and fields got planted.  Our cold, wet May gave way to an unprecedented heat wave.  With heat indices regularly above 100, working all day in the garden became impossible and the weeds slowly consumed our crop.  But hot, humid weather is ideal for the corn’s maturation and the fields quickly made up for their slow start.  It is often said that on warm, still July nights you can actually hear the corn growing; it’s an odd squeaking, rustling sound.  Crop forecasts became insanely optimistic, predicting a record corn yield.  All we needed was a continuation of the “timely rains.”

Then, a strange thing happened: it stopped raining.

In Eastern Iowa, around Iowa City, the rain just kept missing us.  It would go to the north or the south.  Epic lines of thunderstorms rolling across the prairie would suddenly break into pieces and dissipate right over our heads.  Weird.  It just wouldn’t rain.  Western Iowa, being drenched by record flooding along the Missouri River, breathed a collective sigh of relief.  But the tomato plants stopped bearing fruit after a single crop.  Lawns grew more slowly, and then turned brown.  And the corn yields fell.

On Saturday, we were all hoping for a bit more rain; we just wanted it to start after the Hawkeyes were done with their season opener.  That’s what we call a “timely rain”. But less than hour before kickoff, the heavens opened and soaked the field, the stands, the players, and the fans.  The game went ahead as scheduled, the doppler images promising clearing skies by halftime.  Conditions improved but the in-stadium souvenir stands sold out of dry shirts.   

Suddenly, in the middle of the third quarter, a random stroke of lightning erupted a few miles to the west of stadium.  The game officials, following the NCAA lightning safety manual (http://www.lightningsafety.com/nlsi_pls/Sports_Medicine_Handbook_lightning.pdf) to the letter, declared a 30 minute hiatus of the game.  The Doppler image was impressive: a “pop-up” thunderstorm of legendary proportions had suddenly appeared from nowhere.  We knew it was about to rain and rain hard.  For nearly an hour the pent-up frustrations of a summer drought were unleashed onto Kinnick Stadium.  It was raining so hard it was literally painful.  All but a few hundred loyal die-hards headed for the exit.  At the time of the suspension, Iowa was leading 34-0 over a FCS school, Tennessee Tech.  When a game is interrupted by weather, school officials have four options:

1) Postpone the game and resume play at a mutually arranged later date

2) Consider it a “no contest” and enter it in the books as never happened

3) Count it as a forfeiture by the home team

4) Stop play and count the game as complete with the current score

In most cases, option #1 is not desirable; scheduling another game is just too messy.  I am sure that the folks in South Bend would prefer to choose option 2 for their game against South Florida, but that didn’t make any sense for Iowa.  I’m not sure when option #3 would ever occur.  I had assumed, due the lopsided score and relative non-importance of the game, the officials would favor option #4.  This was in fact the decision in Ann Arbor, where the game between Michigan and Western Michigan was called due to lightning with Michigan ahead. 

Despite the torrent, the parties involved “wanted to get the game in” and waited 90 minutes for the storm to pass.  The players emerged onto the field to play before a nearly empty stadium.  The remaining time passed quickly and Tennessee Tech managed to score a touchdown for their efforts. 

Weather played havoc with other games across the region that day.  Michigan- Western Michigan was called early due to weather, as I mentioned.  South Florida was leading Notre Dame at halftime, when the stadium was evacuated due to lightning.  Play resumed 2.5 hours later, but was stopped again.  The Domers had narrowed the gap in the score; cancelling was not an option.  Play resumed and the game finally, mercifully ended at 8:00 pm local time after starting around 2.  Poolers following the Marshall – West Virginia game (the last opportunity to knock Gran off her week 1 win) had endure another similar lengthy delay.

At least in LA, where the Trojans played one great half and one miserable half against Minnesota, the weather was perfect.

Fight On,

Hans