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There is not nearly enough cynicism available on the www these days. I have pounced onto the information superhighway,
albeit a little late to the party. With so many ahead of me who have actual talent, I intend to stay behind the leaders and draft.
That puts me in the slipstream and I am not so much here to protect.
I am here to serve, baby.
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June 25, 2006 Snotboogers
It is so very difficult to keep from rooting for major airline failure. At a minimum, everyone should stay home more because
dealing with them on a reasonable level is nigh impossible.
With fuel prices where they are, management has screwed down schedules tightly. The mere possibility of flying on a half empty
airplane will soon cease altogether. As a result, when things go array, the traveller gets stuck. There are no options, because
with all an airline business has to deal with, who would want to try to compete with them? Seriously.
Labor unions, fuel prices, aircraft purchase prices, aircraft maintenance costs, heavy government regulation, labor unions, fuel
prices, increasingly frustrated customers at every inconvenience...however minor.... and don't forget the labor unions. The
industry is doing its very best to layoff their retirement obligations onto the Federal Government...uh, I believe that is my tax money
and that is NOT what I want done with it. What logical thinking, rational human being would want to be in the airline business?
In the last seven days, I have flown about 9,700 miles. There were many legs to my trips. Four flights from four different airports
from Steamboat Springs, Colorado to St. Thomas, USVI. Four more flights from those same airports on the return.
None were on time. None.
Missed connections totalled two. One was a domino from another. The main missed connection was due to the flight crew
needing a minimum amount of rest before they had to work again on the morning of my flight. Get ready. Here comes the rant
part.
The current union contracts between working flight crews (pilots, navigators, flight attendants, baggage handlers, garbage
collectors, vacuum cleaning crews, cooks, busboys, their second cousins, those closer than that and all their pets) requires x
number of hours of rest per x number of hours of work. Sure, I'm in favor of public safety. Absolutely I want the pilots well rested
and alert. That is why Starbucks was invented and placed on every street corner. Shag it on out of bed and get the hell to work.
The rest of us are carrying on just fine on sleep deprivation fortified by caffiene. Truck drivers, bus drivers, heavy equipment
operators, moms, dads, students...all have had not enough rest. Have a Dr. Pepper. They are free on your airplane.
The plane from DFW to Denver for me this a.m. arrived in DFW last night very, very late, not that I knew that.
Late on the night before travelling, I checked United Airlines on the computer as to the status of my flight - "on time." It did not say,
"All scheduled passengers should sleep in this a.m. because you have not had enough rest. We'll leave later."
The a.m. of travel, I checked United Airlines on the computer as to the status of my flight before leaving for the airport - "on time."
It did not say "crew worked very late & will not have to report to work until three hours after your scheduled departure so you
should sleep in too."
Upon arrival at the airport at 7:10 a.m. for my 8:30 flight, the curbside skycap looks at his computer screen and says, "You are
aware of the delay, aren't you? Oh, you will have to go up to the ticket counters to be rebooked because you will never make your
connection in Denver." I looked up from the skycap just in time to see Bunny leaving the airport in her car.
Besides the people in line at the ticket counter from my flight, there were approximately 200 others from a cancelled flight to San
Francisco. All were ahead of me in line. All of them. I am guessing five percent of them could speak English and the level of
confusion in the line was off the charts. It was 7:10 a.m.
As for my flight, it seems that the plane I was to ride on and the crew that would then be flying me this morning had to avoid
thunderstorms in Oklahoma last night. Due to excessive circling, they ended up having to stop in OKC in the middle of the night
to refuel before continuing on to DFW. They got in so late that their union contract was empowered. Seems the crew gets to
sleep in the next morning, but the passengers must still report because the passenger union doesn't have a clause in its
contract requiring that they be told that their plane will be late until they get to the airport and commence standing in line. The
passengers have a crappy contract and we need a stronger union.
From the moment I got in line at the ticket counter, the TV screen showed my 8:30 flight would be leaving at 10:15. How did they
know that it would leave then? They didn't. They only knew that the crew would not report to the airport until 10 a.m. and 10:15
was the soonest they figured they could wrangle them into working. Wrong. We left DFW at 10:35. No chance. That makes it
tough to catch my 11:25 flight to Steamboat from Denver because we will be landing about the time that plane is leaving.
Surprise! That plane left ON TIME because I wasn't on it. I took eight flights in five days and the only one that leaves on time is the
one that I missed because of the employees' union contract.
A one mile jog through the Denver Airport/City and the smiling ticket agent says, "Oh, we just closed that flight. You will have to
step to the service counter to be rebooked." It is back down the concourse you just ran through in order to speak with me. Go
now because you are sweating on all our customers who have actual planes to catch, unlike you. I said to her, "let me catch my
breath a minute." I am not making this part up. She replied, "It's okay with me if you stand there all day." It sounded just exactly
like it reads. Wish I had it on tape. That is the only way anyone would believe it. It is absolutely true.
Catch the next flight you say? After a 40 minute wait in the service center line, that will be leaving Denver at 9:00 a.m.
TOMORROW...maybe. But you must standby for the 3:30 flight and the 9:30 p.m. flights which currently show no seats available.
None. No, we can't divulge how far down the wait list you are, but if you aren't here to wait for standby, you will not receive a
voucher for a hotel, which we will be giving you reluctantly since you are in this spot because our crew was sleeping while you
were sprinting to the airport this morning. I am not exaggerating. Maybe you can detect my attitude in what I have written, but this
is truly what the service center told me.
Now maybe you were wondering if United Airlines knew that my plane was late from DFW to Denver, knew that we would arrive in
Denver nearly 3 hours late because their crew needed their sleep and knew that if they waited just three minutes...THREE
MINUTES...that I would have made my connection. Maybe you were thinking that there is no way they could know that and hold it
for 3 minutes because that is just asking too much. Well, listen to this. While I was standing in front of the gate counter waiting
to see if there was one seat on the little regional turboprop for me on the 3:30 flight, the friendly desk agent kept me apprised of
how many more people were due to board the flight to Steamboat for which I was standing-by. Here is a smattering of her jabber
directly to me over the last twenty minutes before the Steamboat flight was to take off (notice these comments are in quotes,
because THEY ARE QUOTES!!!:
"Looks mighty full. I don't think you'll get on this one, Mr. Luck."
"Ohhh, that flight from St. Louis might be late. Maybe we will have a seat."
"Nope, they just landed. Guess we'll see how fast they can run. Ha, ha, ha."
"Six more minutes. Maybe they will make it."
"Still haven't seen them. Three more minutes. Wait, there's two of them now."
"Only waiting on one more. If he makes it, you won't get on. If he doesn't, you will get on."
This whole deal was entertainment for this woman.
Finally, I said, "So, I have to root for some old guy to trip and fall on his way down here just to get a seat on this plane? Is this
what you guys did while the standby people waited to see if I would make it to the earlier flight that I missed by mere minutes
because your DFW crew was SLEEPING?" She gave up and gave me a boarding pass, probably so she wouldn't have to look at
me anymore.
I deny calling them "snotboogers", at least I don't think I said it out loud. It was almost lunch time and I was, uh, thinking of what
to order, maybe a 'big sloppy burger.'
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June 18, 2006 Pop
The Luck brothers with our dad
at Lake Whitney, Texas, 1962.
My dad died in 1992 at the age of 65. It was quite sudden and just stunning. I talked to him on the phone just
the night before and he seemed well and happy. My mom had died twelve years before that time after a long
battle with cancer. She was only 51 years old at the time of her death. It was not surprising when she died,
because she had suffered greatly for a long time. Unquestionably, their early deaths have impacted my life. We
can talk about that another time.
Despite the stark differences in the manner of each of my parents' deaths, I was barely able to speak at Mom's
funeral. I have always felt bad about that. She was an amazing mother and deserved better from me. I was in
my twenties then and hardly accomplished as a human. Not that I have progressed since, but in my fifties my
permanent ineptitudes are much clearer to me now and more tolerable...to me. Just to me.
It wouldn't have bothered her a bit that I didn't say much at her funeral. I know that. Nevertheless, I have
always had in my mind that I will someday write some of the things I should have said on that occasion.
When my father died, I remembered very clearly the misery of that previous experience. On that lonely plane
ride from Denver, Colorado to Midland, Texas, I became quite determined to speak about him at his funeral.
Few of you ever knew I spoke because the funeral was in Midland, Texas where both my brother and I were
born and where Pop lived with my stepmother, Polly, at the time of his death. It was just a few days before
Christmas and hard for people to come to the service from out of town. I don't know how many people were at
his service in Midland, but it seemed like a couple hundred. My dad was well liked and respected and had lived
there a long time.
My favorite part of the service was afterward. Our family gathered in the back and everyone lined up to speak
to us and shake hands before they left. Because of some of the things I had said in the eulogy, many felt
comfortable telling me a quick story about Pop. That moment and those anecdotes about him are priceless
memories for me. A couple were not repeatable and I laughed hard, as he would have.
I don't get particularly sad at Mother's Day or Father's Day, but I do think of my parents at those times. I think of
them often on regular days, so those holidays are not especially emotional or symbolic to me. Somehow, their
roles as parents are clearer to me than my own role as a father and I suppose it might be that way for many
people. When you say "Father's Day," most everyone thinks immediately of their own father rather than of
themselves. I sure do.
For Father's Day, below is that 1992 eulogy for my dad. For the record, I delivered it with less emotional
breakdown than I had expected. One main reason for that was my brother, Kirk, who you see above in earlier
days, quite handsome in the tailored life preserver and goggles. He stood up front with me because it felt quite
right to both of us. It remains enormously pleasing to me that we stood together that day.
Pop was buried next to our mom in Grandview, Texas.
December, 1992
Heroes seem less numerous now than when I was a kid. Few of my childhood heroes maintained that lofty
"hero" status as I have aged. None of them have lived up to my expectations - except my dad.
In my judgment, fathers of sons born in the early to mid-1950s are not exactly world renowned for their
communication skills when it comes to matters of the heart. Pop fit nicely into this generalization. But as I
approach my 40th year, my dad's and my mutual ability to communicate emotions and about emotions improved
and grew exponentially. Today, I can recall specific moments where Pop sensitively perceived the emotions of a
moment and reacted with grace and class. I didn't say all moments, but he had some really shiny ones.
Pop had a sense of proper order, a sense of civility and he had just plain common sense. But in his own
opinion, his most developed sense was his sense of humor. Pop was always able to enjoy his own humor
whether you did or not. His humor was often spiced with a victim. Ask Lee and Mary about their "Bill Luck
Christmas Gift Collections."
Our dad was really creative with art and projects that required working with his hands. He could fix absolutely
anything if he could muster the patience. Machines could try his patience like nothing else, but he approached
projects around the house with a self-confidence that I will never master. Pop would analyze things to a fault -
but only using logical analysis. This was a man constructed to hold fast to "reason" regardless of the
roller-coaster, varying passions of the world around him. Pop felt that the introspective analysis of the
emotional side of life was, well, annoying. He preferred to think about and talk about things and people that
made him laugh.
Pop did not like cold weather at all. He once took us snow skiing. Once.
But he was a great dad.
Pop never played sports much when he was young but for some reason, Kirk and I did. He was always there to
coach one of our teams. He didn't always know the best baseball strategy, but he delighted in the psychology
of whatever sport we were in and the fact that one of his sons was playing. There were times when he could
read my level of intensity like he had the same feelings. Once when I was about twelve, I was pitching in a
game. We led in the last inning by two runs. Last inning. Bases loaded. Ball 1.
When you are twelve, the roar of a crowd of twenty or thirty parents is deafening. Ball 2.
Out of the bench area came my Dad and he called time out. I remember him walking very slowly and the look
on his face was serious concern. The crowd kept yelling for their team all through the time-out. When Pop got
out there to me along with the catcher, Pop looked me in the eye and said quietly and seriously, "Do you think
you'll have time to get the lawn mowed before dark?" When he trotted off clapping his hands, he was
laughing...and so was I. We won that game, which makes it a better story. Pop was a winner.
Once I went to TCU, it never mattered to him that I was unable to hit a curve ball at the major college level. He
already knew and he allowed me to learn for myself, that as frustrating and disappointing as that was to me, in
the overall scheme of life, it just didn't matter.
Family has always been a top priority in Pop's life. He showed us all the rewards of making family so important,
and the rewards are great. He loved Lee and Mary and Kirk and me and Cheri the same. We were all his own.
We are all sad for ourselves at losing him.
My faith is not shaken by his loss. Things I learned from my Dad were important - decency, character, class,
effort, commitment and respect for others. The rare evidence of any combination of these traits in people we
know in our everyday lives makes the loss of Pop only that much more difficult to bear. He was quite a hero to
me. My hope is that we take away from this day a responsibility to live up to a hero's example.
Mom would have loved this whole deal...a lot.
Bill and Pat Luck
Niagara Falls, June, 1953
a year after they married and about a year before me.
Even if you never knew them, how cute is this?
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June 14, 2006 Crazy River Dogs
The annual Yampa River Festival in Steamboat Springs, Colorado includes the Crazy River Dog Competition. This involves a human
throwing a preferred item a given distance into a very fast moving Yampa River and their dog retrieving that item from the river and
returning it to the human.
I can never tell who wins. There is a clock involved and at least one judge. I am unaware of style points, but there is significant style
exhibited. It doesn’t really matter. It is total dog chaos and the finest of theater. I laughed the entire time.
You may recall that Bunny is out of town and she is so sad she missed it. Dogs are her favorite things in the world. So I posted on my
Flickr page a set of my photos from the dog competition especially for her. If you like dogs or people, you might like this set as well. The
couple you see here are just to whet your appetite. The link to my Flickr page is at the bottom of this page. Just click on it.
One of the reasons the dog deal is so fun is because of the dogs. They absolutely love the water and the humans and the other dogs.
Another reason is because of the people who show up to watch. Steamboat may be a resort destination, but its history is rooted in the
ranching business. The sense of community here is not like some other resorts, and I have been to many. So, there are also photos of
some of the people. Many of them enjoyed the day nearly as much as I did. So...for Bunny.
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June 10, 2006 Bunny Hits the Road
I don't mean to gloat, but we had a high temp of 74 degrees in Steamboat Springs today, scattered showers and a gentle, cool breeze.
Bunny left this a.m. She returned to Dallas where today's high was a nice, even 100 degrees. She says it felt like a convection oven and
her lifeforce was baked. Tonight I will sleep with the windows wide-ass open. Icy cold icicles will form on my snoring lips. Here is an action
photo of Bunny when I asked her if she wouldn't rather stay with me:
I just moved the shutter speed really slow so you could see her shaking her head.
It's okay. I'm used to it.
You might see this stellar photo again. It can pretty much be utilized to show Bunny's response to anything I ask her. It can be fun. Make
up your own question. Use this pic as her answer.
- Could I please have some money?
- Would it be okay if I open a lingerie photo studio in the basement?
- If I make a comeback in professional baseball, would you travel with me?
- When I start yet another career as a zamboni driver, will you stay with me?
You get the idea. Oh, yeah, she's loving this interest in photography.
So I took her to the airport this a.m. It was really foggy so I took a little portrait of the Yampa River valley in the fog. Yes, I meant for it to
be b&w.
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June 7, 2006 Devil Day Survived
Devil day came and went with no more than the usual daily number of possessions of my body by demons.
Speaking of the devil, I still haven't rebuilt the Slipstreams from 2005. To answer your questions, I haven't forgotten. I am just waiting
for proper inspiration. Sort of. Stupid computers. My position on this subject is well known. Inspiration has been elusive for the
rebuild. Let's face it. There are only about two of you missing it, so keep your panties unbundled. The other three of you didn't
even know the website existed during 2005. I can feel the collective shoulder shrug now.
What I have been doing is building erosion prevention measures to my new multi-gazillion dollar driveway. Spring runoff attempted a
tunnel beneath the uphill side of the new driveway. One thing certain about water is that it will continue to seek a downhill route no
matter how much money you toss in its way. So, actual work has ensued. A stone side to the driveway has been erected and sloping
into culverts was sculpted from the earth. The only testing is from a 3/4" garden hose so far. I am skeptical that there has been
enough water volume generated to show me the net effect of what I have done. We need some rain badly and not just to test the
new erosion prevention. In the family cashflow statement, chiropractic invoices are filed under "overbudget driveway expense." It is a
big category.
Golf? Yeah, I see them trying to play out there. They suck almost as much as me. I played a little, but the same tissue (not muscles)
is required to carry big stones as are utilized to swing a stupid golf club and that tissue is a bit overused right now on my pathetic
excuse for a body. Any photos I am taking are via tripod because I don't have the fast-twitch muscle fibre required to lift the camera
on my own.
Bunny is headed back to the convection oven named Dallas for a wedding. She will be gone for a couple of weeks. Preparations are
underway. I will have to catch you up later.
June 1, 2006 fox news Colorado
Bunny and I encountered two families of foxes on a hike last Saturday. I have posted nearly 40 photos on my Flickr page in the set
labeled "fox news Colorado." Here are a couple, but the ones on Flickr are much better quality that I am able to put here. Check 'em
out. The link for you to click on is at the bottom of this page.
On Monday, Memorial Day, Paddler International Magazine
(sounds fetishly dirty, but it isn't) brought 35 of the world's
best professional kayakers to Steamboat Springs for a little
competition in celebration of the magazine's 15 year
anniversary. No...I have never seen the magazine, but it has been around for fifteen years, so salute. I had
never seen a kayak competition, so, that same Flickr page has about 30 shots of those boys. It was awesome. Here are a couple of
those, but see the Flickr page. They are really fun and fun is good.
A one-mile timed race was held in the morning on Fish Creek that was not so spectator friendly due to access.
The afternoon gave us a look at freestyle kayaking on the Yampa River at the edge of town. Competitors are awarded points by the
judges for style, continuity, amplitude of moves, degree of completion and linking of tricks together. Besides the competitors, there
were a few local guys who were very accomplished as well. You will be able to tell which guys had sponsors and which did not. The
un-sponsored were no less athletic. I got a little enthusiastic with the number of photos.
There is a pretty good chance that you have never seen freestyle kayaking. Some of these photos may give you the impression of
danger, which you might think had to have resulted in injury to the competitor. Unquestionably, there was danger. However, all
competitors ended smiling and healthy. Even the guy who is pictured in the rocks was fine. I promise. The water is newly melted snow
and is barely above the freezing temperature. I am not kidding. It is blue-lip stunning to the touch. The guys did not stay in the water
long, but it wasn’t hard to tell that they wanted to. They loved that the water was so high.
There was loud rock music playing throughout. The mood was party festive. It felt very similar to the Olympic trials I attended on the
ski mountain in January. I whooped in amazement a few times while looking in the viewfinder, as did the crowd. In many of the photos
the water is as beautiful as the athletes’ efforts. Please notice the absolutely stunning volumes of water running on and off the
competitors. The whole deal was awesome. I wish you could hear the thunder of the rapids.
It is a photo bonanza for the first of June.
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