Early College Visits Part Two

So we're visiting colleges a little early to ease into the process.  Not for the boys' sake but for mine.  If I think about it too much for too long, I end up sitting with my head between my knees, keening on, "they'regoingtoleaveandnevercallandAbbey'sgoingtodieandI'llbeleftinanemptyhousewithashittylittlewhitedogthatstillpeesonthebathroomrugaaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhhh"

So UCLA...we didn't take an official tour but instead wondered around the campus which is beautiful, Interesting architecture, rolling hills, huge old growth trees and the kicker? They were setting up for an incoming freshman event so there was a whole Fair atmosphere. White tents, lots of signs pointing things out, party on the roof of the physics building, families wandering around, and lots of helpful students asking if we needed directions.  It was like a movie set.  Completely unlike my college campus.  I was fine.

UC Irving was different.  And more like my college.  Trees had clearly been cut down to accommodate the construct of ugly utilitarian buildings that all kinda centered around a fountain area.  Uh-oh, this is hitting close to home.  Worse? We were signed up for a tour so we ended up waiting with a couple hundred other folks.  The first groups were incoming freshman (again, really?) who were touring the various housing and food service options available.  Again, hitting close to home. Rather than ask for the car keys so I could sit in the parking garage and skip the tour, I found a spot in the shade to regroup.  John went in search of Starbucks and the boys joined me under a tree.

Sam, "Are you okay?"
Me, "Uh, okay, kinda."
Sam, "What's wrong?"
Me, "Oh, just, you know.."
Sam, "Is it because you're 50?"
Me, "What?! NO! Well, I mean, now it is!"

And I got up and stormed off to find John.

Our tour group consisted of 30-40 kids and parents.  I realize these tours are optional but they should really be mandatory.  One of the first things pointed out was a housing area named Middle Earth. No, the other housing areas were not named Hogwarts, or Star Fleet Academy. They were typical boring names.  Middle Earth was under construction. There were building new dorms, to be called, the Two Towers.  The four of us were the only ones in the group to react. Really?  Towards the end of the tour, the guide pointed out the emergency calls boxes that were all over campus. He explained their purpose then told the story of the last time the system was used for an actual emergency rather than to request an escort after dark. Here's the story.  A student was walking across campus. It was late enough that most of the lights were off but the few that were on, were reflecting off the disco ball key chain hanging off the back of her backpack.  This shiny, sparkly disco ball attracted the attention of a herd of raccoons (which is called a Gaze, my friend, Jessica, looked that up) a gaze of raccoons. She ends up being chased across campus by the gaze and finally calls for security from an emergency call box and they show up and have to Tase the raccoons.  or is it Taze? I don't know.  Anyway, I was rolling! But when I looked around no one else was laughing. I started wondering if they didn't know what raccoons were or if perhaps english was a second language.  I immediately judged all of them and decided that if you don't laugh at Middle Earth or the rabid raccoon story, your application for admittance should get shit-canned.

As the tour was ending, I was getting verklempt again.
Tom, "Are you okay?"
Me, "Oh...I don't know.."
Tom, "Don't worry. He's not going to get in."
Me, "wh..."
Tom, "I mean, neither of us. He won't get in here and I won't get into UCLA."
Me, "I don't kn..."
Tom, "No, we'll both end up in some alley with a needle hanging out of our arm..."
Me, "OH MY GOD! Get away from me! Go stay over there with your brother...jesus..."

See these tours are helping a lot.  The more we go on, the less and less I miss them. I mean, really....

Early College Visits Part One

So we were down in L.A. this weekend and ended up checking out a few colleges.  That was not the original purpose of the trip; John got tickets for a taping of Battle Bots so we thought we'd swing by UCLA and UC-Irvine while we were down there.  Those are Tom and Sam's first choice schools, respectively. At least for now.  FYI, the acceptance rate for UCLA is 17% and UCI is 40%.  Best of luck to ya.  Anyway.

I am not a fan of UCLA because I hate LA. For several reasons. Mainly, 1. The traffic fucking sucks. and 2. the closest airport is LAX.  LAX is The Worst Airport On The Planet. Nuh-uh-uh-uh, don't argue with me. It's the worst because it sucks and it's in LA which if full of crack houses, rent boys and broken dreams.  Or maybe I've read too much Harry Bosch. I've have connections through LAX that required me to leave not only security but the actual building to get to the other gate. WTF? After arriving, we followed the signs to baggage claim and ended up on a 12 ft sq. mezzanine with a escalator to the arrivals curb on one side and a pedestrian bridge to a parking garage on the other. Where the fuck is baggage claim? I already want to go home.

Every single part of that airport seems like an afterthought.  Meeting a driver? They'll be standing in a 6x6 entry area at the bottom of an escalator. Looking for the security area? It's directly at the top of a flight of stairs  Need a bathroom? It's at the very end of the terminal up two flights of stairs (no escalator). And what's with all the fucking stairs? No other airport requires you to change floors as often as LAX. And it's all corners, you have to turn 7 corners before getting anyway you need to be and half the time you end up in a hallway. Think about those two things; hallways and corners. Anytime you end up in a hallway, in an airport, it's feels very wrong. And how many corners are there between your airport's security and the gate? Maybe 1. Probably 0. I fucking hate that airport. All that bullshit before you've even merged onto the freeway and, boom, UCLA is one of my least favorite colleges in the state. That and it's really big and really far away from home....

Side note, the couple seated in front of me had clearly never been to LAX because they kept looking out the little window and smiling.  They were blown away by the big A380 that seats more than 500 passengers! Wow! No, not wow. Over 500 passengers? Just look at the slice of Americana we're currently surrounded by and times it by 6.  That plane is nothing short of hell on earth.  That aircraft should be a flying penitentiary. White collar crime would disappear overnight.  Sure you could defraud your investors but if you're caught you could end up flying to New Zealand on an A380, with tourists, with a mother of 'very special' children who have never heard the term 'inside voice', with 97 people who've never used an overhead bin in their entire fucking lives. I'd rather been shot.

Anyway, turns out UCLA is a really nice college.

2 Hrs in the Madhouse

So I finished reading "Ten Days in the Mad-House" which is Nellie Bly's account of her time at a women's insane asylum at Blackwell's Island in New York.  It was written in the late 1800's so I was a little worried that it would be a hard read but it turns out Nellie Bly has a very modern voice.

I always thought that Nellie Bly had herself committed but she actually went as a request from her editor to find out the conditions in the institution.  Her main concern, as was mine, and my friend Carol's, was how she'd get out after the 10 days.  How do you explain to someone that you're not crazy? Especially when you're dressed in someone else's pajamas and sitting next to some chick who thinks they're Marie Antoinette?  "Oh, I agree, she's completely nuts. But I'm not. Trust me." Well, the editor, and the newspaper's lawyer, assure her that they'll get her out and she agrees to go which makes me question her sanity and now we're in a bit of a Catch-22 but anyway.

So here's what it took to get oneself committed in the late 1800's.  For the first 24 hours, all she did was wander into a boarding house claiming not to remember anything and that she lost her suitcases.  Well, there's me committed.  After 2 or 3 times of walking into a room and wondering why I came in or a 5 minute walking tour of a parking lot looking for my car, and Bob's your uncle, I'm clearly crazy.  After that, she never lied about anything. Oh, I take that back, when asked if she was from Cuba, she said, "uuuuh, sure." So 24 hours into her investigative journalism assignment and she's in front of a judge and sent to Bellevue Hospital for evaluation. Now, based on my extensive viewing of Law & Order, I know two things, 1, there's no way in hell you'd get in front of a judge within 24 hours in this day and age and 2, Bellevue is where they send the crazy people.

So far she's batting 1000. The ladies at the boarding house think she's crazy, the cops think she's crazy and a judge thinks she crazy.  She ends up at Bellevue where there are 5 other ladies being evaluated. One is recuperating from an illness, not crazy (been there), another isn't talking (been there too), a couple don't have a male guardian (so far so good) and the last doesn't speak English.  3 out of 4, and I'm still on my way to the Nut House.

Now the last one interests me, because I couldn't decide if it would be better to speak English and know what was going on or not speak English and have no clue.  Sure it would be terrifying to not know what the hell was going on but you would still have some hope that everything would be straightened out eventually.  If you spoke English, you'd know exactly how fucked you were. Po-ta-to, Po-tah-to, I really couldn't decide.....

So where are we....48 hours in and now a couple doctors and several nurses are all convinced she's insane. Keep in mind she's speaking and behaving rationally and not lying about anything. The evaluation of her mental status consisted of a handful of questions, a check of her pulse and eye dilation, and some bozo measured her head. I think it took three days for her to end up on Blackwell Island. Maybe four.  Either way it was Not.  Enough.  Days.

By now, her biggest problem was that she'd barely slept.  She forced herself to stay awake at the boarding house so that she would appear more convincing. After that, it was similar to today in that you're trying to sleep in the hospital but the damn nurses keep coming in a waking you up.  Add in the actually crazy people making crazy noises and anyone would be climbing the walls.  "WOULD SOMEONE SHUT HER UP! NO, I'M NOT CRAZY BUT SHE'S BEEN SINGING BOHEMIAN RHAPSODY FOR THREE HOURS. AND I CA..STOP IT...IT'S NOT ME..I'M NOT CRA...AAAAAHHHHHHH"  And they throw away the key.  Of course Nellie is still concerned that someone will 'discover' that she's not really nuts, bless her heart.

Needless to say the conditions were horrific, the staff was horrific and the 1800s in general were horrific.  I did see a light at the end of the tunnel when one lady was released because her husband showed up to take her out.  He didn't have paperwork or anything.  "Oh, you want her? Fine, take her. We've got plenty more where she came from."  How long before someone showed up to get me because they couldn't find the car keys? 2 hours? 3 hours? And I'd probably be pissed off and refuse to leave, "Why can't you just leave the keys in the dish? I don't know why this is so difficult? You walk right past it!" "What do you mean you don't know where the vacuum cleaner is? We've lived in that house for 4 years! Do you really want to stand there and tell me that you never vacuumed?  IN FOUR YEARS?"  "Have you fed the dogs even once?" "Forget it, I'm staying. I don't care how many people have worn these pajamas...jesus chri....." and I storm off, muttering and waving my arms.
Like a crazy person.