A matter of inches

I overheard a couple of Naval aviators discussing the fact that female pilots have a difficult time mastering carrier landings.  “It’s completely understandable” one of them explained “because they have a serious depth perception problem.”  “Yeah” said the other “but you really can’t blame them.  Their whole life they’ve been told that this…

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…is six inches.”

Speaking of inches, it’s time for this week’s weigh-in report.  Today marks eight weeks of denying myself all the carbohydrate-rich goodness I’ve come to know and love.  I wouldn’t say it’s getting easier–man, did I have a craving for ice cream last night–but I’m more or less resigned to going without.  At least until I reach my goal, which sadly is still 42 pounds away.

Today’s weight: 262.0, down .5 from last week and 16.5 pounds lost overall.  Slow and steady as she goes I suppose.

In somewhat more encouraging news, today’s girth measurement is 47.5″ which is down 1.5″ from last week and 4″ since February 19.  A couple of people say they can tell I’ve lost weight.  They are family members who know about the diet though so they could just be telling me what I want to hear.  Although my yobo says she felt my hip bone while we were lying in bed for the first time in the 5 years she has known me.

I’ve actually noticed that my Levi’s are riding higher up on the belly (I wear suspenders BTW) and that my shirts are not quite as ridiculously stretched across my middle as they used to be.  So there is that.  Onward and downward!

Marathon man

It’s tough to stick to the LCHF diet when I travel. And this weekend I went slightly off plan.  Friday night I succumbed to the Mexican restaurant featured in the Tuscany casino that was arranged by Good Luck Mate. Had the shredded beef taco and enchilada plate ($6.95!).  To my credit, I didn’t touch the rice and only indulged in dipping three tortilla chips in the salsa.  I did better Saturday night, satisfying my hunger with a nice slab of prime rib (with sides of slaw and baked beans for $12.99).  Sunday I threw caution to the wind and enjoyed a Carl’s Jr. burger and an authentic hand dipped strawberry shake (gawd it was so good!).  I forsook the fries however.  At the airport in Phoenix last night I consumed a Coney Island hot dog (chili and cheese) but didn’t eat the bun.  Limited myself to two french fries.  So, I wasn’t totally bad and hopefully what you eat in Vegas stays in Vegas.

On the other hand, I got in quite a bit of exercise.  In addition to my sprint across the Charlotte airport I participated in a marathon of darts on Saturday.  I was in the dart hall from 3:00 until almost 11:00, mostly on my feet and walking, and all I consumed during those 8 hours was a mixture of diet cokes and light beer.  I won 16 of the 45 legs (games) I played, exceeding the goal of 10 wins I had set for myself going in.  Keep in mind, this was a professional tourney.  In fact, one of my opponents, John Part, is a three time world champion (he kicked my heinie pretty good, although I had one opportunity to win a leg but I blew it).  Anyway, I was physically exhausted when it was over so I must have gotten in some pretty good exercise, right?

This week’s weigh-in finds me at 262.5, down .5 from last week and 16 pounds overall.  Girth is holding steady at 49″ (down from 51.5″ in February).  I’m a little disappointed that I’m not getting smaller around the middle, but I think that’s about the last place you lose your excess weight.  I’m also a little worried that my carb binge hasn’t registered yet.  We’ll see next week I suppose.

Baggage blues

If ignorance truly is bliss, the airlines must be laughing hysterically.

As I mentioned in an earlier post at some point during my lengthy from fair America, domestic airlines started charging fees to check bags.  Of course, the consequence of this misguided policy should have been readily apparent–people would stop checking bags, at least whenever possible.

On every leg of this trip the airline has requested volunteers to check bags at the gate due to space in the overhead for carry-on luggage.  At no charge of course.  So, what have the saved or how have the profited by charging to check bags in the first place?

Anyway, having figured how the game is played, we bought two small carry-on size bags and consolidated all that stuff (rice cooker, stove, etc.) knowing full well we’d get to check them at the gate for free.  Sweet!

I’ll never do that again!

Got through the day yesterday with only one hitch.

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At the Clark County courthouse for a marriage license.

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At the cheesy Las Vegas wedding chapel where our vows were exchanged.

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I count myself a lucky man.

After the ceremony was concluded it was time to rush back to the hotel and start the honeymoon.  Yes, ladies and gentlemen, I’m talking darts.  The blind draw doubles event of the New World Dart Series.   Hey, Jee Yeun was a darts widow even before I married her!

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Puttin’ on my game face.

The importance of being Ernest

Man, it’s been a long time since I did domestic travel.  Things are worse than ever.  That crappy airline food they used to give away free (and it was overpriced even then), you now have to pay for.  And that luggage you brought along with the price of the ticket now comes with an extra charge.  Just more crap in the pain in the ass that modern air travel has become.  Here’s the story of my getting to Las Vegas.

I mentioned to Jee Yeun that we’d have to pay the baggage surcharge so she somehow managed to get EVERYTHING in one bag (not counting our jammed carry-on backpacks).  So, I paid US Airways twenty-five bucks for the privilege of actually checking a bag and put that sucker proudly on the scale.  It was 58 pounds, eight pounds over the limit.  “That will be $90.00 unless you can lose 8 pounds” the counter person said brusquely.    Being properly motivated, I opened the bag and transferred the kimchi and portable cook stove (two items Jee Yeun won’t travel without) to a carry on sack and that brought us down to 49.5 pounds.  Mission accomplished!

I asked the counter person about getting me and Jee Yeun seats together and she asked if we could do the exit row.  WooHoo!  More leg room methinks.  But apparently there was a problem, so she gets on the phone, then comes back to explain that the exit row is only available from Charlotte to Phoenix.  “Phoenix?” I ask incredulously.  “I thought it was direct to Las Vegas!”  She then explained that indeed my flight was going to Las Vegas, but it was making a stop in Phoenix first.  OK, well I don’t remember seeing that on the itinerary when I bought the ticket, but whatever.  She said she could put us in a different exit row from Phoenix to Las Vegas, we’d just have to move upon landing.  Alright, fine.  I can do that.

Upon landing in Charlotte I noticed that I didn’t have a boarding pass for the CLT-PHX leg, just a “reboarding pass” to my new seats to Las Vegas.  No big deal, the counter person fixed me up and we settled in to wait for take off.  Presently, they announced the flight was full and they wanted folks to check any bag that wouldn’t fit under the seat (no charge of course).  We were going to be waiting for the one bag we checked anyway, so being the nice guy that I am I volunteered.  I asked Jee Yeun’s daughter Sohee (who speaks very little English) to bring me the small suitcase she carried on the plane.  She said the man took it from her when we boarded the small commuter jet in Columbia.  OH SHIT!  She gate checked the bag and didn’t pick up when we landed in Charlotte!

I go back to the counter and explained to the man there what had happened.  He gave me a look that said “you are so screwed!” and told me my only option was to go back to the gate where we landed and see if it was still there.  Problem was, we landed at “E” terminal and were departing for “B” terminal.  If you happen to be familiar with Charlotte’s airport, you know those two points are as far apart as east is from west.  Plus, the were boarding my flight to PHX-LAV which gave me about twenty minutes tops to retrieve the wayward bag and haul ass back to “B” terminal.

So, I did the OJ Simpson run through the airport and when I arrived back in “E” terminal I realized I wasn’t exactly sure which gate we had arrived at.  E-3 looked kinda familiar so I started there.  No dice I was told.  Try E-6.  Then I got sent to E-4 where a ground crew guy took pity on me and looked it up to confirm I had arrived at E-6.  He said not to get my hopes up because if no one picks up the bag, they send it to baggage claim.  Which would mean me exiting the terminal and going back through security.  I definitely did not have time for that!  As luck would have it, my bag was indeed still waiting at E-6.  And I now had less than 10 minutes to get back to “B” terminal.  When I told the ground guy what time my plane left he gave me that same “man, are you screwed” look and suggested that I “run”.  So, run I did and made it back as the last of the passengers were boarding.

Now, if you’ve seen me you know I’m not in as good of shape as I once was.  And a brisk walk is about as fast as I ever go these days.  After running from one end of the Charlotte airport to the other I was sucking wind.  When I sat down in my seat I was convinced I was having a heart attack.  I could almost hear that tired workhorse in my chest pounding, I was sweating like crazy, and really breathing hard.  I was hoping there was a doctor on board just in case I conked out at 30,000 feet.  I am happy to report I didn’t.  But I might have.

Oh, and those exit row seats I’d scored in Columbia?  They were not the “good” exit row seats where you have about 6 feet of leg room.  It was the row behind that one.  I’m not sure why it’s even considered an exit row.  You get no additional leg room, and given my belated boarding, I had to put my overstuffed backpack under the seat in front of me, leaving next to no space to stretch my tired legs.  And my seat didn’t even recline!  Suffice to say I had an uncomfortable ride to the Phoenix Sky Harbor Airport.  Which has got to be the coolest name for an airport I ever did hear.  Although the airport itself is old, outdated, and overcrowded.

The rest of the journey went pretty much without incident.  Both the big and the wayward bags found themselves together on the baggage carousel and after a short cab ride we arrived at the Tuscany Suites hotel right around noontime not much worse for the wear.  Check-in time was 3:00 p.m. but I was told that for a mere $12.00 (plus tax) I could get an early check-in.  I said “Let me get this straight.  You have a room that I’ve paid ready and waiting for me, but I can’t use it unless I give you another twelve dollars?”  The clerk nodded affirmatively.  At first I said fuck it, check me in.  But then it occurred to me that this was a matter of principle and I declined to pay the surcharge.

When I told Jee Yeun and the kids what I had done, they were not happy campers (an no one does “unhappy camper” like a Korean.  We had started our day at 0400 and everyone was tired (although I was the only one who had done wind sprints).  Admitting defeat, I went back up to the check-in counter and announced to a nice young man named Ernest that I had reconsidered I would indeed take the early check-in.  I told him again how ridiculous I thought the charge was.  He gave me a conspiratorial look and almost whispered “I’ll waive it for you”.  Alright!  Now you’re talking!  When the paperwork was complete I congratulated him on his customer service skills and said “that’s the importance of being earnest!”  He looked at me like that was first time he’d heard that witticism.  Today.  Ah well. Sometimes I can’t help but go a little Wilde.

Turns out, what the Tuscany gives, it takes away.  Wireless internet is twelve bucks a day.  Per device!  Bastards.

Where in the world am I going?

At 0530 I’ll be boarding my flight at Columbia’s small but efficient Metropolitan Airport.   Over the course of the weekend I expect I’ll see such sights as the Eiffel Tower, the canals of Venice, the Great Pyramid, and the New York skyline.  I’ll be lodging in Tuscany.

That’s right, Sin City.  Where day is night and night is day.  The bright lights, glitz and faux glamor that all come together in that quaint desert village we like to call Las Vegas.

South Carolina recognizes common law marriage.  Immigration and the IRS do not, so I’ll be making everything legal and tidy and hopefully completely to the satisfaction of my dear old Uncle Sam.

I’ll also be participating in the New World Dart Series event, sanctioned by the North American Professional Darts Association.  Hey, if you can’t throw like a pro, you may as well get beat by some.  Or so my thinking goes.  It will be a good experience, especially given my fondness for harsh mistresses.

And that’s about it from here.

What’s a pound of flesh worth anyway?

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Beats me, but the nice folks at Samoa Airlines could tell you no doubt.  Or at least the price of a kilo of flesh.

I’m a big guy, but charging by weight instead of by the seat makes some sense.  It’s how the airlines have always charged for freight.  And lord knows, passengers are treated pretty much like cattle these days anyway.

Heh, I was just wondering if I’d be able to afford to fly my fat ass belly back and forth to Korea.  But with what I’d save on Jee Yeun’s ticket I could probably swing it.  And what a great incentive for dieting–every pound lost would be like a discount on air travel!

Leaster Sunday

Me has not risen!

But I didn’t drop much either.  This week’s weigh-in finds me at 263.0 down .5 from last week and 15.5 since February 19.  Girth is unchanged at 49″ and down 2.5″ overall.

In other news, I pulled an all-nighter and watched the entire 7th season of Showtime’s Dexter last night.  It’s a fascinating concept (the “hero” is a serial killer) and the writers have done an outstanding job of keeping the storyline fresh and the plots reasonably believable.  In fact, they’ve addressed one of my major concerns–why no one (including his sister) at the police department had grown suspicious of Dex over the course of several television seasons and multiple kills.  Anyway, good television.

I’ll be flying out to Las Vegas on Thursday morning for the New World Dart Series.  This is a professional event for North American players.  As hard experience in Augusta and Virginia Beach have taught me, I am definitely not ready for prime time.  I may be an above average pub darter in Itaewon, but I can’t hang with these guys on anything approaching a competitive basis.  So, why do I try?  Because I can!  And it is Vegas baby!

The perfect gift for you’re favorite grammar nazi…

Your right, the usage in the title is wrong.  And so is it in the previous sentence.  Sue me!

I actually do care and do sometimes notice when I screw up.  Most of my errors are sloppiness rather than ignorance.  Some things just irk me.  For example, I think the quotation mark outside the punctuation is aesthetically displeasing.  An Englishmen is rumoured to have said “that’s how we do it in the old country”.

Anyway, I saw this shirt on the internet and had to laugh:

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Kevin Kim, if I knew where to buy one you’d be wearing it proudly.  So their!

Surf and Turf

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I spent the weekend in Virginia Beach getting my ass kicked in darts.  It’s hard work being the tournament patsy and I did develop  quite the appetite.  After all, man does not live by low carb beer alone.  They had a great snack bar set up for the tourney participants.  Unfortunately, the selections were all rich in carbohydrates.   Which led me to the hotel’s seaside restaurant in search of something healthy to eat.  The best choice for me seemed to be the surf and turf salad and I ordered one up.  After quite the wait, the server brought me a plate of leaves covered in strawberries.  I said “what’s this?” and she told me it was the surf and turf salad I’d ordered.  Well I took my fork and demonstrated for her that this particular salad was lacking in both the surf and the turf.  “Oh” she replied, “we only serve the surf and turf on Sunday, so the kitchen must have gotten confused.”  Apparently.  After another long wait I got what I ordered, a tasty salad with some strips of steak and some small shrimps.

It ain’t easy keeping to this diet when I travel, although my sweetie did her best to keep me supplied with healthy snacks.  And if this week’s weigh-in is any indication, the sacrifices seem to be paying off.  I’ve even noticed a slight change appearance-wise. I’m still a big bellied MFer, but when poked my stomach now has some give.  It used to be as hard as a watermelon.  So, there’s that.

This week’s weight (still using my unreliable scale) is 263.5, down an amazing 3.5 pounds from last week and an incredible 15 pounds from the 278.5 I weighed on February 19.  I pray to Buddha that I will continue to look less like him with each passing week.

My girth has dropped to 49″, down from last week’s 50.5″ and 2.5″ from my 51.5″ starting point.

Yes, I am pleased.  I still have a long, long way to go to reach my target of around 220 pounds.  That’s still on the high side according to the experts who claim my healthy weight to be 180 (I’m 6′ 1″ tall).  I haven’t been that skinny since high school and I don’t expect, or really want, to be that thin again in this lifetime.

I’m thinking this week’s results are likely an outlier, but I’m obviously pleased to be heading in the right direction.

Although my dart game was in the toilet all weekend, I did meet some folks with a Korea connection.  They had been living down Songtan way, a place I visit for darts only a couple of times a year.  But we knew some of the same people and it was nice to encounter some fellow lovers of Korea.  They really got a kick out of my Walrus dart jersey.

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Down in old Virginny…

…Virginia Beach to be precise.

Here for a rather large annual dart tournament, the aptly named Virginia Beach Dart Classic.  An interesting ride getting out here.  From an amazing sunrise in South Carolina to a surprising heavy snowstorm in Virginia.  The sun was quite beautiful until it began frying my retinas.  Driving blind is not as much fun as it sounds.  It’s 36 degrees Fahrenheit, so at least the snow wasn’t sticking.  There is, however, an icy wind a blowing that makes standing on the 6th floor balcony quite painful.

Oh, the reason I was up before the sun this morning was to make the 6 hour drive and arrive in time for the two o’clock start of the Pro Cricket qualifying event.  Having arrived at just prior to one, I was feeling rather pleased with myself.  Right up until I noticed the start time is four o’clock.  Duh!  In my defense, the actual Pro Cricket event does start at two tomorrow.  So you can see how I might have been confused.

Speaking of Pros, I see from the sign-up list that some of the top darters in the country have turned out.  That should make the punishment that will shortly be coming my way all the more delicious.

Ah well, there’s always the view…

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