Review - Manilow on Broadway

Here comes my most biased review ever.  Probably.  Definitely take the following with a grain of salt.  I have loved Barry Manilow, and his music, for nearly 40 years.  I think the only guy I've been a bigger fan of for that long is my daddy.  :)   Barry's songs have gotten me through many a rough patch over the years, and it touches me how poignant I find many of his songs today.

A not-so-brief backstory:  when I was growing up, popular music wasn't really a part of my life.  I took piano lessons, but mainly played music familiar to my elderly teacher.  My parents listened to Elvis and the Beatles, and my grandparents listened to gospel music (naturally, Elvis singing gospel music is a strong memory).  One year, in my school music class, we listened to a popular song as an example of song structure.  That song was "I Write The Songs."  Coincidentally, the performer of that song was on a concert tour and would be performing at our local summer concert venue.  A school friend and I talked our families into going, since we had 'studied' his work in school.  Off to the concert we went.  And so, in the mid 1970s, my love and adoration for Barry Manilow was born.  And it continues, unabated, to this day.

 

I often think of an Oscar Hammerstein lyric, 'somebody kind who touches your mind will suddenly touch your heart,' when I think of my early crushes.  It's my opinion that when a young girl falls in love from, say, ages 9 -14, that love is forever.  And Oscar (as usual) nails it perfectly.  Suddenly, there's someone on whom you can safely rest your hopes and dreams; there's someone who has all the words you've been looking for.  That's who Barry Manilow became for me.

 

We didn't have a lot of money when I was growing up, and I'll never know exactly what they had to sacrifice, but my parents always indulged my Barry-love.  His new albums, sheet music so I could play the songs on the piano, and his concerts were enjoyed by my whole family (at least that's what I tell myself).  And, yes, a poster or two graced my bedroom walls.  One happy Christmas, I even got my own small stereo, so I could listen to his music to my heart's content.  My parents were (and are) the absolute best.

 

I've seen most of Barry's concert tours, in many cities; I own all of his music (now on CD); and I still feel the same rush of feeling when I hear those songs.  Barry even introduced me to the genius that is Barbara Cook (and I will always be extremely grateful for that)!  Albums, and songs, replace each other as my personal favorites as the years go by.  I certainly was greatly moved by more than a few of the songs last night.

So, FINALLY, getting to last night's performance - I was supposed to attend the show last Wednesday, but I was all nervous about stupid grand jury duty, so I traded my ticket to a friend and got another ticket for last night.  Then, Barry got bronchitis, and canceled all of last week's performances.  So I used last week's ticket and got two tickets for last night and took my friend.  We had a GRAND time.

 

I spend the entirety of a Barry Manilow concert with a smile on my face.  My heart is filled with nostalgia and innocence of youth and love of the music.  I'm pretty sure I'm incapable of saying a bad thing about an evening spent with Barry, though I WILL say that his lower register sounded a tad ragged, due to the aftereffects of bronchitis, but his upper register sounded fantastic.  He clearly has taken amazing care of his voice over the years, because it sounds pretty much as it did all those years ago (and we got proof when he did a duet with his younger self!), but the years have added a touching ruefulness to his rendering of his lyrics.  The songs have always been personal, but now they're tinged with something else.  Not regret, exactly, but an acknowledgement that what he's singing and what he's FEELING may not directly coincide.  Subtext, perhaps?  I don't know.  I just found a lot of the evening way more moving in different ways than usual.  And I'll admit to shedding tears during "Even Now" and "This One's For You."

 

As usual at a Barry event, the fans are electric and borderline out of control.  With glo-sticks!  We had a real wackadoodle up in the balcony with us.  But it's a true love fest, and Barry revels in it.  He has an easy rapport with the crowd, and when he took an audience member's song request, it was an adorably real moment.  Barry was trying to set up the song, "Somewhere Down the Road," and the guy kept yelling, "Just sing!"  Suddenly Barry laughed and said he felt like he was performing at a family Passover dinner!  He just has the crowd in his pocket from moment one and doesn't let go.  And I always love the moment when the crowd is screaming and Barry just says "Still?"  Yes, still!  And always!!

 

This show is just a fun combination of heartfelt personal song cycle and glitzy Vegas revue.  I'll admit, at the start, I was happy that the evening was a 90-minute intermissionless show, but now I feel like I have to go back for more.  That's Barry Manilow.  After nearly 40 years, he keeps me coming back for more.  Excuse me while I put on some of his music.  What should I pick?  Oh, I know!!  Last night, Barry did a song from the Broadway show he wrote a few years ago, "Every Single Day," from Harmony. What a glorious song. I'll listen to that.  My friend and I are trying to figure out whose arm to twist to get this show produced! How heavenly would it would be to combine two of my loves, theater and Barry, in one package. I may spontaneously combust...

 

 

Actually, grand jury is not that grand

So, happily, my civic duty has come to an end.  For at least the next eight years, I should say.  Hurrah!  I have to admit that this was one of the longest months of my life.  I thought I would find the process interesting and enjoyable, but I didn't.  It angered me, it depressed me.  It caused nightmares, it made me reconsider the safety of where I live.  It sucked the life out of me and made my brain hurt.  It made me cry.  I feel as if I've lost my faith in humanity, and, occasionally, I even questioned my will to live.  Yes, grand jury was not that grand for me.  I will share some of my experiences.  Well, not the secret parts.  I would hate to be arrested and then have to go BACK to that courthouse. 
 
First, I have to start with the security line.  Now, I completely understand why everyone needs to go through a security line before getting into a courthouse.  Truly.  And the photo on the left?  That's a perfectly reasonable line that took about 20 minutes to get through.  Not a problem.  The photo on the right?  That line took about an hour to get through, and it started off outside in the subzero temperatures.  That IS a problem. 

Certain days of the week at the courthouse are busier than others.  Therefore, hello, on the busier days, they should open more lines earlier.  The doors open at 8:30, grand jury starts at 9:30.  They generally started with two security lines open and then, maybe, they would open a third around 9.  And if the line was still down the street, they might open a fourth.  Wouldn't it make more sense to START with four lines?  Keep everyone moving, and out of the cold.  After the crowd tapers down, then go down to three, then two lines.  It's just crazy.  Even one of the security guards was wondering why more lines weren't open.  And don't even get me started on having to do the line AGAIN when you come back from your security-line-shortened lunch break...

 

But you know what?  Now that I think about it, I actually think it's crazy to make the grand jurors stand in that line.  There should be a separate line for grand jurors.  They give us ID, we should be able to enter through the same security line as the attorneys and employees.  It makes NO sense whatsoever for us to stand in that long line, alongside people who may be testifying inside our jury room later that day.  What if I were on the phone talking about my neighborhood?  (not that I would, but play along)  And then a witness heard me talking about my neighborhood.  And that witness stood behind me in line for an hour.  They would really KNOW what I look like and could find me.  Paranoid?  Probably.  Possible?  Absolutely.  The system could do so much more to make fulfilling our civic duty more comfortable and, if not enjoyable, endurable and non-threatening.

 

Our court officers were lovely - they kept things light and fun (well, as light and fun as they could) and it was much appreciated.  I can't even imagine having to deal with a power hungry court officer all day, every day.  It's bad enough listening to case after case after case (especially when one ADA sounded like The Nanny), hearing about awful people doing awful things, but actually having to work with awful people?  That probably would've driven me right over the edge.  I mean, when you get 23 people in a room, it's a crap shoot about how well they're going to mesh.  Luckily, we overall had a pleasant group, with a good sense of humor and a healthy sense of perspective about the whole thing.  We took our job seriously and tried to do it to the best of our abilities.  Yes, there was one person who worked my last nerve, but, I guess, on the whole, I was fortunate there weren't 22 just like that one person. 

 

Thankfully, I found a coffee shop that was about a ten minute walk away from the courthouse and I ate lunch there almost every day.  It was quiet, it was cheap, and no one else on the jury liked walking that far for lunch, so I could get a little alone time.  I think that's how I kept my tenuous grip on my sanity.

 

I think twenty days is too long for grand jury duty.  (I only served seventeen, because of the federal holidays, but still...)   These days are so draining, and some of the cases so depressing, it's just not right to make people sit there for that long.  Would it hurt to seat more grand juries during each term and make each term ten days instead?  I don't know.  I'm not exaggerating when I say that some evenings I went to bed at 7:30 or 8pm, because I was that exhausted from the day.  Not on the days they kept us there until 8:30, of course, which is another whole blog post entirely.

 

Because I'm me, I put together some statistics from my term.  I don't think there's anything secret in here:

 

• the most cases we heard in one day:  13
• the least cases we heard in one day:  3
• the number of times the biggest and hardest case came in:  11
• the number of times we had DNA explained to us by an expert:  6
• the number of times we had guns/bullets explained to us by an expert:  5
• the total number of cases heard:  39
• the total number of times the A.D.A.s came in with those cases:  82
• the case of shortest duration:  17 minutes
• the case of longest duration:  I stopped counting at 6.5 hours
• the number of love connections started:  I think only one
• the books I read/started during the term:  Gone with the Wind, The Bucolic Plague
• the tv shows I watched during the term:  the Smash season two premiere and part of Downton Abbey, season one
• the movies I watched during the term:  Ballerina, Mao's Last Dancer, First Position
• the nightmares I had:  snipers shooting at me through my living room apartment, being stabbed with a knife on the subway, running into a defendant in my neighborhood

I don't know, maybe I didn't have the right sense of perspective about the whole thing.  Maybe I wasn't supposed to take it so much to heart.  Maybe the act of writing everything down (as secretary) just burned the stuff into my brain far more than it would have otherwise.  All I know is I was extremely depressed and unhappy during my term of civic duty.  I am also crabby about breaking my pen on the last day.  I mean, I used that pen for seventeen days straight, writing up case after case after case.  After it was all over, I was putting it into my handbag so I could leave the room for the last time, and SNAP.  Broken pen.  Perhaps that's a metaphor.  Hmmmmm.

 

Here are some more atmospheric photos I got during my term.  Well, as atmospheric as the neighborhood around a courthouse can be.  Fingers crossed this post won't get me in trouble, and apologies to all my friends and co-workers who listened to me rail, complain, sob and basically act like a crazy person over the last month.  I appreciate your talking me off the metaphoric ledge...

 

 

Review - Water by the Spoonful

I had been telling our civic duty supervisor that I would need to leave early a couple of days during the term because I already had theater tickets that predated my civic duty summons.  Last Thursday was a crappy civic duty day and I almost didn't get out of there - even after finishing what I thought was the last task, after the predetermined end time of the day, when I was getting ready to leave, the supervisor said there was more work to do.  I was torn, should I stay and complete that day's civic duty?  Or should I leave and see the show I had been looking forward to for months?  The supervisor said I was free to go, if I liked, and with a lot of guilt (and also with relief), I set out for Second Stage. 

In hindsight, it's interesting to me that the last show I saw (The Piano Lesson) was a Pulitzer Prize-winner, and last Thursday's show, Water by the Spoonful, is the most recent Pulitzer Prize-winner.  Excellence in playwriting is always of interest to me, clearly.  I had also heard quite a bit about Water by the Spoonful, even before it won the Pulitzer, so I was eager to check it out.

I found the play to be utterly and completely original, beautifully moving yet funny, and totally wonderful.  That doesn't always happen when you have high expectations going in.  The playwright, Quiara Alegria Hudes, has put together a compelling drama about human connection and accepting responsibility.  Her warmth and accessibility shone through the entire script.  I really loved it.

Water by the Spoonful is the second play in a planned trilogy about the fictional Ortiz family.  I so wish I had seen the first play, Elliot: A Soldier's Fugue, itself a Pulitzer finalist.  And my fingers are crossed that the last play, The Happiest Song Plays Last, makes it to New York soon.  The inhabitants of the Ortiz family's world, and the characters who surround them, are so real and vivid.  Hudes knows these people and lets them breathe and live.  She has such empathy for them, even when they're making bad choices and perhaps moving in a wrong direction.  I rooted for all of these characters to find what they were all so desperately looking for.  I was brought to tears by their intense desire for human connection and the laying down of secret burdens.  I found so much of it desperately relatable.

I thought the construction of the play was quite well executed, with several stories overlapping and vying for attention, yet none seemed to get short shrift.  And the handling of the scenes portraying dialogue in a chat room was very well done.  All of the dialogue, in fact, was spot on and fresh-sounding.  I didn't love the set, but oh well. 

All of the actors were terrific, though I'll admit to a couple of favorites - Sue Jean Kim as a young recovering crack addict looking for her birth parents and Bill Heck as a yuppie crack addict, refusing to admit the depth of his addiction.  Though all of the actors were wonderful and touching, I just found these two performances to be more vivid. 

There was so much wonderful stuff happening in Water by the Spoonful, I wish I had seen it earlier in the run so I could've gone back to see it again.  It's always interesting to me to see a new play again after seeing how everything played out.  I can concentrate on other details so much more the second time.  But such is life.  And as Water by the Spoonful so eloquently reminds us, there's never enough time, so you should grab at your life while you can...

More Iron Chefiness

My sister and I have been talking about going to Iron Chef Michael Symon's restaurants for a long time now.  We actually don't make it up to Cleveland very often when I'm home, but this time, we bit the bullet, made a lunch reservation, and finally ate at Lola.  We would've tried Lolita, but they aren't open for lunch.  And, as we all know, lunch is generally less expensive than dinner.  :)   I wish we could've talked our parents into coming, too, but Mom was feeling under-the-weather and Dad already had lunch plans.  But we had a grand sister lunch at a fun restaurant all the same.

Getting there was a bit tricky - the directions off the Open Table website were a bit confusing, but we finally found a parking spot nearby.  It was a rather raw day, but Lola itself was warm and inviting.  It was nicely decorated for the holidays - not too much, just enough to be festive.  I liked the bar up front and the layout of the space was very attractive.  Not offputting or too fancy.  Just right. 

As always, I took a look at the menu beforehand to see what I might want to order.  I settled on the roasted turkey sandwich, with cranberry mostarda and raclette cheese.  Don't tell the vegetarian police, please.  I wanted to have something delicious, but not too big, so I could try a dessert as well.  I'm a planner, what can I say.  Oh, first I ordered a glass of malbec.  I do love a glass of malbec.  My sister got a glass of white wine and we suddenly became ladies who lunch.  la la la

The service was very pleasant and not hurried at all.  By the time we got there, the busiest lunch rush was probably over, and we enjoyed a leisurely atmosphere until we were through.  They stop serving lunch at 2:30, but we didn't feel as if they wanted us to hurry and leave, so that was nice.  We ate at our own pace and enjoyed ourselves.

The roasted turkey sandwich was spectacular!  It was served on a sourdough bread, which was just the right texture for the sandwich.  The balance between the turkey, the cheese, the argula and the cranberry mostarda was perfect.  And I could've eaten that cranberry mostarda all day.  If they had been selling it up front, I would've bought it.  It was delicious.  Tart, sweet, savory - yummy.  That was one seriously delicious sandwich.  My sister also greatly enjoyed her grilled cheese, which had apples and carmelized onions on it (she let me sneak a taste - it was yummy!!).  We also loved the shoestring fries with a touch of rosemary dusted on them.  There's nothing like a good shoestring fry.  :)

Of course, even though I had wanted to try dessert, that sandwich was very substantial and I couldn't stop eating it.  So, I didn't get a dessert, but I did get the almond cappuccino, which was served with a little biscotti.  It was delicious and the perfect sweet ending to the meal.  My sister got the butterscotch latte and she said it was great, too.  Next time I go, though, I do want to try one of their delicious sounding tarts or creme brulees... 

So, thumbs WAY up for Michael Symon's Lola.  It was rather like the image I have of Michael Symon - fun and unpretentious, with big-flavored food.  We can't wait to go back and try other things on the menu.  And now that we know how to get there, we'll definitely be going back.  I'm already starting to think about the next Iron Chef/Top Chef restaurant to try... :)

 

 

Holiday Travel Minutiae

It was a lovely holiday this year - my family and I had a grand time together, as always, even though we passed a cold back and forth.  I still have a cough, which is annoying.  This year, I thought it might be fun to post some photos about my travel adventures. 

Normally, I fly AirTran from LaGuardia, which is close to my apartment, to an airport that's really close to my parents' house.  This year, that ticket was way too expensive, so I got a ticket through Orbitz to fly in and out of Pittsburgh.  The ticket cost maybe a third as much, though Pittsburgh is about an hour and half from home.  I guess it was an ok exchange. 

Flying Delta out of LaGuardia meant taking a shuttle from one gate to another, and then riding a smaller plane home.  Thankfully, it wasn't too small a plane, and all went relatively smoothly.  The Delta terminal we were shuttled to was quite nice (the bar that had iPad menus was very attractive), though the bathrooms were miles away.  Flying out six days before the holiday was a good idea; the lines weren't that long and the flights weren't filled with crazy people with screaming children.  At least the flight to Ohio wasn't.  I got in on time and wandered around the very large Pittsburgh airport until I figured out where to meet my dad and sister.

The Pittsburgh airport is so big, you have to take a shuttle to get to the baggage claim area!  And it has a dinosaur in it!  Woo hoo!  :)  My sister had to text me and tell me where my bags would be coming in, since the signage was nowhere near the escalator.  Other than that design flaw, this airport wasn't so bad.  Oh, and they need more food options.  Thank you. 

We decided to head down back roads to get home, so I could see lots of holiday lights in small-ish Ohio neighborhoods.  Sadly, that plan didn't go well.  I would like to take this opportunity to chastise Ohio neighborhoods between Pittsburgh and Mogadore - where were your holiday lights???  You couldn't decorate one tree in your front yard??  You couldn't put up one string of lights on your gutters??  Not one blow-up Santa??  Seriously.  I expect better from you next year.  At least we enjoyed our early dinner at an Amish restaurant Dad remembered.  I love me an Amish restaurant and this one was really good.  My sister and I had a giggle when Dad said, well, this place might be expensive.  Um, no, $8 for a huge sandwich, fries and a drink isn't expensive, Dad.  LOL. 

 

After a fun ten-day holiday visit with my loved ones (though the cold we passed back and forth was less fun - but I did get a lot of couch-time and watching-TCM-with-my-mom-time), it was time again to travel.  Happily, the weather cooperated on both of my travel days, though it did snow a bit when I was heading out of Pittsburgh back to New York.

I don't recommend taking those same back roads back to Pittsburgh - it took us entirely too long to get to the airport and I was starting to panic we wouldn't get to the airport on time.  I'm a very panicky traveler (I believe I've mentioned that before).  So, note to self:  if flying in and out of Pittsburgh - back roads are ok upon arrival, but use the interstate when heading back to airport.  Write it down.

The view is prettier on the side roads, though, I will admit.  The trees looked really pretty with snow on them and the countryside is always peaceful-looking.  Plus, you can have quieter conversations on the back roads, since there are so many stop lights along the way.  I guess you just have to decide what's more important - leaving three hours early to get to their airport so you can meander on the way there, or spending more time at home and less time in the car by taking the interstate.  Six of one. 

Even with all my angsting, I got to the airport in plenty of time, though the airport was much busier, since I was flying out on New Year's Eve.  The lines were longer and the flights were fuller.  Happily, my bag still wasn't overweight (I was smart enough to bring an extra carry-on bag for all my wonderful holiday gifts), so we checked in pretty quickly, even with the long lines.  There was a Bruegger's bagel place just outside my gate, so I got a couple of bagels and settled onto the small plane. 

 

Unfortunately, I was seated in front of two completely obnoxious kids.  I was tempted to turn around and ask how old they were, since they were acting so immaturely.  I mean, they looked fourteen or fifteen, but they acted like they were five or six.  Loud laughing, kicking the seat, obnoxious 'stop touching me!' fights.  Blech.  Even their father (at least I think it was their father) kept telling them to stop acting like babies, but it didn't really deter them.  Nor did all the times my seat neighbor and I turned around to give them dirty looks.  The time to put on my headphones couldn't come soon enough.  I don't know why the father didn't split them up, but...oh well.  I guess I should be relieved we were only flying an hour from Pittsburgh to New York and not flying all the way to California or somewhere.  But still...

 

Moral of the story:  I'm going to have to buy my holiday air tickets much earlier next year to get back to the quick and easy Air Tran flights.  Though I think they've been bought out by Southwest, so I have no idea what next year will bring.



 

Review - The Piano Lesson

Thankfully, day seven of my civic duty ended early enough that I could get out of there, head to Manhattan, and use my ticket to see August Wilson's The Piano Lesson at my favorite hangout, the Signature Theatre.  I told the court officer that I needed to get out in time to use my ticket, but they don't seem very sympathetic to having a life outside that civic duty venue.  And the civic duty venue hasn't been very good about letting us out at the appointed time.  But, all turned out well and I was thrilled to see my first play of 2013.

I think I've mentioned in the past how much I love August Wilson's plays - I find them so beautifully rich and poetic, yet completely real and familiar.  The speeches, while sometimes repetitive, can be positively Shakespearean.  And The Piano Lesson is no exception.  The play is beautifully constructed as a family drama and also a ghost story, with supernatural and magical elements, yet still maintaining a naturalistic, lived-in quality that I find so engaging.  This production is almost three hours, yet the time with these wonderful characters just flies by. 

I've never seen The Piano Lesson performed onstage before, though I did see the tv movie with Charles S Dutton that was done years ago.  So, of course I knew the story, but I still loved how surprising and new everything seemed to me.  And I had forgotten how much music was in this story, not just from the piano, but from their everyday lives.  All of these elements came together beautifully in this production, wonderfully directed by Ruben Santiago-Hudson.

The entire cast was terrific, but I was especially taken with Chuck Cooper as Wining Boy and Jason Dirden as Lymon - both of whom were supporting characters, but they were so fully fleshed out, I could've seen a sequel about both of them after The Piano Lesson was over.  Not that they overshadowed the rest of the cast, but they were just so sparkingly realized that I connected to them more.  They both have scenes that are spectacularly moving and achingly real.  Not that Brandon J Dirden as Boy Willie and Roslyn Ruff as his sister, Berniece, were any less spectacular - they weren't.  Their central conflict left me on the edge of my seat throughout, and I found I could be on both their sides throughout the play.  They're both right about what should be done with the family piano, and they're both wrong.  I think that's one of the amazing things about August Wilson's plays - yes, they're written about a specific time and place, and a specific part of African-American history, but they're still so universal and understandable to all audiences (well, not to everyone.  I'll get to that later). 

The entire ensemble was terrific and they completely deserved the standing ovation at the end of the night.  I think the show is running for a bit longer, so run out and get a ticket.  Yes, being me, I did have some quibbles, especially how the climax of the play seems to come and go so abruptly, but they're minor quibbles in the face of such a majorly wonderful evening at the theater.  Take every opportunity to see an August Wilson play, please, so producers know we want to keep them coming on a regular basis.  I would hate to have to go very long without reveling in that world.

As to my seat neighbors, oh my.  Well, first, I want to mention how relentlessly upbeat the ushers were.  To hear them exclaim "Wonderful!" or "Perfect!" to everyone who handed them a ticket became amusing after awhile.  Really?  Everyone (and their seat) is wonderful and perfect?  OK.  Second, I became extremely distracted when Harris Yulin came in and sat in front of me.  I LOVE HARRIS YULIN.  A lot.  And so I was distracted for a few minutes until the play grabbed me and didn't let me go.  But still.

But the piece de resistance of the seat neighbor saga was the gent sitting next to me.  He was an older gentleman who didn't have an indoor voice, god love him.  When he arrived, he couldn't stop exclaiming about how fantastic he thought the set was (and the set WAS fantastic, but I don't think it required that much effusive praise).  He was also loudly overjoyed that there would be an intermission.  It seems as if he's tired of 90-minute plays.  Whatever.  I don't know why he would be tired of them, since he fell asleep during the first act of this play and stayed asleep until almost intermission.  Then, when his beloved intermission came, he spent the entire time ranting about how he was unable to understand the play.  Here are a couple of choice quotes, all spoken at the top of his lungs (I actually, quite rudely, I guess, wrote them down so I wouldn't forget them):  "What is this play supposed to be about??"  "They're carrying on up there as if there's nobody out here!!"  "They might as well be speaking a foreign language!"  "At least that set is fantastic!!" 

I don't know.  I consider The Piano Lesson to be relatively straight-forward, so I have no idea why he was so confused.  Maybe the particular dialect was hard for him to understand.  I just thought his outrage was hysterical, though I did hear someone else express gratitude for the intermission so she could talk to people to find out what the play was about.  Hmmmmm...

Anyway, enough blah blah blah.  Log off right now and get a ticket to The Piano Lesson.  Please.

Civic Duty

Wow, after being away for the holidays for almost two weeks, what a pain in the patootie to have to go right into fulfilling my civic duty.  Having to be at the courthouse in Kew Gardens on January 2 wasn't exactly what I had in mind to start the new year.  Oh well.

You're not allowed to say anything about this particular civic duty, but I have some generic thoughts that I think I'm allowed to throw out there.  If not, I'll either have to take this post down or I'll be arrested.  One or the other.

Things I've noticed:  there are some people who have a badge who use it as a hammer instead of as a sign of authority/respect; apparently, if you lie down across a pew while an oath is being given, you're sent right home; don't use good handwriting on forms if you don't want to end up as a recording secretary; color and lighting in a room can really affect whether you can stay awake and pay attention or not; people in authority who sound like Bebe Neuwirth automatically get my attention; people in authority who repeatedly start every sentence with 'by the way' automatically lose my attention; according to a certain someone, you should be careful out there because bullets don't know your name...

If I make it through this without losing my mind, it will be a miracle.  Send positive thoughts, please.  :)