DS9: The "Tito Jackson" of Star Trek

So there are five original Star Trek TV series. There's the original, The Next Generation, Voyager, Deep Space Nine and Enterprise. 

Each series addresses a specific element of creator Gene Roddenberry's vision. One deals solely with social issues, another is about calculating risks. But they all have an important part to play in the world of Trek.

Well, most of them. 

The Next Generation and Voyager are obviously the "Michael" and "Jermaine" of the series respectively. TNG shines much brighter than the other with a captain who is the epitome of a great leader and a strong subset of important characters. Voyager's sparkle is a bit less bright, but is still a great second because of the story's innovative fiasco resolutions. Plus, the late addition of the Seven of Nine character gave the series a much-needed reboot that sparked a whole new generation of fandom.

Enterprise is the "Marlon". You kinda remember it. Nothing interesting. Pretty to look at. But it just kind of fades into the background to hold up the stage props. Coulda stayed home.

And then there's Deep Space Nine. Crappy, nonsensical Deep Space Nine. The "Tito" of the group. For lots of reasons.

A. The series' tone is completely off-key. It's the written version of that one guy at the karaoke bar who thinks he's amazing but actually sounds like a werewolf on crack. 

B. It's cast of characters are boring. I don't even remember what they look like, really.

C. Captain Sisko confuses violence with relevance.

D. They don't even leave the damn space station! 

It's like someone said "we need a new Star Trek series, but we have no budget, no creativity and no message...hey, lets call this crap 'Deep Space Nine'.  

Sigh. I can't even.



Recent Post: Respect the Trek

Glad I'm Not the Only One

*** Just Booked ***

Round trip flight ... DTW >Myrtle Beach for $53! WOOT.

Via SpiritAir.com flash sale.

Tiny House World and Gozilla Fest

So I don't know if this is a worldwide phenomenon or if it's just the new stateside obsession, but we are suddenly in love with the "tiny house" movement. 

Click here for the full ep.

The US has 4 series that I can think of that are dedicated to the tiny house trend.  There's Tiny House Nation, Tiny House World, Tiny House something-something and that other one with the one lady who talks too much.

I'm so obsessed with these properties. They're beautiful and completely modern, and perfect for one or two people. You can pretty much place the plot anywhere, so scenery is your choice. No mortgage, home equity up the wazoo, and low, low home expenses.

I'm watching Tiny House World. This Australian couple...they're looking at this beautiful new 600 sq ft tiny house...which is WAY bigger than the 250 sq ft US versions...it has these floor-to-ceiling windows and tons of tech conveniences...and they're complaining about the lack of room. They're practically whining about the size.

And the wife. Oh. My. God. Like nails on a chalkboard. Right now, she's going off about how the house is $30,000 and they only wanted to spend $10,000. Granted, I can only understand every 3rd word they're saying, but I know "whiny" when I hear it.

TEN GRAND!? Over here, lawn mowers cost ten grand! Ten grand is a down payment on a new car. I know that Australian and US economics & finances and stuff are different, but for us $30k for a tiny house is insanely cheap. And again, "tiny house" for us is basically a doll house. Nothing near the scale of what I'm seeing on this show.

I've binge watched 4 episodes thus far and have been seriously considering taking my moolah and investing in one of these cribs. 

So I am trying to watch this show and meanwhile my house looks like the reenactment of the ending to every Godzilla movie ever filmed.

I could really, really see myself living in that kind of solitude.  

Peace and quiet and solitude and a view. 

Oh, and wifi.

And no spiders.

Seriously. If I see a spider in my shiny new tiny house, it's getting torched.

"Here Comes the Fat Chick"

That's the look I get when entering the gate area at any given airport.

Ugh. The eyerolls. The looks of disdain.

There should be a giant red sticky note on my airline ticket: "TWF"

Traveling While Fat. 

Cue the horror movie music.

I'll venture anywhere for a quick swim in a blue ocean, but I can't get there without experiencing some form of prejudice based on my size. And so my vacation quests are typically stunted by the thought of people judging the way I look in a bathing suit.

Or in an airplane seat.

Or in baggage claim.

It's why I mentally check off where all the seat pockets are in relation to what I'll be using in-flight, like my Kindle Fire and water bottle. Whatever it takes to avoid disturbing my neighbor further. 

It's also the reason I use the airport restrooms several times before a flight, even if I don't have to go. And if I get the urge during the flight, I hold it...no matter how long the duration.

And so Spirit Airlines is probably the best bet for those of us who are larger in size. Sure, the flight attendants sleep for the entire flight, and the term "customer service" gets the same treatment as the term "terrorism", but the giant seats in the front row are sure to accommodate anyone my size. 

Today, I watched two flight attendants play Russian roulette with the emotions of a large man who sat next to me. I'm still not clear on why he didn't "fit"in the seat...he looked fine to me...but sometimes the seatbelts are less than generous. Whatever the reason, the attendants loudly proclaimed that he would have to sit in two seats in a row further back. This misplaced the two original seat holders, and their grumbles and shuffling to their new seats caused even more commotion and attention. 

And if you wear any size below a woman's size 18, you have no idea what I'm talking about and can't relate.

And that's okay. Because I wouldn't wish this experience on anyone.

Except maybe my ex. But he deserves it.

What I Bought
Spare yourself a bit of humiliation: Airline Seatbelt Extenders

N'awlins Decadence

Brought back a tray of day-old croissants,
milk and other random snacks from the
corner shop for the homeless man who
sleeps across the street, but he never returned. :(

I haven't shared much with the masses ("masses" lol...right) lately. I recently experienced a pretty heavy life event that hit me like a ton of bricks. I haven't discussed it with anyone, but the reminder of that event is burdensome and is with me every day - physically and in mind. But it also serves as evidence that what happens to us is the direct result of our own actions. Our own imperfections create our own tsumi 罪.

Enough of that.

So, randomly, I'm in New Orleans. This city is alive. Like that part where Neo realizes he has cool powers and the walls shift. Or something. I'm not a Matrix fan. Its preachy bible-thumping cloaked as an apocalyptic scifi.   Which makes it as cheesy as Star Wars.

This city feels like...

Decadence.

So I've always been fascinated with the disco/Studio 54 era. I immediately head to the non fiction>history>culture section in bookstores and study the photos in retrospection books.

Those people did things we would never dream of doing today...having random, unprotected hook-ups without fear of disease or guilt or skankiness. Doing drugs openly. Hard stuff. Even audaciously. The people in the photos seem so carefree and absolved of worry. Their expressions say, "I'm a superhero...nothing can touch me as long as I'm in this space."

These people were regular people. People with bills and families and drama just like the rest of us. But they walked into a club and suddenly became fearless? 

That isn't logical.

I finally realized that the mood captured in these amazing stories and pictures were not swayambhu. The sense of invincibility and awesomesauciness was a byproduct of living in that exact moment. Letting that surreal environment - with the rhythmic beats and the glittery shadows and the pomp and la fantaisie - overwhelm their want for normalcy.

They were swallowed by the decadence.

And so that is the best way I can describe New Orleans. It's decadent.

The aforementioned ominous street.

I walked the French Quarter last night. Not that huge of a feat. It's maybe 20 blocks total? But when I stopped in the middle of a dark street that leads to the hustle and bustle of Bourbon Street, I closed my eyes and let the city take me. New Orleans - with it's rich, dark history and eclectic people and gauche - it's provocative. And like those people who use to pose their way into Studio 54, in this city, I don't think about my bills or my worries or responsibilities. Or my recent traumatic bout. I only feel an overwhelming sense of abandon and decadence.

The city has me.

And then I realized I'm still on Detroit time which is one hour later and I cabbed my old ass back to the hotel.

Also, I lost 6 lbs. in the last month, and I gained it all back this weekend eating pralines and poutine and crawfish.

What I Bought
The Last Party - a collection of photos and mayhem from the Studio 54 nights
Spirit Airlines - my choice for cheap Detroit>Nola flights
Cafe Beignet - best beignets in the FQ (and recommended over Cafe Du Monde by locals)

Why WITS16 Didn't Work for Me

A friend recently informed me that I wear my heart on my sleeve.  I think she meant it to be an insult. Actually, I know she meant it as an insult, because an expression of pity accompanied the comment.

But I don't see it that way.

Creating/being in social situations tops my list of needs. I feel "off" if I don't hold a conversation with a new person every day. I'm one of those geeks who speaks to every person she passes. If I see someone struggling to get to their flight gate with heavy or awkward luggage, it takes everything in me to not jump up and help them.

I like to make others' days better. And as cheesy as it sounds, I truly believe that offering a quick "good morning" can literally change a stranger's day.

So when I arrived at the 2016 WITS (Women in Travel Summit) conference on a beautiful Saturday in California, I was super excited for the chance to mingle with hundreds of women from so many different walks of life, with so many different experiences, but who shared my obsession with travel.  Hell, that was my ready-made ice breaker right there.

Unfortunately, I arrived at the conference on day three (which was originally day one, but the leaders later added more days and activities) and took a spot at the almost-full table in the back, my table of ladies barely noticed. Throughout the day, I tried to insert myself into others' conversations but it was no use. Everyone had already formed comfortable friendships...long story short, I felt (ironically) very alone.

And it colored my entire WITS16 experience. When group activities were announced, I exited the banquet room and grabbed coffee or chatted with the vendors in the lobby. The leaders had also planned some really cool excursions that I'd hoped to group up for, but ultimately I just drove back to my hotel.

No new BFFs for me.

I'll look for other travel-related conferences and events...and I'll post what I find here. :)

What I Bought
Info about the Women in Travel Summit
Members of this large grassroots organization are a great resource for solo female travelers: She's Wanderful
I stayed at the breathtaking Air Venice in Venice Beach

The ol' "Shifty Eye"

"All inclusive": Free booze and sunburn wherever you turn.

So I'm sitting in the corner of a hotel lobby in the Dominican Republic, kneading my sunburn and cursing myself for not using sunscreen earlier today. 

Sitting in the corner of any given crowded room gives you an awesome vantage point.  

Case in point: I'm watching this married couple waiting in line to check in to the hotel.  She looks tough. They're like every American sitcom couple. He works 80 hours a week and golfs. She complains about life and cooks meatloaf on Thursdays.

Yeah, that couple.

A slender/blonde/attractive (take your pick...they're all the same, right? #bittermuch) woman walks by.  My eyes dart back to the couple because I'm nosy and I want to read both the husband's and wife's reactions to this ostentatious disruption of reality.   

The wife is busy checking her purse for something, so she's missing all of the action.  The husband, however, is immediately aware that a hottie is in his field of vision. He does a quick glance, and we know what's going to happen next.  He's going to find some way to look again and take in her entire being, then he's going to store all that data and quickly return to whatever he was pretending to do.  But it'll be sooo smooth and quick. 

I love this part. I call this highly-evolved, stylized cognizant method of ogling "The Shifty Eye". It should have it's own theme music, really.

Okay.  It's about to go down. As I'm texting this, he's already turned away from his wife to "check his texts". Now, let's observe how smoothly he pulls it off...

This is awesome. It's like watching a NatGeo promo with the driving background drum beat and the way-too-serious voice over guy...

Okay, he's "texting"...and "texting"...aaaaaand 

BAM! He pulled it off without a hitch, ladies and gentlemen! He just glanced up very directly at the hottie, practically mentally undressed her, stamped the image and stored it in the appropriate folder in his brain and returned to "texting"...all within like 5 seconds.

I seriously want to put down my phone and write "10" on my napkin and hold it up for him, but I don't want to call him out and disrupt his natural habitat. I wish I'd recorded it.  It's a thing of beauty, really.

Seriously. Men are amazing creatures. Whenever a man pulls off The Shifty Eye, it's like watching the marine biologist guys try to catch a whale on camera. You know they're going to surface at some point. But to watch it in action is awesome.

They think they're so slick and shady. But really, this is proof that they're only as slick as the length of rope their spouses give them. Tthe wife is still busy getting their papers or credit cards or whatever's in her ridiculous giant purse, so she isn't minding the environment. The woman is completely unaware that a private fiasco just went down. 

Men are great social chameleons. They'll be whatever you want them to be, as long as the room's colors don't change too quickly and give them away. 

People watching at it's finest. Cheers!

What I Bought
Hotel Riu - Punta Cana
Aftersun Aloe Vera Gel (only available at stateside CVS's)