Okie(s) in Florida

And another thing…

As you can imagine, there’s a lot of pedestrians in south Florida. The weather makes for a nice walk now and then (something I could stand to do). But here’s what I don’t understand about many of the creatures known as Homo Sapien Floridianus:

Cars don’t seem to scare some members of this subspecies. In a normal world, people use crosswalks and wait until the WALK sign flashes. Not in south Florida.

It’s almost like the world is one big Frogger game for some of these people, who I assume make up for their lack of fear with a lack of intelligence. Going to and from work in downtown can be a scary drive, a time when you have to not just watch out for idiot drivers, but also idiot walkers.

This is south Florida.

This past weekend, when a colleague asked how I liked Florida, it went something like, “I like it. I like a lot. However, there are some stupid people down there. And the stupid ones — they aren’t just stupid. They’re a special kind of stupid.”

A few years ago, on a spring break run from Stillwater, Oklahoma to Orlando, Jeff and I had a blowout. It was somewhere south of Macon, Georgia. I decided to call 911 to get a blinking light-equipped car to park behind us, given traffic was heavy, rain was starting to pour down, and I didn’t want to turn into one of those videos you see on Fox.

Cop finally shows up. By then, the tire is changed and we’re repacking the car.

Deputy: “What ya’ll boys doin’?”

Me: “Well, we’re changing a tire.”

Deputy: “Well, I can SEE that.”

Me: “(Wondering why he asked the Captain Obvious question, then) Do you know a place where we can get a new tire in the morning?”

Deputy: “No.”

Me: “Come again?”

Deputy: “Boy…Tomorrow’s Sunday….And you in Georgiaaaaaa….”

Me: “Oh.”

The next morning Jeff and I found an open automotive center, despite it being Sunday, and we told the story to our mechanic, a 7-foot-tall look-a-like of that guy from The Green Mile (deep, intimidating baritone voice and all). He hit the nail on the head by saying, “There’s some stupid motherfuckers down here.”

So I guess there’s stupid people everywhere. Lord knows Oklahoma, home of the most widespread political corruption scam in history, has a few. OkScam, as it was known by federal authorities, was a kickback scheme that led to the conviction of about 2/3 of sitting county commissioners in the state and numerous contractors. I still believe Oklahoma’s county commissioners to be one of the most corrupt — and inept — political institutions in America, but the Legislature in Oklahoma is so overcome with paralysis when it comes to these overpaid and generally undereducated (but too politically powerful) glorified road-builders that it refuses to consider real reform.

That all being said, there’s a special kind of stupid here in Florida. And from now on, I will steal the homo sapiens Floridianus term in my tales of such stupidity.

My first tale involves drivers. You’d think in a place like Florida, the world’s biggest swamp, most would get the feel for driving in the rain. After all, in the summer it’s sort of like London — when it finishes raining, it rains some more.

But no. A few drops of rain and the interstate practically slows to a halt. People have their hazard lights on. The blue hairs are confused at the wet stuff, causing them to use the brake instead of gas. It’s mass hysteria.

And drivers here are crazy. It’s not the, “Oh, we’re in a massive metropolitan area-type of crazy drivers.” I’ve seen people drive the wrong way down a one-way street (usually involves someone of at least 70 years old). I’ve nearly been hit by people backing out at the grocery store that has to exceed the nationwide average of near-miss experiences by a single person, and traffic lights have no meaning to many.

You see? Homo sapiens Floridianus.

—ryan

Kathryn got a job.

She’ll be working at Big Brothers/Big Sisters of Broward. She starts tomorrow. I’ll let her tell you more, if she ever gets around to blogging.

But this does mean we could soon be in the puppy market.

-ryan

Well, I made it back from Phoenix/Tempe in one piece. Learned a lot from Jen LaFleur of the Dallas Morning News and Steve Doig, formerly of the Miami Herald and now at the Walter Cronkite School of Journalism.

I stayed at a little place called the Twin Palms. It wasn’t bad, but it wasn’t good either. The paint was peeling from the tub, the carpet was stained and I never quite figure out what was going on with the bottom sheet. It was almost as if they took a top sheet and tucked it into the corners.

But it was clean. I guess that’s what matters. Right?

I learned a hell of a lot and most of the trip was uneventful — except for Friday night. Myself and Ben P. decided it’d be a good idea to go out drinking after dinner.

Jen warned us.

We did it anyways.

However, it never occured to to me that things would get so out of hand. I’m convinced Ben P.’s suggestion of stopping at a Greek place for something called Ouzo was the turning point.

After a stumble-filled walk home, I called it a night. I’ll spare yo the gory details of the misery this night caused me. Needless to say, I walked into class — defying the Ben P.-set odds for no appearance,  I might add — about 30 minutes late.

I don’t think I’m ever drinking again. Or until the next time.

I’m in the process of updating the blog roll, so please shoot me a comment with your blog addresses so I can add them.

As I wrote on my journalism blog, I made it to Tempe in one piece. That’s apparently not a given, considering the recent relevations that the FAA had gotten so cozy with Southwest that bureaucrats even threatened a whistle-blower’s family.

Never thought I’d say, “Good thing I’m on Delta.”

So I made it to my hotel, the Twin Palms at Arizona State University. It’s your run-of-the-mill-type hotel, except for the peach doors, parrots in the lobby and dogs running around. I take it they belong to the owners. Woof.

It’s right across the street from ASU, which means I was able to save the company money by not renting a car. I’m here for IRE’s advanced statistics workshop. I’m stoked because I can learn some SPSS skillz, and pick up some advanced statistics learningzzz, a skill in which I think I’m lacking.

I forgot to bring my camera, so I won’t get any good pictures. But I’ll take a few with my crappy cell phone camera.

Time to get ready.

Edit: I am an idiot and had to put in the correct federal agency. 

-ryan

Well, I head to Arizona tomorrow for an IRE boot camp on advanced statistics. Ought to be a great learning experience, especially considering it’s Steve Doig and Jennifer LaFleur teaching something like four students. Great teacher to student ratio, huh?

If you’re a fan of How I Met Your Mother, check this out.

…anddddd Kathryn has a second job interview today. Wish her luck.

Time for me to get in the shower.

— ryan….

My blog….

So a Hollywood film is being filmed around me at work.

Marley and Me, a best-selling book written by a former Sun-Sentinel staffer, is being into a movie with Jennifer Aniston, Owen Wilson, that guy McSteamy or whatever from Grey’s Anatomy and Alan Arkin are all in the movie.

The little changing room is about 20 yards from my desk, so the stars — with the unfortunate exception of Madam Aniston — were walking by my desk all day.

A few observations:

— You have to have a monster ego to be in the movies. Every time one of the stars moved from the dressing room to the set, some guy would say into his walkie talkie, “Uh, yeah, Mr. Wilson is on his way.” It made me say, “Mr. McNeill is returning to his desk” when I sat back down after a water run.

— I need to get a movie job. It seems a lot of the people just stand around doing nothing. Or they stand around until their one single job is needed. Then stand around some more.

— The movie set is organized chaos. Shit is all over the place. High voltage cords hug the walls.

— We were told there’d be “minimal disruption.” If by minimal disruption, they meant, “total disruption,” that’d be accurate. It took me five minutes or more to get to a drinking fountain 20 yards away while they filmed a scene.

I’d love to take pictures, but apparently that’s a big no-no. I’ll see what I can do.

—ryan….

Snap.

So I never did get around to doing some of the things I wanted ’round here.

Now it’s a few months … an eternity … later and I’m married. So you’ll see some changes, particularly in the title above.

Kathryn wanted to do a blog where we both type. OK. So now it’s no longer Okie in Florida, but Okie(s) in Florida. I suppose I’ll need to change some of the links on the right side of this joint, considering there won’t be a lot of journalism nerd talk.

I guess I’ll need to make a second Wordpress install to do that.

Anyways, welcome. Sign up and stay a while.

– ryan