An Open Letter to Oakland Coliseum and Live Nation

On a peaceful afternoon about 18 months ago (November 2, 2009 to be exact) I bought three tickets to the U2 360 tour. At least one of these tickets was to be my brother in law's Christmas present, and my sister and I were particularly thrilled because they were pretty decent seats, and we hadn't seen U2 in years. So more than $800 lighter, I put the concert in the back of my mind as it was a months away.

Make that years.

To be fair, no one could have predicted Bono's injury, and the resultant need to reschedule the concert for the next year. Where this becomes hauntingly relevant though is when you consider that this means that Live Nation and the Oakland Coliseum had an extra year to plan.

Last week I received my email reminding me of the concert and noting that if possible, I should consider taking BART to the show as it drops you off right there. Since I was coming from work in downtown SF, this made eminent sense, although my sister and her husband didn't have this option as they were coming from Menlo Park, where their babysitter was taking her turn with the kids that night. They planned to leave MP at 7, as they were not terribly concerned about opening act, and I planned on meeting them around 8.

As scheduled, I took the 7:47 train to the venue and arrived shortly after 8. Lenny was still on - I heard maybe 4 songs. I checked with my sister and she noted that traffic was bad, but generally anticipated being able to meet up around 9. What I did not anticipate, however, was the fact that they would not show up until 10:15, well after Bono and co took the stage at 9:30. Why?

The simple answer is a total disregard for planning or consideration. As they recounted to me, parking in the main lot was completely decimated. They where stuck in the freeway ramp for over an hour and a half, and then, once they made it near the main lot, were told that they had to go to overflow parking (which they were also told was free- lie) except there was no one to explain where that was. It then took them 15 minutes to determine where the overflow parking was, which turned out to be over the freeway and at least a mile away from the venue. All that to get charged the full 40 dollars for parking which appeared to be nothing less than an abandoned feed lot, pitted and rutted with no discernible lines and choked with overgrowth. After a hike, which took no less than 20 minutes at top speed, they finally showed up on the tenth song, halfway through the main set. All this for the discounted rate of $842.25.

I understand that some will say that they should have left earlier, that they should have taken BART. These things may be true, but they don't change the fundamental facts:

1. The promoters and the venue know exactly how many tickets they sold and they should be prepared for the eventuality that they need at least half that number for parking. Clearly you knew that that was a risk as there was overflow parking which could not have been put into place as the event unfolded last night. Would it have been so hard to inform your patrons of the distance and likely time involved in the reminder blast? Moreover, given that I noticed a number of event trucks parked on the main lot, you should have taken into account the fact that those spots were eliminated for concertgoers. When people are opting to abandon their cars on the side of the road because they don't know where else to go, and when they are making the decision to give up on the show completely after being in the car for 4+ hours, there is clearly a problem.

2. The venue is designed for parking for two major venues - the Coliseum and the Oracle arena. How is it that the main lot does not have capacity for merely one of the venues?

3. Why is overflow parking the same rate as the main lot? There should have been a discounted rate for the mile hike. C'mon guys, even the airport is aware of that rule.

4. It is completely unacceptable that there was insufficient/inadequate traffic regulation between the overfill and the main lot such that it was unsafe. What is the purpose of having cops around for at a large event if they are not ensuring safe passage?

5. BART is simply not an option for everyone. You may not be able to find a reasonable station to begin with, and the fact of the matter is that I find it ridiculous that the station is not going to stay open past 12:20 when the show itself ran until 11:55. The station is not equipped to deal with that many people squeezed in for 20 minutes. Frankly because of the lack of accommodation for the lateness of the show, people may chose to opt out of BART in favor of driving, leading to the problems listed above. It's just a perfect storm.

6. Some may say this is not U2's fault or anyone else's fault except for people who chose to come later or not plan to be at the venue 4 hours in advance. I simply disagree. Part of the reason we pay for all of the crazy surcharges and facilities fees is for the expectation that the venue have a plan for basic contingencies - like making sure that people who paid for tickets can park at the venue of the show they are attending. If this was beyond Live Nation, the Oakland Coliseum and the City of Oakland, then they certainly shouldn't be pocketing all the fees and profits they obtained for being able to host the show.

Bottom line: Live Nation, Oakland Coliseum - you are a disgrace. U2 - please take notice of this. It's a sad reflection on your respect for fans if you don't recognize that this was a travesty. All people wanted to do was see you guys perform and this was just a slap in the face.

P.s. Think this was a a limited phenomena? Think again after you take a look at this - http://dustinkeirstead.blogspot.com/2011/06/traffic-ruins-my-u2-concert-did-it.html

Night swimming

Last week, in a fit of motivation and an inability to deny the siren call of the view of the pools from our office, I joined the local swim and tennis club. How very waspy! To be honest, I did not technically join the tennis part of the club, and therefore will not be playing in any of the leagues or anything, but I do have the pool. Ah, the pool...I love it. I went for the first time on Tuesday, flush with the concept of getting up early and having a refreshing swim before heading to the office, and it was fantastic. I was then beset by my inability to wake up early and didn't make it there either Wednesday or Thursday mornings. But after an excessively long day at work, I girded the loins and jaunted over for a late night swim tonight, and I am so glad that I did.

Here's the thing - swimming is one of those activities that is incredibly good for you, but doesn't feel like quite the chore that running does to me. Don't get me wrong - I like running a great deal (much to my, and I'm sure, all my elementary school gym teachers', everlasting surprise), but that doesn't change the fact that running makes me sweat like a pig and pant like a debilitated dog. All things which point to its great cardiovascular effect, but also make it somewhat arduous and less than attractive. Swimming, though, feels very natural and peaceful to me, which is a major irony to my entire family, as I basically almost drowned as a child during my first swim lessons, and then was kept from swimming without multiple flotation devices until I was 12. Maybe it's the weightlessness (which is tempered by the horror of swimsuits) but I feel very at home in the water, whether it's in a pool, or in the ocean. And as I swam tonight in simple, leisurely laps, with the wide expanse of the night sky above me and the shimmering of the lights through the water of the pool, I thought that it was a very good thing to be able to find that comfort at the end of a difficult day.

Strange pathways

As some of you know, I wholeheartedly scoffed at any number of new media phenomena when they first cropped up. I had no understanding of, nor any real use for twitter, and I certainly mocked the iPad when it first came out as I was a steadfast kindle fan. Fast forward a year, and suddenly I understand how this happens. First I start looking at various blogs. Then I notice that half of my favorite bloggers are twittering. And then I start thinking that I would be much more likely to blog if I don't have to wait until I get home to do it, and which point the allures of various things such as food, sleep and entertainment start taking precedence. And now here I am, blogging through the vaunted internet cloud, and typing on my new, shockingly girlish iPad which is white and pink. (Don't ask me what happened. I went in with the best intentions of getting a black one and a blue cover but somehow got swindled into the white one with a pink cover under the auspices of being told that it was very "Hello Kitty." I make no excuses.)

Anyhow, I'm still loyal to my kindle. I consider this more a multimedia platform, and a way to separate church and state, so to speak. Consider this an experiment of sorts - is it true that increased accessibility can lead to greater communication or will this simply end up being a deluge of rather useless minutiae? Only time will tell. I'm trying out a new blogging app called Blogsy, so we'll see how that works. But to set the tone right as we embark on this new venture, here's a random photo of Yukie intent on her donut frisbee to get us started.

Much in the way she is completely fixated on her activity, I myself have been fascinated by my new techie toy. How embarrassing it is to be such a sucker for early adoption. Regardless! Here's to the grand experiment!

semantics

Yesterday, as I was ruing the fact that I hadn't worked out in days other than during my bike commute, and melting the butter for a truly wicked chocolate sheet cake (http://thepioneerwoman.com/cooking/2007/06/the_best_chocol/), I started to think about how difficult it is for me to be committed. Indeed, I would even argue that I fear commitment (see, e.g., male/female relationships of a personal nature). Thus, we see the repetitive cycles of my life - abandoned diets, short-lived exercise efforts and the like, and the accompanying whine of "it's too hard to commit."

Yet on the other hand, my life is overwhelmingly full of what I would term obsessive interests. For example, the devotion to crafts can be demonstrated with my persistence in finishing yet another row even though it's 3:00 a.m. and I have to go work the next day. Or, the need to continue making fantastical, really gorgeous baked desserts despite living by myself with only choco-allergic canines. And then there are the 16 (or 54, or 108) episode Korean drama marathons. All shining exemplars of obsession, which, it need be said, are not limited to extracurriculars. My type-A attention to detail regarding professional writing is also closely related to the obsession gene.

Commitment feels hard. In theory, it involves working against one's nature, diligence, and a stoic kind of Protestant work ethic. Obsession though, is easy in its involuntary, whimsical nature, as it is more akin to surrendering to the tide of your interests. Regardless, both involve immersion in an activity and true dedication. It's just that one is much more fun and feels infinitely easier, rather than a trial of patience.


So I'd like to say, screw commitment. Isn't it possible to reframe one's mind into productive obsession? Can't I become obsessed with exercise, and whole grains, and a more positive attitude towards work? I think it's worth a try. After all, it all depends on perspective.

blog delinquency, I banish thee!

A quick update:

1. As always, coming late to the party, I am now kind of totally obsessed with http://www.bakerella.com and http://thepioneerwoman.com.

2. I started a new job. Sigh.

3. I started trying to date again. Sigh part deux.

4. I am crocheting (!) a ginormous blanket for myself. My sister has already asked for one. Only through the magic of familial bonds and genetic recognition will I be willing to undertake this herculean task again for her.

5. I got a new adorable bike. I have, upon further consideration and a month of on-again-off-again contemplation, now named her. She is MolaMola, the Commuter Sunfish. Pictures to follow.

6. MolaMola is still in the process of being properly accessorized.

7. Yesterday, a true SF-bike folk asked me something in inexplicable biker code. Apparently my disguise is working. Also, now you too shall know that evidently there is some kind of group ride along the bay and through the city on Wednesday nights that involves drinking called the butter ride or the butter lap. See, this blog is educational too.

8. I made red velvet cake bombs (I cannot bear to name them cake balls because I am evidently quite puerile) this week and they have gone over exceedingly well. See #1.

9. I think I need a Jelly roll pan. Id.

era's end

It sounds so dramatic, to think that we are standing at the precipice, overlooking the next decade already. I can still remember the drama surrounding the thought of the new millennium, and the welling feeling that great things lay ahead.

Today, at the end of 2010, there is a niggling sense of dissatisfaction. Reflecting on the past year, I can't help but feel unfulfilled. If you asked me, I couldn't say that there was any great horrifying event that marred this year for me. Certainly not at the level that many people have to deal with, and for that, I am tremendously thankful. Regardless, I feel as though this year was a series of little disappointments, a lack of progress, and a sense of limbo that has been difficult to shake. I am discontented and frustrated, and it threatens to color my recollection of the year.

Mulling it over with my mother, I mentioned how other friends of mine seemed to have such good years, and she responded with the chestnut that it's human nature to believe other people are happier than ourselves, but in reality, no one is that happy. Now, that's a typically depressing thought from her, but it led me to think further - is it a question of managing expectations? Isn't it true that if we don't expect anything of ourselves, we won't disappoint ourselves either?

Well, yes, but who wants to live like that?

It seems to me that that may just be an excuse to race to the bottom. With no expectations, no hope for achievement, it's true one won't be disappointed, but then there's nothing to inspire ourselves. If we take the paved road that we can see stretching in front of us to the clearly marked destination, things may happen, but it's pure luck. The overall journey, despite that, is completely predictable. You end up where the path said you were going to go. But what if we take the weirdo path that is overgrown and unmarked? It's risky, but possibly rife with great rewards. Unfortunately, the very drive, the striving for something better, naturally ends in at least some sense of defeat for some of the time. After all, no one wins all the time.

What's the answer? It must be a balance between the two - having goals to work towards, and learning to savor the little victories along the way. Self help experts always say you should break down great goals into manageable steps, and there's something to that. Perhaps I haven't changed my life hugely this past year - there are elements that I wanted to change and haven't. But I have managed to accomplish some great things, and I am proud of that. Next year, I'll tackle some other goals, and maybe I'll nail some, and some will surely continue to slide. We'll see.

So, sayonara 2010. You weren't the worst year, and you weren't the best. But I got through you a stronger person, and I'm sure 2011 will be just as challenging. Not because I'm passively allowing things to happen to me, but because I'm looking for that hilly goat track off to the side that hopefully leads to the better view.

The knee high perspective

There's this amazing thing that happens when children in your sphere discover the process of conveying how they see the world to you. It may be in stories, in song, or in interpretive dance. More likely, though, I find that the advent of digital photography, and its attendant freedom from ordinary monetary cost associated with

usage (until your camera finds itself in pieces or in water) means that more and more children are turning into amateur shutterbugs.

My niece Natalie took possession of my camera over Memorial Weekend, and I utterly forgot to look into what she had done with it. Instead, I continued to take my own photos once I regained possession, and only discovered once I hooked it up to the mothership what an adventure she had gone on. It's fascinating to see what she finds worthy of interest, and from what I can tell, she REALLY loves my dogs. (To be honest, I was well aware of that for any number of reasons.) But in addition to revealing her sweetly obsessive interest in documenting the hijinks of my older dog Yukie, her photos are like a little love letter to those things she adores.* Her sister. The backyard. Her flip flops. The dogs. The ball thrower. The garden. Flowers.

It's a good list. I think we should each have one to remind us of the things that bring us happiness.

*To be fair, there were photos of her mom and me, which I have omitted to save the innocent. Also, her dad was away, or surely he would be represented as well.