The Gong-Wing Chronicles

Orlando, FL - Day #3 Magic Kingdom

2011-12-10T18:47:00.001-08:00

Lying in bed at 7:30am I thought, no way! How is it possible that Thing 1 is up, awake, hyper, and ready to go, go? He hasn't slept much in 2 days, and it's been a long 2 days! When will he EVER want to rest? When will he sleep? Where is this energy coming from? And most importantly, how do I get some of that? Enough whining, get your butt out of bed you lazy piece of crap.Thus, began day 3. Like every vacation that we've been on, this one seemed just as physically demanding as the rest of them were. Unlike the others, however we were planning on visiting Magic Kingdom this day. But even as an adult with arguably childish hobbies, how excited can someone possibly become about visiting Magic Kingdom? When I was six years old I would have been going out of my mind, and in fact I think I did that one time my family and I went to Disneyland in LA (of course Mom put an end to that very quickly with yelling and beating which resulted in crying, screaming, and Kodak moments that immortalized that entire experience). This was going to be different, though! This time I was there as the parent with my own family, and my good buddies from residency were there with their families.

So out the door we went at 9am. I didn't realize that the parks actually open at 9am; I thought they were already open at 7 or 8am. No wonder the parking lots seemed almost empty when we arrived that day. Another peculiarity about at Magic Kingdom was how one actually entered the park. I was accustomed to parking the car, then riding a trolley to the front entrance to buy your ticket. Not the case here. For anyone who hasn't been here you have to park your car, then take the trolley to the main gate, then from the main gate take a train or boat over to the front entrance....and from the front entrance you ride a hot air balloon to this beacon in the mountains, where a pack of dogs and a sled team takes you to a guide awaiting your arrival on this glacier where you travel on foot until......Okay, not the latter three. But you get the point.

Izzy, Thing 1, and Thing 2. Looks like someone fell in the back there.

That bulge is my cel phone. No, really.

Magic Kingdom is where all the classic rides were, and I think we rode them all. One reason we were able to do so is because the weather wasn't very kind to us in the morning. Sure no one likes 80 degrees and 90% humidity at 9am, but 65 degrees and rain and drizzle aren't weather favorites on most people's list, either which was the case here. So the wait times weren't too bad for each ride; maybe 20 minutes was the longest. Snow white, Small World, Peter Pan, and Haunted Mansion were all done. The kids loved it.

Although it was tough to tell with Dryden's expression, or lack of. I couldn't tell if it was boredom, stoicism, or stimulus overload. It couldn't have been fatigue because this was the first ride of the morning.

Now, usually Small World is my least favorite ride and it's something that I never had a particular interest in. But am I must say I was very thankful for this ride on this day. It was during this ride that I had time enough, and it was dark enough that I figured out that my camera flash wasn't going off. Thank God for Sony's technology for capturing light in low-light areas. I would have had even worse pictures than I already had; no wonder everything was slightly blurry or under-exposed!

Stupid camera! Where's my auto-flash?

While we were walking, we saw this sign that said "start time: 2 minutes". I had no idea what it was, but everyone just starting running in this building. When in doubt, follow the leader. Following K, we plunged deeper and deeper into the dimly lit and winding corridors until we stopped at a counter with glasses. A show! And a 3-D one, no doubt. This would be interesting, as neither of the kids have ever watched anything in 3-D.

During the show, needless to say Thing 1 and his buddy Iz were having a blast, laughing it up through the whole show. At one point, Thing 1 was swiping the air in front of him, trying to grasp at the 3-D images he saw. Meanwhile, Thing 2 had no clue what was going on. He was content to watch the show WITHOUT the 3-D glasses, which meant watching a blurry show. Everytime I put the glasses on him, he'd watch the screen for 5 seconds and then start screaming. Granted, Thing 2 is a big chicken to begin with but when you're 2 years old and you're watching Donald Duck throwing a fit as if he were on an LSD high, I can see how things can get a little scary.

It was approaching noon, and there were still so many things to do and see. One thing that K recommended was a show that played every so often at the castle. Not sure what it was all about since we missed the beginning but there were characters, singing, dancing, and music.

Whatever it was, it was enough to entertain hundreds of people.

By the time the show was over, it was past noon and by that time we were all hungry. Time for lunch, but where to go? We ended up eating what Roxanna fondly referred to as park food in a little tavern/restaurant next to the Haunted Mansion. I'm still trying not to think of where they got their meat. That didn't stop Dryden from devouring his food, nor did it thwart his attempts at devouring his brother's, mother's or my food.

I actually tried taking pictures and video inside the Haunted Mansion but it was so bloody dark it was pointless. Now that I think about it, I should have taken out my old Sony bazooka video cam with night vision. Oh well, maybe next time.

After the Mansion, K and the family were "parked" out, having visited amusement parks all day for the 3rd or 4th day straight. And who can blame them? There's only so much happy-happy-cheerie-brightness one can take. I almost felt like I needed to watch Dark Knight to balance things out. But I had just the remedy for that, something that would enable us to stay at the park a few hours longer.

Pirates of the Caribbean! Another dark ride, literally. Luckily the whole Pirates mania had died down by this time (I guess some thanks should also go to the horrible writers of the 2nd and 3rd movies). Again, throughout most of the ride I was watching Dryden's face for some sort reaction, but like a Small World, Dryden was very stoic. Sensory overload, again, perhaps? He actually showed more emotion and excitement after the ride when we walked out in to the souvenir store for Pirates. Unfortunately, the same thing happened as in the Mansion and the whole ride wasn't very picture friendly. Oh well, no pictures of this, either.

Afterwards, we wandered for an hour or so, watched another parade, and then finally decided to go on one more ride before heading home. Of all rides, I'm not sure why we wanted to go back to Dumbo. But we did, and so there we were. Obviously, Keenan was too young to go on this. So R and Thing 1 would ride Dumbo while Keenan and I watched from below. It was during this time where I started to play around with my camera a bit more in preparation for taking R's and Thing 1's pictures during the rides. I took about 4 test runs and they all went fine. By the 4th time, I think people were beginning to wonder why I was randomly taking pictures of strangers on a ride. And of course as Vince-luck would have it, once R and Thing 1 got on the ride I blew it! I took a bunch of blurry pictures, but thank god I was able to recover and got some nice shots.

It appears that everyone was still having fun. But actually we were all dead-tired by this point and wanted to go home. So that's what we did.

Orlando, FL - Day #2 - Marathon Day

2011-11-25T13:00:00.000-08:00

This morning was pretty tough: sleeping in an unfamiliar bed always makes me sore everywhere in the morning. I was still operating on a bad sleep deficit that probably rivals our national deficit in terms of hours. And what REALLY didn't help was the fact that Thing 1 was SO wound up from the trip that he didn't sleep until 11pm the night before, kept Thing 2 up all night as well, and woke up at 7-ish.

But that was fine. Getting up early would tire both kids out and also let us get a good jump start to the day. Apparently, we had a lunch reservation at one of the Disneyworld Parks, the Hollywood Studios to be exact. The funny thing about this, or the not-so-funny thing about this (depending on how you look at it) is that this reservation was apparently made months ago and I had no idea that we even had a reservation, what it was all about, where it was, or anything. In retrospect, I recall talking to Kev about it and he mentioned it off-handedly the day before. However, as I inquired more about this and my confusion quickly became apparent he deftly changed the topic of conversation. Slick, but it didn't go unnoticed, Kev.

This reminds me of National Lampoon's Vacation trying to get to Wally World. At this point, I felt like Chevy Chase running through the parking lot. We had finally made it.

So this is what the lunch reservation was all about:

Having lunch while a group of Disney Characters walked around, signed autographs, took pictures, and danced to music. From the kids' perspective I can see how this was loads of fun. From the parents' perspective it was great, too because you'r children could be loud and unruly and it was okay. Because ALL the children in the restaurant were like that when the Disney characters started dancing and singing and you didn't have to worry about your children bothering anyone else's quiet mealtime. Also, it was an all-you-can-eat buffet with decent food. That was KEY!

For some inexplicable reason Thing 1 took a particular liking to Oso. And if you can imagine this picture with both of them jumping up and down in unison, that's exactly what happened. It was hilarious.

Now for some strange reason, Thing 2 really didn't like any of the characters. Not one. I'm not sure if it's because the costumes make them look 10 times bigger or what. He was quite scared when they came by for photos.

Sorry, Thing 2, but this is going on the internet for all to see. Almost as funny as my niece's picture with Goofy when she was about 3-4 or so. Actually, funnier.

After lunch, we headed out and just outside the door was Star Tours. Unfortunately, Thing 1 was about 1 inch too short and wasn't allowed on to the ride. Sorry, kid. Next time. But that didn't stop Kev. So away he went. And somehow R convinced me to follow him so I found myself in line, too.

But Kev and J were too far ahead of me and I didn't want to cut in line. So whoopee! Here I am, riding a thrill ride....by myself. It was then that I realized that parents have fun at these amusement parks when their kids have fun. I couldn't care less about going on these rides on my own. But when I have my family with me and they're having loads of fun, it doesn't matter what ride I'm on, or how lame or awesome it is, or what we're actually doing. If Thing 1 and I went on the Cinderella ride and he loved it, then I'd be enjoying myself, too.....I'd just be getting in touch with my feminine side. Which is what actually happened. KIDDING! There's no such thing as a Cinderellla ride.

So after Star Tours, I came out of the ride and couldn't find anyone. Not even Kev, who was just ahead of me. R and the kids were no where in sight. It's times like these when I'm thankful that I have the car keys. So I called up R and she told me where she was, which wasn't helpful in the least because R had the map. She could have told me she was at the front entrance and I'd have no clue which way to go. So I did what any typical guy would do: wander aimlessly without stopping and asking for directions.

I wandered the streets of Manhattan for a bit. Just like I did when I was a med student and I was doing rotations in New Jersey and New York City. Believe it or not, there are some similarities between Disney and NYC: it's definitely an international place with people from just about every country speaking many different languages, there's a ton of things to do and see, and you can easily get trampled to death by the mob.

Then I wandered the streets of San Francisco for a bit. Not really sure why, though since I lived there for about 20 years. So things weren't looking so good, especially since I was heading back in to the neighborhood of San Fran. Hell, I had to get out of there fast!

Thank goodness just past the next snack bar I caught up with our baby caravan. R and Thing 1 had lined up to take pictures with Buzz and Woody, leaving everyone else outside. It was a 45 minute wait and so while I tried to amuse Thing 2 outside, Thing 1 and R were slowly making their way towards the promised land.

That's not to say we weren't amused, though. While we were waiting, Thing 2 had fun pushing around the stroller in circles. And I had fun watching the Green Army Man character from Toy Story scare the crap out of Thing 2.

Good work soldier! Keep on scaring those kids; it's a matter of national security.

Meanwhile.....

Thank goodness they had things for kids to see and do during their 45 minute wait to see Buzz and Woody. I'm not sure what his expression was all about...maybe making a face makes you fly higher?

Finally, the promised land!!! What amazed me about this whole thing is that Thing 1 was such a good boy during this whole time. And I could tell that by R: she was smiling and pleasant. See, there's no need to ask, "How did things go with the kids? Did Thing 1 misbehave? Was he difficult?" It's all readable in the Mom. When Mom is happy and laughing, smiling, and pleasant, then you know the kids behaved and were good. When Mom looks disheveled and her eyes are glowing crimson with a dark expression, no need to ask. You know the kids were bad. And the first thing you don't want to ask is, "how were the kids?" But if you are clueless/brave enough to ask, be sure you're out of projectile range or that you can dive for cover behind something close by.

Uhhh.....who is this guy, again?

By this time, it had been about 2 hours after lunch and Thing 1's bladder must have been exploding. First order of business: Thing 1 to do Number 1. So we walked a bit further and found the washrooms. Ironically, we wandered in to the area where there were a bunch of OTHER Disney characters taking pictures, signing autographs, etc., etc. I figured why not just check out the lines, see how long they were, and if they weren't too bad we could line up some more.

More Jake the Pirate. I still have no idea who this is or what he's all about.

Thing 1 had no clue who these guys were or what they were all about but I had him take pictures with them anyway.

First thing he did was hug Pooh. Not even sure why. Maybe it's because he's a big furry animal and the first instinct is to hug him?

After that we headed back towards Star Tours because I had seen earlier they actually have a little skit for people to see and for kids to participate in. I was hoping Thing 1 would be able to take part; lightsaber battles with Darth Vader. Who wouldn't love that? But as we did a 180 and began our walk back, we noticed a crowd starting to line the streets. Apparently, a parade was about to begin. So we jockeyed for a spot in the front row and waited...and waited...and waited in the hot sun and slightly humid air with other hot and sweaty people hovering just over us. And so finally the parade started.

Just when they went to sleep!

So the dilemma was: the kids were obviously tired. Should we wake them up to see this parade that we've all suffered and waited for or should we just let them sleep and catch up on rest and have them miss out on all the Disney characters parading? Who knows when the next opportunity would be to see all the characters all at once so close, again. It's times like these when for some reason I can clearly hear Gah's voice telling me,

"Ah, let 'em sleep later! They'll won't have a chance to see this again for a long time." Okay, wake up! Wake up!

Funny thing happened during this parade. We actually saw a Thing 1 in the parade! Since when did they make a character out of my son?
Can we collect royalties on that? So just in case you can't really see the resemblance...

See? No difference, right? I swear Disney has our family pegged. Check out these other pictures:

Yeah, I can't tell the difference either.

But anyways, seeing the characters from Up was probably the highlight of the event because it was like seeing Thing 1 as himself in the parade. Journey on!

Back at Star Tours, Thing 1 watched as all the stories about Darth Vader not being real faded away. Seeing him live and in person made Vader just as real as the Easter Bunny, Santa Claus, or the Tooth Fairy. Which is fine because that's exactly what I believed in when I grew up: Easter Bunny, Santa, Tooth Fairy, and Darth Vader. (Yes, a very disturbed childhood)

By this time, it was late. The sun was setting and it was about 5-ish. At this point we had a choice between calling it a day and going home, or checking out Fantasmic. Again, this was another dilemma: we were all tired and hungry. Should we go home and rest or should be press on and get every penny's worth out of our admission ticket regardless of how excruciating it was? We opted for the latter, which in retrospect was probably a big mistake for reasons I'll explain later. So we bought dinner (park food, or overpriced fast food. Whichever term you prefer) and went to go get seats for Fantasmic.

Now I have no problem getting to shows early for good seating, especially when I'm on vacation. But we were about 1 hour early and we had 2 restless and tired munchkins whom we had to keep amused without scolding them or going crazy. Ethan Hunt, where are you? But we did it, we lasted and so did the kids. They watched and enjoyed the show even though they had no clue what was going on. It was all eye candy for them: lights, and fireworks, and dragons, and canons, etc., etc. And the blaring music that was 10 decibles too high from speakers that were too close to the audience. 2 minutes in to it and my ears were ringing and my head was pounding. Hell, I had no clue what was going on either at that point.

Finally! It was time to go home. Remarkably, we got home around 8-ish and were able to bath and put them to bed by 9pm. I thought that after this day, the kids would be so wiped out and they would go down like a ton of bricks. That was true of Thing 2 because he was unconscious the second we put him in his crib. I have no idea where Thing 1 got his energy but he was wound up again and was fooling around until about 10pm before drifting off to sleep.

Orlando, FL - Day 1

2011-11-24T23:29:00.000-08:00

When you have that feeling that you've forgotten something when you leave the house, you probably have. Especially when it's 7am and you're on your way to the airport. The adventures started already when we left the house. The kids were packed, we were packed and we were running late as usual (It probably didn't help that I played hockey the night before- a possible explanation for me moving a little slowly). About 5 minutes in to our drive to the airport, R realized that she had forgotten her glasses.

"Oh well, that's okay. Everything will just be really blurry for a few days, then." Well, what's the point of going to Disney World and Universal Studios if you can't see? So I turned the van around and returned home. We picked up R's glasses and headed out to the airport once, again.....not realizing that I had forgotten my checkbook, as well. Not something you want to leave at home when you're going on a trip.

The 180 minute plane ride was grueling as could be expected with a 4 year-old and a 19 month-old. But we survived (barely) and arrived in sunny Orlando where it was a balmy 80 degrees. NOT the perfect weather for jacket, jeans and long sleeves. But when you're leaving an area where it's 40 degrees, how do you dress?

So already when we disembarked the plane, we were all already uncomfortable, sleepy, tired, and hungry. Now add to that hot and sweaty. Next order of business: collect luggage and get the rental car. Sounds simple enough, right? For those of you who have never driven at Orlando, FL international airport, let me say that it is a little stressful. The signs to return to the terminal are about as confusing as trying to navigate the Los Angeles freeways. The signs read:

"Return to Terminal A, far right. B, far left." So you go right. Then,

"Return to Terminal A, far left. B, far right." What? Crap! So you change 3 lanes over, almost ramming the 2 cars flying up behind you in your blind spot. Then,

"Return to Terminal A, far right. B, far left." Dammit, I was just there! You try to change lanes back, but too late. You're leaving the airport. Then you have to decide if you'd like to leave the airport via the north exit, or the south exit. Uhhh.....what difference does it make?

After 2-3 laps of this I finally got the hang of it and made my way back to the correct terminal where R and the kids were waiting. Kev waited there with R so that she wouldn't be left all alone with the kids. That was super cool. The next 5 minutes or so was spent loading up the car, getting the car seats installed, and....figuring out where I was going.

Which brings me to another point: always know where you're headed from the airport. The Top Gun Maverick "Fly-by-the-seat-of-your-pants" thing doesn't work well in these situations. I was planning on following Kev to the hotel since we were all staying at the same hotel. And being that he was driving a minivan and I was driving an SUV, it should be no problem keeping up.

Wrong again. That guy has a lead foot regardless of what vehicle he drives, so needless to say I lost him. More stress. I quickly asked R to help me navigate via her Maps app on the iPhone, but of course we were in a location where the iPhone couldn't get a good signal. So much for fancy shmancy iPhone 3G blah, blah, blah. More stress. At that point I got a little snippy, but unrightfully so. So I kept my mouth shut and just drove.

About 20-30 minutes later we reached our destination, the Sheraton Vistana Resort where I met up with my good buddy from residency, Kris and his family. By that time it was 3-4pm. Too late to do anything interesting with kids, so we just got some take-out and called it a night.

Dryden Stories

2008-09-14T19:40:00.001-07:00

Ah, yes. Let the tales begin. For years we've been laughing at Gong Wing, Mui, Wei, and Stevie about all the funny things they've done when they were younger. Sooner or later, Dryden's time would come. It's like a coming of age in the Wong/Hume lineage.

Now one thing that Gah always told me was that babies aren't stupid. And they're not. At about 7-8 months Dryden was able to recognize his milk bottle and everytime he saw it he would start crying because he wanted it. He wanted the milk in it and he'd bawl until he either forgot about it, or we finally fed him.

So one day Richel went out to buy some more bottles/sippy cups because we only had 3 of them (only?). I'm not sure how many we actually need because he uses 3/day. In any case, Richel bought another 3 probably to cut down on washing the dishes all the time, maybe? Plus the mouth pieces were starting to yellow and look a little icky.

At the store, Richel picked out another package of bottles that look exactly like the ones he uses now. Up until then Dryden was having fun riding in the cart and fairly happy. But when he saw the bottles he instantly started crying because he wanted milk. He didn't realize that bottles in the package only contain air. New concept for him.

A few weeks later I was home with Dryden and getting him ready for his bottle/snack. I always chit-chat with him and tell him that I'm going to feed him and after that he can rest a little bit and play a little more. Usually he's struggling to break free of my grip because he hates being in the high chair; he twists and turns and looks all around. But once I uttered the word "nai-nai" he snapped his head and looked straight at me before I even before I finished my sentence (Huh? What was that? Nai-nai?) and started wailing.

Well, he's got the milk part down pretty well.

Homecoming Part VI

2008-01-26T18:23:00.001-08:00

Well, much has happened since our visit to Canada. And unfortunately I haven't had time to keep up-to-date with all the blogging. Man, this could take hours. But let's continue where we left off...

The next day in Montreal, we decided to drive to Vieux Montreal since it really wasn't a close walk, and it was hot and muggy, and Richel was in delicate condition. After getting lost and driving around aimlessly for about 30 minutes, we finally found our way (hey, it wasn't my fault. They actually closed off a series of roads.)

This time we were determined to visit the inside of the Basilisque de Notre Dame. I had heard of beautiful churches and such, but I was not prepared for the spectacle within the Basilisque. In one word: incredible, awesome, magnificent (...oh, that's 3 words). This is definitely a recommended place to visit if ever in Montreal.

Later, we walked the streets of Vieux Montreal. I've been told that walking around this part of the city is much like visiting Europe, so that's something that I really wanted to do. It was difficult, though, because I can walk forever. Unfortunately, with Richel's condition we couldn't walk too far or go too fast (she was 7 months along at this point). But we did the best we could, enjoying the archaeic architecture; it definitely had a very old French feel to it.

I thought this building had a very French feel to it...except for the Honda in front.

This was a very interesting building. I believe this was city hall. But there was really nothing interesting inside, just a big open hallway with a bunch of rooms off limits to the public.

It was fun walking down the streets of Old Montreal, pretending to be in Europe. Although, we didn't have to try very hard to pretend. I did have a burning desire to suddenly speak French to everyone, but was afraid my horrible accent would offend someone.

By this time Richel was becoming seriously annoyed with me, as you can probably tell by her expression. I can't blame her, I wanted to walk here, walk there, check this out, etc. And when it's 85 degrees with high humidity and 7 months pregnant, it definitely is not fun. Although I suffered Richel's wrath I knew that one day in the future we'd look back on this day and reminisce and laugh. And that inspired to me to just push on, even though I probably shouldn't have.

The oldest street in Montreal.

While walking around, it was Richel's determination to find a French pastery. How typical, satisfying that insatiable sweet-tooth of hers. Fine. We did find this one place that sold these little pastery/truffles. I was blown away by these things. Unfortunately, I didn't get a picture of the shop, but these truffles were so rich with flavor, yet light and in no way too sweet. They were perfect. I had never tasted anything so refined and perfected before, not even Chinese food. (We later bought French truffles in Chicago because we missed these things so much but they weren't even close. Too heavy, too hard, too sweet.)

These were pictures of random buildings that I took. I wasn't sure of their significance or history, but I thought they looked very European, and very French. I thought they had a lot of character. Believe it or not, this reminded a lot of Old Port in Maine.

The New Age of Dryden - Part IV

2007-10-28T14:20:00.000-07:00

As China's economy was rock bottom for the past 70 years until very recently, so was our situation. And as China's situation improved by leaps and bounds, so did ours. Maybe not economically, but health-wise. Those medications I was taking were working wonders; my cough was improving dramatically just after one day. I was now able to drive, which was a major help. Dryden continued to improve day by day as well. He was tolerating bottle feeds, no issues with oxygen desats, he was doing well. I had spoken with the neonatologist and she told me he would be home by Friday if everything went well, which it looked like. I had spoken with Mom earlier that week and she was coming to Indy to help us out, so the calvalry was on its way, thank God.

The next few days came and went without further event. Everything was pretty much status quo: I was at home recovering (and getting quite far on GTA: Vice City), Richel went and visited Dryden, and Dryden was just hanging out in the NICU until they said it was okay for him to go home.

Mom finally arrived in Indy on Thursday night. Perfect timing as Dryden would be discharged on Friday. We would need help, mainly with carrying things as I had a 5 pound lifting restriction, Richel couldn't lift anything either having just given birth not one week ago, and the only thing Dryden could lift was maybe his arms. So Mom would have to be our beast of burden.

Friday finally arrived. This was the great day Dryden would finally come home. I called Richel on the cell phone around noontime and told her I was on my way to pick them up. She said she would be ready by that time and so off I went. While driving, however, I realized I had no idea where they were in the hospital. They were no longer in the NICU, as Dryden had been moved to a private room, and Richel stopped answering her cell phone. This would be interesting.

When I arrived at the hospital I went to the NICU, the last place I knew Dryden to be. Oddly enough, when I spoke with the unit clerk there she inquired as to why I was so interested. Well, I was wearing the Daddy bracelet from your hospital, so I thought that was quite apparent. But I guess it wasn't, as I had a bit of explaining to do. But eventually, I was led to Dryden's room where Richel, Mom, and Dryden were waiting.

Upon entering the room I felt a chill go up my spine. What is that horrible noise, cacophony enough to raise the dead?
The answer:

Hmm...for a kid who's respiratory status was tenuous it sure sounded like his lungs were well developed.

Anyway, that day we finally left the inpatient hospital for good, all of us.

The New Age of Dryden - Part III

2007-10-12T22:52:00.000-07:00

It was now Monday, approximately 2 days after Dryden was born. Although he was the newest addition to our family I could not go and visit him in the NICU for my cough was worsening. My overall condition waxed and wanned throughout the day but it was clear that I was quite sick and that I wasn't going to be better anytime soon. Forget about going to work the next day, even though that was something I had planned on doing. And for someone with a respiratory tract infection going to the NICU and seeing a baby with pulmonary issues definitely wasn't a good idea. So I just stayed home and sufferred.

Richel was still at the hospital but she was scheduled to come home that day. I was still unable to drive and so Kev planned to drive Richel home. It was while I spoke to Kev that he suggested that I take antibiotics. Hmm...not something I would like to do but in this case I agreed with him. Although the antibiotics probably wouldn't do anything for my infection, which was presumed to be viral in nature, I had to do anything to prevent my cough from going on. For every cough was agony. So I loaded up on the cough drops and robitussin.

The day passed and it was quite uneventful. I kept in touch with the hospital staff and asked them about Dryden's condition. Every so often I would call Richel to see how she was doing and would ask her to take some pictures for me. So far, everything was good news. Dryden was stable, his respiratory rate dropped but he kept his oxygen saturation up; he was on the mend.

By this time Richel was doing quite well. Again, out of all three of us, she was doing the best, next came Dryden, and coming in at a lame 3rd, me. She was released from the hospital that night, and she spent as much time with Dryden as she could before they officially discharged her. Kevin drove her home that night.

That night was a tough one for us all. I did get my antibiotics, which to my surprise helped immensely (apparently, my cough WAS bacterial). But poor Dryden was in the NICU and at the hospital all alone, now, Richel was at home and couldn't stop worrying about Dryden, and I couldn't do anything about anything as all I could do was lie on the sofa and try not to cough.

Poor Richel had the hardest time especially as she was putting away all of her baby shower gifts. Everything was basically a constant reminder of what we would be doing had everything gone smoothly and Dryden was at home with us: little onesies with matching socks that we would dress him in; little hats with matching mittens we would have him wear on his visits to the pediatrician's; little baby diaries to document his historic arrival home (and the beginning of the end of our lives). I guess I don't really have a burning desire to see Niagra Falls, anymore.

But things would get better. They had to. They couldn't get any worse.

My Life to My Papa - NHL

2007-09-29T19:21:00.000-07:00

I thought it would be a nice to take a break from the Homecoming and New Age of Dryden chapters to go back to My Life to My Papa series. We all know about the original classic and the updated Middle Earth versions, but now let's take a different twist. Let's do it NHL style.

Dad - I would say Dad is like Bernie Nichols. Underrated, but definitely a skillful force to be reckoned with when motivated and matched with the correct line mates (in Dad's case, the right MJ partners). Has the potential for greatness but always needed a kick in the butt from Wayne Gretzky to get going.

Mom - Mark Messier, no question. The raging bull of hockey was the NHL's first quintessential power forward. Lean and mean, he'll bowl you over if you get in his way. Actually, he's a pussycat compared to Mom.

Gah - Theo Fleury. Okay, Gah never did drugs, but no one ever enthusiastically celebrated a goal and mauled himself in congratulations like Fleury did. When he was on his game he played with intensity and a zest for the game. Gah is the same way, she lives life with enthusiasm. She has never been one to sit around and say, "Gee, what should I do today? I'm bored."

Goh - Ken Dryden. Great player, great goaltender. But never could put a great game against the Russians. Why? Probably because he fell asleep in goal while play was down on the other end. When he's on, he's hot. When he's not, he's not. Either way, he's one of the most intelligent players, ever. Maybe Randy Gregg, MD was his equal, but how many other players became lawyers and members of Parliament after their career?

Quinn - Craig McTavish. Okay, maybe they don't have a lot of physical similarities. If anything, Quinn resembles Mark Messier, too, but there can only be ONE. Besides, McTavish would always make great moves, skate around people, fake the goalie out of his jock strap and then....miss the net or shoot right at the goalie. Also prefers not to wear a helmet or face protection.

Me - Dale Hawerchuck. Not the fastest skater, not the flashiest player, not the most finesse player, but definitely one of the most determined and persistent players. He may not get the first shot in, or the 2nd shot, or the 3rd shot, but he'll try and try until the puck goes in the net.

The New Age of Dryden - Part II

2007-09-22T14:16:00.000-07:00

The next day, Richel and I decided to go visit Dryden in the NICU. It would be our first visit to see him together. We were there spending time with our son with Richel holding him and me trying to stifle my cough and keep my distance. And such is how our day went.

Kevin later dropped by with Notch and Shaira to see how we were all doing. And everyone was excited to see the new baby, even though he was confined to the NICU. Upon seeing me, Kev summed it up all fairly nicely and accurately.

"Dude, you look like crap."

Thanks Kev. No need to pull your punches. But he was right. I did look like crap, I felt like crap. By this time I was post-op day #2, taking Advil sparingly since I didn't have a whole lot in my stomach, I hadn't shaved, bathed, washed my hair, or brushed my teeth in 2 days. I was still in considerable pain and I had slept for a total of maybe 6 hours in the past 48.

Kevin then brought me home so that I could shave and get washed up and brush my teeth, etc. Water never felt so good. My cough improved dramatically as well. About 2 hours later after I had sufficiently cleaned myself, I felt human, again and so we went back to the hospital to join Richel. Kevin and the gang then left while Richel and I spent the remainder of the evening in her room.

Unfortunately, once I had returned to the hospital my cough worsened, once again. I tried to sleep it off, but even while I was fast asleep I would wake from having coughing fits. With each cough, it felt as though someone was poking me in the stomach with a hot iron brand, repeatedly despite taking the Advil. I had decided that I would not be able to stay in the hospital with Richel, for if I continued to cough as I had been I would surely tear something. Richel understood even though she wanted me to stay. It was definitely a trying time for her, as she had just given birth, her new son was in the NICU, and her husband had just had surgery and was now becoming sick and couldn't be with her.

I limped down to the main lobby on my own (hey, I must have been getting better) and took a cab home. But when it rains, it pours, and I discovered at this time that I did not have my keys. I had given them to Kevin for safe keeping earlier in the day.

It was about midnight, now. I was stuck in the hallway of my apartment and couldn't get in. I had to call Kev and wake him up. Thank God for cell phones. To his credit, even though he was tired, groggy, and half asleep, he drove all the way down to give me my keys back. He never once complained or griped about anything.

Back in the apartment, I headed straight for the sofa and fell asleep.

The New Age of Dryden - Part I

2007-09-21T20:05:00.000-07:00

So what in the world happened 3 weeks ago? It all began one Friday afternoon in late August, the 31st to be exact. It was then that I had scheduled my abdominal surgery, for with the new baby due on 9/30 I had to be ready and fit to take care of Richel and the new munchkin.

So the surgery was performed without incident (I assume - I don't remember anything after they wheeled me down the hallway). Waking up in the recovery room, though was quite amusing. I could hear and I was aware of what was going on around me; I just couldn't open my eyes or move very much.

"Am I in the delivery room?" I asked, half aware of what I was actually saying. My question was met with laughter as the nurses told me where I was - in the RECOVERY room. Oh yeah, that's what I meant. I was then wheeled back in to my room where Richel sat waiting for me. Understanding hit the nurses as they saw Richel, going on her 9th month of pregnancy.

"Ah, NOW we know why he thought he was in the delivery room. Mrs. Hume, he thought he was in the delivery room!" Alright, already. No need to beat a dead horse. Next, I thought they were going to start joking about my hairy legs.

We were given ample time for the effects of the anesthetic to wear off before the hospital discharged me. And they were quite gracious about it, too. As the nurse wheeled me out to the main entrance at about 11am for Richel to pick me up, I felt like the biggest invalid. I was quite surprised of how painful the surgery was and how debilitating the pain could be. I could barely move without causing some level of extreme discomfort. But that was okay, for Richel would be taking care of me until I could recover.

After we got home, I didn't do much. I went straight for the sofa and took a long interrupted nap for the next 7-8 hours or so. I was feeling a little better, but still being post-op without even taking any pain medications was rather uncomfortable. (Now, what kind of a nut doesn't take any meds post-op? Me. I guess it's all a matter of bull-headed pride. I have always been seen as the underdog, the lame duck that barely made it, the last guy who gets picked when dividing up teams for whatever team sport. But if I could get by after surgery without taking any pain meds short of Tylenol or Motrin, wouldn't that prove that I'm tough and strong enough? Dumb, but tough nonetheless.)

It all went wrong around midnight when I started developing a cough, which was excruiciatingly painful since I had just had abdominal surgery not even 24 hours ago. It was around that time that when Richel started having abdominal pains herself. Oh, it's probably nothing, she thought. It'll go away in a few minutes. I, on the other hand, was not as optimistic. With our luck or with my luck, I should say, Richel is probably going in to labor. I tried to be optimistic about it, though.

12:30am - Richel was still reeling from the pain. My worst fears were coming true: Richel was going in to labor right after I had surgery and I was helpless. I told her to start timing her pain episodes, and if they were less than 5 minutes apart for over an hour, then it was time to call her OB. And so she did, but she had waited 90 minutes and her pain did not subside.

"Call your OB," I told her.

"Oh, it's probably nothing. It'll get better by the morning," she replied in agony.

"Call your OB," I repeated. It wasn't a request. So she called and her OB told her to get to the hospital. Great. And HOW in the world are we to do that? I couldn't drive much less walk and Richel sure couldn't drive. Our friends who were close by were in Chicago, and it was 2am. Way too late to bother Kev. So we resorted to the last and dreaded alternative: a cab.

Now, I don't mean to bad mouth cabs at all. When it's 2am and you're stranded in the middle of some neighborhood you had no idea how you got to and you're drunk as a skunk and you can't find your car keys, cabs are awesome. IF they show up and if they take you to the right place.

So I took out the phone book, which believe it or not was actually painful to lift up, and called for a cab. 20 minutes later, still no cab. This is ridiculous! I called another cab company and at least they were able to arrive within 10 minutes or so. And we couldn't even rush out to the cab once he got there. Richel was still having considerable pain and that had slowed her down. But despite the fact that she was having labor pains and was walking on her own, unsupported and carrying her own luggage, she was still faster than I was. They cab driver and Richel were actually both sitting the cab waiting for me to hobble and limp down the walkway and get in to the cab. The cabbie must have thought, Sir, there is a pregnant woman about to give birth in my cab. Could you please hurry your sorry butt up? Easier said than done, pal.

So I finally got in and off we went. I prayed that the driver, knowing what was happening, wouldn't drive like a maniac so that he could get rid of us before we made a mess of his cab. I could feel every little bump and turn, and I'm sure Richel could as well.

2:30am - We arrived at the hospital and made our way in to the reception. And I must say the receptionist didn't appear very helpful at first. Richel was in no condition to walk all the way up to the L&D department and neither was I.

"Well, we have some wheelchairs here if you need to wheel her up, sir." Uh...you don't get it. I can barely walk and I'm not allowed to lift over 5 pounds. How am I going to push 135 pounds on a wheelchair? Forget it, if you don't want to call transport we don't need your help, we'll make it on our own as we have so far, I thought with digust.

"That's okay," I said, "we'll make it on our own. Let's go, Richel." And so down the long empty hallway we went like two wounded soldiers after a hard fought battle struggling to make it back behind friendly lines. As we limped along we heard a voice call out behind us,

"Excuse me, you guys need some help?" Unbelievable. There is a God. A transporter had come and was heading straight for us with a wheelchair.

"Thanks so much for your help. Please take her up to L&D," I said. The three of us started down the hallway, again, but it was apparent that I could not keep up.

"What about you, sir? Are you going to be alright?" asked the transporter.

"I'll be fine. Just take her and go. I'll meet you there. 3rd floor L&D in triage." And so away they went. Boy, what I'd give for a motorized wheelchair at this point. I continued down the hallway towards the East elevators, each step causing a sharp stabbing pain in my lower abdomen. Now I know what my pain patients go through, I thought. But half the time, they're walking better than I am right now. And I'm not even taking Advil, I've only used ice so far. My thoughts and concentration on walking were interrupted by the return of the transporter.

"I'm back here for you, sir," she said pleasantly.

"That's okay, I can make it on my own." Translation: I don't want to be wheeled in to the L&D department.

"No sir, your wife wanted to make sure you made it up there and so I'm here for you. She told me you just had surgery," she said. Well, okay. I'm not going to argue. So I got in the chair and away we went. As smooth as the hospital floors were, I could still feel every little bump and imperfection in the floors, and going in to the elevator was agony. By this time, my cough was getting slightly worse.

As they brought me in to the triage unit, the secretary couldn't help but look at me. Actually, I felt like everyone in the whole department was staring at me, a male holding his stomach in pain being wheeled in to the L&D department. What is this guy doing here? I thought about bowing my head low and so maybe I could slip by unnoticed. Fat chance in a hospital. So I just held my head up high and took it in the chops.

"Can I help you, sir?" asked the unit clerk.

"My wife is here. She was just wheeled up not 5 minutes ago."

"Oh yes! She's in #3. That's right around the corner."

"He just had sugery yesterday" explained the transporter. Geez, I'm sure Kev would be laughing his butt off right now if he were here. Although, in about a week I'll be looking back on this day and I'll probably be laughing, too.

I limped over to bed #3 in triage where I met Richel. The triage nurse came over and checked her.

"Oh, you're about 1-2cm dilated," said the nurse. Once again, my worst fears realized. With frequent and consistent contractions and cervical dilatation, the baby was coming. Maybe not within the next 2 hours or so, but he was coming and coming soon. "The doctor will be here in a few hours so you'll have a chance to talk with her then." A few hours? It was about 3am at this point. The nurses realising the wait time we had made Richel as comfortable as possible. As for me, I was destined to sleep in a hard plastic chair next to Richel's bed, coughing and hacking in the dry hospital air.

It seemed like an eternity passed with Richel moaning and groaning in pain, with me coughing and reeling from the after-effects, and both of us drifting in and out of a restless sleep. Finally, 6am rolled around and the OB arrived. She proceded to check Richel, again.

"You're about 3-4cm now. So you are progressing. I think we're going to have to admit you to the L&D ward." Okay, so at least they'll take good care of Richel. I just hoped they weren't going to admit me, too. That would be the ultimate embarassment.

So then we were wheeled (yes, both of us) over to the L&D department where they hooked up Richel and the baby to the monitors and I actually got to lie down on one of those covertable sofa beds. We were both having considerable pain, but at least we had a little more privacy, less noise, and more rest.

And so it continued on like this for hours. Both of us having pain spells, both restless, neither could sleep. At one point the doctor commented that she wasn't sure who the patient was, me or Richel. It was also during this time when there was a flurry of phone calls. My brothers called, Mom called, my friends called, all wondering how I was doing after surgery. I was doing okay but not as badly as Richel, who was in labor. With that information out, the calls kept coming from Mom, my sister, my friends, etc.

It was about 3pm or so when the OB finally came back in to do a reassessment. But this time she was 6-7cm dilated and 40% effaced. Great. At this time, there was no stopping it and we were past the point of no return. We were offerred ptocin to speed up the birth process and at this point in time, since it was inevitable that the baby was coming, we went for it. Why prolong the agony?

A few minutes later the anesthesiologist came in to give Richel her requested epidural. Normally, they didn't allow the husband to watch, but I explained to them that I myself was a physician, that I've seen many epidurals and nerve blocks in my time, and most importantly, I couldn't make it to the other side of the room since I was post-op day #1. Fair enough, I was allowed to stay. Thank goodness they didn't make me walk to the other side of the room. I had a pleasant chat with the anesthesiologist, he did his job, and was on his way. And Richel had instant relief. Hey doc, while you're at it can I have one, too?

Now that the baby was coming for sure, I needed some help. I had not eaten since the day before, I was in no condition to get to the cafeteria to buy food, I had no pain medications, and most importantly I had no camera! In dire need, I called up Kev and he didn't let me down. He showed up around 4:30pm or so with some snacks, a camera, and some Advil. He then went down to the cafeteria to get some food, and as my luck would have it they were serving tomato soup, my favourite. So Kevin stayed for about half an hour but then he had to go, which I could understand. He had his own things to take care of. I scarfed down the food, took some Advil (which worked great, by the way. Better than codeine or Vicodin without all the crappy side-effects), and rested a bit more.

Not even an hour later, the OB came back in and checked Richel. At this point she was fully dilated, 100% effaced, and was actually at station +1 or +2.

"Oh my, the baby is on his way. Let's get the team together." At about 6pm, everyone was assembled. Everyone was in the room, the OB, the nurse, the peds resident and a couple of the NICU nurses.

"Dad, why don't you come over here and help Mom hold her...oh, you've just had surgery? Okay, why don't you just relax and take it easy, then." I never felt more ineffective and derelict in my duties as a husband than at this point. But oh well, forget me. Let's concentrate on Richel.

So she pushed for 3 rounds and she did a great job before our baby boy came out at 6:13pm. But when he came out there was all this dark fluid that came out with him, something that I never remembered seeing during my OB/GYN rotations as a student. And his cry was someone weak.

"And what the heck is that?" asked the OB, referring to the dark fluid. They cleaned him and brought him over to the baby warmer where the peds resident checked him out. I stayed with Richel, not wanting for her to feel abandoned as I was already ineffective in my role during this whole birth process.

"Do you have a name for the baby?" asked the OB.

"Dryden," I answered, expecting the same blank stare I usually got in response to that question. But this time I was pleasantly surprised.

"Oh, like John Dryden, the English poet. Very nice." Thank the Gods! SOMEONE on this Earth knows who Dryden is! I liked this OB.

On a seperate note, however, things weren't going very well for our new son. Dryden had aspirated a fair amount of blood, and although the peds resident was able to suction a lot of it out, he was still tachypneic. I saw that he did have an increased respiratory rate, but I saw no intercostal retractions, no nasal flaring, no straining of neck muscles. I was told that his pulse ox was fine. But that was only my observation and I was by no means a peds expert. That being the case, he would have to go to the NICU, the one place that I prayed repeatedly that he would never end up in. So they allowed Richel a short time with him but then they took him away. We were told that we would be updated on his progress.

In the meantime, the OB proceeded to examine the placenta and sure enough, there were 2 places where it looked as though it had ruptured and bled out. That was what all that dark fluid was, old/venous blood. It was a good thing for Dryden that he came out when he did, as who knows how much more blood he would have swallowed or aspirated. And what if that old blood coagulated while in his lungs? He was actually a very lucky baby.

The room eventually cleared out and Richel and I were left alone once again, with our nurse coming in quietly every hour or so to check up on Richel. At this point, Richel was doing great. In fact, she was doing the best out of all 3 of us. After 3 hours or so, we asked the nurse for an update on Dryden but unfortunately, she didn't have any new news.

A little while later I received a phone call in the hospital room. It was the peds resident and she basically told me everything that they were doing and what was going on. Dryden had a chest x-ray done, which showed what they suspected to be either pneumonia or atelectasis or TTN (transient tachypnia of the newborn). He was still tachypneic and actually had a couple of episodes where his O2 sats dropped in to the 70's but came back up nicely. Boy, you better be a senior resident. Sadly, our son would not be able to join us in the recovery room that night. Which was probably for the better, as my cough did not improve.

Homecoming - Part V

2007-08-05T09:52:00.000-07:00

So we finally arrived in Montreal. We weren't sure exactly where to go or what to do. My main goal was to visit Vieux Montreal, to see the old buildings and neighborhoods; Richel's goal was to visit some fancy department store in the main shopping district. Hmm...so we flew to Canada and drove to Montreal so that we could go shopping. Well, not that shopping wasn't interesting in Montreal, as we did hear about the famed Underground City, something we definitely wanted to see.

The first day there in Montreal wasn't a pleasant one to be sure; it rained the whole day. That being the case, we decided to try our luck with the Gray Line Tours, again so that we could be taken around and shown the interesting parts of Montreal. Then the next day we could go back and visit the places that were interesting.

The first interesting stop we made was in Vieux Montreal (Old Montreal). It was a square across the street from the Basilique de Notre Dame and it was statue of Maisonneuve. Maisonneuve? Maisonneuve. The only particular reason this statue and person perked my interest is because there's something called a Maisonneuve fracture in reference to severe ankle sprains and resulting tearing of the tib-fib aponeurosis and possible fracture. Okay, anyway, I thought it was neat that they had the same name and so I had Richel take a picture with him...

And of course right across the street there was the Basilique de Notre Dame, something we definitely had to come back and see on our own.

Until I started zooming up close with my point-and-shoot camera, I didn't even realize there were statues up against the walls.

The tour then took us to Olympic Village. The most remarkable thing about this was the Olympic Tower, something that looked like it was about to topple over. Without question, it was a masterpiece of architecture; how something so big could be leaning at such an angle without falling and without support was incredible. They even had elevators that could take visitors to the top of the tower. Unfortunately, we couldn't get a great picture of that. To do so would require one of us to stand in the middle of a busy street. And if drivers in Montreal were anything like drivers in Paris, there's no way in hell either of us were going to do that.

The next stop on our trip was one of the most spectacular. We went to the L'Oratoire Saint-Joseph du Mont-Royal. Without a doubt, this was one of the if not the most breath-taking spots on the tour. I can't believe pilgrims used to walk all the way up there on their knees. Walking up there on foot appeared to be enough of a challenge. ( But just to go off on a tangent for a bit, how did people know God wanted them to walk all the way up there on their knees? Wouldn't doing so ruin their knee joints? The very same knees that God had given to them? And so wouldn't that be somewhat sinful? To ruin God's gift?
Okay, anyway, back to Montreal. )

The rest of the evening was unremarkable, as the weather did not relent. It kept raining off and on all day and in to the night and so we didn't do much else except look for a place to eat and then return to the hotel. We were hoping for a nice sunny day the next day.

Homecoming - Part IV

2007-08-04T15:26:00.000-07:00

The next day, Richel and I set out to find one of the Gray Line Tours, a recommendation that Gil and Alice had made the night before as a way of touring the city rather quickly. We had found the spot and had barely enough time to get on the bus. Richel couldn't move very quickly and would constantly get angry if I left her behind. But hey, when I'm running for the bus it's not like I'm just going to get on it and leave her behind! Sheesh, of course I'm going to stand in the bus with one foot in so that the bus driver just can't take off. If he did I'd get seriously hurt and then there'd be a lawsuit. But drivers know better than that.

In any case, we proceded to take our tour around Ottawa and saw numerous historic structures and buildings (I don't remember what we saw, anymore). The 2 salient places that I do remember, however, was the RCMP camp and the Maurice Richard statue. I tried getting a picture of the Rocket, but unfortunately I didn't get a good view of it. Oh yeah, and the Parliament, but that's a given.

While we were on the tour we happened to go through the middle of the downtown area where a Farmer's Market was being held. Normally, we couldn't care less about Farmer's Market in another city, but in Canada they have maple syrup! I mean, REAL maple syrup, not that crappy stuff they sell at the supermarkets. It also brought to mind the time that Goh went to Canada and tried to bring maple syrup back on the plane, but the idiots of TSA wouldn't allow any liquids on to the plane and so they had to throw it all out (now, you just KNOW the TSA ate well the following morning - they should do a 20/20 show about all the stuff that gets thrown out because of this stupid rule and how dangerous people really think it is and what the TSA takes home. But no one has the balls to do a scoop like that and go up against the Bush administration). So Richel and I got off the bus and went to the Famer's Market and bought at least 7 liters of maple syrup to bring home for the family. Good stuff. It weighed a ton and the bag handles were biting in to my fingers as I carried the bags back to the hotel, but it was worth it.

Later on while we were walking arouond the downtown area we saw some of the Canadian Guards. We took some pictures of them but not with them. I prefered to take a photo with me in the same picture but not posing by them. We saw a lot of people doing that, going up to the Guards and making these ridiculous poses. Call me a dud, but I personally thought that was highly disrespectful of the Guards and their role. These people were making a mockery of OUR national Guards! Americans, no doubt. Bloody Yanks. How would they like it if I go pee on the Lincoln Memorial?

Anyway, after walking through the downtown area one more time, Richel and I decided to be on our way. Next stop, Montreal. It wasn't a terribly long drive. Certainly with all the driving I do on a daily basis, this trek wouldn't be much different but we did intend to get their before it got dark.

Homecoming Part III

2007-08-03T14:29:00.000-07:00

The long awaited day had finally come. It wasn't just any day, it was 7/7/07, the luckiest day imaginable. I guess 7/7/77 would be even luckier, but I don't think Tuan would want to wait until he was 104 years old before getting married. And despite the lucky connotation this day's date held, Richel and my day started where it left off: late.

We were only a couple of minutes behind which isn't bad, and we were in the car on our way to Thuy's house for the wedding. However, as I soon learned, it was rather challenging driving over to her house given the instructions. Not because the instructions themselves were wrong, but because of the language....barrier? between Richel and I. Now in case you couldn't tell, Richel's native tongue of Tagalog has very heavy Spanish influence and absolutely no French influence. I, on the other hand, have studied Japanese, Chinese, French, and just a tad bit of Italian. No conquistodors for me. So while listening to Richel read the driving instructions, I had to translate from Spanish-accented English in to French. For example, Jeen dark boulevard was really Jeanne d'Arc Boulevard. Or like, Ben-no-IT-o was really Benoit. Suffice to say, we got lost for a bit. But that's okay because we quickly found our way, again. But we finally found the place, as it was impossible to miss 30 people dressed in black suits standing on the corner. Either that or the Prime Minister's secret service was taking a lunch break in the suburbs.

So there we were, preparing for Tuan's wedding in traditional Asian style. Very cool, very cool. I've never been to a traditional Asian wedding before; I've only seen it on TV (Young and Dangerous IV - starring Ekin Cheng and Gordon Chan). I even got to participate, which was way cool.

The time finally came for the procession to march upon the bride's house. And we did so under the curious gaze of all of Thuy's neighbors. As we entered the house, we presented Thuy's family with the gifts and headed straight for.... the back room? There were so many people in the house upon entering that there literally was no room to go except for the back room. So there we all sat and wondered what would happen next. After about 5 minutes, someone came in to the back room looking for "Brian and Vince." Hey! That's us!

We immediate hustled back in to the living room where everyone stood. Apparently, Tuan wanted his friends to stand behind him so Brian and I had to climb over a few people to get there. But we got there. We then watched Thuy come down the steps and get married to Tuan. I'm not exactly sure how it all happened, as the ceremony was performed all in Vietnamese, but I understood what was going on. The part that amazed me the most was when Thuy and Tuan were bowing in front of the altar with their eyes closed, and they were bowing in perfect unison. We were all so happy for them.

After it was over we all headed out to the backyard, ate, took pictures, and hung out.

We then had a short hiatus. While the bridal party went off and took pictures on location, the rest of us dispersed until the reception. Excellent! Time for a short nap. We then made a mad dash back to the hotel so that we could sneak in some quality rest time, but by the time we made it in to the room there wasn't much time left to spare. We then headed back out after a short period of time, making our way to the Hilton.

Richel and I arrived at the banquet hall a bit early, as we were assigned to be part of the set-up crew. None of us minded at all, as we were all more than happy to help Tuan and Thuy out during their special day. Besides, we all knew how hotels could really screw you over and so we did our best to make sure everything was done correctly.

Part of our task was to put on all the chair covers and secure them with tying a ribbon. Ironically, my ribbon was the most popular. I don't really understand why, and in fact I thought Richel's ribbons were better. Reminds me of the time I was in 7th grade and everyone was praising my neat hand-writing. Oddly enough, my patients all praise my hand-writing to this day.

Ah, the finished product.

We finally finished our task, and so left the banquet hall to mingle with friends in the lobby.

Let the celebration begin.

Thuy and Tuan Tonthat.

Homecoming Part II

2007-08-03T14:28:00.001-07:00

Our first day back in the motherland didn't end when we got off the plane. Au contraire. After disembarking and picking up our luggage and making it through customs which was surprisingly easy, we picked up our rental car and headed for Ottawa. It wasn't that long of a drive, but we were on a time crunch and had no clue where we were going. T N T were having a rehearsal dinner that evening and so speed was of the essence.

Although speed was of the essence, once again I found myself the slowest one on the road. What the...? But I was traveling 5 km/hr above the speed limit. I thought Canucks were law-abiding. Well, apparently not as rigidly law-abiding as I had previoiusly thought. And once we got to downtown Ottawa traffic was horrendous. I guess traffic is always horrendous around rush hour in any downtown, though.

I did my best to obey the traffic laws, which are actually slightly different than they are in the States believe it or not. And I always had in the back of my mind that if I did get pulled over, I would claim ignorance because I was an ignorant American (ew, perish the thought!). Luckily, we didn't and made it to the hotel unscathed.

When we arrived at the Quality Hotel, our adventure didn't end there. Richel and I had to quickly unpack some nice dress clothes and start changing so that we could get to the restaurant. As as always, Murphy and his blasted law had to rear its ugly head. I ironed my clothes and put everything on to discover that my new pants were too short. I had brought floods. But no need to worry, because I could wear my suit pants...which didn't match my socks. Ugh. Then while Richel was getting ready she spilled some lotion on her dress, which ruined it for the evening. And while finishing up, her perfume bottle dropped, hit the tiled bathroom floor and shattered. So much for smelling nice. And to top it all off we wre running late. It's a good thing we were going to an Asian event, as everyone was on Asian time which was our saving grace for being late.

At the reception, I saw my good buddies TNT, Stan, Brian, Ben, Brian, and Gil. These were the same guys I hung out with in high school about 15 years ago! It was great seeing them, again and great catching up with everyone.

After the dinner, Richel and I decided that despite the disgusting humidity, our fatigue from travel and the late hour, we would take a walk through downtown Ottawa. I really wanted to see Parliament. Apparently, on the face of one of the buidlings, they have a light show on certain days, and this day was one of them. So off we went.

Another surprising thing was the number of people walking around downtown at night. For Ottawa's size, I expected the place to be dead after 7-8pm, but it wasn't. It was 10-11pm and the streets were still teaming with people.

After watching the light show Richel and I retired to our hotel. For the next day would be a busy day.

Homecoming Part I

2007-08-03T14:27:00.001-07:00

I'll be honest, when we were growing up Mom was nuts. But one thing that she did particularly well in raising us was that she gave us a strong sense of national pride and patriotism. Maybe it was intentional, or maybe it was because everyday we'd hear her gripe and rant about how much the States sucked. In either case, out of all this my siblings and I maintained a strong patriotic sense: we are Canadians and we are damn proud of it.

Now, it's been about 25 years since I've been home to Canada (I've been too poor to make it back). A friend's wedding in Ottawa prompted Richel and I to visit and thus visit the homeland. And even though it was the homeland, it was a part of Canada that I have never been to.

Arriving at the Pierre Trudeau Airport in Montreal was quite refreshing, as all the signs were in French and people were speaking French for a change. For a French-speaker, I guess that would be somewhat refreshing after being swamped with Spanish for the past 20 years and not understanding a word of it. But I guess for non French-speakers it could be nerve-racking. To me it was like a breath of fresh cool air after being couped up in a small locker room with 10 sweaty hockey players after a game and no ventilation in the middle of summer. Take a deep breath!

(St.-Jean Blvd. North) --(40 West Hull/Ottawa)

It was odd, but as Richel and I strolled down the street during a hot and humid afternoon in Ottawa, I looked up at some of the buildings and the skyline and behold! I was filled with a sense of awe and wonder and strange humility almost to the point of stopping in my tracks and gasping. It felt as though I was in the presence of royalty without realizing exactly who or where the royal party was. It was more like a sixth sense, an innate ability to recognize magnificence without fully understanding it. For there atop the tallest buildings flew the great red maple leaf, dominating the sky with its crimson brilliance. O' beloved Canada, I am home.

Hockey Night in Boon-town

2007-06-03T16:59:00.000-07:00

Not sure where this notion came from, but out of the blue Q decided to start playing roller hockey, again. Why? When? How was this decision made? I have no idea. I just knew that it happened. And so for about 3-4 weeks Q and I had hockey conversations - how to shoot, where to skate, techniques, etc. He had also advised that I should start playing, too. But what was the point of that? First of all, I couldn't find any roller hockey leagues here. Secondly, I didn't have my equipement. Thirdly, I haven't played in 10 years, and haven't played ice hockey for 20 years. But he told me just to do it, and talking over techniques and tips on his games helped give me that extra kick in the butt that I always need to get me going. Before I knew it, I was at the Pan Am Plaza rink downtown, watching rinkside a bunch of kids scrimmaging.

Watching the kids skate around the rink, hearing the puck being shot against the boards with its reverberating booming echo, feeling the coolness of the air, and smellng the slight residual exhaust from the zamboni mixed with ice was enough to convince me. For this assault on the senses breathed new life in to me and for the first time ever I was actually excited about being in this defunct little town. Hmm...Q was absolutely right. Again.

But wait. If memory serves, playing hockey was extremely expensive. 20 years ago it cost 10 bucks to play for about an hour and a half. After looking in to prices over here, it was....10 bucks to play for an hour and a half! Alright! I'm in.
The next 2 months were spent researching equipment online and at the rink, calling up stores, trying on new equipement, etc. I did have Mom and Dad send me my helmet, but all my pads were either rusted or decintigrated. And as far as my old skates...I'm not even sure what happened to them. Great, there goes another few Benjamens. Through my research I discovered that a lot of the things we bought 20 years ago were either the wrong sizes or the wrong equipment.

So after about 2 months of scrutinizing just about everything, I finally finally FINALLY got all the equipment I needed. I had been dying to play, and my patience was tested as all my things were mailed to me. But when I finally had everything, nothing could stand in my way of going to the rink. Nothing.....except Richel, of course (Honey, can I go out and play?). And I knew I had to get in as much playing time as possible because once the baby came, then that would be it: all vestiges of freedom would be forever lost for the next 18 years as Goh had forerwarned me (oh yeah, I'm going to be a parent, soon. But that's a minor point. More importantly, I got my equipment and was ready to play hockey. If anything, the birth of the new child would mean buying even more hockey equipement and going to the rink more often - just like every good Canadian parent).

After going to about 4 or 5 independent sessions where you can just skate around on your own and take shots, or work on your stick-handling or whatever, I felt that maybe it was time to test the waters and play a game. And if I were in California I would have definitely been able to get away with it. But not in the midwest. The players here have been on skates since the age of 2 or 3. They're good. Damn good. Better than I've ever seen outside of an NHL game.

Needless to say I was the worst player out there. Relatively speaking, I couldn't skate, I was slow, I was always 2 steps behind the play, couldn't pass, couldn't shoot, nothing. Contributing to my embarassment was the fact that this day was the first day I wore a face cage instead of a plastic shield (big difference in visibility). So it was my first ice hockey game in 20 years and I was skating around half blind; it was only a matter of time before people would stop passing to me. And I was so ineffective that I got to a point where I didn't want people to pass it to me, either.

"Hey, don't give me the puck! I don't know what to do with it! And even if I did I couldn't do it, anyway!" After recounting the experience with Gah, she dubbed me the next Eddie Shack.

I'd say that's right on.

My Life to My Papa II - Middle Earth

2007-05-04T21:49:00.000-07:00

It's been almost 30 years since the literary classic "My Life to My Papa" was written. Many changes have come about in the world and in the family since then, and I can think of no better way of celebrating this historic document's 30th anniversary than with an updated version. So here we go:

My Life to My Papa II:

What in the world does the title have anything to do with the subject matter? Who knows? I never was very good in expository writing as my high school English teacher in junior year who gave everyone a "C" could tell you. And in keeping with tradition, I will be as consistent and true to original form as possible.

Dad - Dad would best be described as a Hobbit. Just a regular simple guy from the country side, he would enjoy nothing more than returning to his Shire and enjoying the simple pleasures in life - playing MJ and smoking.

Mom - Mom is from the race of Man, definitely. And if she were assigned a kingdom I would definitely say she was a warrior woman from the kingdom of Rohan. To this day, even in her 60's her physical presence and perseverence still intimidates and strikes fear in to the hearts of other men.

Gah - Gah's best description would be a Dwarf. Although short and small in stature, she has a big heart. Her real life profession also requires the skill and craftmanship of the dwarves. The only difference is that she doesn't have a beard. We can work on that.

Goh - Unarguably the most well-read, Goh's best description would be Wizard. Who else would rather lock themselves in the bowels of the library and study manuscripts than be outside on a nice sunny 70 degree weather day?

Q - Tall, strong, and lumbering. Throw him in the rink and add hot-headed temper to that. Definitely from the race of Man. Not exactly sure where he's from, though. His mere size would suggest Numenorian descent.

V - I actually never described myself in the original manuscript. Today, though, I would have to say that I would be from the race of Elves from Rivendell. Slender and lithe, with decent height and deceptively strong, I believe wood Elf would be the best description.

There have been several additions to the family since the original writing of MLTMP, however it's ever-changing nature and size does not allow for additional descriptions at this time.

SD Revisited

2007-02-26T19:53:00.000-08:00

After having gone through almost 2 straight years of residency without a vacation, I was determined as an attending never to let that happen, again. Why? Because at the end of those 2 years I was so tired, so stressed out, so aggravated with my coworkers that I constantly clenched my teeth until my jaws ached. I think 2006 was the first time I took a cumulative of 4 weeks vacation. Before then, I had always worked for the good of the Rush Rehab program; now I was taking vacation for the good of my family, Richel, and my own sanity and health.

This winter, Richel and I returned back to San Diego. It was the first time we've been here since the wedding, about 7 months. It was great seeing my new extended family. I also got to see my newest nephew, L. He was so happy all the time and cute as a button.

So there he was smiling away, which was quite the contrary the last time I saw him. He's the spitting image of his father, minus the temper and hairy face (quite an intimidating combination).

Unfortunately, we were only able to spend a couple of days with the booger, but the time we did spend with him was great. The rest of the time was spent fulfilling social/family obligations. It's always the same whenever we go home: fly home, rush here to visit family, rush there to visit friends, rush here to see this, rush there to eat at that great restaurant, before you know it it's time to return home, fly home exhausted. What kind of madness is that? The same madness we always live through whenever we go home. But we had fun, though.

One day we drove up to Oxnard to visit some relatives. There's not much to do in Oxnard, which is maybe an hour or so north of LA. The closest thing of interest there is the Ronald Regan Library. I didn't even know he could read, much less have a library.

Looking at the historical artifacts were much more interesting, as I never really was a big fan. The most impressive site at this library was...well, there were two exhibits that were quite impressive. The first amazing exhibit was the room with all the gifts that were sent to Reagan when he was president. I had no idea that people send the president so much useless junk. I mean really. Who needs 12 busts of themselves? Or 20 horse saddles? Or 10 paintings of themselves? Talk about vanity.

The other interesting exhibit was Air Force One. Now that was a fantastic display. True, it's only an ordinary plane, much more ordinary than I thought it would be. I expected it to be along the same lines of one of those jumbo A680 jumbo planes with multiple levels, staircases, etc. But it's not. And they had the plane in a room with a huge window that looked out in to the mountains. It was quite spectacular.

I saw one part of an exhibit that I found quite amusing. For those of us who actually remember, this was a phone. Now, for all the Kaitlyns, and Ashleys, and Madisons that are born to today's yuppies, they would have no clue what this thing is or how to use it for that matter. To them a phone is a small rectangular object that we all clip on our belts and use incessantly to distraction, especially while driving. But back in the day, this is actually what it looked like.

Honeymoon VII - Epilogue

2006-12-19T19:26:00.000-08:00

And so, our journey and adventures in Hawaii had finally come to an end with the coming of dawn on Saturday. It was a day when we finally had nothing planned for activities and could sit back and relax. Ironically, we never did take time out during our busy stay to enjoy the hotel or the beach. But we did the best we could in the little time we had remaining.

One thing that amazed me about the Maui Prince Hotel was the courtyard, which had a waterfall inside with streams and pond that had about 70 giant-sized goldfish. Just looking at them all made me hungry, but at the same time reminded me of a pack of rats for some reason. Ew.

How many hotels do you know that have a bloody waterfall in the courtyard with streams and a pond?

They also had zen-like gardens.

The view from our bedroom balcony was so much nicer than the Hilton's view of the construction zone and crane.

We actually did get an opportunity to relax and lounge on the beach...for about 20 minutes. Then we had to get up and rush to the airport to return the car and catch our flight.

It is with a heavy heart that we left Maui, and our final destination for this round of travel made our spirits sink even further. But we'll always remember Hawaii, the fun we had with our friends here, and most important of all the great times we had with each other.

LE FIN

Honeymoon Part VI - The Long Anticipated Day

2006-12-05T19:35:00.000-08:00

Friday finally came around and it was met with much anticipation, not because it was a Friday but because of what the day had in store for us. For the entire week, Richel had been telling me how we couldn't go kayaking because she didn't bring the proper shoes. Well, the thing is you don't need shoes for kayaking and I'm not sure why you would because everything gets wet. But oh well. Again, the day would start at some painfully early hour and we would begin in Lahaina, which meant we had to get up super early, again. Some vacation.

So we met our guide along the road to Lahaina. It was a small beachy area just off the busy road to Lahaina. There was no building or establishment, but just a small clearing amidst some sparse trees, next to the ocean. Our guide, Jerimiah, gave us some basics on how to get in and out of a kayak, how to paddle, and how to steer. These kayaks were open kayaks, almost like small canoes or rafts. Oh well, so much for doing the eskimo roll.

So we climbed in our rafts and off we went, paddling out towards the ocean. It was a beautiful day and the waters were calm.

That's actually a sea urchin Richel is holding...up to my face.

Richel and I were the only Asians on our tour during this excursion. Funny how we got the yellow raft. Coincidence?

In any case, we geared up and plunged in the water. Richel was much more comfortable snorkeling this time, as she wasn't flailing her arms and legs around in every direction; it was apparent she was much more calm. I was hoping to see something larger than the small schools of fish we encountered numerous times on our first excursion, and so my wish was granted. We must have seen 8-10 giant sea turtles. Of course not all at once, and they didn't swim together. We saw a handful at a time. This was so exciting because up until that day I hadn't seen one. And not only did we see them off in the distance, but the turtles swam up to the surface for air so close to us, and then would dive back down to the sea floor. I tried to take pictures of them but I guess most of the photos didn't come out because of the dim lighting under water (which makes me wonder somewhat about the validity of the Loch Ness Monster - maybe it is real, but it's not something that can be captured on film because of the cruddy water).

Believe it or not, these are actually pictures of sea turtles. They're there somewhere, but unfortunately the underwater camera couldn't pick them up. That's such a disappointment.

Now, getting out of the kayak was one thing; getting back in was another. Without sounding like a physics professor, getting back in a kayak is a lot lot harder because when you try to pull yourself back in the kayak, there's no counter-force for you to pull against because the kayak isn't anchored securely in one place - it's just floating in water. So if you try to pull yourself up in to the kayak, you'll likely capsize the boat. Or if you tried to pull yourself towards the kayak, instead what would happen is that you'd pull the kayak towards you and knock yourself in the head. Thankfully, Jerimiah taught us how to get back in the kayak, and the technique was to try and pull the kayak underneath your body as you lifted yourself out and laid across it with your body. That way the boat wouldn't capsize. And it was a good thing one of us was paying attention when he was explaining this because I had no trouble doing this. Richel, on the other hand, was struggling almost to the point where I thought it might be a good idea to film it. Nah. She nearly capsized the kayak while I was in it twice. Better not risk wetting the camcorder. I was wondering if we might have to continue our journey the rest of the way like this with me in the back paddling and Richel hanging alongside the kayak because she couldn't get back in. But she finally made it after a few tries.

We did this a few times, going in and out of the water after paddling to a new location and each time we saw numerous sea turtles. And of course I knew our luck would run out sooner or later, as someone actually spotted a shark. According to Jerimiah, it was a "harmless" shark, whatever that meant. In either case, this thing was swimming around and it looked to be 8 feet long. We actually swam to its general location and spotted it. I tried to stay behind it, and then I stopped moving altogether and just hovered. Then I actually tried to discretly swim away from it as it swam underneath a large rock. But as my luck would have it, the tide kept drawing me closer and closer and CLOSER until I was directly over the bloody thing and I thought, great. Just what I wanted - to be hovering directly over an 8 ft. shark. Thank God the thing swam away on its own, and after that Richel and I headed straight for the kayak. We got out, and agreed that we were done snorkeling for the rest of our lives. Which worked out well, because our kayak tour had come to and end and it was time to head back to shore to begin the second half of our adventure.

After paddling back to shore, we turned in our kayaking and snorkeling gear and met Dan, our hiking guide and driver. He was a nice guy and quite knowledgeable about what was going on on the island in terms of the ecology and sociologicaly. He told us so many interesting things I don't even know where to begin. He almost reminded me of Ewi, our driver for the trip to Haleakala, except Dan was cognizant of the fact that we had just completed 2.5 hours of kayaking and snorkeling and so kept quiet to let us rest at times.
We reached our destination just north of Wailuku high up in the mountains. Again, the roads were quite winding and dangerous, moreso than the road to Mt. Haleakala for these roads were only wide enough for one car. If we encountered another car coming down, we would have to wait until they passed or vice versa before proceding. When we reached the parking lot, the 7 of us climbed out of the van, packed up supplies of food, water, and bug spray in our packs and headed out.

After hiking for a few minutes I realized one very important thing: the shoe sales lady at the Keen store lied. Keen shoe/sandles are great for city walking or rock-climbing or what-have-you. But they're horrid for hiking because small pieces of dirt and rock get caught in there and they don't come out as easily as they do with regular sandals. So I hiked the entire trip with small rocks, dirt, and sand getting caught in my sandal-shoes. It became so uncomfortable to the point where I didn't care what the guide was talking about, anymore.

Our first stop was by a small waterfall that emptied in to a small pool, not stagnant like a pond although it was about the same size as one. It was here Richel and I decided to take some pictures.

The higher part of the waterfall actually emptied in to a small but deep pool. The guide encouraged us to get in the pool, but I was the only one daring or stupid enough to try it. In any case, let me tell you that that water is extremely cold, colder than the coldest faucet water in winter.

SHRINKAGE!

Definitely shrinkage.

I was so caught up in the excitement of wading in to a waterfall that I had forgotten to take off my wrist watch. More importantly, I had forgotten to take the car keys and alarm remote out of my pocket before getting in to the water. But just in case anyone is interested, those remote car alarm devices actually do work after being submerged in ice cold mountain water. Trust me, I'm speaking from experience.

Anyway, Dan proceded to tell us as we resumed our journey that the natives of Hawaii would call going in to the icy cold waterfall water a cleansing experience. And as strange as it may sound there was actually some truth to that, for not only did I really feel cleansed and envigorated with the pure mountain water, but my sandals were cleaned out when I waded in! Ahhhh!

And so onward we hiked, encountering different terrains, plant species, tree species, and trails. Although, most of the trails were once again, dirty, sandy, and/or muddy. Our final destination required us to climb down the side of a small cliff and in to a clearing with a pool and waterfall.

Proof that we were here by the waterfalls.

Since my first experience with the waterfalls, everytime I saw a pool or water or waterfall it's almost like I had some insane obligation to jump in the water and get wet. Maybe the 80 degree weather had something to do with it.

Richel and I making our way to the waterfall.

Yes, we're actually not smiling but grimacing from the ice cold water beating down on us. I can't imagine how those people stand directly underneath the waterfalls to pose for pictures. They must be freezing.

This waterfall and pool area was beautiful and I wish we could have stayed longer. But our guide allowed us to rest for about 10 minutes and before I knew it we were up and hiking our way back to the van, again. We took a slightly different route and our pace had quickened. I wasn't sure what the emergency was, though. Maybe Dan had to go to the bathroom.

Despite our haste, there's always time to stop for a picture. And if you don't have the time, you make time. Actually, I was just dragging my feet to torture Dan. j/k

After hiking the rest of the way (uphill) we finally made it to the van, but not unscathed. Despite having bug spray on, I sufferred 7 mosquito bites. I think the spray didn't do anything for the bugs, and if anything the only thing that kept me from getting eaten alive was the long-sleeve wet shirt I wore. But I'm sure all those toxic chemicals killed off countless wildlife as it washed off my legs in the waterfall. Dan proceded to drive us back to the kayak site where we had all left our cars.

So now it was about 2:30 in the afternoon and we were between Makena and Lahaina, closer to Lahaina. And we've been told mutliple times how bad traffic was to Lahaina in the afternoon coming from Makena, so we decided to head up to Lahaina, again and hang out until sunset.

FLASHBACK - For the past week I had been looking for a culturally rich Hawaiian show to watch. I wanted to learn something about Hawaii and Hawaiian culture; Ulalena was okay, but somewhat weird and the Luau we went to on Oahu wasn't that satisfying in terms of learning something new or interesting about the Hawaiian culture. On our trip to Haleakala, we rode with this one couple who had gone to a Luau and spoke very highly of its cultural richness. It wasn't commercialized as badly as many of the other Luaus. In any case, it was called the Old Lahaina Luau and it was voted best Luau by Maui residents. I had seen that all over the magazines and travel brochures but never paid any attention to it and when we had originally planned out our trip early that week the travel lady, Jennifer had offerred to get us set up to see it, but I turned it down initially. Later, I changed my mind and found that it was hard to get tickets. Disappointment crept upon me as the week went on and it seemed as though we would never get tickets to the Old Lahaina Luau. The one chance we did have was when they called me back to tell me of extra tickets they had but that's the day we went on a helicopter ride. But by some stroke of luck, the day Richel and I went to the Ocean Center I called the luau place up and they put me on a wait list and we got accepted! So we would be able to attend the luau before leaving Maui after all. And it would be on Friday night, after our hiking/kayaking excursion.

BACK TO PRESENT -
Driving towards Lahaina, we had to stop off at a gas station to change out of our snorkel/hiking gear and in to normal clothes. For me, that meant putting on another dry-fit shirt (but hey, this one was clean!). We ate a sandwich at the gas station, and I'm still not sure what posessed Richel to buy a sandwich from a gas station. Delerious from hunger and hypoglycemia, perhaps. Anyway, it was one of the worst sandwiches I had ever tasted. But that was okay, because we were going to the luau.

We arrived at the place, which was easily hidden away and anyone not driving 3 miles/hr would have missed the sign to turn in. Upon entering the place, Richel and I were leied, and then got in line to enter. While we waited, a couple serenaded us while waiters dressed in traditional grass skirt garb and head wreaths served us drinks. VERY NICE!

Now, looking at this place from across the street, one would never think much of this luau. But after coming through the entrance, the area opened up in to a wide area of the beach with palm trees with a center stage surrounded by a semi-circle arrangement of chairs and tables that faced towards the ocean so that the ocean lapped upon the shore behind the stage. Between the stage and the ocean was a line of vendors selling their wares of hand-carved rocks, photos, pins, etc.

Anyway, the show was fantastic: it was very well presented with culturally relevant dances and historical background that was given before each dance. Needless to say, the dancers were fantastic, both men and women. I was more amazed at how the women could swivel their hips like that without having severe back pain. But they did it and did it with skilled artistry.

One thing that did detract from our enjoyment of the evening was the company we kept at our table during the luau. There were two couples, each in about their 50's. Both wives seemed to be friendly or at least convesational, but the husbands were rather quiet towards Richel and me, almost as if we weren't good enough for them to talk to. Apparently, the two men struck up an interesting conversation with each other. But eventually the question came around,

"So what do you do for work?" and I answered them truthfully. Suddenly, it was as if we had gained a new level of respect from them. The husbands still didn't speak to us, but I could tell from the look in their eyes that we were looked down upon with a condescending eye, anymore. And so I responded in kind,

"So what do YOU do for work?" Both women were housewives, I believe, and one of the husbands did some sort of engineering thing. The other husband didn't even bother answering. Nothing to brag about, I would guess.

Anyway, as the show went on, our surly dinner partners disappeared and Richel and I were brought closer to the stage to watch. After the luau was over and we had eaten our fill we left for home, once again driving the winding dark road back to Makena. So although we never did get a chance to go zip-lining, we had the opportunity to watch an awesome luau. And we had a good time.

Actually, we had a GREAT time!

Honeymoon Part V - Up in the Air/ Down in the Sea

2006-12-03T08:05:00.000-08:00

Thursday morning was something I'd been looking forward to. Not that I wasn't looking forward to everything else so far, but this day came with great anticipation. Today, Richel and I were to drive to the helicopter pad and fly around Maui via helicopter. Cool! Is it like TV where everyone is hunched over and running over to the chopper? Well, we would soon find out.

Driving to the helipad was interesting. We were surprised how far away it was from the airport. We made a couple of wrong turns here and there even though there are only so many roads in Maui; we were bound to get the right one sooner or later. But I knew we would be driving around cluelessly trying to find out destination, so it was a good thing we left an hour and a half early.

We managed to find the place eventually, but had so much free time that the girl at the front desk told us to come back at 11:15am or so. It was 10:30. Okay. So we drove back to K-mart because Richel wanted to use the bathroom there. I would wait in the car and eat Cheetos. For anyone who has ever eaten Cheetos, you know how everything turns in to an orange mess afterwards, so I had asked Richel to pick up some paper towels while she was going to the bathroom. I thought she was just going to grab a couple of extra paper towels in the paper towel dispenser in the bathroom, but she came back with this big huge role of Brawny (what the....? I didn't make THAT big of a mess, did I?)

Anyway, being the anal person that I am about being on time I thought we should head back a few minutes early. So we got to the helipad, again, at 11:05 or so and the same girl was in the process of rounding everyone up to take over to the helicopters. By 11:15, we were riding in a little shuttle over to the helicopters (didn't that girl say meet back at the desk at 11:15, and not 'we'll be in mid-transport to the helicopters at 11:15'?).

So we got to the landing pad. No helicopters. I guess they were in the process of landing. But while they were doing so, I suddenly felt like I was back in the 3rd grade. The guide/girl had us line up by size and stand on a line while we waited. Reminded me of lining up in the yard during the end of recess. I have to say that our boarding on to the helicopter was quite disappointing because it wasn't at all as exciting as it is on TV; people are crouched half-way down, scrambling over to the helicopter and jumping in just as the helicopter takes off. No, in fact it was quite slow and quite orderly. Our guide broke us up in to 2 groups, depending on which package we bought. Obviously, the 1 hour package (Group A) was more expensive than the 30 minute trip (Group B).

"Those of you in Group A, you'll be flying with Joe. He has the MOST flying experience of anyone on this island, he's been flying for about 30 years."

"Those of you in Group B, you'll be flying with Frank. He has the LEAST flying experience of anyone on this island."

Uh...you're joking, right? Good thing we were in Group A.

So up we went, flying around the skies of Maui while our pilot gave us a nice smooth ride with entertaining bits of information and wisecracks. I had expected that it would be just a regular ride and that we would just fly around, but Joe proceeded to tell us all about the island, the people, the economy, a little of the history, etc., etc. It was every interesting, more interesting listening to him I think than the ride itself. But putting the two together made for a very interesting and fun experience overall.

And I found out that I'm not the only geek out there who buys soundtrack music. As Joe was giving us our tour, he had music playing in the background that changed depending on what he was talking about. And as he talked about a secret government project that was going on the top of Mt. Haleakala he started playing the X-files music! Hey, brother! Then later on, he started playing Jurassic Park! Alright! Another John Williams fan.

Somewhere over the rainbow...

Anyway, a big disappointment Richel and I both had was viewing of the waterfalls. We thought we would get up really close to these giant magnificent waterfalls, but no such luck. I guess having a helicopter flying really close to every one of these would be really disturbing to the residents and hikers and visitors, with helicopters buzzing by every few minutes. But, oh well. Thank God for that zoom function.

These would have been pretty good pictures had it not been for the reflection of my yellow life-jacket. And there we go, again. We're flying in the air and they give us floatation jackets. I'll never understand that. Wouldn't a parachute be more appropriate?

Anyway, just about at the end of the ride I was starting to feel sick. I'm not sure if it was from all the flying around or the fact that we were flying over some sacred grounds in the mountains. But either way we made our way back to the helipad before I had the urge to puke.

No, that's not a dress I'm wearing.

Next was a trip to the Maui Ocean Center that was located halfway to Lahaina. Richel and I had nothing else planned for the day so we decided to check it out. There were many stores and shops around the Ocean center itself, so we broused around, ate lunch, and finally went to the Ocean Center.

First thing I noticed about the Maui Ocean Center was how incredibly expensive it was. Now, I know I can be a cheapie at times, but 25 bucks/person for an aquarium is an awful lot. They better be serving cocktails in there or something.

I have to admit that it was pretty interesting. They had a good mix of indoor and outdoor aquariums filled with all sorts of interesting fish. It seemed like it started out with small fish and the species on exhibit became progressively bigger and bigger as we went along. It was quite interesting because unlike many aquariums where they just have tanks of fish swimming around and you have no idea what they are or why they're important, this one had very detailed descriptions of the types of marine life.

Unfortunately, my camera ran out of battery by the time we got to the larger more interesting fish. But Richel's camera battery was still going strong, and she managed to take a number of pictures.

After the Ocean Center, we went shopping for bathing suits, again. We were actually preparing for the next day, which was snorkeling, again. But being that I was so badly burned that first day, I wanted to find a dry-fit shirt or wet suit/shirt so that I didn't have to expose myself to further sun damage. I found a good shirt, and Richel picked out some swimwear, too.

After buying swimwear, we had to go to Costco (of all places). She really wanted to get Macademia nuts there, so okay. I'm not sure what the difference between buying Macademia nuts from Costco in Maui vs. buying them in Indianapolis is, but okay.

We were all set for the next day.

Honeymoon Part IV - Rising Sun

2006-11-26T19:56:00.000-08:00

The next day began earlier than most; at 2:30am. Richel and I had to wake up early for the shuttle service that was coming to get us at 3:15am. We had a trip to Mt. Haleakala to watch the sunrise. I had heard that the road to Haleakala was long and quite dangerous and so decided that I would rather not drive there myself, being unfamiliar with the roads. Richel was determinted to bring a blanket because that's what it said on the activities receipt: "bring blankets". Richel likes to be prepared, unlike me who likes to go on the fly and improvise (maybe that's why I'm always in trouble - but I had brought my ski-jacket. I looked ridiculous on the plane to Hawaii, but so what?). So we weren't leaving the room without a blanket. The problem was we didn't bring blankets with us on our trip, so Richel had to "borrow" the hotel blanket for the time being. That's okay, the maids wouldn't miss it at 3am and we would be back before housekeeping would get to the rooms.

So down to the lobby we went stealing the hotel blanket, and in the lobby we met Ewi, our driver and guide. He was a nice and friendly guy, conversational, and quite knowledgeable. We had to stop off at another hotel to pick up one other couple, and then we were on our way to the summit. It would have been nice to just enjoy the quite ride, but our driver kept talking and talking all the way to the mountain top. He wouldn't stop!

We finally made it to a point that was almost the summit. We were at about 10,000ft up, even above the clouds. At first, looking down from the mountain nothing could be seen except a vast and dark emptiness that swallowed everything up including the sounds of our voices.

Off on the horizon a sliver of orange light slowly appeared. It was still dark but at least there was something to look at, now. But the novelty soon wore off, as the same orange line on the horizon didn't change for the better part of an hour and the 39 degree temperature was a shock to our system.

I started taking pictures every ten minutes or so as it slowly became brighter and brighter. So slow in fact that I made snoring noises while we waited, and the couple beside us started laughing.

It finally got bright enough to see the mountain top with the clouds behind it. A lot of people thought it was the ocean at first. In any case, we continued to wait until...

The sun came up and it came up blazing fast (pun intended)! I almost missed it: it started as a reddish sliver and before I knew it it was half way above the horizon.

In any case, after taking pictures of the sunrise for the past hour, I concluded that perhaps all the theories of the sun and planetary bodies being spherical were all wrong. Apparently, we have a square sun.

Okay, time to go up even higher. We went another half mile up the road to the pinnacle and looked down. It was nice up there because the clouds covered all the buildings and development and all you could see was the ocean with the neighboring mountain and sky. It was then that I decided to carry on Goh's and Gah's tradition and have my picture taken. Without explanation, only Gah and Goh would understand these pictures.

As Gah and Goh had their photos taken while they were "creating the world" at Yosemite Park, I would continue that tradition and have my picture taken here creating the world at Mt. Haleakala.

And Richel would help with some creations, too. She put in all the butterflies.

Anyway, now that the world was sufficiently created, it was picture time.

After we had taken enough photos and our guide got bored and came looking for us, we rode back down the mountain to a small little cafe/diner to have breakfast. It had a beautiful view, and we had a prime spot right in the corner.

On our way, however, we saw a series of bunkers on the side of Mt. Haleakala. According to our guide, these bunkers were built back in the days of WWII to defend against the Japanese. So I presume those were built in the late 1940's-1950's. Ironic that 30 years later Japanese would take over just about all of the Hawaiian islands without firing a single shot. For those of you who've been to Hawaii, you know what I'm talking about - during the 80's when Japan's economy exploded they came in to Hawaii and bought and invested just about everything and dominated the islands until 9-11. But the influence of their presence and culture still remains, as there are still store signs and shops, street names, newspapers, restaurants, etc., etc. all in Japanese (in fact, I bought my sunglasses from a very nice Japanese lady named Misako).

There was actually a small community in the area, as well. Can you imagine living in this area? The view would be awesome; the commute would not.

After breakfast, we were dropped off at our hotel at 10:30am, just as our guide had promised. Richel and I hurried back to our room, not because we were exhausted and wanted to take a nap, but didn't want to get caught in the lobby with the hotel's blanket. If we did get caught, I was planning on denying any association or relationship with Richel.

"I don't know who she is, officer. We were just walking in the same direction. Honest!" After taking her away, I'd go to the beach and check out all the hotties - j/k

According to our guide, the drive from Makena to Lahaina was a pain in the butt and we would no doubt get caught in traffic if we left any later than 2:30pm. So after getting back to the Maui Prince and putting the blanket back, we...crap! I don't remember what we did! Uh...apparently we had a 4 hour memory lapse, brought on no doubt by our insane hour of revelry. I do remember that we did shopping stuff for a while, and then drove over to Lahaina.

The drive over wasn't as bad as we thought it would be. We got there fairly quickly and had quite a bit of spare time. We had gone there for the show Ulalena, a musical/dance show which described the history of the Hawaiian islands through song and dance. Sort of like a musical, I guess. But we had gotten there with an hour-and-a-half to spare and since we hadn't eaten lunch, we decided to look for food.....at close to 3pm. I was doing okay without sustenance, having survived internship and residency without regular meals on a daily basis and working all day. But Richel wasn't accustomed to that form of torture, so we ate at this place called Cilantro, a Mexican/Hawaiian fast food place that was surprisingly good.

Afterwards we watched the show, which was entertaining and very different from any musical I had seen in the past. I guess that was because of all the theology, culture, and legend. Richel and I actually got front row seats, which was something I didn't want. I wanted to sit a few rows back so that I could see everything all at once. You know, the big picture. There was this one underwater "scene" where the actors/dancers had large sticks with large fish and sea animals attached at the top, and they would run around and wave the sticks to give the appearance of the fish swimming around. And I swear some girl almost took my head off flinging that thing around.

When we got out, we went to go eat at this restaurant that the people at the theatre recommended. The menu looked okay, but didn't realize it was a fancy-shmancy restaurant. I felt just a bit underdressed with the shorts, sandals, and T-shirt attire, even if the T-shirt was a Banana Republic dry-fit shirt. It was quite pricey, but Richel and I had the best seared Ahi tuna there I've ever tasted. It was like butter melting in your mouth.

With dinner's end, we drove the treacherous rode home. I didn't realize how dangerous the roads were in Hawaii because it's so dark, especially when they have areas with no street lights. The roads are winding and it's pitch black. But we made it back in one piece.

Another fun-filled day had gone by. Part V to come...(anyone out there actually reading all this? Besides Richel?)

Honeymoon Part III - The Adventure Begins

2006-11-23T18:57:00.000-08:00

I'm not sure why all these activities start so friggin early in the morning, but they do. On Tuesday we had to be at the Kihei Boat Ramp at 7:15am. Which was fine, because our hotel was about 15 minutes away. When Richel and I were getting ready in the morning, she had convinced me to wear my swim trunks to the boat ramp, which I thought was ridiculous. Of course they would give us a place to change in to our swimming trunks later on, right? Well, whatever. I guess it couldn't hurt to wear the swim trunks to the boat ramp.

This was our mode of transportation: a water raft named the Kanaloa. It looked fairly benign.

After checking in, our guide and our captain both warned us that this raft ride was not for those with back or neck pain, or pregnant women. They also told us that we had to hold on to the raft's life-lines tightly. Yikes! What did I get us in to? But it was a raft, right? How fast could a mere raft go? Especially one that looked like that? It wasn't anything sleek and sporty like on Miami Vice.

Well, I had my answer. As soon as we cleared the docks we were flying along at 45 knots. Thank God the waters were relatively calm that day. I was even more thankful that Richel was sitting in front of me, shielding me from the wind and water in my face. We continued to zip along the water traveling faster and faster until we reached our max speed at Warp 9. In all manliness I hid down further behind Richel from the wind and water that splashed up upon us as we continued to bounce along.

"Captain! I think my head blew off about half a league back. Could we circle back and get it?"

Finally, we slowed down to the speed of sound so that I could hear myself screaming. We were now off the Southern coast of Maui, looking at old lava flow that had come down off the mountain and directly in to the ocean.

With the overflow of lava in to the ocean and with the ocean pounding away at the shore, many caves were created, called the Kanaio Sea Caves. There was even a cave large enough for the whole raft to go inside of.

Hey, proof that I was actually there for once. Cool shades, huh? Note: that ugly 70's hair part in the middle is the product of blasting across the ocean on the raft, not because of my poor fashion sense.

Some parts of the caves were large enough for the raft to go inside.

A rare picture together with the famous archway behind us.

After what seemed to be a couple of hours of looking at rocks and coastline (okay, this is getting kinda old) we sped away to La Perouse Bay for snorkeling. Richel and I, being the two snorkeling newbies on the raft, fumbled around with our equipment while everyone else suited up and jumped in the water. Thank God Richel insisted that I wear my trunks on the boat trip. I was going to wear my long sleeve Banana Republic dry fit shirt while I snorkeled so that I wouldn't get sunburned, but I wasn't sure how the dye would react with the salt water. Besides, we would only be in the water for a few minutes or so, right? So I took it off.

Ah yes, stick to the plan: pretend to be slow in getting the gear on, let everyone else jump in the water and if it's safe and no sharks are sighted and no one is attacked, then get in.

Everyone else was about 20 meters out and it was at that point I felt safe enough to get in the water. So in I went! Splash one. The first thing I noticed was how warm the water was. The second thing I noticed was how salty the water was. Hey! Did those 20 people relieve themselves around the boat before swimming off or something? I could only pray that the warm salty fluid I had inadvertently swallowed was ocean water and not our shipmates' pee.

The next task was getting Richel in to the water. Splash two (hmm...why is she flailing around in the water so much with her arms and legs? She has a floating belt on, flippers, and snorkel gear). With all that flailing around I was sure there was something out there that noticed us. I dunked my face in the water to look around for any blood-thirsty predators but didn't see any. Whew! Okay, let's swim a little more.

We went about 3 meters before Richel made a mad dash back to the boat side. What? Was there a shark or something?! I didn't see anything.

"I dont' want any more!"

Aw, you gotta be kidding me. Well, at least she got in the water. That's a big first step. But our tour guide and captain were very supportive. They continued to encourage her and reassure her that she was doing great, and that was enough to get her back out, again. I was treading about 3 meters off the side of the boat (no life-jacket, no float belt, just me with snorkel goggles and flippers) so I was unable to really cheer her on.

This time we went about 5 meters from the boat before Richel made a mad dash back to the boat. Shark? This time Richel was adamant about getting out of the water. I was obliged to follow, as the rules for snorkeling say always go in pairs and never leave your partner. And we all know about the valuable lesson that Maverick learned in Top Gun: Don't leave your wingman.

So I climbed aboard and dried off. I wanted to do more snorkeling, but oh well. Anyway, I was so proud of Richel for jumping in the ocean and snorkeling, even if it was for just 5 minutes. After about 20 minutes or so, our guide Dante called everyone back in and off we went to Molokini Bay at Warp 6. I actually thought the trip was over, but to my delight it wasn't. We were just going to another area to snorkel. Alright! We would have another chance.

Molokini Island is a partially submerged volcano crater that looks like a crescent moon. Anyway, we went there and this time Richel and I stayed in the water much longer. There were already other boats and snorkelers in the area, so it appeared safe. We swam around looking at all the schools of friendly colorful fish that swam mere inches away from us. I actually reached out to try and touch one, but couldn't; they wouldn't allow themselves to get any closer than 2 inches. While swimming around, I took pictures of some fish and Richel underwater - now we had proof that Richel was actually in the water swimming. I was hoping to see a sea turtle, and other people did see them including Richel. She also saw a manta ray. The only interesting thing I saw was a tube fish. Or at least I think it was a tube fish. I did see something about 30 meters away on the ocean floor crawling along but it was vague and it disappeared before I could catch up with it.

Anyway, we did the same thing a few more times: travel to a different spot at warp speed, stop, snorkel, look at the fish and coral, take pictures of Richel, and then get out of the water. We then came back aboard and were given a sandwhich lunch and drinks. It was about 2pm about this time, and we welcomed the nourishment after having gone the entire morning without food or drink.

Refreshed and envigorated from our meal, we now had enough strength to hang on for dear life as we blasted back to the Kihei Boat Ramp at Warp 9. We docked, disembarked, and kissed the ground. Amazing that Richel and I had gone snorkeling and had a good time without incident. With my luck, I was expecting to get mauled by a shark, impaled by a sting ray, or attacked by a sea turtle. But none of that happened. And now that Richel and I were safely back on dry land we both had one thing on our minds: shower. We climbed in the car and sped home, still damp from the ocean water (eh, it's okay. We had a rental).

After getting cleaned up, I was quite distraught to discover that I had been badly sunburned. Aw, not good. My back was strawberry red and tender. I should have kept the shirt on - who cares if the salt ate away the logo?

Anyway, Richel and I were so tired afterwards that we napped in the afternoon. After all, this was the most exercise we had had for months, and in her case, years. For the rest of the day, Richel repeatedly told me how she could not go kayaking on Friday because of my sunburn and because she didn't have the right shoes. Nevermind the fact that it was another snorkeling trip and that my sunburn and her shoes had absolutely nothing to do with kayaking.

Our evening was nothing special. We went to the Whaler's Store, another convenient store/chain in Hawaii and bought a nice cheap but tasty dinner which we ate in the hotel room. We then went to bed quite early, for we had to get up at 2:30am the next morning...

Stay tuned for Part IV

Honeymoon Part II - The Eternal Travelers

2006-11-20T20:26:00.000-08:00

So we arrived at the luxurious Maui Prince Hotel. We did check in about 45 minutes early and our room wasn't ready, yet, so Richel and I went down to the pool and ordered some food while the room's finishing touches were made. While lounging by the pool, I noticed a definite difference in demographics compared to the Hilton Hawaiian Village. The Hilton was always full of activity, regardless of what time of day or night it was. Ages varied from what seemed to be 20's to 50's. But more people in their 20's and 30's, thin, and good-looking (I contributed to that population); it was a considerably young and energetic crowd. At the Maui Prince Hotel, however, on that Monday the area was occupied by a bunch of lethargic old fat people in their 50's to 70's, lying around the pool like a herd of sea lions on the beach. What the....am I back in Indiana?

Well, anyway, we finally retired to our luxurious room with the fantastic view and settled in. Richel wasted no time in falling asleep, while I called around to different places I found in an activities magazine to try and book activities. But no such luck, as many things were booked, already. Frustrated, I left the room and headed down to the lobby to look for someone who could help me organize some activities. Perhaps the concierge who looked like Kelly Chen could help me with that.

Instead, I met Jennifer who worked at the Expediafun desk. She worked with me for about an hour organizing events, calling up different places for availability and making reservations for Richel and I for the entire week. We booked 5 events for 2 people, costing an arm and a leg. Ouch. But hey, you only have one honeymoon (at least I only plan on one). Little did I know, however, that I could have gone to a small marketplace in Kihei or Lahaina, booked the same activities and pay about 1/3 the price. Well, perhaps on our next trip we'll go to one of those activity stands and make the most of it. It was too late to do anything about it at that time, though.

Our first activity was water rafting/cave touring and snorkeling. Tough to do without a pair of swim trunks. As I mentioned in part I of this series, I had to break down and buy a pair of swim trunks. So we visited a number of different swimwear stores at the shops of Waileia, which had a lot of high end stores. The cheapest pair of swim trunks I saw went for 40 bucks. 40 bucks for a pair of swim trunks? Remember this is the same guy who slept on the floor throughout med school and on an air mattress during residency. I wasn't sure what the going rate for swim trunks were, so I called up the fashion expert/econimic advisor, Q. I told him that I needed a pair of swim trunks to go snorkeling and asked what was a reasonable price to pay for swim trunks.

"I got a cheap pair for about 20 bucks. That's reasonable. 40 is a little steep. You're going snorkeling? Did you hear about the shark attack that just occurred on Maui?" Bloody hell! NO, I didn't hear of any bloody shark attack at Maui! Would I be crazy or stupid enough to go snorkeling if I had? But being that I paid a pretty penny for it in advance, I guess the answer to that would be yes. So for the next 30 minutes Q proceded to read to me over the phone all the shark attacks that occurred in Maui over the past few years.

"Having said all that, have fun!" said Q. Gee, thanks. Can't wait. I really wasn't afraid for myself, though. I was more afraid for Richel. But I figured when we went snorkeling, we would let all the other people get in the water and swim around first to make sure it was safe, and then we would get in. Sounded like a good plan.

Anyway, I finally found an ABC store, which is like the 7-Eleven of Hawaii that sells everything, including clothes. I bought a pair of swim trunks (black, of course) for 20 bucks and I was set for the next day's dismemberment.

Stay tuned for Part III

Honeymoon Part I - First Contact

2006-11-19T14:41:00.000-08:00

No, this piece isn't about the Star Trek movie with the Borg, but about the honeymoon that Richel and I just returned home from.

Planning for this actually began last year when it was announced that the 67th Annual AAPM&R would be located at Hawaii. I thought, hey, what a perfect place and time to honeymoon! I can go on vacation/honeymoon, earn CME credits and learn stuff at the same time, see old friends I haven't seen in a while, and legally deduct part of the trip! Killing 5 birds with 1 stone; you can't beat that. So it was settled; Hawaii it was. Well, that plus the fact that Richel wanted to go to Hawaii instead of Montreal or Quebec for our honeymoon.

This honeymoon/conference was more of an adventure than a relaxing vacation. If you want to make comparisons, an Indiana Jones movie would be very comparable.

November 8 - Richel and I packed up and headed to the airport in Indy. Now, for those of you who don't know, I'm actually afraid of running in to my patients outside of the clinic/hospital because I never know what my patient's reaction will be like. It can be either 1 of 2 reactions: friendly gratitude or intense hatred. I can totally understand how actors or professional athletes feel, now when they're spotted by fans. They're either loved or hated. But anyway, thank goodness the patient we ran in to was one of the ones who did well and was very happy and pleasant. And it was good to see her smiling, too, instead of being in pain.

The 3.5 hour plane ride was uneventful. We flew from Indy to Houston at the George Bush International Airport for our transfer flight. Of all places to fly to...In any case, from there we flew another 7 hours to Oahu. Right off the plane, my cel phone started ringing with a caller from Indy. Against my better judgement, I answered and found that it was the answering service for my work group. The caller was relieved that he had gotten a hold of me, and started telling me how he was trying all day to get in touch with me and about one of my patients who was calling, all in one breath! I told him that I was sorry, but I couldn't really do anything from the airport in Oahu and that I was on vacation. Mortified, he apologized repeatedly and told me he would take care of it.

We then picked up our rental car from Hertz. Ironically, they gave me a Pontiac Grand Prix. One would think that driving a car is no different from one car to the next and that they are all the same. But I had never driven an American car before in my 16 year driving career. So it was quite different but not impossible to figure out. I felt a little like Scotty in Star Trek III and IV:

"Where's the damn anti-matter inducer?"

"Fixing the warp drive, that's easy. Reading Klingon, that's hard."

But like Sulu, Master of Navigation I was able to drive the car without getting in to a wreck. That same evening, we met up with Krishna, Roxanna, little Izzy, Kevin, Wayne, Qamar, Ernie, Rose, Xuong, Jafar, their significant ones, and some other dude I had never met before. Tired, exhausted, sleep deprived, and starving, we headed over to Phuket Thai. Interesting place with great food, but even more interesting was the name of the restaurant. Afterwards, we headed back to our room at the Hilton Hawaiian Village, which was a very nice place. But our room smelled like wet socks and had a view of a construction site. To think I paid $229/night for that. Paris, I want my money back!

The next few days were pretty much all the same: Krishna, Kevin, and I went to lectures in the morning while Richel, Roxanna, and Izzy went to the malls (I guess they're starting Izzy out early). I jest regarding the whole shopping issue, even though I did a considerable amount of shopping, myself. Why? As Krishna pointed out, I didn't bring my shoes, hat, sunglasses, or swimming trunks. The only things I did bring were my dry-fit shirts. What was I thinking? So to avoid further sun damage and heat discomfort, I ended up buying sunglasses, swimming trunks, a hat, and yes, another dry-fit shirt. My sly way of buying things for a purpose.

In the afternoons, the men met up with the women and we would all go out to dinner somewhere. Friday night was no exception when we celebrated Krishna's birthday at a pretty cool restaurant. It was an open air restaurant situated right off the water that was supposed to have pretty good seafood. We had a pretty good time there.

The next day was the same. Lecture in the morning and afternoon and dinner in the evening. We went shopping later with the women and then headed back to the hotel. One thing that I wanted to do in Oahu was hang out on the beach for a little while. Unfortunately, Richel was so tired she fell asleep and Roxanna and Izzy were napping as well. So I guess that it was no surprise that on my honeymoon/vacation I was hanging out on the beach with my good buddy Krishna.

Later on that evening Krishna, Roxanna, Izzy, Richel and I went to a Luau. Our bus tour entertainer, who dubbed himself "the Rock" was quite amusing and tried to get us in to the party spirit, along with 50 other people in the bus. We were hoping for traditional/ culturally interesting dancing and entertainment. But the show started off more like an MTV Spring Break episode, which was funny but somewhat disappointing.

"Everyone wave your hands in the air and say 'HO'!".

Hmmm...is THIS how native Hawaiians celebrated the Luau for the past thousand years? A comparable analogy would be watching Lord of the Rings with a rock band playing the soundtrack (- can you imagine Gandalf casting spells, whirling his staff and sword to the sounds of an electric guitar?). But the dancing, especially the fire-dance, made up for the MTV commercialism.

On Sunday, I wasted 50 bucks on a stupid lecture-workshop (which I won't get in to, but can you tell I'm bitter about it?) and then had brunch with our friends before they returned home. For the rest of the day in Oahu, Richel and I went over to Diamond Head to hike the trail to the top.

It started off pretty basic with a nice paved but steep path winding towards the summit. But very quickly, this nice paved trail turned in to a rocky dirt trail with stairs and ladders and tunnels to climb and crawl through. Alright! Exactly what I was hoping for. So we reached the highest allowable point but the euphoria of our achievement was blunted by the fact that Richel was feeling sick. After some shade and water she did okay, though. Let the picture-taking begin. Descending was no problem.

Next, Mt. Everest.

The next day, Richel and I flew over to Maui. It was just as hot there, but the beauty of the island far surpassed anything that we had seen on Oahu (we only stayed in Waikiki, though). We picked up the rental car and drove over to the Maui Prince Hotel located in Makena. This was a hotel that was strongly recommended by Q so it's something that I had insisted on, and it didn't disappoint, as the hotel was magnificent with it's large open hallways and lounge and open courtyard with waterfalls, streams, and pond. Our room was located on the top floor with a view of the ocean with a large mountain in the background. And the room didn't smell. Much better than the Hilton.

Stay tuned for Part II

Manual Transmission II: the Saga Continues...

2006-09-23T21:06:00.000-07:00

Years had passed since my first traumatic experience with the Honda Prelude. I had avoided the stick shift car for quite some time, driving it occaissionally with Dad teaching me tid-bits here and there. The time I learned the most was from a lesson Dad gave me while driving my uncle's truck ( we were moving Q's furniture in Davis). Since then, I developed a fascination with the manual transmission.

I had often asked other people why they wanted manual transmission cars and I always thought the answer was pure baloney: because I have more control over the car with a manual transmission. Well, if driving a stick shift was anything like the Prelude, how in the world could anyone have MORE control over that? It was a wildly bucking and lurching 2 ton catastrophe waiting to happen. But that same answer was consistent across the board, regardless of who I asked. My fascination with it grew.

So when I chose my first car, which was a 1996 Honda Civic, I wanted to make sure it was a stick shift. However, I was far from mastering the art of using a manual transmission. In fact, at the dealer while I was test driving one I was quite scared I was going to trash the transmission. Thank God I didn't.

Anyway, I was actually able to get the Civic all the way home from the dealer's in one piece without killing anyone else, practically coasting all the way home riding the clutch (big no-no). After a week or so of coasting around in the car, riding the clutch most of the time, Q took me aside and told me he was going to teach me how to master the art of the stick. A rather brave and daring deed, especially if he was going to be in the car with me.

Living in San Francisco with all the hills, it was easy to find a street with a 40 degree incline. Q drove the car up the hill and stopped midway, put the car in neutral, put the parking brake on, and told me to get in the driver's seat. My task was to put the car in gear and get the car moving, again without stalling. There's no way I'll be able to do this, I thought to myself. But Q taught me how to balance the throttle and the clutch so well that I was able to do a decent job in just a few tries (I think I only stalled once).

After driving the Civic for 10 years, I'd say I'm pretty good at driving the stick and I found that all those other people were right; driving a stick DOES give you more control over the car. Actually, it's more control over the acceleration of the car. But in any case, they were right.

Manual Transmission

2006-09-20T20:51:00.000-07:00

My experiences with the manual transmission started at the ripe age of around 11 years-old. Gah had recently bought a used Honda Prelude that sat in our garage and it happened to have a manual transmission. We're not sure why she chose something like that since she didn't know how to drive it. But each to his own. Every now and then, we would have to play musical cars, having multiple cars in the family and only room enough for 2 in the garage, one parked behind the other.

One day, Goh was asked to move Gah's car so that Mom or Dad could get in the garage. Since Gah wasn't home and Goh was the next elder at home, the responsibility fell upon his shoulders. I got in to the passenger front seat just for kicks and to enjoy Gah's new ride. Little did I know, though, that Goh had no idea how to drive a manual transmission, either.

Starting the car was no problem, but Goh had to move the car ahead approximately 6 feet and that required that he put the car in gear. I alone wasn't strong enough to push the car that far while the car was in neutral with Goh at the wheel, pressing the clutch. Now, for anyone who has ridden in a manual transmission car that is bucking, you would know that it feels like someone is jamming on the brake, then flooring it, then jamming on the brake, then flooring it, then jamming on the brake, all in rapid succession. It's enough to give someone a severe case of whiplash ten times over. And there's absolutely no control of the car when that is happening, especially with the older cars unless you're experienced enough to press on the clutch. Which Goh wasn't.

So there we were, revving the engine in neutral until Goh was brave enough to put the car in gear and release the clutch. And off we went, bucking, lurching, and kicking, getting whiplash over and over. But that wasn't the worst of it. The true terror wasn't riding in a car with Goh at the wheel that was completely out of control; it was the fact that we were heading straight towards the back wall of the house. Forget the car, we were about to put a hole through Gung's wall! If we survived the crash, Mom would kill us, or at least make a decent effort. Actually, she would kill Goh, but I'd get killed, also, more so because I'd be a scapegoat. And where Mom didn't succeed, Gung surely would.

But through all the bucking and kicking, screaming and praying, the car finally died about 30cm (that's about a 1 foot for the metrically-challenged) from the wall. Needless to say, I had to push the car everytime Goh had to move it after that.

Technology

2006-08-06T15:32:00.000-07:00

Back in 2005, I invited my family over to Chicago to attend my graduation. Some family members came. And it just so happened that that week was the hottest week of the summer that year. I never bought a car with AC in it but it was something I could allways bear. Yes, even in 90 degree weather. Unfortunately, my family always had cars with AC in them, and so they were not accustomed to toughing it out as I have done for years.

The solution? Roll down the windows and drive faster.

And so we did. Those who rode with Richel were able to be a bit more comfortable, for her car does have AC. In any case, there came a time when Goh and Wei both rode with me. As we climbed in the car and drove off...

"Hey Wei, roll down the window." Goh said.

"I don't know how!" came Wei's anxious and frustrated reply as she pawed at the side of the door, searching for something. I couldn't help but chuckle for I knew the source of her anxiety and told her,

"Hey Wei, there's no button to push to open the windows in this car. You have to actually roll down the window." I told her.

Wow, that's something. But Wei can't really be faulted. True, she was an 11-year-old who didn't know how to roll down the window. It sounds funny, but that's what technology can do to you: when you grow up in an environment where everything needs the push of a button to do whatever it is that needs to be done, you forget how to do everything or you never learn in the first place.

Case in point.

Do NOT Feed the Animals

2006-07-23T22:43:00.000-07:00

I vaguely remember this happening when it did 30 years ago when I was just 3 years old. Goh picked Q and I up from daycare and we took the subway home as usual. However, this particular day he decided to buy us some orange pop. I do believe it was orange Fanta. Well, that was spectacular, as Mom and Dad had never bought soda pop for us at home. It was a very very rare treat.

The next day Goh took Q and I to daycare. I, like every other animal out there, expected the same thing; an orange pop. Except this time I didn't get one. Again, I vaguely remember throwing the biggest fit a 3 year-old could throw. I was told that I sat on the sidewalk and refused to go in until Goh bought me an orange pop. And I cried and yelled and screamed "I want an orange pop!" Well, I never got it.

Way to stand your ground, Goh! This very act probably saved me from becoming an even bigger spoiled brat and would keep me from becoming a soda addict like the millions of other North Americans out there.

So for the past 30 years I've never heard the end of this story. I've heard it repeatedly from Mom and Dad and Goh. If it hadn't been for their constant reminders, I would definitely have forgotten about the incident.

In any case, Goh has been very generous to me over the years for which I am eternally grateful and will never be able to repay him. He has sacrificed a lot of time, energy, and money for Q and I.

Finally, at our wedding Goh was giving the best man's toast, which was outstanding, I must say. And he gave R and I a toast with (you guessed it) orange pop. Fitting and classic. But there's one question that lingers in my mind about that:

Goh, after all the stuff you've bought me throughout the past 30 years, why did it take you so long to finally buy me an orange pop?

Casper the Friendly Ghost

2006-07-20T18:33:00.000-07:00

When I was about 20 years old or so, I was on my way home to San Francisco from Davis, and as usual I stopped off at Gah's place to pick up the kids. While we were packing the kids in to the car, Gah handed me a 20 dollar bill. Hmm...okay, what's the catch?

"What's this for?" I asked.

"You have to take them to see Casper." Aw, you've got to be kidding me!!! Of all the movies playing in the theatre, I had to go watch that! Well, so be it. I guess as an uncle you've got to take your lumps. So my niece and nephew were packed in to the car and we drove to San Francisco. The next day, we went to go see the matinee showing of Casper, the Friendly Ghost.

One would think that this movie, which was a children's movie would be geared towards children. But the beginning was actually quite creepy. Gong-wing was laughing through the whole show and having a good time. At the same time, Mui was bawling her eyes out because she was scared. She kept telling me she wanted to go to the park and was climbing all over me in the theatre. So what do I do? I have a 4 year-old enjoying a movie and having fun. Then I have a crying 2 year-old who's scared and wants to leave the theatre. The thing is I was all alone with no other adults. And in this day and age, I would be foolish to leave a child unattended, even in a movie theatre (there are always 2 exits, remember?). Regardless of what I did, one of them was going to cry: if I stayed, Mui would cry from fright from this movie. If I left, Gong-wing would surely cry from being dragged away from the movie. What to do, what to do? I almost made the wrong decision and dragged everyone out of the theatre, but thatnk God I didn't. At that point, I had to quickly consider who could throw the bigger fit, the 2 year-old or the 4 year-old?

Sorry Mui, we were going to stay. Besides, we had to get our 20 bucks worth.

Desperate House-Uncles

2006-02-19T14:11:00.000-08:00

Richel and I were watching an episode of Desperate Housewives the other day when Lynette, the mother of 3 unruly boys was having problems teaching her kids discipline. They didn't use their seatbelts while driving in the van, which led to the mother getting pulled over by a policeman. The mother, in an attempt to teach her kids a lesson, later kicked her kids out of the van and left them standing by the side of the road while she drove off because the kids didn't settle down and behave in the car. This abandonment technique, I must say, is one of the most dangerous yet effective disciplining techniques for children.

Watching that brought me back to the days when I was a desperate house-uncle, taking care of my niece or nephew day-in and day-out. Don't get me wrong, I always loved taking care of them, but it takes a lot of energy and patience. Sometimes, I would just run out of both and would have to resort to drastic measures to get the kids to cooperate.

It was Christmas season of 94'. I was Christmas shopping with Nicole, my niece who was not yet 2 years old. She was old enough to walk and talk in Chinese, but was not yet well-versed in English. She knew enough to outright test authority as well, either verbally or by her actions.

Nicole, or Mui as I've always called her, was well-behaved for most of the morning. That is until we made our way to Kay-Bee Toy Store. Of course I had to see what was available for my nieces and newphew at the toy store. But after looking around in the crowded aisles at the toys, I didn't see anything that I wanted to get for the kids so I told Mui that we should get going.

"No!" she replied, as she was completely fascinated and taken with the slew of Barbie dolls that lined the shelves. I was patient, so I gave her about 5-10 minutes more of ogling over the dolls, then told her again that we were leaving.

"No!" she replied, again, as she continued to look at all the Barbie dolls.

"Okay," I told her in Chinese, "if you don't come, I'm going to leave you here all by yourself." She ignored my comment while continuing to look at Barbie. So I left her in the aisle and walked out of the store. Needless to say I didn't go far. I actually sat on a bench right outside the store entrance and watched, making sure she didn't leave the store with any strangers.

I waited for about 5 minutes, enough time to go by for Mui to realize that I had left. Now, the trick was trying to walk back in to the store and find Mui without some nut taking her out of the store at the same time. I would have to be quick in entering and finding her in the aisles right away. And so I walked back in, heading straight for the Barbie dolls and keeping a watchful eye out for Mui among the sea of children running in and out of the store with their parents.

It didn't take long to find Mui at all. Just in the Barbie section, there was a group of women huddled around a child sitting on the floor, crying. Of course, none of the women could understand Mui, who only spoke a few words in English. But the women were all asking Mui why she was crying, where her parents were, who she was with, etc. I made my way to the centre of the crowd and announced that she was with me, then picked Mui off the floor and said to her in Chinese,

"Are you ready to leave, now?" She nodded obediently with her entire back as children often do who haven't learned independent motor control of their necks. She continued sobbing after leaving the store, but she eventually calmed down.

Next stop was Mervyn's or JC Penny's or some big department store. While we were there we passed by a toy display, one which Mui was fascinated by, and so she stopped to take a look. I gave her a minute to indulge, then told her that we must be going. Again, she ignored me as she looked at the toy displays.

"Okay, I'm going to leave you at the count of three, then. 1...", and that's as far as I got, as Mui came charging over to stay with me. I wouldn't have dared to try the abandonment technique in a large department store; there'd be no way to monitor all the entrances and exits. But I didn't have to, as the bluff worked and worked well.

See? The whole abandonment technique does work, as it scares the crap out of the kid. Effective, but extremely dangerous in this day and age with psycho kidnappers. Would I do that to my own children if they were misbehaving? Absolutely. But I would be poised with a samurai sword right around the corner for anyone who would try to abduct them.

The Magician's Uncle

2005-12-27T18:20:00.000-08:00

Back in the day when I was driving Gung's old Tercel, I used to take Bryan to many places. We'd go to the park, or Japantown...or the park, or Japantown. Sometimes we'd go to the store to get something for Mom or Dad. But it was mainly to go to the park.

One day it was business as usual. Bryan woke up at 6:30am, muck around in his crib for about half-an-hour, then start to cry. That was my que to wake up, go to the kitchen and heat his milk for 15 seconds on high, bring it back to him, and while he was drinking from his bottle, I changed his diaper. Then I threw his diaper in the hamper because Gah believed in getting cotton diapers at the time and tossed Bryan back in his crib. Then I dove back in to bed and slept. Another half hour went by until Bryan finally finished his bottle and tossed it out of his crib. He would muck around in his crib for another 20 minutes or so before crying, and then that was my que to get up, again. I took him out and let him go roam the unexplored regions of Mom and Dad's house. But only if someone else was awake and available to watch him.

It was during one of these days when I was taking Bryan somewhere. I'm not sure where, exactly. But I do remember that it must have been a weekday, because my car was parked across the street, safe from the street-cleaning ticket-writing cops. So across the street we went with Bryan trotting along side me holding one hand, and me holding his car-seat in the other. I opened the passenger side car door and told Bryan to stay, as I had done a hundred times before. Then I climbed in to the back seat and secured his car-seat to the seatbelt. Then I turned around to get Bryan and put him in his chair. But he was gone!

My immediate first thought was, what happened to Bryan??!! My second immediate thought was, Gah's going to kill me!!! I frantically looked around for the little munchkin, but he was nowhere in the immediate vacinity. Then I broadened my search and saw a little munchkin about 1/4 of a block away running down the street. Thank God he was on the sidewalk!

I then charged down the sidewalk as fast as I could towards the fleeing Bryan. Fleeing? What was he fleeing from. As I caught up to Bryan, it became apparent why he was running away. Well, he actually wasn't running away from me or the car, but he was chasing his little super-ball that he had dropped. And he must have dropped it because he was almost on the verge of tears as he chased after it. He finally stumbled and fell, but he didn't injure himself. But he frantically tried to get up to continue his pursuit and finally he burst in to tears. By that time, I was upon him. I picked him up and then took a few extra steps to retrieve his ball. Then I brought him back to the car, thanking God the entire way that he didn't run in to the middle of the street.

Normally, I'm pretty good at disappearing. But on this day, Bryan was the Magician.

Stevie B., Stevie Y., now Stevie H.

2005-11-29T16:29:00.000-08:00

I never had a chance to go home during the former half of decade of 2000-2010. There were huge changes going on in my family at that time; my nieces and nephew were growing up, my grandparents passed away, and the circle of life continued with the coming of my newest and youngest nephew, Stevie. Granted, Stevie was born in 1999, but close enough.

I've always wondered why the name Stevie. Personally, I think it was a name Goh came up with. Coincidentally, or maybe not coincidentally, the Wings won the Stanley Cup in 1997 and in 1998, with Steve Yzerman being a major contributor, and the Conn Smyth winner in the Wings' 97-98 season. At that time, they started calling him Stevie Y. Not to be confused with Stevie B. Our own would now be Stevie H.

But I digress. During the summer of 2001 or so, I finally met Stevie. He had never seen me before, maybe except for pictures. Not surprisingly, he mistook me for Goh; Goh was the only male member of our family who could actually hold Stevie without him crying and thrashing about to get away. And so it was, the Ol' Switcharoo come to life, again. This time, preying on the new generation. It was funny looking at Stevie's expression. When he looked at me, he didn't start crying right away as he did with all other strangers; of course not, he thought I was Goh, his dad. But just watching his expression, I could tell he knew something wasn't right. Perhaps I seemed familiar in an odd sort of way. Whatever it was that was throwing him off, he couldn't place it and so he was uncertain whether he should start crying or not. He opted not to.

After a while, Stevie and I were buddies. That is until Goh walked in the door. Then it was over; my cover was blown and Stevie started crying. But it's okay because we ended up becoming good buddies, anyway.

The next year, I actually made it home, again during the summer. It was bloody hot that day, and I was down visiting Goh and his family. Knowing that Stevie was never let out of the house until maybe age 2, I took him outside in to the backyard to play. It was then when he discovered how fun it was to have a water-gun fight. And it was fair: Stevie had the super-soaker water gun, I had the water-hose. Needless to say, he got drenched but not because his uncle was giving him a shower with the water hose outside. It was because he had so much fun being outside with the water, he was rolling around on the ground on the wet concrete. I think he got sick and caught a cold a few days later, but Stevie's joy of being outside playing, even for an hour far out-weighed any cold. In the end, it was all worth it. His cold came and it went, but the memories will last a lifetime.

When all is Quiet...

2005-11-26T08:34:00.000-08:00

It was the summer of '91. I was only 18 years-old and I had been babysitting for my sister everyday during the summer from sun-up to about 5pm when a saviour would finally come home from work and take over. But until then, he was all mine.

Conventiently (for everyone else) his crib was kept in my bedroom. I quickly became accustomed to the routine: intially wake up at 6:30am when I heard my nephew babbling, feign sleeping until 7am when he started crying, get up, put the bottle in the microwave for 15 seconds, give it to Bryan, change his diapers while he was drinking milk, put him back in the crib, and go back to sleep until 7:30am, then get up when Bryan tossed the bottle out of the crib and started crying, and make sure Mom or Dad or someone else was awake to keep an eye on him, then dive back in to bed until 8-9am until Mom or Dad went to work. Then I had to keep him entertained, fed, well-rested, and safe until about 2pm when it was time for nap.

It was during one of these nap-times when I thought everything was going as usual. I had put Bryan to bed and went to the living room for about 20 minutes or so. All was quiet. As I was recuperating in the living room, I heard an odd rustling sound that I couldn't place. The sound was faint enough to make me think it was just my imagination, or perhaps soft enough to go unnoticed with my fatigue. Either way, I didn't follow up, but since I was up and out of the chair, I might as well check up on the little sack of potatoes.

There was a hole in my bedroom door that I could peer through to check up on him without opening the door and waking him up, which I used from time to time. And as I looked in to the room I saw Bryan, not sleeping soundly in bed, which he should have been. Instead, I saw him standing on the bed, reaching up, desperately trying to push my Stanley Cup poster back on to the wall. As he did this, the poster was making a faint rustling sound. Apparently, someone had been a bit mischevious.

Seeing this desicration of one of the Holiest of symbols, I opened the door. Bryan, upon seeing me said to me in Chinese,

"Uncle! Help me!" The funny part (for me) was hearing this 2 year-old plead for help for something as inconsequential as a 3 dollar poster. Okay, granted it was of the Stanley Cup, but still only a poster, nonetheless. I'll never forget the terror in his voice; it was as if it was a life-or-death situation and that the discovery of his mischievious behaviour would end in an ultimately painful demise.

Had Mom discovered him first, it may have. But it was me, the Yummy-fu.

I let out an exasperated "Ai-yaaaah!". Upon hearing this, Bryan burst in to tears as if pleading and groveling with the gods to spare his life. But it was no big deal; I put the poster back on the wall, gave my nephew a hug, told him to be a good boy next time and put him back to bed.

I learned something valuable that day: when 2 years old are quiet, they're either sleeping, badly hurt or sick, or up to no good.

The Ol' Switch-a-Roo

2005-10-16T22:06:00.000-07:00

There was one of the rare occaisions that Goh, Jenny, and Wei actually drove up to San Francisco one weekend. Wei was about 1 or 1.5 years old, or so, I think. Anyway, the reason they came up was because Goh and Jenny had to go to a company function that evening. Obvioiusly, they couldn't take Wei with them. The problem was that Goh and Jenny couldn't leave Wei alone. Wei had the worst case of separation anxiety I've ever seen in a 1 year old, and she had the lungs and yelling capacity to prove it (a trait inherited from Goh, no doubt).

Goh was sitting on the sofa chair in the corner with Wei sitting on the floor with her back to him, clinging to the leg of his jeans. Coincidentally, I was also wearing jeans. I came up with a quick scheme: while Wei was temporarily distracted by someone in front, Goh would slip off to the side and I would quickly take his place. Wei, sitting on the floor with her back to the sofa chair, wouldn't know the difference until Goh and Jenny were safely away or until she turned around. It was the best idea I could come up with, anyway, and no one else offerred any bright ideas so we tried it. And it worked!

Wei was happy and content for about 10 minutes after Goh and Jenny left for their function. Then Wei decided to turn around and noticed that it wasn't her ba-ba sitting behind her, but me. Wei then decided to test the hearing acuity of our neighbors on the corner of our street for the next 30 minutes or so. I did my best to comfort the little booger, bouncing her up and down while holding her, showing herself in the mirror, giving her my stuffed E.T. to play with. But nothing would stop the Iron Lung; she would stop when she decided to. Just when I thought my hearing was about to go, the deafening cacophony of the banshee's wails died down. Oh, thank God. My hearing would be preserved after all. But how much of it I lost, who could tell?

So Wei made a new buddy that night, and we were buddies for about 20 minutes more until my friends came to pick me up. Whelp! Gotta go! As I walked towards the door to leave, my niece decided once again to subject our neighbors to a hearing test. To make things a bit easlier, I took her to the front door with me where I would hand her off to Mom, and then jump in my friends' car. Easier said than done. As I was trying to hand her off, Wei grabbed the sleeve of my shirt with the Vulcan death grip and wouldn't let go. I had to pull and tug for a bit while Wei was reaching out towards me, but I finally broke free and jumped in Rich's car.

"Man, that is one attached kid," said Rich.
"Yeah," I replied. I couldn't help but feel kind of guilty because it was almost like I was deserting my niece. But not really; not like I was leaving her with a complete stranger. She was at home with Mom and Dad. Who would be better to take care of her than those two? And if Wei wanted to get in to a screaming match, Mom was there to rise to the challenge.

Looking back, it was the ol' switch-a-roo that began the night's festivities.

Speaking of the Ol' Tercel

2005-10-16T20:40:00.000-07:00

That last post reminded me of Gung's good ol' 1987 Beige Toyota Tercel that Mom had to buy for $2,000 bucks. It was a good little car, clean, no major damage (until I drove it). Anyway, I remember driving Janine and Mui to McDonald's one day. The goal of the trip was to get something for the booger to eat and a chance for Janine and I to hang out.

So there we were, driving along Sunset Boulevard when this idiot in this van crept out in to the intersection. Being that he was stopped at the intersection and since I had the right of way, I just kept on going. But so did he. Slowly and stupidly, he crept his van out in to the middle of the street while I was just cruising on down the street, naively thinking he would stop like he was supposed to. But he didn't! By the time I realized he wasn't going to stop, I was about 10 feet from him going 35 miles/hour. "OhVince! Watch out!" Janine called out, as I swerved the car deftly to the right to avoid the on-coming van that STILL did not slow down. As I passed the van, I could hear the passenger in the van screaming; that's how close I came to the other vehicle. Talk about doing Titan's Turn!

Just after passing the idiot in the van, we continued on down the street in stunned silence. All of us, except for Mui, who said out loud in her monotone voice, "Ngo-dei jong che?" (we got in-to a car accident?) completely oblivious to the gravity of the situation we had just avoided. There was no concern, no worry, no excitement. It was as if she wanted to know what time it was, or what the weather was like. I, on the other hand, almost crapped in my pants, as I'm sure Janine almost did, too.

And I thought I had nerves of steel.

House of D

2005-10-15T22:03:00.000-07:00

Recently, Richel and I watched a movie written, directed, and produced by David Duchovny called "House of D". It's one of those coming-of-age movies about a young boy who grows up and becomes the way he is. Later on, as a grown adult and a father, he returns to his routes to confront his past and fears. It's a great movie but it didn't do well at the box office because there were no really big box-office names, except for Robin Williams, but he wasn't even the main character.

Anyway, in the movie Duchovny races across town on his bike to his home on his son's 13th birthday. He promised his son a bicycle ride with him but Duchovny gets there so late that his son has already fallen asleep. Watching this scene brought back some memories for me when I was back in college.

Back at ol' UCD, I used to drive around Gung's '87 Toyota Tercel, with nothing in it but a tape player and radio. Don't get me wrong; I'm grateful that I had the car, but some AC would be nice, especially up in Davis, CA. And being up in Davis use to be so bloody boring at times, espcially after Quinn graduated and left for med school. I had no one to hang out with or do things with or anything. In essence, I was a loner. Maybe by choice, maybe not. In any case, I was. So there was no point in hanging around the ol' farm town on the weekends. So I used to go home just like many other college kids did. For me, though, the 90-120 minute drive without AC through San Francisco Bay Area traffic during rush hour was sickening, especially after doing it for 2 years straight every bloody weekend. Instead, I used to go over to Gah's place every-so-often. The up side was that I was always taken care of at Gah's house (i.e. I always had something to eat, there was DOOM on Mike's computer, and they had cable). The down-side was traffic wasn't that much better going there, and none of my friends were there, either. But I always did enjoy visiting my sister when I was in college because she was fairly close by. And because I always got to baby-sit Bryan and Nicole. Nicole was still a baby at that time and Bryan was about 3-4 years old.

Whenever I did come over, Gah would always tell Gong-wing that I was coming over. Well, shoot. Who doesn't get all excited when the Yummy Kow-fu comes over? But the thing is I would wait until well after dark, either waiting for traffic and the temperature to die down, or just putzing around at home before I made the trip over. Often times, I would arrive around 10-11pm or so and find little Gong-wing lying on the sofa fast asleep. He had his Yummy blanklet with him, but it's not like he was set to sleep outside in the living room; he had no pillow or blanket to cover up (not like he really needed the blanket, though).

"What's he doing out here?" I asked my sister. I knew Gah did some weird things sometimes and thought this might be one of them.

"He fell asleep waiting for you! He didn't want to go to bed until you came over. What took you so long?" Gah answered. Gee, I sure felt like a @#$@$!$-hole. Just like Duchovny, I got there late. Too late for the little bugger to keep awake. And it happened on more than one occaision, too. You'd think I would learn after the first time. In any case, that's a huge regret I realized I had; a situation that I'll never be able to rectify or return to. Gong-wing is now 15 and doesn't wait up for anyone these days.

Maybe that's why I'm such a stickler for being on-time these days. Or at least I try to. Making adults wait is one thing; making kids wait is a whole different story.

Beauty is in the Eye of the Beholder

2005-07-24T19:50:00.000-07:00

Back in the day when I was about 9 years old, I remember eating lunch in the cafeteria with a bunch of my classmates. The topic of discussion was beautiful mothers. All the other kids were talking about how beautiful their mothers were, etc., etc. Funny how only all the girls were saying that. The focus of the conversation inevitably turned in my direction when one of the girls asked,

"Hey Vince, what about your mom? Is she beautiful?" I dunno. I'm sure she had some redeeming qualities about her that was beyond my ability to understand or articulate at the time. But to answer the question, if we were just basing everything on appearances the answer would be...ummm....well, let's put it this way. At the time my idea of beautiful was something like a fairy: long flowing hair, slim, delicate, musical voice, light-footed, and graceful. Mom's hair was always on the short side as far as I could remember, big-boned, after bearing 4 children you can imagine her body habitus and gait, I could always tell where she was in the house whenever she walked around, and we were always causing trouble so that Mom would be practically hoarse from yelling at us. So of course my answer to that question was,

"Um...mwpehernl." Lucky for me my classmate continued to rant on about her mother and was oblivious to my response.

Fast forward 23 years.

The following subject came up, again but this time with Gah and Lup. Their conversation, as described from an email from Gah:

I (Gah) asked her (Lup) "who thinks you're beautiful?
Lup: No one
Me (Gah): I do. Who thinks I'm beautiful.
Lup: I do.
Me: Ha. You lie!! Not once have you said I'm beautiful.
Lup: You're beautiful on the inside.
Me: BAHAHAHAHA!!!!! Yeah, thanks a lot.
L: You were beautiful.
Me: BAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAH!!! (even louder) You mean I'm not anymore?
L: I saw old pictures of you and you were beautiful. You still are beautiful, except older now.
Me: Rolling on the floor by now.

Bad genes on the female side? Who knows. Maybe it's just one of those behavioral things that crosses the generations. Like how most parents take away all the candy from their kids after Halloween night. Or like how most kids love being in toy stores. Maybe most kids don't think their mothers are beautiful, anymore, after 10 years of parenting.

Just to put things in perspective, though, I had to babysit everyday from sun up to 5pm during my junior/senior year in high school during the summer. I had no sleep, I was irritable, and exhausted all the time. 10 years of that, and I'm sure I wouldn't look that great, either.

Happy Father's Day 2005

2005-06-19T20:34:00.000-07:00

Well, this being Father's day, I thought I'd share a story about Dad. I'm not sure how old I was, maybe about 3 or so. But I remember Mom, Dad, and the rest of the family taking a picnic trip down to Niagra Falls. My memory of the falls, themselves were vague. But the salient part of that excursion was playing tag with Dad and Quinn.

I remember running for what seemed like hours in circles, trying desperately to tag either Quinn or Dad. Quinn would just run and leave me in the dust, so chasing him was pointless. But Dad would let me get so close to him, almost close enough for a swipe and a tag. But everytime I reached out to tag him, he would somehow contort his body in a way to avoid being "it". And this happened over and over and over. Fairly easy to amuse a 3 year-old, eh? Especially me. Someone did take pictures of the spectacle, as there are photos in the family album.

Anyway, that must have been in the summer sometime. In any case, the last thing I remember of that trip was crapping in my pants either in the park or on the way home. Fond memories.