The Exploits of a TurboGeek!

Was the question I asked, and here’s why…

So, I’m driving home from a local diner, when I slow down to make what I believe to be a legal U-Turn at an unlit traffic light.  As I do this, the car that was passing me in the far right lane abruptly stops, and makes what I believe to be an illegal U-Turn from the far right lane to fall in behind me.

Of course, being the conscientious driver I am, I note via the side-view mirror that the vehicle behind me broadside in their turn is in fact a member of the Polizei fleet.  So, as I continue to drive in a calm and reasonable fashion with my cruise control set at 50 kph, I nonchalantly fail to notice the Polizei car creeping up past me on my left.  As it is just about broadside, I casually glance over at the word Polizei emblazoned on the door, and then I look up at the inhabitants of the vehicle, who are pointedly looking at me.

That doesn’t say enough.  The passenger is looking directly at me.  Not looking in my direction, but looking directly at me.  Not only that, the driver, is leaning forward, such that he appears to be clinging to the steering wheel, with his neck craned so that he too can look directly at me.  At this point, I permit myself to appear surprised as I look at them.  They hold position next to me, so I slow down a bit.

They slow down a bit.

I speed up, and they speed up to match me.  They creep a bit further ahead of me.  The tactician in me notes that this is the position I’d assume if I were concerned that someone was about to jet past me, and I was interested in running them off the road.  I slow down again, and put on my flashers because I was then going about half the speed limit, and was probably an impediment to other traffic (were any present).

The Polizei also slowed down and continued to keep pace with me.  At no point did they put on their lights, or make any indication as to why they found me so interesting.  Since I had no indication that I was being pulled over, nor did I think I had disobeyed the law, I accelerated gently back up to 50kph, and passed the cop on the right.  This would generally be illegal in Germany however they were not doing the speed limit, and we were traveling at (or below) 50kph, in which case this maneuver is perfectly legal.

After I passed them, they followed me for a moment and then turned on the lights to pull me over.  I rolled down my window, and awaited their approach.  “Good Evening.” He said, as I said “Guten Abend.”  (Good Evening, auf Deutsch).

“Deutsch oder Englisch?” he asked, to which I replied.  “Englisch ist besser.” (English is better.)

He asked for my license and registration, which I produced, and then inspected them.  After a brief pause, I asked:

“Did I do something wrong?”

To which he replied:

“Nope.”

So I sat there for a moment a bit puzzled.  He eventually asked why I was going slow when he was beside me, so I explained that I didn’t know why he was driving so slow beside me, and I thought he intended to pull me over.  He explained that he would turn on his lights to do that…  I figure that was a bit self-evident as that was what he ultimately did to initiate this entire conversation.

And that was it.  He gave back my paperwork and bid me a good evening.  Chryss, who is visiting right now and was a passenger during this adventure thinks that he and his partner just wanted to look at my car.  I don’t quite agree, since they probably see cars like mine whenever they want, and they did go through some amount of trouble to stay behind me when I turned.  I think they just felt like messing with me.

So, here is a quick post for you.  As fate would have it, I did actually get this weekend off.  Many of us did, in fact; which is a bit of a surprise.  So, I’m going back to Dublin to visit some friends I haven’t seen in far too long.  If you want a souvenir, you can send a text to my German cell (or even call), and I’ll do my best to hook you up.

The other good news is, I bought a new mini easy to carry digital camera.  So hopefully I’ll have lots of nice photos to post for you to see.  In the mean time, here is a nice picture of my brother from when we went to Amsterdam.  If you’re my sister, don’t tell anyone.  I’m going to have it framed and I want to show it off when you all get here.  If you’re not my sister, you can tell/show anyone you might like to show/tell…

This is in the Heineken Brewery in Amsterdam.  He’s climbed into one of the giant brewing vats, and we’ve foolishly recorded this crime on camera.  Well, that is why one trespasses in this fashion I guess   Enjoy!

Well, I figure since I’ve actually had my head examined recently, and also gone on a bit of a dream review, I’ll stick with the theme of stuff in my head.  Fear not, things won’t be nearly as dreadful as the last post.  I do want to point out that for the most part, my dreams are very entertaining.  I’ve actually laughed myself awake on more than one occasion.  Other than being a bit hard to explain when I’ve got company, it is a great way to start the day.

Today, I want to talk about one of my happiest memories ever.  One of those memories that is so special and so dear that even when it was happening, I knew that I had to try and press every detail into my brain so that I could recall it with warmth whenever I was feeling down.

And with warmth, was how it started

My undergraduate college, which most of you know and some of you attended, had an awesome camp setup in the middle of the more inaccessible parts of the Adirondacks.  Part of the camp was only accessible 8 months of the year; 4 months by boat, and 4 months by driving over the ice.  For the rest of the year, you just couldn’t go there (or home).  One winter, the Physics club (of which I was not only a member, but the president) planned a trip up for some winter fun and astronomy.

It was one of those scenes that you see in a movie.  A single path broke the expanse of snow that blanketed the icy surface of the lake.  The path was 30 inches of ice, that we drove along while we reminded ourselves that a mere 4 inches is more than enough to support a vehicle every time a crack would reverberate across the ice-scape.

Safely at the camp, we spent the first night out on the lake with telescopes pointed skyward (duh) and enjoying the bitter cold for the humidity it sucked out of the air.  The clearest skies I’ve ever seen.  The absent humidity also helped in that it meant there was no moisture to wick away your body heat in the -20 degree (F!) weather. We had snow fights and skiing, and never got wet; it was so cold the snow wouldn’t melt on our bodies.

This entry isn’t about the 5 foot deep snow drifts that would swallow us whole, or the Polar Bear Swimming after the Sauna, or the cross country skiing and sunbathing on the lake.  It is about dinner.

The nice thing about camp life is we had to take care of ourselves.  So, we took turns cooking and cleaning and having fun.  The memory I have most clearly embedded was dinner on day two.  Walking in at 5pm, in near pitch darkness, out from the cold.  The cabin radiated warmth we could almost see before we felt it.

I remember the blast of warm air as I opened the log cabin door, and how it immediately permeated my thick winter clothes.  I remember the smell of Macaroni and Cheese baking in the oven, with the mingling of cheese and noodles so powerful and clear that my nose instinctively knew where the oven was located though this was my first time in this building.  I remember the sound of a piano playing, and trying in vain to place the music only to find that one of the students who had joined us was playing a classical piece she had composed as a youth.  I remember the feeling of my pupils contracting as light spilled over every surface and rendered me temporarily blind, and closing my eyes to both combat the blindness and to turn my attention to focus more deeply on every other sense that was being overloaded.
In just one instant, every sense was overwhelmed with a sense of warmth and belonging.  It was one of the most beautiful moments I’ve ever experienced.

Then I got pegged in the back of the head with a snowball.

Not really.  We spent the night eating, drinking and playing cards.  It was great fun.  The snowball probably would have been funnier though.

I had kind of a revelation today.

Today isn’t a great day.  It isn’t a bad one by any stretch, just not good.  I’m a bit sadder and lonelier than normal, but that isn’t so bad.  I’m also terribly fatigued, which means that my logical defenses fall, and I am forced to let myself feel things I generally don’t allow.  I was talking with a dear friend on IM, as I watched myself fall slightly apart, and we were talking about things that make us sad.

Do you know what always crushes me?  City of Angels.  I tried to watch it in German, and I couldn’t make it through the first 5 minutes without losing it.  I kept watching though, because while the movie is sad, it touches me a bit closer to home than it probably does for most.  On the evening of Feb 13th, 1998, one of my closest childhood friends was murdered.  After spending a few months in a daze, and going through a mildly self-destructive phase, I tried to get on with my life.  The first movie I saw, in the theater, on a double date, was City of Angels.

I won’t go into it now, but the movie still crushes me.

Then, I was remembering the last time I had a dream with Peter in it.  When he and I were kids, we used to play this bizarre board game (that I have never since laid eyes upon) which was a bizarre custom variant of chess.  These little plastic pieces that all moved on this weird board.  We played it all the time.

In the dream, Pete and I were playing this game.  As usual, he was talking about how he was going to win but that I couldn’t see it (which was generally true).  Also in the dream, I remember suddenly becoming conscious of the fact that Pete was dead, and that the only way this could happen would be if I was dreaming.  Naturally, thinking about dreaming isn’t always conducive to the dreaming process.

Somehow, though, I was able to over-ride the mental wake-up call and keep dreaming.  I remember thinking to myself:  “Just focus.  Stay in the dream.  I don’t know when this will happen again.  Just keep playing.”

One of the interesting features of this dream was that every time I looked away from the board and back again, the configuration had completely changed.  I remember in the dream, quietly thinking that this was normal, and that popular dream analysis asserted that an easy “check” for whether one was dreaming was to repeatedly read the same text, and see if it was consistent.  The board would probably have the same constraint, but there was nothing I could do about it.  I remember the schism as the calm logical part of me tried to ignore the “dream-ness” of what was happening so I could stay in the dream but while the emotional part of me freaked out about how these factors were making it impossible to keep participating.
I just remember the mounting concern that was growing into a panic while the emotions started to win out.

I didn’t know which pieces to move, or how to defend.  I didn’t even know which ones were mine, but Peter apparently did because he kept scolding me for moving his. At some point, the pressure became too much.  I felt my emotions derailing, and I knew I was about to burst into tears in the dream because I couldn’t figure out how to not stop dreaming.

Somewhere in the quiet of my mind, the cool logic that seems to steer me through the hardest trials in life pierced the panic and just told me to enjoy the game.  I made some pointless move, and then I just sat back, so that I could regard the board, and Peter at the same time (which kept the board from changing on me).  Then I watched him beat me in one move.

For that instant, I stopped worrying about how to keep the momentum going, and figured out how to enjoy the moment.  For that instant, the dream was a real thing, and it was just like it had been while we were kids (right down to the part where I lost).  A board game, with a close friend.

Then I woke up.

When I woke, I most clearly remember feeling the sense of contentment for the dream ebb into absolute dread as my mind slowly woke up to the fact that the dream was over, and Peter had just died again.

It took the better part of that day, and weeks (months, and years) to just remember what the dream was telling me.  Enjoy the moment.  Play with your friends.  Cherish the now.
The question is, can I actually put that lesson to the test?  I think I do.  I think I understand a bit better now the role of games in my life too.   I think maybe… Maybe there isn’t much more to it than that.  A dream, and a remembrance of someone important to me.

Sometimes it hurts, and I miss people.  Sometimes it is a pleasant pain, because it reflexively reminds me how important the people I’m missing are.  Tonight, I’ll sleep.  Tomorrow I’ll remember this, and be a bit embarrassed for having felt this much, and actually revealed it.  Tomorrow I’ll remember this, and it will remind me of things I cherish in life.

I think that says it all.  D# made this cool picture of my skull, so here you go!