Just a really quick little bit of a blog today, to wish everyone here the very best holiday season. With Barbara and I heading off to Hawaii for a few days, Boofus and Buster are all set to spend the time with their friend Nancy, who will be inhabiting our home and "cat sitting" while we're gone. They miss us when we're away, but they love Nancy and when she does yoga in the living room with them (she's a yoga instructor) I'm told they find that fascinating. I can only imagine.
We're so fortunate to have met Nancy when we moved here, because she is really one of a very short list of people who ever walked into the house and had both boyz come right up to her. They're totally relaxed around her, and it gives us great piece of mind to know she'll be here at our house, with our "kids" while we're away. Plus, she brings the mail in for us each day. So there's that. And just to make it better for her, we left her a very nice bottle of wine on the kitchen island. So there's that, too.
Anyway, I'm breaking the connection for a week or so, by not even taking my laptop with me. I'll have my iPad, but I can't imagine writing something like this on that device, so I'll be back after Christmas. Maybe I should've seen if Nancy could also sit here at my desk and write one of these for you… Oh well.
In the meantime, I wish you all the best.
May Santa bring you everything you want, and may you feel the warmth of satisfaction when a gift you've selected brightens someone's eyes.
Should Santa bring you a lump of coal, may it be high-grade coal and may the transgressions which earned you that lump have been well worth it.
As we head toward a new year and a new racing season, may your elapsed times be low and your mph be high.
If you are a racer, be safe but be fast. Be really fast, if you can.
If you are a fan, have fun, make friends, and get a good dose of Nitro just as soon as possible. That last part is really important. You don't want to be in NDF (Nitro Deficit Condition).
May your home be festive and full of family, good cheer, and happiness.
Be good to everyone, hold doors, tip well, smile a lot, and if you can help out one person who doesn't have it so well, do it immediately. The joy of giving is vastly better than the joy of receiving.
One of my favorite bumper stickers is the one that says "Less Barking. More Wagging." That's perfectly well put.
Above all, enjoy the spirit of the season. The spirit of the holiday is way better than the vibe at the shopping mall.
Also, eat well. You've earned it.
Happy Holidays, everyone! See you back here after Christmas. Aloha!
The day I finish my annual Publicity Review binders, and ship them off to Dick Levi, Shannon Heisler, and Wilk, is a day that marks a turning point. It's really the final thing that gets taken care of every season, and once I see that they've been delivered, it's a new year (even though it's the same year).
Today was that day. I'd been pecking away at the nuts and bolts of it for about a week, and finally dropped off all the originals at FedEx Office on Thursday, before I headed off to Woodbury for the weekend. Barbara and I flew back on Sunday night, and I got everything back from "the company formerly known as Kinko's" yesterday afternoon. Then, all I had left to do was create a cover, buy the binders, collate the sections, assemble the contents, and then haul them back to the same store to ship them out. Project complete.
Barb flipped through it, and I'm happy to report that her esteemed opinion was that this year's binder is the best one ever. Not the best binder ever, in the history of the binder industry, but the best Team Wilk Publicity Summary ever. It's certainly the thickest one, but rather than break my arm patting my PR self on the back for generating more "clippings" I shall defer to my belief that I am simply getting better at finding photos and mentions of our team, both online and in print, while I also espouse the belief that our sport (and by association, our team) are covered by more outlets these days. When I first started doing these things, way back in the CSK days, we had National Dragster magazine, a few other publications, and local newspapers in race markets. Websites in general were just popping up, and racing coverage was in its infancy.
Del Worsham and I still remember one year, early in our time together, when he was involved in the Media Day prior to the Indy race. As part of the festivities, the attending reporters and drivers teamed up for a drag race in the NHRA courtesy cars, but Del's assigned media representative was then replaced by another, because he worked for a website and the people in charge didn't consider websites to be "real media" back then. I'm still shaking my head…
Anyway, the binder turned out great and now I'll make the shift to collecting mentions, photos, and clippings for next year's binder. As I look back at all the versions I've assembled over the years, I can see two things: 1) I think my layout and concept "skills" (as limited as they are) have gotten a lot better. 2) I think the ease of use and the creative templates on Apple's app for building these designs is also far better. Even an idiot like me can now design something attractive. That, in itself, is pretty amazing.
And here's a cool tidbit for you. In the photo gallery you'll see a shot of this year's binder, and the cover photo was actually taken by a guy whose name should be familiar to everyone. It's a Whit Bazemore shot, and he's having a 16x20 print made for me. I had to crop the image to fit the format of the cover, but the night shot he captured was so spectacular I had to get a print. Once I get it framed, I'll share Whit's beautiful work here, in its full dramatic landscape version. You probably know the story, but I think it's cool that Whit got his start in this sport as a photographer, and now he's reconnecting with that passion and he's discovering new skills while he dusts off his old abilities. Cool deal, and it's been fun to get back in touch with Whit and see his work.
Moving on to the next subject, I got an email from a reader recently, who had a great topic for me to write about. He's been here since the CSK days and remembered how I used to put together a Team Handbook for our crew. He asked me to go over the reason for that, and what it addressed, so here you go…
At the beginning of the CSK era (1997) we were such a small team and everyone knew each other well enough, so it didn't occur to Del or me that we'd need such a thing as a handbook. It wasn't until we became a two-car team in 2000 that it became immediately apparent we would. With two teams, and a hospitality center, and with the blue team initially being located in Auburn, Indiana (at John Fink's shop there) while the red team was in So Cal, it didn't take long to see that we could have chemistry problems between the two groups if we didn't lay out exactly how things were going to go.
In the handbook, we covered things like how the pit area and the hospitality tent would be set up, so that both teams shared equally in the work no matter which group got to the track first. We covered some other rules as well, in terms of how we dressed at the track and at the hotel, what time the cars should leave the hotel each morning, and that breakfast needed to be eaten before the tow vehicles left. If four guys in the truck were ready to leave at 7:30, but the fifth guy still wanted to stop for breakfast somewhere, the whole group would end up late, so all of those procedures were laid out and in writing for everyone to digest.
The apparel thing was important to me, because we weren't really fashion plates when the CSK era began. Del and Chuck had always been independent racers, so the new "corporate" concept was something we were all learning at the same time. Now that we had a sponsor, the CSK guys made it clear that they wanted us to look and act like professionals, so a number of pages addressed things relating to our apparel. No shorts, black pants, no jeans, black shoes, and clean starting line shirts. Seems obvious now, but back then the sport was evolving and "growing up" so we made sure that each new guy who came aboard got the handbook, and that he understood it and would abide by it.
At the time, the team I admired the most, in terms of their presentation, was Kenny Bernstein's crew. They always looked great, and all had the same clean shirts and pants on at all times. You got the impression they might've had matching pajamas for when they went to bed at night, and they'd be wrinkle-free at all times.
We didn't have the budget to buy all of that stuff, but it gave us a goal to do the best we could to be like the Bernstein group. I don't think anyone has ever matched the coordination and professionalism of Kenny's teams, but each year they gave us all a new motivation to clean up our acts and look like pros. I know the marketing guys at CSK really appreciated our efforts, even if we couldn't quite match the entire Bernstein presentation.
Every year, the handbook would evolve as we saw new things we wanted to institute or new rules we needed to enforce. It was a valuable thing for that organization, because we ended up having so many crew guys, going in so many directions. We don't have a printed handbook at Team Wilk, mostly because we're a small organization and also because Tim has a meeting before the start of every season and he lays it all out for them verbally. Instead of a handbook, we have one basic rule: Do what Wilk says. Pretty simple, really. We all know what he wants out of us, and he's such a good guy to work for it's never an issue. As new guys come in, they get acclimated and just follow the lead.
Other off-season ramblings…
It's close to 3:00 p.m. and Buster is still in bed. He's become an absolute sleeping technician. He's such a good boy and he's so sweet, I don't like to force him to get up just so I can make the bed, and he takes advantage of that.
Done! Beautiful photo by Whit Bazemore
Meanwhile, Boofus is slightly more high-strung, so he tends to get up earlier. For the last hour, he's been standing here on my desk staring at my computer screen. He's a big help.
We have our NHRA hockey pool going again this year, but it got started a little late and we didn't have time to get too many people involved. I'll show the standings in the photo gallery though, just because of who is in first place…
After our quick trip back to Woodbury last weekend, Barb and I took advantage of a promotion Delta is doing for selected flights into and out of Seattle. I mentioned, in an earlier blog, that Delta is now flying non-stops from Seattle to Spokane, so we have that option for getting places now. Then, when Delta offered double "elite miles" for flights in or out of Seattle, to a small list of markets, we were thrilled to see that both Spokane and Minneapolis were on the list. And so is Honolulu, where we'll be going on the 17th. Double miles are one thing, but double "MQMs" as they're known (Medallion Qualifying Miles, the units that actually earn your status each year) are hard to come by. So, on Sunday night we flew nonstop from MSP to Seattle, then took the little 35-minute connection back here to GEG. Worked like a charm, and it earned us about 6,500 MQMs instead of what would've been about 2,200.
And with that promotion going, I'm thinking it's possible I might actually make Diamond again. Considering the number of races I did from home this year, that's really a pleasant surprise. We'll get the double MQMs on the Hawaii trip, and we're going back to Woodbury for New Year's Eve, so I think that will leave me about 6,000 MQMs short of the highest status, but they also usually allow you to buy some MQMs at the end of the year, so I'll either just make it or I'll be Platinum next year, but with about 40,000 MQMs in the bank after they roll over. These are important things, as you know. Road Warriors are always obsessing over miles and points.
As for Christmas in the Wilber/Doyle house, we have decided that since we're going to be gone from the 17th to the 26th, we're not putting up the tree. But, we have decorated and the house looks relatively festive. Are we too Scrooge-like? Maybe, but since the boyz are going to be here with only daily visits from their friend Nancy, while we're gone, it seemed like too much of a target for feline vandalism… Let these two guys get grumpy, and we might be finding ornaments in odd places until next Christmas!
I guess that's about it. I'll try to get back here before we head to the islands… Aloha!
I'm going to go out on a not-very-shaky limb here and state that I believe this little end-of-season Thanksgiving hiatus might be one of the longer spans of time I've ever gone without writing a blog installment. It's been one day short of two weeks since I wrapped up the season with my post-Pomona blog, and that's eons in my blog-writing world. Also, I may have just set a new take-it-to-the-top standard for "Most Hyphens In An Opening Paragraph". I wonder what I win for that…
Of course, the downside to having the season end is the fact there's no more racing to write about, but we've somehow plodded our way through nine previous winters with this blog, writing in-depth examinations of all things nonsense, so I suspect I can do it again. Whether it's interesting or not is a completely different question, but I've discovered I'm pretty good at stringing together inane threads of irrelevant craziness, so here we go. If your real desire is to hear about new crankshafts and blowers, I got nothin' for ya.
After Pomona, I needed a few days just to shift into post-season mode and start to wrap things up in that regard. Then, before I knew it, it was Thanksgiving week and we had a house-full of visitors fly in for the holiday. Barbara's sister Kitty came in on Tuesday, and after I picked her up from the airport we drove straight to the South Hill area of Spokane to make an epic shopping stop at Huckleberry's, an organic and natural grocery and bistro, where we stocked up on everything she would need to create her Turkey Day feast. It was mind boggling.
We spent all day Wednesday prepping and cooking, and by "We" I mean Kitty and Barb. I was the sous chef for this extravaganza, doing a lot of slicing and chopping, with a little dicing thrown in for flair. Everything was made from scratch, so the process was fairly intense and it went right on into Thanksgiving Day.
On Thursday itself, while Kitty and Barbara continued to get after it like two Iron Chefs in "Kitchen Stadium" I headed back to the airport to pick up Kitty's son Todd and his wife Angie, who also flew in from Orlando but couldn't get away from work until a dawn flight, which came even earlier for them because they only got about two hours of sleep on Wednesday night. With three guests in the house, we had one spare bed but had to shuffle chairs around so that we could all sit at the dining-room table at the same time. We also had to move an extra recliner into the theater room, and we watched a movie each night. Well, we started to watch a movie each night but our Floridian visitors never did actually make it to the end of any of the flicks before sleep deprivation and three time zones caught up to them. They tried valiantly, but to no avail.
Boofus and Buster were pretty calm throughout the whole thing, although they mostly just observed everything and everyone from various doorways and corners. Angie is clearly a cat whisperer, though, and both boyz took to her quickly. Heck, within a couple of hours Boofie was rubbing up against her leg and asking to be picked up.
It was all great, and it was particularly wonderful to have such fun family with us. Todd, Angie, and Kitty came to the Gainesville race for a day this year, but I didn't have the chance to do much more than have a chat with Angie and show her around a little. This was my first time to really get to know her, and it was a fabulous few days. She just got certified as an anesthesiology nurse, and is working at a major Orlando hospital, while Todd just got his real-estate license, so both of them are taking off on new career courses and it's all very exciting in the Norwood home. Speaking of that, the two of them also are just now in the process of moving into a new house in Orlando, so there's not much calm in their world these days.
In addition to feasting on Kitty's masterpieces, we also had a plan to do as many fun things in and around Spokane as we could fit in, and we hoped for decent weather to make that happen. Friday was pretty good in that regard, at least for a while. We drove over to the northwest side of Spokane, to Riverside State Park, where there's some spectacular scenery and a gigantic swinging bridge over the Spokane River. We crossed over said bridge, and hiked all around the park to check out a variety of trails and vistas, and much fun was had by all.
Plus, I was wearing one of my Minnesota Twins jackets and right after we parked another couple got out of their car and the husband said "Win Twins!". Turned out they had just arrived in Spokane to visit their daughter, and they only live about 15 miles from Woodbury. Craziness.
The weather was getting a little worse as we left the park, with some low clouds, fog, drizzle and a few renegade snow flakes thrown in for best effect. Our next stop was the South Hill, which is our favorite part of Spokane and the place where we almost closed on a condo before we found this home out in Liberty Lake. Much of the South Hill reminds me of sections of St. Louis, so I've felt a connection there since our first trip out here when Barb was considering the job.
We toured around some cool neighborhoods, took everyone to Manito Park, and finally found our way back to Huckleberry's for a late lunch. By then, it was about to get dark and the weather was getting a little more miserable, so our plan to walk around the riverfront and see all the sights there (Spokane River Falls and a lot of the stuff left over from Expo '74) had to be adjusted.
Instead, we went to the historic and beautiful Davenport Hotel hoping to see their annual charity Christmas tree display on the mezzanine, only to find out it wasn't yet in place. Foiled! But, the Davenport has so many impressive things to see we still had a great time and it's not hard to stand in any part of the main hotel lobby and feel like it's 1915.
The Davenport is historic, period, but it's also part of my personal history in yet another coincidental way. I've stayed there twice, with the more recent visit being a little more than three years ago when Itron put us up there during a recruiting trip. It was fabulous, and now that's it's been so dramatically and perfectly renovated and brought back to all its glory, it doesn't bear much resemblance to the dark and dingy place I "stayed in" back in 1974, if by "stayed in" you really mean "lived in". Back then, my dad was the manager of the Spokane Indians (the Triple-A affiliate of the Texas Rangers) and I spent much of the summer out here, after my senior year in high school, running around the ballpark in an Indians uniform, shagging fly balls, taking batting practice, and even taking infield with the team prior to every game, at home and on the road. It was a heck of a summer, but the Davenport experience wasn't quite as luxurious back then. It's spectacular now.
It was also the summer of Expo '74, and the thing about the World's Fair that fascinated my dad the most was the fact they'd send water tanker trucks through downtown late every night, to clean off the streets and the sidewalks so that every visitor to the Fair had a perfect experience. The funny little things you never forget… I don't know half my internet passwords, but I remember the nightly street washing during the summer of Expo '74.
Okay back to our Thanksgiving festivities. After touring the Davenport, we decided to make a dash for the riverfront anyway, but as we got closer it started to rain and that was the only excuse we needed to head indoors again, to ride the historic Loof Carousel, a gigantic machine with classic horses. It was built in 1909, but it still runs like a well-oiled top, to this day. And even at our age, it's a good adventure to spin around, up and down, and try to catch the gold ring. After our ride, it was actually raining sideways and about 38 degrees, so the walk back to the Davenport parking garage was more of a sprint. A cold and miserable sprint, at that. All in all, a great day.
Saturday's plan was to possibly visit Wallace, Idaho. It's an amazing little silver-mining town about 85 miles from here, where every single building in the little downtown district is on the National Historic Registry, but you have to go over a couple of high passes to get there and the weather in that part of the state was getting pretty bad, so we shifted our sights to something a little closer to home and went to spend the day in Coeur d'Alene. And, oh my, what a long day it was…
We actually went past Coeur d'Alene at the start, to drive around to the south side of the lake where migrating Bald Eagles can be spotted pretty easily this time of year. It was snowy at the time, and getting worse by the minute, but just as we were about to admit Eagle-watching defeat, we spotted five at one time, soaring majestically above us. We even saw one swoop down to the water's surface and then take his lunch back up into a large tree, where we could see his white head sticking out through the branches as he enjoyed his fish entree. Box checked.
Then we parked the car in downtown Coeur d'Alene and spent the next five or six hours eating, walking around, shopping, and looking at all that wonderful town has to offer, before we headed out on the docks by the Coeur d'Alene Resort for a brisk sunset. It was chilly for Barb and me, but the three Floridians (especially Angie, who really never gets to see snow or feel a 20 mph breeze when it's already 25 degrees outside) found it "refreshing" if you know what I mean. To warm up, we headed inside the resort and had a glass of wine while we watched the incredible holiday lighting display come to life.
Once back in Liberty Lake, we headed over to Hay J's Bistro, our fave restaurant here, for a wonderful dinner. Another epic day, and we mutually agreed that we're all good at a lot of things, but collectively we are all great at eating. Some natural talents can't be coached.
Kitty had a morning flight back to Orlando on Sunday, so we all dropped her off at GEG and then the four of us decided to make the trek up to Mount Spokane, the tallest peak in this part of the state. There's a State Park up there, and a ski resort, but the snow hasn't been coming down up there much this fall, so the resort has not yet opened. Still, Barb and I had never gone up there before, so this was the perfect reason to do so, and there was enough snow on the sides of the road for Angie to get her first real introduction to the fluffy white stuff. It's a beautiful 45-mile drive, and it was a terrific experience to just get up there for once. We can see Mount Spokane from just about anywhere in Liberty Lake, and on winter's nights you can even see the lights on the ski runs, but we'd never even thought about going up there. Way fun, and really pretty.
Todd and Angie left on Monday, and Barb was actually on the same flight to MSP with them, since she needed to fly to New York and all three of them were making connections there. In Minneapolis, she got to walk them to their gate before she got on her plane to NYC, and that officially ended our family holiday. They granted me an exemption from having to drive out to GEG yet again, and at 6:00 a.m. the cab pulled into our driveway and I got to share one last hug and a goodbye with everyone. Boofus and Buster got up with us, but as soon as the door closed behind the travelers they went directly back to bed. Buster got up at 4:00 in the afternoon, and Boofie only beat him by an hour or so. I'm not kidding. I think they enjoyed having guest humans in the house, but they were completely exhausted. I think we all were, actually. We crammed a lot into just a few days, and we pretty much destroyed all the leftovers before it ended. My Thanksgiving grade: A+
The Wilber/Doyle/Norwood group on the swinging bridge.
And now we're only a couple of weeks from seeing more family, when Barb and I fly off to Hawaii for a week, before Christmas. We'll do some island hopping, and our first plan is to see our dear friends Francine and Mike, in Honolulu. Who are Francine and Mike? Francine is the widow of Adam Vincent, and if you've been around this blog long enough you know what a special man he was. Mike is their son, and I'm really looking forward to seeing them again. Adam was a special guy.
After our Oahu stay, we'll spend a couple of days on Maui, and then it will be time to spend three great days on Kauai with my sister Mary and her husband Lonnie. They are officially Hawaiians now, at least in my book. When you sell or give away just about everything and head off to the islands with only a couple of suitcases, you're living a dream most people can't even fathom. Can't wait to see them and enjoy everything their island home has to offer.
So there you have it. This winter's first blog installment of rambling whatever, as we begin the off-season for real. I'm thankful I had some stories to tell, about family, Thanksgiving, and a nice warm home full of laughter and spectacular food. It's all good.
Man oh man, time doesn't just fly it soars at the upper reaches of the atmosphere and it streaks by at supersonic velocity. How can another season be completely over? Sheesh.
I guess, considering I have yet to master any sort of time travel or time manipulation, I'll just have to replay the Pomona weekend here and look ahead to an "off-season" that is anything but "off". Especially considering there's much to do in terms of wrapping up the PR work and getting going on 2015. And, utilizing my limited math skills, it looks like we'll be back in Pomona is something like 85 days, which is about 12 weeks.
Speaking of limited math skills, though, maybe that's the ticket for slowing down the passage of time. If I took eight hours of high school algebra each day, time would seem like it's standing still. Worth thinking about. Not worth doing, but worth thinking about.
Okay, so Pomona. I knew, going in, that I wasn't going to get there in time for the Summit Bracket Championships dinner, but I didn't know that my connecting flight in Salt Lake would be 90 minutes late, which got me into John Wayne Airport at around 6:30 p.m. on Thursday. Factor in waiting for my bag, getting my rental car, and pulling out of the airport and it was about 7:00ish. If you've ever been to Orange County and driven from John Wayne up to Pomona, you might be able to imagine the scene as I crawled through traffic to take the 55 to the 5 to the 57. That was So Cal speak right there. "The 55". You have to speak that way in So Cal, or you can be pulled over on "The 5" and given a citation. It's true. Don't risk it.
Anyway, the trip from the airport to about Angels' Stadium was 45 minutes in a sea of bright red tail lights. That's to go maybe what, ten miles? The rest of the ride up to Pomona was free and clear, except at the constant bottle neck where the 57 merges for a bit with the 60.
I am now officially ending my SoCal freeway speak. Here in Spokane we call it I-90.
I was ravenously hungry by the time I got to my room, so the first thing I did was hit up room service for a chicken Caesar, my current go-to salad at home or on the road. Made myself one last night, actually, and blackened the chicken to take it to the next level. Like many hotels, the Sheraton adds an 18% tip to the bill for you, because they're really nice like that. The 18 percent tip on a Caesar salad was $2.33, and as I always tell the person delivering my tray "No one should ever bring me food for $2.33" and then I handed him a five. I mean really… It's just not that hard to tip well, especially when you're dining alone and the tab is so small.
The weather was terrific all weekend, and the racing was as well. As the days went by, and the championships either got decided (yes, Tony Schumacher showed up, which clinched it for him) it really got more and more thrilling and interesting. I know there are still some people who don't like the Countdown, but I guess there are also people who don't like the playoffs in other sports, or kittens, or apple pie, or even 78-degree sunny days in Pomona when the thrill of "final day" championships made the air electric.
It really was just that. Each one of those laps just ramped up the pressure, and I think the Pro Stock battle was epic. I like Jason Line a lot, and that team is incredible, but the story was clearly Erica Enders-Stevens and what drama it was. I was in the Media Center for each round, watching with my PR colleagues even though Team Wilk had been eliminated in round two and my work was done. It was absolutely a thrill to watch, and a thrill to be there with all those talented PR people, many of whom absolutely still had horses in various races right to the end. I had goosebumps when that Pro Stock final was happening.
Everyone had simply thought that if John Force didn't pick up two rounds on Matt Hagan he would not earn his 17th championship. But then we started seeing all those low 4.0s, even on race day, and as the rounds ticked by I watched the JFR and DSR folks huddling in the front row of the Media Center (because where else would they sit?) when it became apparent that John could still win the big trophy if he beat Matt in the final and also set a new national record. To do that, he'd have to "back it up" with another run within one percent of the record, so the PR people were calculating that as John ran his semifinal round. He needed something along the lines of a 4.004 to have the back-up in hand prior to the final. He did win that round, but he ran 4.044, which meant the magic was over for the year.
To have it all come down to the final weekend, and in one case the final round, was pretty special.
And, I'm about to sound like a broken record again (someone somewhere just wondered what a broken record is) but once again the Friday crowd was really good, the Saturday crowd was really big, and the Sunday crowd was truly packed and enormous. I know a lot of longtime Pomona experts who specifically stated that we raced on Sunday in front of one the largest crowds ever for this race. When I started in this business, Pomona was always packed but the old temporary grandstands were quite a bit smaller than the permanent ones we have now. This was a great weekend, with great crowds. And man oh man, they stayed right to the end. Drama like what we had will help you keep butts in seats all day.
And did you know… The old temporary grandstands that had to be completely erected for each Pomona race, were also the grandstands used to line the streets in Pasadena for the Rose Parade. True fact, as far as I know, and corroborated by various NHRA types who told me that fact. They wouldn't lie to me, would they?
I waited until the final run was made and the fireworks were blowing up the darkened sky, and then I fired off my Post-Event Report to my email distribution list. I circulated through the Media Center and said as many goodbyes as possible, then headed back to the pit to hang with my team for a while, chatting with our guys, many of our friends, and a bunch of people from other teams. There were post-race parties set for a number of pit areas, but after a decade of throwing and participating in the most epic post-Pomona parties ever, in the Worsham pit, I figure I've not only been there and done that, but I'll never be able to replicate it. So, there's that, plus the fact I'm old, and I headed back to the hotel. And Mega-Rita no longer makes appearances at Pomona. Those were the craziest of the crazy parties.
Monday morning at the hotel, when you're staying in a place that's packed with racers, is really surreal. For four days, it's felt like home and you're surrounded by people you know. Then you get up on Monday morning and head to the lobby, only to find it full of business people who are not even vaguely familiar. Like, who ARE these people in OUR hotel? It's weird.
And on Monday after Pomona, it's a slightly different feeling of tiredness. I'm tired after every race, but it's a little different feeling after the last race. And it was as if my mind and body weren't ready to shut it off yet. I woke up at 5:30, just like I do every day during each race, because my brain features a built-in internal alarm clock that will start waking me up at 30-minute intervals starting about 90 minutes before I plan to get up. Even if I have my iPhone alarm set for a stupidly early morning, like in Gainesville, I will always wake up about an hour early, doze back off, and then wake up two minutes before it goes off. I'm odd like that.
What that means is that I had planned to recharge by sleeping in, but by 8:00 I was going nuts so I finished packing, spent about an hour online doing follow-ups and replying to a million emails, and then by 10:00 I was checked out of the hotel and in my rental car. At that precise moment, I knew I had to hurry because I only had six and a half hours left until my flight left! I tried to remember why on Earth I booked a 4:30 flight out of John Wayne, but then I remembered that the other option that was open was something around 7:00 a.m. Easy decision to make, at the time. Why I chose to fly into John Wayne instead of Ontario is a question I can't answer. I have no idea. It was the end of another season and my brain wasn't functioning at 100 percent.
Maybe it was the subconscious realization that I would have a lot of time to kill, and therefore with John Wayne being near that big body of water we lovingly refer to as the "Pacific Ocean" I could go there for a bit. So I did.
I drove down to San Clemente, then up through Dana Point (where I lived for a year back in 1990) and then on up the beautiful Pacific Coast Highway, which even non-Californians call "The PCH" to Laguna Beach, where I parked for a bit to take some photos and smell the sea breeze. I also had lunch. It was, believe it or not, something other than a chicken Caesar. Wacky, I know.
After that I drove on up to Newport Beach, cruised around Orange County in general, and finally turned the car in at 2:00 for my 4:30 flight. I had run out of things to do. There's no Sky Club at SNA, but there were plenty of empty gates so I just went to one of those and fired up the laptop for 90 minutes, then went to my gate so I could elbow all the other passengers out of the way like an NBA power-forward, just to be the first person to board. That little old lady with the walker had no chance… I'm kidding, she got to pre-board.
Then, to add to my lengthy day, I had a two and a half hour layover in Salt Lake. A) Thank goodness for the Sky Club there. B) Thank even more goodness for the upgrades Delta has been making in terms of food in the club. For the last 20 years, whether it was the Northwest World Club or the Delta Sky Club, your food options generally consisted of individually wrapped cheese squares, nuts, celery, and Greek olives (which are really hard to spear with those little toothpicks). Bagels too, but only in the morning.
Now, we have mixed green salads with three choices of dressing, two soups, various crackers and chips to dip in various cheeses or, and wait for this…. Tapenade! I love olives, and tapenade is my absolute favorite side-dish or appetizer. Bam! The Greek olives are still hard to spear with those funky toothpicks, but the new-look version of Sky Club grub is a huge step up. Plus, I didn't have to go sit at an SLC restaurant and pay $15 for dinner. All good.
My view from "the office," otherwise known as the Media Center.
Oh, I posted this on Facebook but it's worth repeating here. At the SLC Sky Club, we were graced by the presence of the single most important man in the world. He certainly felt that way about himself. He was wearing an enormous suit, reminiscent of the one David Byrne of The Talking Heads wore in that one video, although Mr. Important's suit was grey, not white. He was on his phone, with his earbud plugged in while he held the cord up to his mouth, and he graciously made it a point to walk around every room and corner of the Sky Club, so we could all hear the marvelous and important things he was saying, in a voice the peeled paint. Round and round he went, adding joy and comfort to hundreds of weary travelers, with pleasant comments like "You have to show this to our European customers. Trust me, I know this. Do I lie? No, I don't lie. I know this. They will love it." All of this at a volume that might very well have been loud enough to reach the person on the other end without the use of a phone at all. I felt honored to be in his regal presence. So much so, I was humbled by him and didn't feel worthy to be in the same room, so I went to the gate an hour before my flight to sit there with the rest of the common people. It was better there. Some people...
All added up, I left the Sheraton in Pomona at 10 a.m. and walked in the door here in Liberty Lake at 11:15 p.m. Long day…
Barbara had just completed another crazy business trip to Europe last week, which included stops in London, Amsterdam, and other places I can't remember, so when her flight from Amsterdam to Minneapolis landed on Friday, she used the weekend as a decompression stop in Woodbury. She and neighbor Nichol even went to the Minnesota Wild hockey game. Then, when she flew back to Spokane on Monday, she got in a couple of hours before I did, but I told her not to waste time just sitting there to meet up with me, although even that advice wasn't necessary. By then, the grind of her travel had run her batteries down, and she knew she was getting a cold. And it's a doozy. Basically, she didn't get out of bed yesterday. She's better today, and even went to a meeting at her office, but she's still a few days away from being back to 100 percent. And next week we have visitors from Orlando coming for Thanksgiving, so I hope she's fully better for that! I'm using a combination of Zicam and quarantine to limit my chances of getting what she has.
Boofus and Buster clearly know when one of us is not feeling well, because they focus all their attention on the sick person. I've barely seen those two guys since I've been home. They've been with her the whole time…
Now, time to start putting my "Year In Review" publicity summary together for Dick Levi, Shannon Heisler, and Tim. Even though we only got to one final round and we're still in our incredible streak of three-plus years since our last Wally, I'm proud to say that this year's binder will be bigger than ever. All year, I keep three files for the binder. File No. 1 is "Feature Stories" which is a term that loosely refers to any publicity we get that is not a preview press release, a daily update, or a post-event report that I wrote. This is the first time I've ever had to start a second "Feature Stories" file folder, because the first one was about to burst. The other two files, the pre & post-event releases, and my daily updates from the track, are always the same size. It should take me about a week to design a new look, put it all together, come up with 10-12 pages of fun photos, and then get all the copies made the binders put together. After that, it's time to enjoy Thanksgiving (if I can get it done by then), and then we'll start to work on things for next season. We're going to need new starting line shirts, that's for sure, and I want to make sure we're ahead of the game in terms of souvenir t-shirts for the track (we'll be back at the PiranaZ trailer) so that we're not scrambling to have anything for the Winternationals. There's plenty to do… Plus, I have to get to work on the 2015 PR effort, to make sure next year's binder is even bigger than this year's.
And now I have a guy named Boofus on my lap. I think that's a hint that it's time to wrap this up. If I don't blog at ya before Thanksgiving, please enjoy and cherish your time with family. That's about as important as anything you can be thankful for.