It’s been too long since I blogged. I apologize. A lot has happened since last I wrote, far too much to easily fill you in. Circumstances beyond my control brought me to the hotel in which I now sit, too tired to be awake. As a crusty old pilot friend once put it, I’m “goin’ too slow to fly, and too fast to crash.”

Outside my tenth floor window lies the city of Lansing, Michigan. The dome of the state capitol building, modeled after the nation’s capitol in Washington, DC, rises above the roof of the high-rise office building next door, as does a large, neon analog clock which actually does read the correct time, except that the neon on the minute hand is burned out.

Here in Lansing, the famed Michigan automotive industry began in 1887 when R.E. Olds began selling a steam-powered “horseless carriage”. Ten years later, a more refined version of that early automobile went into mass production at the factory of the Olds Motor Company, and the Oldsmobile was born. Ironically, just a few weeks ago, the very last Oldsmobile that will ever be produced rolled off the assembly line here in Lansing. I assume it will take its place beside the first, in the R.E. Olds Automotive Museum.

Despite its status as Michigan’s state capital, and its historic importance to the auto industry, Lansing is not a charming town. As I arrived on the plane, I looked down on a desolate urban landscape that even a layer of snow could not render attractive. When the courtesy van from the hotel came to collect me, there were two VIP-types already waiting — a well-known photographer from CBS in Los Angeles, and Stephen Covey, a business consultant and author. They demanded to be dropped off at a reception at the Governor’s Mansion, so I was given the choice of either riding along or calling a cab; I rode along.

The road leading to the Governor’s Mansion passed through some of the most depressing neighborhoods I’ve ever seen. Crumbling streets were lined with row upon row of dingy wood-framed houses with clapboard siding and tin roofs, the driveways filled with cars in various states of disrepair. Smokestacks were the prevailing features on the skyline, and the air was thick and malodorous. The Governor’s Mansion itself was a pretty run-down affair, with broken-down gates, lots of areas in need of paint, and no charm or splendor that my eyes could detect.

Thankfully, the convention center and hotel both turned out to be islands of relative elegance in this sea of urban deterioration. Aside from a piece of equipment which chose a most inopportune moment to develop a fault that could not be repaired in the field, the trade show was a success and quite enjoyable.

At the end of the show was an event known as a “Legislative Reception”, where some of the state’s lawmakers came by to visit and rub elbows with us. It was catered in grand style, with an open bar and dozens of small “stations” where we could be fed. Each station featured a Michigan-produced foodstuff. You could get some Michigan fish, Michigan beef, Michigan cherries, Michigan turkey, Michigan fudge … you get the idea. Imagine my surprise when I encountered the station where they were serving Michigan Pasties! The little sign confirmed that these were the pasties that Cornish immigrants had brought to the area*, and apparently the Cornish Pasty has become quite a traditional staple here in Michigan. I ate two of them, they were very nice and savoury and wholesome, a meal in themselves.

I have not stopped worrying about Tony since I dropped him off. Since he’s got to have his medicine every day without fail, I had to leave him in the care of the vet while I took this trip. I know he’s hating being stuck in a cage, and I worry that the stress isn’t helping his condition at all. That’s one reason I’m still up at 1:30 AM, I can’t wait to get on the plane tomorrow, go pick him up and get him home where he wants to be. I also wonder how BB the youngster cat is getting along, hoping he hasn’t either shredded or soiled the apartment too badly. I left him with a totally clean litter pan and lots of extra food and water, and put out extra provisions for the birds too, so I think everyone’ll be all right.

The biggie of the year, the NAB convention, is coming up in early April, which worries me much more. That trip, which is also mandatory for me, will have me away from Atlanta for more than a week. I have no idea how I’ll handle it. Some brainstorming is in order.

A post-show meeting with a friend and former co-worker involved the consumption of very large quantities of alcohol, mostly in the form of Hefe-Weizen, and the telling of some funny old stories about the bad old days. This kept my mind occupied nicely, but the alcohol is proving to be more diuretic than anaesthetic, so that even if I did manage to get to sleep, I’d be getting up again fairly often, if you catch my drift. Despite this, I think I’d better try to get a few winks in, lest I miss my flight in the morning and make the situation far more interesting.

Good night!

*No, not the VERY ones … those would be very smelly by now. Exact replicas made very recently.