Category: Other Observations

RECEIPTS, RECEIPTS EVERYWHERE

Aren’t we in the middle of an environmental awareness movement as, you know, a planet? Which is probably a good thing, if we’re honest with ourselves. Don’t want to proactively kill our great-great-great-great? grandchildren because they run out of oxygen or something fun like that. Some projections have the end of the environment as we know it in hundreds of years and others are saying we could be feeling the effects. I think it’s safe to assume it’s somewhere in the middle of those two estimates. So … in like a hundred-ish years? If I’m still alive in a hundred-ish years I have to assume that the technology keeping me alive is doing the same for Mother Nature.

There’s all kinds of initiatives going on. Electric cars, recycling (kind of), composting, gardening, sustainable farming, reusable grocery bags, and paperless options for mail. Among others. I would like to take a second and wonder quietly where we went wrong with recycling. Like most great ideas it has fallen quite short of what was promised. So many rules to follow, for one. Then certain areas of the country don’t collect recycling? Or they have specifications – for example, recycling must be in a blue trash bag. If it’s in a trash bag, though, can it even be recycled? If it was as easy as the garbage I think more people would participate. Another thought, don’t make me pay a monthly recycling bill, but make me take it myself to a special center anyways. Just saying.

Despite all the various options out there for people who want to be involved, the paperless options are the most exciting to me. I really don’t like getting mail. I have to go all the way to the mailbox. Get the mail. Walk back. Sort out all of the ridiculous pieces of junk mail. Open the relevant mail. Then throw away said mail after I’ve read it. Because what would I need to save it for? I can find the same information on the Internet. Thank goodness the email copy is a read and delete alternative! Doesn’t solve the junk issue, however. I guess I can’t have my cake and eat it too when it comes to paperless. 

While email versions of monthly statements, or bills, definitely come in handy, I would like people in the consumer world to answer why there are so many receipts when you buy something. One receipt is kind of acceptable so you can “keep it for your records” and “balance your checkbook”. It’s courteous, I suppose. What I’ve found recently, though, is that one is never enough. Two is not enough. Sometimes three is not enough. I mean, just what? Who needs all these copies? Where are they going? Not with me, that’s for sure!

Typically, I hold onto a receipt until I see a trash can. If I’m shopping, I never keep my receipt, and yet I get presented with my copy, and the store’s copy. If I’m at a restaurant, I never keep my receipt, and yet I get presented with my copy, the restaurant’s copy, and a third unknown copy with the same information as the other two. Sans a signature line. Occasionally, I have received four receipts and I’m not here for that. Four?! More places should give the no receipt option.

In today’s world, we have tablets, we have the Square register, we have credit card readers for smartphones, we have Venmo. What is the consumer world waiting for? All the trees to disappear? Ironically, small businesses are the ones who seem to have jumped on this train well before corporate America. Irony is the wrong word there. Appropriately, small businesses have started this trend. Much like the federal government, I don’t think corporate America could make a decision about speeding up or slowing down for a yellow light for at least a month. It’s possible that years ago the leadership teams started trying to adopt paperless and we have yet to see the fruit of that direction. Maybe in another 10 years, who knows.

My point is that I get too many receipts. And I would like it to stop. I throw them away. Quickly. And without regret because what am I going to do with it? I can see that “receipt” online any time of day because that’s how technology works. A digital checkbook where it balances, records, and reconciles everything for you. Why would I do it manually? Save the trees. Save my sanity. Just print the one receipt you need to calculate tips.

Alright, jumping off my pedestal for now. If you know someone who would enjoy this post and want to share it with them, that would be awesome. Sharing is caring, after all. Don’t forget to subscribe to get these in your inbox twice weekly and follow TRP on Twitter for frequent musings. Thanks for reading!

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CAN I SEE YOUR ID?

There are several key birthday milestones that you count down to growing up. Your 10th birthday, for sure. I mean, double digits! You remember getting so excited to be double digits without really realizing that there’s a good chance you will never leave the double digit range … think about that for a second. What was so great about 10 anyways? That’s a whole extra candle your parents had to buy for the cake. 10 is selfish is what it is.

Plus then you’re on the verge of the pre-teen years which are fun for absolutely nobody. Not your parents. Not your friends. Not you. Not your teachers. Nobody. It’s a phase that is frustrating, stressful, and confusing. And that’s all before you hit the joy of puberty. Which is also frustrating, stressful, and confusing. But also scary and sad and exciting and you realize you’re nearing the next milestone which is the sweet sixteen. Ironically, the only sweet thing about being 16 is the ability to drive. Which is expensive so once again who’s really winning here?

Then there’s 18 and you’re finally an adult! Again, though, not as exciting as we hype ourselves up for. You can buy cigarettes so I guess it’s a good way to learn about consequences. Although you only partially get treated like an adult. You get to go to college, which IS an awesome milestone. Even there though, it’s not quite the same as the monotonous, expensive, and exhausting world that is post-college.

Among the birthday milestones that we trick ourselves into getting pumped about, the 21st one is the best day of your life. No more worrying about getting caught with a fake, or having to bribe your older friends into getting you some bottles, or swiping extra liquor from the very back of your parent’s cabinet hoping they don’t use those. You can waltz into the grocery store. The liquor store. The gas station. The club. The bar. Wherever and slap that ID card down and get whatever your little heart desires.

While being an alcohol drinking adult has its perks, like most good things, there are downfalls. That downfall is being asked to show your ID. Don’t get me wrong, that first day you reach purchasing freedom, you want to brag about it! You want everywhere you go to ask for that card so you can whip it out. Then wait awkwardly for them to have to triple check the date to make sure it’s the very minimum legal age. A powerful feeling.

During the post-turning-21-hangover, having to pull your ID out of your wallet every time becomes … annoying. Especially as you start to age towards your mid and late 20s. How young do you have to look to be closer to 30 than 21 and be asked to prove yourself. There’s always the one friend who will get carded, even when nobody else in the entire group does. I am that friend. I could go out with my parents, and only I will get carded. Not even my younger, not even 21 year old, sister gets carded. She just gets drinks. But I’m the one who looks underage. Ok.

If everyone in the group gets asked to prove their age, that’s one thing. The server is just protecting their job. And probably the whole establishment. But to single one person out, what is the purpose of even asking? Why waste both of our time? What was the thinking going into this? If one of them is at least 21, all of them must be 21? How does that work? Some of my friends have even decided to take No Shave November all the way through the pandemic and look like they belong in a frat house. And still I’m the only one who gets carded.

Clearly I’m unbothered by my young face. If I still look like a high schooler maybe I’ll look like a 20-something in my late 40s so there are perks. Eventually. So they tell me. Once you hit 21 you get a few consecutive solid exciting birthdays, though. Taylor Swift year, Jordan year, Kobe year, rent a car year. And then you’re in your late 20s and it becomes less exciting from there. You have to wait for 30 and by that point the over the hill jokes are coming out. So you’re excited on the outside, but sad on the inside.

Alright, jumping off my pedestal for now. If you know someone who would enjoy this post and want to share it with them, that would be awesome. Sharing is caring, after all. Don’t forget to subscribe to get these in your inbox twice weekly and follow TRP on Twitter for frequent musings. Thanks for reading!

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THE JOYS OF MOVING

Have you ever moved in your life? There’s probably a high chance that the answer is yes. Moving is a thing that we have to do occasionally, or frequently, or at specified intervals depending on your situation. Personally, moving is not my favorite. Moving on, yes, but moving between physical locations, no. There’s something very freeing about stepping away from something in your life that’s bringing you down a bit, or is outright toxic. It’s like when you take a week, or a few months / years, off at the gym and then do a brief workout and feel like a million bucks! And also when you see immediate results because it’s been so long.

Enough gym analogies, I’m not trying to bring the mood down. In summary, live your best life and move on from things that are not helping you grow. On the opposite side of that spectrum, however, we have moving. As in I live in one location and am now moving somewhere completely different. To live, not for an extended vacation. Which means that you need to bring your life with you. The good, the bad, and the random junk you thought you threw out during the last move.

In my opinion, there’s not many exciting things about the moving part of getting a new place. The exciting place is having a new address and getting to explore your new surroundings. Make new friends, find your new daily coffee shop, understand exactly how long it takes to get to the chinese take out place, create a list of new favorite bars and restaurants, explore new running routes, etc. Those things are super fun and I’m all about that … once I’m settled.

Why is the process of packing and unpacking things so difficult? When you break it down, you put things in a box and then you take things out of a box. Somewhere between the base problem and how we tend to do it a whole mess gets thrown in. Literally. If you ever want a good motivation to clean out what you own, move. I’m still not sure why we have two entire kitchen cabinets full of assorted cups, glasses, and mugs when there’s only two of us. Some of those could probably be donated. Do we need four different shoe racks in our closet that don’t even hold all of our shoes? Probably not.

So we have this … stuff. And you need to get it all into boxes. Efficiently and safely. Those being the key terms here. Anyone can shove an assortment of things into a box, but if you do it right you minimize the total number of boxes and, thus, the total effort required to take said boxes from one location to another. You also minimize potential damage to breakable things like cups, glasses, and mugs. Packaging pillows are a must have, but not the styrofoam nonsense – they leave residue particles everywhere. They’re an invasive species like ARTIFICIAL TURF.

If moving was simply boxes, it wouldn’t be so bad. But alas we have furniture. Why is all furniture either awkward or ridiculously heavy? Why can’t it be something easy to carry, somewhat lightweight, and stylish all in one? It doesn’t fit in cars. It doesn’t fit well in pickup trucks, at least not all of it. So you end up with a moving truck. And moving trucks are an expense. How expensive is up to your budget. Sure you can pay people to box your things and move them for you, but I don’t want strangers packing up certain things. Feels like a weird invasion of privacy and somehow there’s always a portion of your things that mysteriously disappear when they do it.

If all you had to do was pay for the moving truck, it would be fairly affordable. But since Lucifer himself invented moving you have either down payments, or security deposits. You have set up fees for utilities. You have to deal with switching Internet providers. Or worse, staying with your same one and transferring locations. You have to buy new things for the new space because when in Rome. You end up with boxes everywhere and piles of items to donate that you either have to pay someone to pick up, or you have to transport yourself. When all of that is said and done, you actually have to unpack what you, or strangers, dropped off. And get re-settled. Who has time honestly.

Alright, jumping off my pedestal for now. If you know someone who would enjoy this post and want to share it with them, that would be awesome. Sharing is caring, after all. Don’t forget to subscribe to get these in your inbox twice weekly and follow TRP on Twitter for frequent musings. Thanks for reading!

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BECOMING AN ADULT: EXPECTATIONS v. REALITY

Remember being in college and wanting so badly to just be an adult already? Start making the money instead of selling the devil your soul to be able to afford tuition each semester? Oh to be young and dumb again! In hindsight, I would like to make college last as long as possible. A victory lap if that’s what it would have taken to prolong becoming an adult for an extra year. But alas, that’s how life works isn’t it? The grass is always greener somewhere else. 

There are definitely perks to being a full-blown adult, though. Namely, the money making part. Also the no homework part, the no exams part, the do what you want when you want part, the bigger and better vacations part (because you now have the money part), and the adult relationships part. Specifically the part of said adult relationship where you, and society, feel comfortable rescuing a puppy together. Which is really the goal of life, I think. Get to that stage and what could be better?! Kids? Mmm, ask me again in 10 years. It’ll be a close call.

By now, you know that I think dogs are angels sent to make all the bad times seem meaningless compared to the joy that we are capable of experiencing. Thus, there really is no flip side to that part of the adulting phase in life. There is, however, a flip side to the dolla dolla bills portion of it. Disappointments, really, that no one, not even Hollywood, prepared me for. Frankly, I’m disappointed that growing up they fed us lies that high school would be Wildcat wonderland, college would be the equivalent of doing your favorite thing in the world day after day, and then, seamlessly, we would blossom into well-mannered, brilliant, funny, personable, desirable, and social adults. Like a caterpillar emerging from it’s college cocoon. 

Granted, you can never expect too much from the film and TV industry. Guidance counselors, though, where were you? Department heads, where was the curriculum to prepare us? I have a lot of RANDOM SKILLS, but I would have liked to have had some practical skills and realistic expectations from my colorful coursework. Maybe a course on what is health care. What all the hundreds of papers you have to sign are referencing when buying a car. How to do your taxes. The basic art of cooking for one. Anything along those lines.

Among the list of biggest disappointments are the following:

  • Work
    • Just in general, I’m already over this
  • Being Tired on Friday Nights
  • Cooking for Yourself
    • This is harder than it seems when you’re growing up and it was just always there
  • Having to Make Your Own Appointments
    • You have to know your calendar, and the commute time, and you have to talk on the phone with someone … just not great all around
  • Bills
    • A disturbing amount of the money from that fun work thing goes to paying other people for basic things like the Internet
  • Student Loan Payments
    • A cruel form of bills as payback for not preparing you for being a real-world adult without a trust fund
  • Responsibility
    • All of it – it’s overrated
  • Communication
    • People expect you to magically be a poet laureate and beautifully articulate in every email, Slack message, personal thought, etc.
  • Vacation Days
    • A novel concept, but there is somehow never enough to make up for the 3 months of summer break, 1 week of fall break, 1 month of winter break, and 1 week of spring break that you are now lacking. In other words, I would need a minimum of 18 weeks PTO to be comparable
  • Sales People
    • And suddenly, spam! Spam everywhere! Leave me alone, if I want to buy something I know how to search on Amazon for it

Alright, jumping off my pedestal for now. If you know someone who would enjoy this post and want to share it with them, that would be awesome. Sharing is caring, after all. Don’t forget to subscribe to get these in your inbox twice weekly and follow TRP on Twitter for frequent musings. Thanks for reading!

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PORTA POTTY FEARS

Have you ever been to an event and needed to use the bathroom? Or been in a city and needed to use the bathroom? Or really just been anywhere outside of your home and been hit with the urge for a bio break? Some places you can count on to have indoor plumbing. The cleanliness usually varies between gas stations and educational buildings, but nonetheless, you know where you can find a toilet in case of an emergency. Unlike some of the more socially aware businesses, however, not everyone offers a restroom option. 

Granted, when you aren’t in a physical building, it becomes harder to provide human waste outlets. For example, parks. City sidewalks. Trails. The woods. Any business in a giant tourist city. Most outdoor places come to think of it. Which, honestly, can’t come as that much of a surprise. Part of nature’s beauty is the absence of human tampering. But alas, we have been gifted with the beautiful, convenient, adaptable to any environment construction that is the porta potty. What says natural more than a blue, or green, plastic box designed for special moments?

Despite their unappealing exterior, porta potties are a necessary evil. Think of the last time you used one. I have to believe it was out of necessity and not out of a strong desire to be in the crap sauna. If there had been another option, in any sort of normal brick and mortar building, regardless of the indoor plumbing setup, my gut says we would all choose the more traditional and, arguably, hygienic version. But maybe not, I don’t know you. I know without a doubt what my preference would be though.

Imagine if there hadn’t been a porta potty available in your most desperate moment? What would your options be then? Public indecency? That could result in jail time and AIN’T NOBODY GOT TIME FOR THAT. Trying to find a slightly wooded area where you can quickly relieve yourself before another person wanders by? Best of luck to you – sometimes it pays off and other times we’re back at the naked in public issue. Hold it? Well, sure, but Murphy’s law will undoubtedly put some liquid sound, visual, or thought into your immediate space so this becomes harder by the second.

Unless you’re packing adult diapers in your pocket for emergency situations, it usually ends in the decision to suck it up and enter the portable toilet. And no matter how mentally prepared you are entering it, I believe every human goes through a certain set of fears regarding the time they will spend both in the potty, and immediately after. Those fears are as follows:

  • Porta Potty tipping over with you inside
  • Porta Potty being loaded onto a truck, with you inside
  • Forgetting to lock the Porta Potty
  • Not being able to lock the Porta Potty
  • Having no toilet paper in the Porta Potty
  • Having no hand sanitizer in the porta potty
  • Dropping your phone, keys, or wallet into the hole
  • Physically touching any part of the seat
  • If it’s over 60 degrees outside, the internal heat the interior will be packing
  • If it’s over 70 degrees outside, the internal smell it will be emanating
  • Not being able to unlock the Porta Potty
  • Realizing that you forgot to lock the Porta Potty
  • Finding a way to disinfect your hands, in a quick (ish) manner, after leaving
  • Finding a way to disinfect everything that could have touched something in a quick (ish) manner, after leaving
  • Exiting to find a long line of people waiting for said Porta Potty

My exact fears every single time. Hours later I’m always thankful I wasn’t forced to hold it until the UTI stage set in, but wow, in the moment it doesn’t always feel like a blessing. Especially at big events where there’s a line and it’s just been a non stop flow of humans in that tiny space. The things we do for entertainment and to wander around in nature is peculiar. And yet, we will gladly take the porta potty any day over alternative options.

Alright, jumping off my pedestal for now. If you know someone who would enjoy this post and want to share it with them, that would be awesome. Sharing is caring, after all. Don’t forget to subscribe to get these in your inbox twice weekly and follow TRP on Twitter for frequent musings. Thanks for reading!

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DO YOU EVEN HAVE A SOUL?

Stopping to smell the roses is more than just a cute social media tag. It’s a way of life. An approach to any stressful, frustrating, annoying, irritating, angering, sad, disappointing, etc. situation. Because sometimes things happen, people say something they shouldn’t have, or you find out that it’s another workday, but that’s no excuse not to find a reason to smile. Unless, of course, you don’t have a soul. In which case, you may just be running to escape a downwind draft. Which is a crappy way to live, literally.

Clearly I’m no happiness expert. Or life expert for that matter. If you’ve read any of the previous posts you’re well aware of this fact. You may even be curious how I’ve survived this far as a professional without serious repercussions. If you haven’t, well, why the heck not? What else are you doing? Looking for a reason to smile? Let’s talk about it. Pretty much every situation has some plus sides, if you look hard enough. For example:

  • You don’t like grocery shopping, but it’s a necessary evil (and a great way to INTERVIEW PEOPLE) – are there new Oreo flavors out, though?
  • You don’t like shopping, but got dragged out by your significant other – go smell some of the new Yankee Candle scents!
  • You’re outdoors and it starts raining – does it smell like springtime, though?
  • You accidentally went on a nature walk and got lost – try to see a fun bird, or better yet, a butterfly!
  • You have to go to work – are you getting paid, though?
  • You recently got let go / fired – use all your new time to finally start that hobby!
  • You opened a box and the item you ordered was broken – haven’t you been trying to work on your patience, though?
  • You’re on hold with CUSTOMER SERVICE – dance around to that catchy hold music!
  • You’ve been in a car accident – do you get to meet a new person, though?
  • You have to deal with insurance – at least you have insurance!

I feel pretty confident that no one asks for any of the above scenarios. Yet, we probably have all hit the majority of this list at some point or other. And a lot of them suck! Car accidents just back up traffic in BOTH DIRECTIONS, nature isn’t always as pristine and cooperative as television makes it appear, shipping doesn’t always go as planned, and you may not be into shopping, but it happened. Can’t change the past so you might as well try to find one good thing. Otherwise, do you even have a soul?

Small things are usually the most exciting because they’re unexpected, or often unnoticed for a while. What a fun little surprise it is when you step into Target and they have a fully stocked cereal aisle. Or when you go to the mall and accidentally walk by a Bath and Body Works and smell love, relaxation, and sweet pea. Or when you’re outside and see some flowers in bloom. Or when you’re driving at night and see all the lights as festive. Or when you’re at work and your favorite song jumps into your playlist. Or when you’re at a restaurant and they accidentally make you a Medium milkshake instead of a Small so you get upgraded for free. Or when you’re at a restaurant and tell the wait staff it’s your friend’s birthday to embarrass them. Or when you’re watching TV and a hilarious ad comes on for once. So many reasons to smile. Life is weird. Life is funky. Life is unpredictable. Life is too short to not have a soul.

Alright, jumping off my pedestal for now. If you know someone who would enjoy this post and want to share it with them, that would be awesome. Sharing is caring, after all. Don’t forget to subscribe to get these in your inbox twice weekly and follow TRP on Twitter for frequent musings. Thanks for reading!

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THANKS FOR READING, PLEASE LEAVE A TIP

On this beautiful day, let’s participate in a quick thought exercise. It won’t be hard, I promise. And I don’t break promises, so from the almost nothing you know about me, and that statement, there’s zero reason for you not to trust me. Ok, let us wander down memory lane to a time when you could buy things, anything really, and simply pay for it. List price plus any sales tax. That’s it. You pay for it, and then you grab the bag and leave feeling satisfied. How far back in time did your mind travel? 

Actually, pause, I think we should address the question in your head. Was I supposed to go far back? Technically, I gave you no real instructions other than a time you spent money, so I guess not. My bad. But, if you think about the last time the custom additional payment line was added to a receipt, it may have been a while. That’s right, I’m talking about tipping! And America, I believe we have a tipping problem. Not the tipping you experience from consuming maybe one too many adult beverages. No, I’m talking about the tipping that comes from your wallet. The tipping that you have to do math to get to. The tipping that is optional, but mandatory. 

Are you picking up what I’m leaving on the table? When was the last time you weren’t asked to leave a tip for someone? It’s getting consistently more difficult to find examples of plain old pay and walk away. We tip for everything now. Not just when eating out, back when that was a more mainstream, and safe, adventure, but we’ve gotten to a place where almost every business feels it’s acceptable to ask you for a tip. You can count on it with any food adventure. It’s almost guaranteed for any type of experience you participate in. Don’t think that retail isn’t trying to hop on this bandwagon either. Where did we go wrong?

Since this is an opinion based blog, I would like to take some time and dive into my thoughts about being asked to make additional payments on things I spend money on. If this is your first time realizing there are zero factual backings to any of these posts, I apologize. But, also, we may need to discuss your ability to interpret sarcasm. Anyways … moving on … tipping! Or robbing, you decide. I think there are limits to the number of “services” that can acceptably ask me to spend more money than my receipt says.

If you give me a fantastic tour of a distillery, then of course I’m going to tip you – excellent service pays off. If you’re refilling my drink before I even know it’s getting empty, then of course I’m going to tip you – hard work pays off. If I order food and you drive it to me, then of course I’m going to tip you – not being lazy pays off. If I, however, pick out all of my own groceries and place them on the conveyor belt, then why would I leave the cashier a tip? You’re just doing your job. And I did all the hard work, so, what is that about?

For starters, why not just factor my tip into my bill? Then I wouldn’t care. Make me calculate it, though, and all of a sudden it’s an extra expense (and an annoyance). Use mind tricks with people – make us believe that was always going to be the total. Basic math equations aside, if I do all of the work and you simply are working at the register, what on earth is making it acceptable for you to ask for a tip?

Don’t get me wrong, tipping is not something that I see as an employee problem. In fact, I actually support adding extra money so they don’t have to make whatever absurdly low hourly rate their business has decided is appropriate. The main problem is that we still have places paying people less than half the minimum wage and banking on the fact that tips will push them, on average, to the federal minimum. How horrible would it be for you to start their pay at minimum wage and allow them to earn much more than that for their hard work? Why is that like asking for the moon?

Second imagination station train of the day. If you’re at your job, and have a meeting with your manager, what do you think their reaction would be if you asked for a tip / bonus for meeting the basic requirements you were hired (and are already paid) to do? You may be job hunting the next day. You may get laughed off as a joke. You may get the silent stare of terror. You may get a snarky comment. Small chance you get a tip, though. I feel like that should be no different in the consumer industry, but maybe that’s just me.

Alright, jumping off my pedestal for now. If you know someone who would enjoy this post and want to share it with them, that would be awesome. Sharing is caring, after all. Don’t forget to subscribe to get these in your inbox twice weekly and follow TRP on Twitter for frequent musings. Thanks for reading!

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THE MYSTERIOUS ZAMBONI AND IT’S MAGICAL HEALING POWERS

Well it’s chuck the puck season and that is exciting. I love the irony of watching a winter sport in June. You start your adventure in the summer, enter the arena where suddenly it’s winter, then leave and immediately start sweating because your layers are way too much for the humidity of the late evening air. It’s like time traveling, but without leaving the present in any form. The only real downfall is the attire portion. How do you plan for it? Short answer: you don’t.

Hockey is a great sport. I recently got very into it and my only regret is that I didn’t give it enough love during my youth. It’s all the best parts of football, soccer, and lacrosse and then on ice. Fights, goals, strategy, big hits, fast pace, shots, penalties, referees constantly in the way, dope jerseys, sticks, skates, and, of course, alcohol. Well, not for the players, but for myself anyway. Why I spent my whole life counting down from February to September to see grown men destroy each other when all along I could have been getting a hit fix all the way through June, I’ll never know.

As a whole, hockey is much more exciting in person then on television. I think most sports are this way. Baseball, for sure, should only ever be watched in person where you can be distracted by more enticing elements like the food stands, the bouncy castles, the fast pitch games, and, of course, the fresh beer. But I digress. Hockey games are lit. Especially during playoff season. For starters, the advanced graphics that teams are now displaying on the ice is unreal. One of my favorite parts of technology. Because on ice, it just looks cooler than it ever will on a basketball court. Sorry, not sorry.

In person, you also get access to the crowds. If you have never had the pleasure of experiencing a sporting event at a packed stadium cheering alongside tens of thousands of your new best friends, you are missing out. I scream, you scream, we all scream the same thing! Usually a team chant or a consensus disapproval of the referee’s latest call. There are also t-shirt tosses and if you haven’t caught a t-shirt in your life, try harder. There is no greater feeling than overpaying for great seats and getting a free, probably $10 at most, t-shirt. It’s rewarding in a unique way.

Specifically in hockey, you also get the enjoyment of watching the Zamboni do its thing in between each period. Talk about magic on ice. You take something scratched, rough, and in need of love and polish it in the most efficient, systematic, and peaceful way possible. Quite the amazing contraption that I wish someone would scale down and produce for my hardwood floors at home.

Zambonis are the definition of ASMR in the sports world. No other event has as satisfying of a ritual. Zero argument here, it’s simply a fact. As fun as the game itself is to watch, I find it hard to tear myself out of my seat for a refill when the zambonis are out. They take the most curious circle path around the rink, but somehow it works. Gets me every single time. Is no one else as amused as I am? It’s on the same level as the MOVING WALKWAY magic in airports. Stop and smell the roses. Stop and watch the zamboni. Truly the little things that can change your whole mood.

Think about it for a second. Something often overlooked, or never even seen, while spectators fight each other to get refills on the food and drinks. Or while waiting in the interminably long bathroom lines. Why don’t we plan this better? I mean, we’re all best friends for the night, but not when it comes to lines. Regardless, I notice. And I love it. And I am here for it. And I will promote the ceremonial Zamboni presentation every game.

Alright, jumping off my pedestal for now. If you know someone who would enjoy this post and want to share it with them, that would be awesome. Sharing is caring, after all. Don’t forget to subscribe to get these in your inbox twice weekly and follow TRP on Twitter for frequent musings. Thanks for reading!

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LET’S TALK ABOUT MOVING WALKWAYS

You know what’s great? Dark chocolate Oreos and Chewy Chips Ahoy! What’s better than delicious cookies? Football season! What’s better than football season? Waking up on a Monday to find out it’s a holiday and you don’t have work! What’s better than a paid company holiday? Vacations! What’s better than a vacation? The moving walkways in the airports that take you to your blissful destination!

We live in a fast world. Have you ever waited more than five seconds for an Internet site to load? No, because nobody has time to wait. You’ve gone back to your Google search and are moving on with your life! Same concept in meetings. Have you ever waited endlessly for someone to start talking? No, because we all have a million other things on our to-do lists and don’t have time to wait for someone to grow a pair and say ‘good morning’ to the team. Thankfully airports have also adopted this mindset. Why walk like a normal human being when you could straight up become the Flash and travel at supersonic (walking) speeds? 

I’m actually asking all the people who are forever casually strolling by the Jedi of escalators like they aren’t aware of the magic on their left. Is it like a real world Harry Potter concept where not everyone knows it’s there? Do you have to have a “gift” to see the moving walkway? Or are you actively choosing to remain mortal? Maybe I’m a bit impatient, maybe I still have an inner child well and alive in my soul, maybe I don’t spend enough time in airports, maybe I should plan my terminal transition better so I don’t need to use the walkways, maybe I simply enjoy moving plastic contraptions with railings – I don’t know. What I do know is that I never, and I do mean never, miss a chance to take a moving walkway.

Traveling isn’t always perfect, let’s be honest. Sometimes you get a layover that’s longer than comfortable. Sometimes you don’t get a layover at all. Sometimes you end up having to book a new flight because someone cancelled on you at the last second without warning. Sometimes you have to raise your voice to get your point across. What I’m trying to say is that air travel and relationships are clearly analogies for each other and / or maybe the same thing. 

Anywho … moving walkways. I’m no expert, but if I had to guess I would say that they were designed to help you get from one end of the terminal to the other in a quicker, more efficient manner. Which is fine, I guess. A bit boring, honestly, but logical. Are those the requirements for use, though? In a rush and needing to traverse a great distance in minimal time? Because if so, I have not once used them correctly. I’m what one would call a walkway rebel. If I’m j chillin’ at my gate and have to use the bathroom, I’ll use the walkway. If I come out of a terminal store and happen to be positioned in the middle of a walkway, I’ll walk to the end just to travel back towards where I started at the store. If I’m trying to waste time, I’ll walk up and down the terminal using every moving walkway just for kicks and giggles.

As great as moving walkways are, there are still courtesy rules. Well, really there’s just one. Don’t stand on the moving walkway. First of all, wut? The purpose of the walkway is to speed you up, not slow you down. Standing is making you move like a sloth. A real life Zootopia demonstration. That’s a new level of laziness. Why walk at regular speeds when you could stand on the slowest possible moving surface and barely move at all? Do you have time to kill? Great – do it somewhere that isn’t in the way of my fun, entertainment, and terminal joy. But if you need to, for reasons unknown to me, then by all means squash yourself up on the side of the railing like a bug. You get half of a normal person’s allotted space (more on walking space allotments in THIS POST) since you are the one in the way. Your suitcase can, and will, count against you. Make like Stanley and flatten up! 

Long story short, I am a moving walkway slut. If I see one, I will ride it without hesitation and without shame. If you’re standing on the moving walkway, you better channel your inner thinness so I can zoom zoom right by you like I’m in a Mazda commercial.  If you’re on the side of the moving walkway, I will judge you and question your decisions. 

Alright, jumping off my pedestal for now. If you know someone who would enjoy this post and want to share it with them, that would be awesome. Sharing is caring, after all. Don’t forget to subscribe to get these in your inbox twice weekly and follow TRP on Twitter for frequent musings. Thanks for reading!

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ALL OF MY THOUGHTS WHILE BEING STUCK IN AN ELEVATOR

Elevators are an invention. A way to assist in moving vertically with minimal effort. Or if you are physically unable to use stairs, which, in that case, this post is not for you. As a mildly claustrophobic person, you can imagine that elevators are rarely my first option for getting between floors in a building. While I do regret saying this to the whole world that is the Internet, and thus, is forever, I am a stairs first kind of kid.

Stairs have a lot of advantages over the metal death box that is the elevator. For one, it will never fail on you electrically. It will never stop unexpectedly in the middle of the ascent, or descent. It will continue to be the emergency exit route in case of fire … or when you find out there’s a BOGO at the taco truck down the street and you need to get in line yesterday. It will always be a better form of exercise. It will not require awkward silences with strangers. Overall, a solid option considering there are usually only two at any given time.

I think now is a good time for emphasizing my point. Stairs will never fail on you electrically and they will never stop unexpectedly in the middle of the ascent, or descent. Elevators, however, will and do. At a shockingly high rate. Their stability and built-in “safety” measures for when you shift your weight from one foot to the other way too quickly leave a lot to be desired. And in case it was unclear from the title of this post, one of my nightmares came true recently and I got stuck in an elevator. Not even a nice, big service elevator either. Just a standard hotel, can maybe fit 6 people pre-COVID, elevator.

Never have I met someone who has wanted to get stuck in a confined metal space with minimal decorations and no cell service, so I have to believe everyone can relate to my rollercoaster of thoughts, emotions, and panic, during my 90 minute experience. To truly pull you into my mental state, I would like to set some initial background context. I, thankfully, had my significant other with me, but it was just the two of us. It was late at night. We were stuck in between two floors and thus hanging helplessly by the elevator cables in a floating box of death. And with that, please enjoy my survival story:

  • Did … did the elevator just stop?
  • Why are the identifying floor numbers stuck on 3?
  • Did … did the elevator lady just say that we were experiencing technical difficulties?
  • Why are the emergency lights coming on?
  • How do we get out of here?
  • Oh my, we are actually stuck
  • None of the buttons work – are the buttons supposed to work?
  • I can hear the alarm when I press the button, but no one seems to be responding to our cry for help
  • Resist the urge to panic
  • The call button says we’re being connected to the elevator company and … we’re on hold?
  • Why are we on hold? How many elevator emergencies happen at 11PM?
  • The operator! Finally!
  • Oh dear, we’ve been disconnected
  • Call back and we are somehow STILL ON HOLD?!
  • Clearly the call button is not going to be useful. Like the alarm button. Why even have those in there? What kind of sick false hope is this?!
  • Which one of us has a cell signal?
  • I see my cell service doesn’t extend into elevator shafts
  • Time to embrace that the inside of this elevator might be the last thing I see
  • Thank the heavens, my SO has one bar!
  • Is one bar enough to call the hotel? Apparently, yes
  • Not sure that this is the right moment for my SO to make small talk with the hotel clerk so … HELP US! WE ARE STUCK IN THE ELEVATOR!
  • Message received, maintenance is coming. I might live to hit another rooftop bar tonight after all
  • The amplification of noise inside an elevator car is shocking. One would never know unless they were forced to stay in one place for a while
  • Why is everyone in this hotel accessing the other, working, elevator from this floor?
  • If the maintenance guy tells one more person that we’re stuck in the elevator I’m going to hulk smash through the door
  • I see that throwing the breaker 10 times didn’t fix it so what’s next?
  • And, we’re back to having to contact the elevator company
  • Thank goodness I used the bathroom before we got on this death ride
  • Is it getting hot in here? Is there even fresh air flowing in?
  • How do people successfully trick their minds to be in a happy place? Because right now my mind is hella aware of where my body is
  • Breathe. In and out, in and out, in and out
  • The elevator company apparently responds to phone calls but not emergency signals from the inside of the elevator. Interesting
  • Someone is coming to get us out in a cool 45 minutes
  • Where is the company located that it’s going to take 45 minutes? Do they not get police level speeding privileges for this? I could be having a panic attack
  • If we called the fire department, would they arrive sooner?
  • Should we call the fire department?
  • Would the elevator company be mad if we called the fire department?
  • Guess we will wait, it’s been almost 45 minutes already so … what do we have to lose? Besides phone battery
  • Did I lock my car door?
  • What late night eats will be open when we are finally able to get out of this thing?
  • Never in my life have I craved being in my home on a Zoom call as much as I am right now. Free to roam around
  • Why do the new Starbucks store designs look like weird shipping containers?
  • How much emotion exists for a fish? Like what is that spectrum?
  • If I had known we would have been in here for so long, I would have brought my cake leftovers
  • What … is that? Is that the door finally opening?
  • It’s the elevator man!
  • And the hotel staff who want to take us to the lobby … on the other elevator … like the stairs aren’t an option

Alright, jumping off my pedestal for now. If you know someone who would enjoy this post and want to share it with them, that would be awesome. Sharing is caring, after all. Don’t forget to subscribe to get these in your inbox twice weekly and follow TRP on Twitter for frequent musings. Thanks for reading!

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