Weekend to Remember

It was a loooong weekend of remembrances. 

For those of you who didn’t bother to catch Jay Leno’s final stint as host of The Tonight Show last Thursday, it was a mostly maudlin affair. The best comment (joke) of the night was Leno saying “the saddest part of it all (his 22 years as host)” was “OJ never found the real killers.” 

I find myself choking up more frequently these days when talking about family or anything sentimental, so I empathized with Leno during his final words of thanking fans and staff. I particularly associated with the thoughts he expressed when explaining why he did not jump to another network. 

“When people say to me, 'why don’t you go to ABC, why don’t you go to Fox, why don’t you go …,' I didn’t know anybody over there. These are the only people I’ve ever known.” 

It struck home. I worked for Chain Store Age for 32 years. I was a young 60 when I retired, like Leno, more a decision initiated from above but not resisted. I could have jumped to another publishing company. But I just couldn’t see myself carrying any other press card. Fortunately, it hasn’t been a decision I’ve regretted. 

Thanks Mom: With the Olympics set to begin Friday night, a real estate colleague sent along a YouTube clip meant to pull the heartstrings. See for yourself: http://youtu.be/57e4t-fhXDs 

Now, I ask you, did no fathers get up at 4 am to drive a son or daughter to practice? Did no dad sacrifice anything on the road of hope to Olympic gold? Why do athletes from all sports always thank or say hi to their moms and not recognize their fathers? Are they all from broken homes? 

Joan Ranger: Saturday night I missed an opportunity to sign in as a Joan Ranger to Joan Rivers herself (to those not familiar with Joan Rangers, they are loyal fans of Fashion Police, an often hilarious, outrageous commentary on celebrities and their fashion choices, presided over by Joan Rivers. It’s one of Gilda’s and my favorite shows).   

Joan, Gilda and I, along with our friends Ken and Jane, attended the Playwrights Horizons preview performance of a new play, Stage Kiss, by Sarah Ruhl (we highly recommend it).  Rivers was very accessible, talking with audience members during the intermission and after the final curtain. I told Rivers I liked her show but failed, in the moment, to say I was a Joan Ranger. 

For those who may not know, Rivers is 80 years old, but as spine specialist Gilda noted, she stands very erect. This was the second time we met Rivers. The first was back in 1998 at the 50th anniversary performance of the New York City Ballet. Gilda and I, along with our then 16-year-old daughter Ellie, were invited by an executive of Talbots to attend the performance. We sat in the second row. After the ballet, the audience retired to the forecourt of Lincoln Center for a sumptuous meal during which Ellie and Gilda talked with Rivers and with designer Vera Wang. 

British Invasion: Sunday night, of course, marked the 50th anniversary of the Beatles’ appearance on The Ed Sullivan Show and the beginning of the British Invasion by music groups. Though not a regular fan of Ed Sullivan, I remember watching the telecast that night. But I had already experienced the Beatles some five weeks earlier.

I was a regular viewer of the Friday night Jack Paar Show. On January 3, five weeks before February 9, Paar broadcast footage of the Fab Four singing several songs. He purposely chose to pre-empt Sullivan’s scoop. But his tactic might well have had unintended consequences.

While Paar increased his normal audience of 17 million to 30 million, mostly by attracting younger viewers, he primed the pump for Sullivan to achieve astronomical numbers. Sullivan’s audience reached nearly 74 million, up from its usual 35 million. And it was Sullivan, not Paar, who was credited, for better or worse, with bringing the Beatles into the living rooms of America.  

Flights of Fancy

How fast can you get from La Guardia Airport to John F. Kennedy Airport? 

Mapquest says it takes 17 minutes to drive the 11.48 miles between the two Queens airports. I did it in 8 minutes one Sunday morning some 20 years ago. And that included paying and exiting the parking garage at La Guardia and entering a parking lot at JFK.

Just as I hope my blogs conjure up memories for my readers, I’m reminded of personal events by articles I read. Today’s withdrawal from the memory bank was prompted by last Sunday’s NY Times article, “Right Day and Airline. The Airport? Um, No” (http://www.nytimes.com/2012/07/22/nyregion/for-fliers-mixing-up-la-guardia-and-jfk.html).

I was scheduled to fly to Las Vegas in early May for my first exposure to the annual convention of the shopping center industry. Back then, pre-9/11, it was not uncommon to arrive at an airport just minutes before departure time. I gave myself plenty of cushion for the 8 am flight by sauntering into the main La Guardia terminal at 7:40. I looked up at the America West flight schedule screen. Odd. There was no listing for the non-stop flight to Las Vegas. It took several seconds for it to register in my brain. My flight was scheduled to depart from Kennedy, not La Guardia!

I raced back to my car, parked on the ground level of the garage. 7:42 am. Luck was with me. There was no one ahead of me at the parking lot toll booth. I hurtled onto the Grand Central Parkway into the Van Wyck Expressway, for once a road that lived up to its name. With virtually no other cars on the Van Wyck that Sunday morning, I floored the accelerator of my 1986 Mazda 626. I veered into a parking lot at JFK. 7:50 am. 

I could easily make the gate by 8 am if I just walked briskly but remembered the advice I’d been given to get there early as America West usually overbooked this flight and wasted no time in bumping no shows. The next flight was not until late that afternoon. I ran from the parking lot through the terminal to the gate, arriving just before 8, to find out the flight was delayed for half an hour because of mechanical problems. I checked in. My seat had not been given away. 

Arriving at the wrong airport led to my one and only helicopter ride. I wasn’t at fault that time. My La Guardia-bound flight was diverted to Newark. Rather than shuttle-bus a handful of us to Queens, the airline transported us in style, aboard a helicopter. The vertical sensation of lift-off and descent, plus the bird’s-eye view of the Manhattan skyline, made for a memorable experience. I truly get the whirlybird fascination.

Getting to the airport at an appropriate time is but one of the travel offenses I have inflicted on my family. During our family’s first trip to England around 1986, we almost extended our stay in the Mother Country. We had to race through the terminal, like OJ in an old Hertz commercial, to get to our plane before they secured the boarding area. When Gilda and I attended a retail industry conference in San Antonio, I was embarrassed to find out we arrived one day late and our room had been reassigned. Only through the intervention of the conference chairman did Gilda not terminate my existence then and there.

Perhaps my most almost-egregious mishap occurred during a trip to Luxembourg. I was a featured speaker at a SAP software conference. Gilda and I turned my speaking engagement into a two week trip through Amsterdam, Brussels and finally Luxembourg. We arrived in Luxembourg Monday evening. I was to speak Wednesday morning, so Tuesday we decided to tour the city. 

As we waited for our car to be brought to the front of the hotel Tuesday morning, I thought I’d go to the restroom on the lower level. The conference registration area was on the way, so I took the opportunity to tell the coordinator I’d arrived safely. She was more than relieved—she said they were wondering where I was. I was to give my presentation in 20 minutes! 

Zounds! Yikes! Sacre Bleu! I no longer had to go to the bathroom. Instead, I raced upstairs, found Gilda wandering the lobby and told her I had to hurriedly change out of my jeans into my suit because I was to go on in now less than 15 minutes. I made it back down with a minute or two to spare and with the resolve to double and triple check my schedules from then on. How embarrassing that would have been had I failed to deliver my presentation after enjoying a two-week vacation underwritten by their confidence in me? It makes me shutter to think of it even to this day.