What a difference a weekend makes. Friday morning, I was waking up early to see the sun rise over a Pacific beach. This evening, I’m in that crack pipe of a city: Portsmouth, Virginia. It’s a place that makes some of those shady ports of call I made in my Navy days seem tame. I kind of expected this place to be an armpit, but the city just outdid itself. It seems like every street I passed had a cop making a traffic stop. I think the producers of the TV show COPS have a permanent room rented at the hotel. It’s a place that shirtless drunk guys could call home.

Next time, I’ll let the reseller pick the hotel. This sucks. I think my traveling fun has reached an all-time low.

I’m meeting my buddy Clint and our reseller in a few to go out to eat (there’s safety in numbers, you know). Then I’m bolting the door and hunkering down until tomorrow’s 9 AM meeting. Maybe my days living on Clanton Avenue in Raleigh will come in handy and I can remember how to sleep through gunfire.

An article in today’s News And Observer alerted me to one congressman’s plan to eliminate spam by taxing email. If this plan was on Fark, it would have the “asinine” tag in front of it.

Spam sucks: there’s no question about it. But politicians like Dayton don’t know a mailserver from a hole in the ground. Most politicians still are under the misconception that the Internet is a US-only network, subject to U.S. law.

Here’s a clue to the clueless inside the Beltway: taxing spam won’t work. Outlawing spam won’t work. In fact, few if any laws would have any effect on the Internet, because it’s GLOBAL.

Internet traffic routes around stupid laws. If its designers were truly brilliant, Internet traffic would stay the hell away from Washington.

What a difference choosing the proper airline makes. My flight to Detroit was on Northwest, where the flight attendants were surly at best. On the way out to California and back, I rode Southwest. Those people bent over backwards to make their passengers feel comfortable.

The flight from Orange County, CA to Raleigh was one example. There were fewer than 40 people on the plane, the attendants were all extra helpful in seeing that people had what they needed, AND the flight came in 30 minutes early thanks to a strong tailwind.

I had to thank the crew at the end for their fantastic service. I’ll also write Southwest’s corporate office and pass on my thanks. How people treat you when you travel makes a huge difference in how you feel once you arrive, and there’s nobody better at it than Southwest. They totally rule!

I’m back from the West Coast after my marathon sales trip. Somehow I managed to work my ass off out there, and it took a lot out of me. Today, I had perhaps an hour or two before heading over to my brother’s house to watch the game. Tomorrow, we head north to visit the Naylors at their lakehouse on Lake Gaston. Then its back to work on Monday before driving to Norfolk, VA on Tuesday for another meeting.

Life on the road is taking a toll. It was pretty much ruled out when I signed up for this job. Now it seems the norm. My family and I have to get to know each other again, and that sucks.

I enjoy a trip every now and then, but this is getting pretty brutal. I look forward to things settling down again.

I just watched N.C. State go toe to toe with Florida State in double-overtime, only to lose 50 to 44. It was a tough loss, but a great game nonetheless. I’m happy to see all the great compliments that Noles fans are posting about Philip Rivers and N.C. State on their message boards.

Guess it was time for FSU to win. After all, rivalries are no fun if they’re one-sided, eh?

I slipped out of my hotel room early this morning to visit the beach. It felt like the first time all week that I’d been able to do things on my own. I dodged traffic in front of the hotel to make it to a state park across the street. The chilly morning air cut through my shirt and sweater, leaving me hurrying to get there, hands jammed in my pockets.

After a 10 minute walk, I was standing on the beach. The Pacific stood before me, serene behind the gentle surf in front of me. Hundreds of fat seagulls eyed me warily as I strode up to the water’s edge. I stopped and snapped a picture of the dawn. Putting my camera down to take it all in, I decided one shot wouldn’t do, so I took a panoramic shot of the immense ocean in front of me.

As I turned back to the east, I saw the sun begin to peek over the low cliffs. What an awesome sight.

I stooped to wave my hand in an approaching wave. “Hello, ocean,” I said to myself, reuniting with a friend I knew so well for three years.

My mission was accomplished. Walking back to the hotel, I was struck by the simple beauty that is the ocean. So calm and serene on the surface. So teeming with life just below.

As I crossed the street, I was almost struck by something else. A cyclist was cruising down the hill toward me. Seeing I was about to step into the bike lane (does ANYONE in California actually use these things, I thought), I stepped back onto the curb just in time. The cyclist whizzed by me, taking a moment to study me through amber goggles as he pedaled by.

Good morning, Lance.

It’s going to be a great day.

Last night it occured to me the outrageous amount I’m spending (well, the COMPANY is spending) for me to have a car. Meanwhile, back in Raleigh, I’m spending a somewhat less outrageous amount to store my car in the lot until I get back.

That made me think that there must be some way to cut out the middleman, in this case the car rental places. What if there was a service where a member could borrow the car of another member who was traveling from the airport you were going to? There is probably a lot of cars at the John Wayne airport where I’m heading, and the owners are paying for those cars to just sit there. What if the car owner (or member) could get paid to let others borrow their car?

The rates could be below the rental rates, but still be enough to make things worthwhile. Maybe we could have a third party at the lot who could meet the “renter” and make sure the car was in good shape when it came back.

Its a goofy idea, but with the right controls in place, it might work. It all hinges on the comfort level of the car owner. Gotta figure that part out.

I can really think up some dumb thoughts when there is nothing else to do, eh?

Well, my night wasn’t as bad as I expected. I met up with our partners to grab dinner. One of them was familiar with the area, so we were able to find a restaurant without a wait. Over margaritas, we traded stories about natural disasters, the West Coasters bragging about earthquakes and me bragging about hurricanes. Each side shook its head over why the other would put up with such chaos. 🙂

I am dying to go “say hello to the ocean” as my scuba diving instructor used to say. It’s a ritual where I go splash around in the water. Used to do it before every dive to get things off on the right foot. As I drove past La Jolla yesterday I thought of my diving days, since that was the place I did my very first open-water dive. Kelly tells me again and again how she’d like to learn to dive, but things got sidetracked when The Kid came along. Maybe we can get back in the water someday soon.

Lunch yesterday was at the food court of the Newport Beach “Fashion Island” mall. The guys here told me later that that Newport is one of the wealthiest places around. That explains the Beemers, Mercedes, and Lexuses (Lexi?) I saw parked around my big orange Mustang. The meeting with the customer went well, too, if it ran a bit too long for my taste. I’m still fighting a “midafternoon zone-out” every day, the only jet lag issue I’ve had so far.

One of the guys here is a big cycling buff, and told me Lance Armstrong is in town for a charity event. My friend was threatening to call in sick today to go meet him. Can’t say I blame him, since I’m a cycling fan, too. While I may not get a chance to break away from the presentation today, I did find out that Lance has to catch a flight around the same time I do, so there is a possiblity I could see him at the airport. That would be pretty cool.

So I’m staying at the DoubleTree Hotel in Doheny Beach, CA tonight. It’s right across the street from the beach. I’ve got a suite. Looks like a nice place, right? My fellow RoadShow travelers wondered out loud earlier “I wonder why its so cheap?”

Could be that Amtrak train that roars past the hotel every hour. Or that the room I’m in is right underneath a dining room. And not just any dining room: one filled with giggling high school girls. Every one of these girls is exactly the same size and shape; that is to say, a little on the heavy side. And they are all wearing a sweatshirt with hood. It’s so surreal. Like some kind of casting call for 300 women who look exactly alike.

I was watching TV earlier when I first heard the stomping around in the floor above. I was thinking to myself “what’s up with the herd up there” even before I found out who was up there. It’s been stomp, stomp, CRASH, step, step, step, THUD. I’m hoping that they settle down or I’m going to ask for a new room, preferably one away from the railroad tracks.

I’m going out now to get some food, and maybe a beer. Only a few more hours and I’ll be home.