City Of Raleigh Tickets People for Actually Using Fayetteville Street

Fayetteville Street has been open to traffic for all of two days, and already the city is cashing in on parking tickets. How cops can justify parking tickets is beyond me, since the street has no markings! It doesn’t even have parking meters, as far as I can tell.

A city official is quoted as saying lines were not painted on Fayetteville Street for “aesthetic reasons.”

Uh, say what?

This I don’t understand. It’s supposed to be a street, not a work of art. Paint it like every other street. If you’re going to hand out parking tickets, paint it and/or meter it so people know what’s going on. Don’t ambush them with tickets because “aesthetic reasons” have made you lose your mind.

Ten million bucks later and the City of Raleigh is still trying to kill downtown.

From Fairways To Stairways

I was checking out my old Charlotte neighborhood on Google Maps today when I noticed Sharon Golf Course, the old 9-hole golf course up the road from where I used to live, has closed. I don’t remember ever playing there, but it used to be a landmark for me, anyway. My parents rented a house directly across from it when I was (anchors?) away in the Navy. It doesn’t look much like a course, now, does it? Though Google still thinks it is, according to its label. Now there’s a retirement home in its place.

I went searching around to find a story on the old golf course. Charlottean Ron Greene Sr. wrote a nice one which praises it for what it was: an everyman’s course. Its stuff like this I think about when I drive by the now-deserted Cheviot Hills course every day.

Like the eminent closing of the Myrtle Beach Pavilion or the end of Miracle Strip Amusement Park – a favorite from my childhood days – I find it sad when places where people used to have fun disappear.

Active Weekend

We’re finishing up what has been a very active weekend. It began Friday evening when Kelly’s parents arrived for the weekend. The kids love to see them so we had a pretty excited bunch here. Somehow we got the kids settled, though. Although their bedtime was a little later than normal, it wasn’t too much later.

Kelly’s parents had offered to take the kids Saturday so we could have a “date day.” Instead of going out to dinner and then hanging out at some club, we chose to spend our time out doing active stuff. After we made our guests breakfast, we hotfooted it over to Dead Broke Farm near Falls Lake for some horseback riding! It had been about fifteen years since either of us had ridden, but we were looking forward to some fun!

Our rides were supposed to begin at 9 but for one reason or another we didn’t actually hit the trail until 10:30. Some riders were walking up way late, which caused the rest of us to wait. We passed the time by grooming the horses, but it was not the best way to get started.

Eventually, though, we did get riding. Cody, the male horse I was riding, liked to run while Blaze, the female horse Kelly had, was a bit more reserved. Though there were sixteen riders all told, Kelly and I managed to ride close to each other for most of the trail. I’d laugh when I’d look down and see Blaze’s nose near my leg as she would try to move in front of Cody.

I gave Cody wide latitude for most of the ride and he took advantage of it. On some creek crossings, he’d get some speed up in climbing the bank and plow right into the horse in front of us. On two occasions he even cantered, which would have been teriffic had I not been so focused on guarding my knees from the approaching trees! In spite of my efforts Cody twice managed to slam my knee into trees. The sneaky bastard! Don’t let anyone tell you otherwise: horses are devious and know exactly what they’re doing! Cody got the message and came around, though, when I got more serious with the reins.

We’d originally signed up for an hour of riding, but after all the extra waiting to get started we opted to do two. Both of us hopped off the horse relatively painlessly and headed for our next adventure: sailing!

We arrived at Lake Crabtree to observe a rather weak and uninspiring wind rustling the trees. It didn’t look promising for sailing. Even so, we figured we could always go kayacking or canoeing, so we headed down to the dock anyway. By the time we arrived, a nice, steady breeze was blowing across the lake and the blazing sun was hidden by clouds: almost perfect conditions!

Kelly and I rented separate boats and I gave her a push off the beach and into the breeze. Soon we were crusing across the lake, Kelly in front and me with no chance of catching her. In spite of a steady breeze, I could never get my boat to behave and began to suspect that I was carrying extra ballast in the form of water in the hull. Ah well, what did I expect for ten bucks an hour?

I was making another run across the lake when I saw Kelly head back to the beach. With time left on our hour, I was wondering if she’d had enough. Then I saw her paddling towards me in a kayak, which looked pretty fun to me. That woman can do anything, I tell ya.

Once we’d gotten back on land, it was back to the house to get cleaned up. We had time to see Travis awake from his nap before we got in a quick shopping trip and headed out to dinner.

Dinner Saturday was at 18 Seaboard on a recommendation of our Source Of Hip, Mr. Scotty G. The restaurant is between the old Seaboard train station (now home to Logan Trading Company) and Peace College (now home to, uh, Peace College), located in an area where I looked for office space for my company a year ago. Anyway, the decor was great, the service was speedy, the food was noticably fresh and tasty (with an admirable local slant), and the prices were reasonable. I enjoyed my sea bass special and Kelly absolutely loved her catfish, ranking it among her best restaurant meals ever. 18 Seaboard gets two thumbs up!

After dinner we wandered downtown to check out the festivities going on for Raleigh Wide Open, the grand reopening of Fayetteville Street. The irony of a streetful of pedestrians celebrating the removal of the pedestrian mall wasn’t lost on us. We showed up in time to run into our friends Mandy and Gerry and their kids before the fireworks began. A quick tour of the street later, we were on our way home, where we collapsed into bed close to midnight.

As for today, we spent the morning visiting more with Kelly’s parents. Then it was off to Royal India for lunch. We parted ways at that point, got the kids their naps, and I went out into the oppressive heat to mow the lawn. A bunch of other weekend projects later and here I am.

The week has me staying put for a change, which is nice. After that, the only thing on my radar is our upcoming beach vacation two weeks away. Woo hoo!

Kelly is a much better sailor than she gives herself credit for.

Standing By Floyd

After reading more informed followers of cycling, I’m going to believe Floyd Landis when he says he didn’t cheat. As one doctor with the World Anti-Doping Association said in a story I read, if Landis was cheating with testosterone supplements, his levels would have been elevated far in advance of the Stage 17 test he failed. He would have had to have elevated levels for weeks, which would have obviously been caught far in advance.

Landis went drinking after his spectacular collapse on Stage 16. According to the above link, that didn’t elevate his testosterone. Instead it depleted his epitestosterone, which is what threw his ratio out of whack.

This isn’t a case of EPO doping, after all. I’m thinking the UCI is far to quick to smear American riders.

There’s more to this story. Stay tuned.

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Say It Ain’t So, Floyd

Just when I thought cycling had turned a corner on doping scandals, the shocking news arrives that Floyd Landis tested positive on a doping test, showing elevated levels of testosterone.

Landis has denied cheating, and the second sample has not yet been tested. Still, it doesn’t look promising for this year’s Tour De France winner.

Floyd is still The Man in my book, but his time as The Man may be running out. Here’s hoping that there’s been some misunderstanding somewhere. I’ll be so disappointed if that incredible Tour turns out to have been nothing but a sham.

I’m A Fonero

I got my Fon Linksys WRT54G access point Tuesday. Not a bad deal for five bucks plus shipping (total: $13). I hope to hook it up this weekend.

Fon, for those of you not in the know, is a service where you agree to share your internet bandwidth with others in exchange for similar privileges on others’ networks. Once I’m sharnig my Fon connection, I can use other Fon connections for free. Pretty cool, if you ask me.

I was going to do this anyway by building a community network, so to get a box preconfigured for 13 bucks is a deal. All I have to do to keep the access point’s price at $5 is to agree to keep it running for a year. So this weekend will be week one of my community network experiment.

Young Punk Points Gun At 82-Year-Old, Receives Beatdown.

By Joe Killian
Staff Writer

GREENSBORO — Age and guts beat youth and a gun.

That was the story Monday when 82-year-old Robert Flynn warded off a shotgun wielding mugger using only his cane.

Flynn was approached by the mugger about 11:40 a.m. outside his home at 3307 N. O’Henry Blvd., police said in a news release.

The man, who drove a dark colored car, asked for a cigarette.

When Flynn said he didn’t have one the man got out of his car, leveled a shotgun at him and demanded money. Rather than hand over his wallet, Flynn hit the shotgun with his cane and took off running.

The mugger gave chase in his car, catching up to Flynn and again threatening him with the shotgun.

This time Flynn let fly a series of blows to the mugger’s head and shoulders, causing the man to return to his car and drive off empty handed.

Flynn, reached later by telephone, declined to comment about the incident.

From the Greensboro News and Record

Smokey Has A New Ride

Crusing into work this morning on the west Raleigh side of the Beltline, I saw a motorist pulled over by an unmarked car I didn’t recognize. It seems the N.C. Highway Patrol may have a new unmarked car out clocking speeders.

While I am not completely sure of the vehicle model, it certainly wasn’t the usual Crown Vic. The car was large with a prominent front grille, similar to a Dodge Charger. This particular vehicle was dark blue with blue lights hidden in the visor area and strobes hidden in the back-up lights. The trooper was dressed in civilian clothes, in this case a red shirt.

Slow it down out there or the muscle car creeping up behind you may be delivering a surprise!

Hello From Hell’s Kitchen

I’m back at the hotel for the night, frustrated at how everything closes so early around here. Not. No, I’m in becuase I’ve got a 6 AM wakeup and nobody to go raving with me. Ok, that’s not true, either. I’m in because I’m sleepy. This may be the city that never sleeps, but I sure do.

I had lunch at the Laguardia airport after landing a little before 11. It was after noon when I connected with the customer I was going to see. The word I got was that they’d go grab some lunch and be back before I arrived at the customer site.

In reality, the cabbie got me there twice as fast as the customer had estimated. I spent 30 minutes waiting in the lobby before he got back. At least there was free wireless, though, so I had something to do.

I went up to the office and quickly diagnosed the problem. Bam. Done for the day. I thanked him and hailed a cab for the hotel.

I got to the hotel at exactly 3 PM: check-in time. After a little cooling down, I ventured out to find the Daily Show studios, a block away from me.

It was pretty easy to find it, as there were already 50-75 people lined up out front. It didn’t look good for getting in. The standby line – for saps like me without tickets – was hidden around the corner, right next to a garbage can. I met some cool people while we waited. Even grabbed a bite to eat at the local deli. Alas, we were soon told there would be no standby tickets so we dispersed.

Here’s how you see a show get filmed. First you email them a couple of dates you’d like. Then they tell you what’s available. Your name gets put on a list making you eligible to wait for tickets. See, even if your name is on the list you may still walk away empty-handed, as happened to two guys I met who had driven all the way from Philadelphia to see the show. If you’re lucky and the VIP line isn’t too outrageous, you may get a ticket and get in to see the show. About 100 fortunate people do. Those like me get to try another day. Since they got shafted by the show, the two Philly guys get put on the VIP list for the next time, meaning they’ll have a more-or-less guaranteed shot at getting in. It’s all a big gamble, it seems. But what can you say, the show is The Thing now.

I overheard one of the show staffers telling a woman to try getting tickets for the Colbert Report, a few blocks away. Not having anything else to do, and thinking it would be worth a try to see some show, I tagged along with her. Her name was Emily and she worked for the FAA. We walked to 54th street, the site of the Colbert Report and the former studios for The Daily Show.

Once again, there was a long line of ticket-holders. Absent any official direction, we formed an ad-hoc standby line where once again I got to meet some really interesting people. That’s where I met the Philly guys. One of them half-jokingly suggested they get beer for their wait and before you knew it the other was bringing back a six-pack from the corner grocery. Lacking a bottle opener, they got creative and popped the caps using the top of the steel fence we were near. I thought it was a pretty festive scene, all told.

As the show time neared, I got excited to see another staffer with a clipboard, taking names for the standby list. I actually got my name on the list before another staffer announced that – once again – there were no standby seats left. At least this guy was sincere in his apologies – it seemed he was really sorry to turn us away.

Emily decided to go see a play, so – once again lacking anything else to do – I tagged along. When we got there, I balked at the price, thinking I’d save this experience for when Kelly and I could enjoy it together. With that, I headed back to my hotel to regroup.

The many times I’ve been to New York, I’ve never gotten to visit the “Strawberry Fields” area of Central Park. Strawberry Fields was the area of Central Park favored by John Lennon. Now there is a place in Central Park named after the famous Beatles song. Against my better judgement I walked the 21 blocks to get there, but I had to go.

There was the sign right inside the park reading “Strawberry Fields.” Beyond that was a crowd surrounding the circular tile with the word “Imagine.” Flowers and photographs adorned the tile and people viewed it quietly. I sat down on the bench and just watched everyone, taking in the feeling of being there. It was very reverental. A lot of deep thoughts seemed to run through peoples’ heads.

Before heading back, I had to see the Dakota itself, the place where Lennon was shot. Guards stood at the driveway but looking through the gates was enough for me. What a terrible, sad crime. I don’t think New York will ever stop taking it personally.

For the way home, I hopped the subway and then explored some options for dinner. The hotel staff pointed me to a nearby Italian restaurant, Roberto’s. My hopes of enjoying a fine Italian meal were dashed when I was told they only take cash or American Express! I had to forgo my wine, salad, and dessert to make the cash in my wallet fit an entree (I was so hungry at that point that getting more money was out of the question). I don’t know why they have such a PITA policy, but it hurt them tonight. I would’ve happily tripled my bill otherwise. Next time I’ll come prepared.

Tomorrow is the show itself. I have to check out of my room and scoot to the Financial District for the show’s start at 8. It will be tough saying goodbye again to this hotel as it holds a special place for me. You see, it was here that Kelly first told me she loved me, nine (!) years ago in December. Things like that you don’t forget. I can’t wait to return with her so she can say it again. New York rocks!