Walking in a Winter Wonderland

This is what 2 feet of snow looks like.

Pretty awesome, huh?

United Update

On Wednesday afternoon, I was contacted by someone in Helen Chellin’s office, Lynn Johnson. She was pleasant and polite, and offered me a $350 voucher (apparently because the second leg of our trip involved an overnight stay). I pointed out that this did not come close to compensating us for the price of our ticket, and as the vouchers are not valid in combination, I would have to fly United two additional times—and pay the difference in fares—to even take advantage of this “generous” offer. She then agreed to void the original $150 coupon and issue a single $500 voucher. This was much appreciated (or will be if I ever receive it), but still gets us nowhere close to compensation. I requested a refund of our ticket price plus reimbursement of our additional travel expenses, but she stated that it was against company policy to offer such compensation.

I then sent a letter approximating this blog post (though slightly more rational-sounding) to Ms. Chellen.

UPDATE 2: I received a call from Lynn Johnson on Friday, December 4, at 3pm. She informed me that our requests had been denied. I informed her that I would continue up the chain of command, and harness the powers of the internet in the meantime. So here we go.

Because United has made it impossible to reach their "customer service" department in a reasonable fashion, I am posting here some useful contact info for future flyers:

Lynn Johnson
Executive Customer Service Representative (I made up the title, but you get the idea)
Direct number: 847-700-7762
Fax number: 847-700-0145
Number that appeared on caller ID (it may lead you to others in the department): 847-700-4000
Lynn.A.Johnson@United.com

Helen Chellin
Manager, Customer Contact Centers
Helen.Chellin@United.com

Barbara Higgins
Vice President, Customer Contact Centers
barbara.a.higgins@united.com

Glenn F. Tilton
Chairman, President and CEO
glenn.tilton@united.com

United Airlines
P.O. Box 66100
Chicago, IL 60666

UPDATE 3:

After the executive email bomb, I received a letter of apology with an offer to match my frequent-flier status on another airline and to refund the cost difference between a flight to Dallas and a flight to Oklahoma City. That amounted to $55 per ticket and a few frequent flier miles.

Due to the fact that my escalation potential is limited by factors outside my control (and outside the scope of this blog), I'm done making a pest of myself. But I will never fly United again.

And this is still worth a watch: http://www.huffingtonpost.com/2009/07/24/united-breaks-guitars-did_n_244357.html

Why You Should Never Fly United

By an angry (former) customer

As one of the lucky ones to make it through 2009 still employed, this Thanksgiving (like all other major holidays) presented a unique manifestation of the omnipresent dilemma: do I travel home to spend non-billable time with the family (including my seriously ill uncle), or do I stay in the nation’s capital to spend billable time with my ever-mounting pile of work? It didn’t take long to decide that time spent with family over Thanksgiving is worth far more than my billing rate, and I opted to fly home to Oklahoma City. However, as anyone who prefers to stay employed in this economy would do, I booked a ticket months in advance, and paid a substantial premium—$1,173.80, to be exact—to ensure that my husband and I were on a flight that would maximize the time spent with the family while minimizing the time we had to take off from work.

Alas, the road to hell is paved with good intentions.

For the trip to Oklahoma City, we selected a flight on United Airlines (flight 609), scheduled to depart Reagan National (the most convenient airport to us by far) at 9:36 am on November 25, the Wednesday before Thanksgiving. That flight was scheduled to land in Oklahoma City at 2:14 pm. The beauty of this flight was that it would allow us to get a good night’s sleep, work on the plane, and get to Oklahoma City with plenty of time on Wednesday to see the family, visit my sick uncle, and help with Thanksgiving preparations. A great flight, and we paid a premium for it.
We arrived at the airport with plenty of extra time—knowing that it was the Wednesday before Thanksgiving, we did not want to risk missing our flight. And all seemed to be going as planned. We grabbed a donut, read the paper, and then boarded the plane.

And there we sat. We were informed that there was an unspecified maintenance issue, but that it would be fixed quickly, and that we would make up time during the flight. We spoke with the flight attendant, explained that our layover in Chicago was only 1 hour and 7 minutes, and asked whether she could do anything to ensure that we did not miss our flight. She replied that we should walk quickly once we got there.

Finally, approximately an hour and a half after the flight was scheduled to depart, the plane took off. We knew we would be cutting it very close. Once we landed and exited the plane, however, we discovered another cause for concern: we had landed at one end of terminal C, and our connecting gate was at the far end of terminal F—as far as possible in the enormous Chicago O’Hare airport. My husband, the faster half of this couple, sprinted ahead in hopes of reaching the gate and holding the plane; I trudged along behind with our bags. We arrived at F4—out of breath, sweaty, and terrified—just in time to wave goodbye to our plane as it pushed off from the gate.

The gate agent told us there was nothing she could do. The flight had left, and all other flights to Oklahoma City were completely full. She would be happy to book us on a flight to Oklahoma City arriving on Thursday evening (of course, after our family’s Thanksgiving dinner).

Of course, that was unacceptable. We asked whether she had checked other airlines. She assured us that she had, and all flights were full. We asked whether she had checked other connecting destinations. She assured us that she had, and all fights were full. We asked whether she could fly us to Tulsa, Wichita, or Dallas so that we could drive. She assured us that she had, and all flights were full. After much haranguing, she finally got us booked on a flight to Dallas leaving in half an hour; accordingly, we raced back across the airport to terminal C. Thankfully, we took off and landed in Dallas in a timely manner.

Once we reached Dallas, we secured ground transportation (We were informed that we would not be reimbursed for the additional expense of transportation because we "chose" to drive from Dallas.) The three-and-a-half hour drive from Dallas to Oklahoma City ended up taking us almost six hours to complete, because we had landed in rush hour traffic and it was the Wednesday before Thanksgiving. We finally reached Oklahoma City—approximately 18 hours after we left DC—just in time to collapse, exhausted, into bed.

Although we were tired and frustrated that we had lost a day with our family, we were thankful to have made it home in time for Thanksgiving. And Thanksgiving was wonderful. Understanding that Thanksgiving travel is always difficult, we contemplated not requesting compensation for our botched flight.

Until the trip back.

Like the trip home, we had scheduled our return flight deliberately so that we could spend the morning with our family, but still leave early enough to get back to DC in time to get a bit of work done, get a good night’s sleep, and be ready to work (or, in my husband’s case, take an organic chemistry exam) first thing in the morning. Our flight (United 7005) was scheduled to leave Oklahoma City at 12:38 pm and arrive at Reagan National at 6:51 pm. A great flight, and we paid a premium for it.

Again, we arrived at the airport with plenty of extra time. We had already experienced the horrors of Thanksgiving travel, and we really did not want to miss this flight. We kissed our family goodbye, went through security, and arrived at the gate by 11:00 am.

And there we sat.

Shortly after our flight was scheduled to depart, we were informed that our airplane had had a “small” maintenance issue. Apparently a piece of the wing had sheared off during the previous flight, and it would have to be reattached and patched over with “putty.” As one who spends the majority of her day reading about the legal aspects of various catastrophes, the words “putty” and “airplane wing” used in the same sentence did not give me great comfort. Nevertheless, we were assured that it required only a small fix and that we would be airborne within the hour.

An hour and a half later, we were informed that the maintenance crew had patched the wing, but that the putty was not drying as quickly as expected. They were sure that it would only be a few minutes longer, however, so we should just sit tight.

An hour later, the putty still was not dry. People were starting to get antsy—and hungry. The gate agent informed us that the humidity outside was preventing the putty from drying as quickly as expected, and they did not know when we would be able to take off. Our layover in Chicago this time was a full three hours; however, that window was quickly closing.

Realizing that we were in for another fun trip with United, we asked to be rebooked on a later flight out of Chicago. We were informed that all the flights were full. Again, we implored the gate agent to be creative. There are three airports near D.C., and although Reagan National is by far the most convenient for us (hence our original ticket), at this point we were happy to fly into any of them. Finally, we were booked on a flight from Chicago to Dulles International Airport, departing Chicago at 9:15 pm and landing at Dulles around midnight. We were assured that we would certainly reach Chicago in time for that flight, but we were also informed that the airline would not reimburse the additional cost of travelling from Dulles to D.C. because we were “choosing” to drive.

Given that we would now not be reaching home until well after midnight, I asked again for a meal voucher. I was again refused. So we went and purchased our dinner from the airport restaurants. I then returned to the gate and used my time in the airport to file a complaint on United’s website. Unfortunately, this complaint turned out to be quite premature.

We waited, and we waited some more, receiving periodic updates about the putty that was steadfastly refusing to dry. We watched as several other flights to Chicago came and went. We listened as agents at numerous other gates announced that their flight was oversold and they were looking for several volunteers to give up their seats. Clearly, this was a profitable day for United: it apparently had sold every single seat on these top-dollar Thanksgiving weekend flights—and often to more than one individual!

A little while later, our new best friend—a woman who was six months pregnant, sick, swollen, and tired from sitting in the airport for 8 hours—requested a meal voucher. The gate agent ultimately announced that we were all entitled to a fifteen dollar voucher, but that we should hurry and spend it because the airport restaurants were closing in 20 minutes. By that time we had already eaten, but we went and purchased food just in case—there was no telling how long we would be stuck in that airport.

Finally, at approximately 7:30 pm, we were informed that the putty was dry and that we could board the plane. Of course, we were extremely nervous about getting on an aircraft that had been patched together with putty that had taken an unprecedented amount of time to harden. But we had to get to work/school the next day, and we were assured that we had a good chance of making the last flight out of Chicago that evening. Accordingly we got on the plane, prayed that it would hold together, held our breath in terror at every bump, and finally landed in Chicago.

Our plane landed at O’Hare at 8:50pm. We had informed the gate agent in Oklahoma City, the flight attendant on our plane (Elizabeth Cummings, who was excellent), and the pilots themselves that we had a plane to catch at 9:15. They each assured us that they would do everything they could to get us there in time. But upon landing at O’Hare, we were informed that no gates were available for unloading. We thus sat on the runway in Chicago for half an hour, watching the minutes tick by as the last available flight to D.C. took off without us.

At approximately 9:20, we exited the plane. I asked a gate agent whether there was any chance we could make another flight to D.C. that night, and was directed to the line for “customer service” (apparently the term is used loosely). While my husband sat at the gate and studied for his exam the next day, I stood in line for nearly an hour waiting to speak with a customer service representative.

Finally I reached the front of the line. The agent apologized perfunctorily for our trouble, but was “not authorized” to do much to help us. She assured us that all flights to D.C. that night had either departed or were full. She provided a voucher for a nearby hotel (much appreciated, as we were exhausted), booked us on a flight leaving Chicago at 8am (the first two flights that morning were also completely full) and told us to return to the airport by 5:30 the next morning. I asked why we needed to return by 5:30 am for an 8:00 am flight, and she sternly informed me that it was the Monday after Thanksgiving, that all flights were full, that the airport was busy, and that if we missed this flight because we showed up late it would not be United’s fault if we didn’t get home that day.

We reached the hotel around midnight, ate the leftover food from the OKC airport, and set our alarm for 4:30 am. After just over four hours of fitful sleep, we rolled out of bed, trudged to the airport, breezed through security, and waited for 2 and a half hours in the airport while two different United flights left for D.C. Finally, we boarded our own plane (our seats were at the very back next to the lavatory), took off, landed in D.C., returned home, changed out of our two-day-old clothes, and dragged ourselves to work/school. My husband had missed his exam. I had missed a full half day of work.

Exhausted, angry, and in no state to bill clients for my work, I spent the remainder of Monday attempting to contact a United representative. Apparently, however, this is impossible. I spent half an hour navigating United’s automated system, attempting to contact customer service. Finally I pressed random numbers until I reached a human being, who informed me that United had eliminated its customer service department. He corrected himself quickly—United still had a customer service department, but there was no phone number by which customers could reach it. Apparently a survey had been done, and customers preferred to communicate with United by email. I told him that I had already filed a complaint and received no response, and that I in fact preferred to communicate with a customer service representative by phone. He directed me to the United website.

Soon thereafter, I received a polite but unhelpful email from a United representative, Deanne Glorioso, recounting my travel woes and offering a $150 voucher for future travel on United as a “gesture of goodwill.” I did not find this “goodwill” gesture even remotely adequate, and I replied to her email requesting that she contact me directly. I received no response.

After attempting again to reach a customer service representative by phone, and again being directed to the United website, I filled out the online form a second time, requesting that a customer service representative contact me. After several hours without a response, I began searching the internet for additional contact information. I finally found the email address for the customer service manager, Helen Chellin (helen.chellin@united.com), emailed her a brief summary of our trip, and requested that she contact me. I will keep you updated on her response, but I wouldn’t hold your breath in the meantime.

We paid a significant premium for a timely and convenient flight that would get us to Oklahoma City in time for Thanksgiving holiday, maximize the time spent with our family, and minimize the time spent away from our other obligations. We received nowhere near what we paid for. Instead, we spent many exhausting and frustrating hours in the airport or on planes, experienced a harrowing flight in an aircraft that had been patched together with “putty”, incurred substantial additional travel expenses, missed a day of work and an exam, and received shoddy and unapologetic service in the process. Most importantly, we lost valuable days that could have been spent with our family.

On what was supposed to be a quick four-day trip home for Thanksgiving, we spent a total of 43 hours travelling, followed by another approximately 8 hours attempting to get reimbursed. Even if they gave me enough travel vouchers to compensate that amount of lost time at my billing rate ($18,360, if anyone is counting), I would still avoid flying United. A $150 voucher for future travel was, in my view, simply an insult.

I’ll let you know what happens. At a minimum, I’ll post any contact information I discover so that if any of you fail to heed my advice and fly with United, you’ll know what to do afterwards.

Close to home

http://ms-jd.org/finding-silver-lining-cloud-discrimination-amp-recession

Vacation, Law Firm Style

A highly valued colleague who shall remain nameless recently went on a long-planned, much-deserved, much-needed one-week vacation in Middle-of-Nowhere, California.* One nice perk: this particular remote location did not have readily available internet access.** Of course, the trusty Blackberry was still available for emergencies. But, for one whole week, the partners would simply have to get along without him for their day-to-day tasks.

Well, the firm found this prospect entirely unacceptable.

When this nameless colleague called to ask if I could take care of a few things for him while he was away, his wife and kids were relaxing on the beach. He, on the other hand, was standing in their rental house, waiting for the contractors the firm had hired to set up his temporary internet service. At the firm's expense of course--he was on vacation, after all.

I am beginning to understand why I have heard more than one story of a harried spouse placing a blackberry in a blender...

*Names and essential details have been changed to protect the innocent.

**I would wager quite a bit that he (and more importantly, his wife and small children) deliberately selected this particular remote location at least in part for that very amenity.

The more things change, the more they stay the same

In one of her semi-annual cleaning binges, my grandmother came across this picture.

That's Melanie at 2, barefoot in the kitchen, talking on the phone, with a baby on her hip. Right out of a Gretchen Wilson song. If I didn't look exactly like that today, minus the bangs, nobody would recognize me.

The arrival of that picture spurred another of those alternate universe thoughts, which I've been having a lot recently. Last weekend Ankur and I went down to Virginia Beach for the wedding of one of my best friends from high school. The whole EMHS gang of 8 made the trip (minus one), as we have for every one of the group's weddings. Even though we've all grown up, dispersed to the far corners of the country, and acquired six friend-in-laws (it would be 8, but Zac and Julie cheated and married within the group), when we get back together it's like nothing has changed. These are my people.


At the wedding, one of my friends registered surprise at the vehemence with which I was expressing my distaste for big city life, and how much I missed Oklahoma. After all, she reminded me, in high school I had always talked about how much I wanted to escape the little town where we grew up and move on to bigger and better things. I had forgotten that. It's been ten years. And ever since I've gotten here, all I'll I've been trying to do is get back home.





But for now, I'll have to settle for looking forward to Kris and Kate's wedding in April--the last of these little reunions until we start reconvening for baby showers--and hoping that sooner rather than later I'll be able to recognize myself in pictures from my grandmother.


PS. Congratulations David and Angela!!!

Un-American Activities Committee

I have recently been informed, by various individuals, that the following facts render me "Un-American":

a) I live in the nation's capitol, but watched the Independence Day fireworks on TV (though we did see a few live ones out of our kitchen window).
b) I watch the Rachel Maddow show on a semi-regular basis (though only when I get home from work before 9, which is a rarity these days).
c) I don't like hot dogs (though I have bought several from Salu, the hot dog vendor outside my office, just because he's the only one who talks to me around here).
d) I drink hot tea in the summer, even when I'm not sick (all my husband's fault).
e) I think it's about time the media started covering something other than Michael Jackson (no parenthetical here--that's just true).

But gosh darn it, I spent my Fourth of July listening to country music and baking a peach pie. Does that get me back in the club?

Rock Chalk Jayhawk!

KU wins the NDT!!!

Ok, so this is old news. The trophy has been engraved, the rings have been handed out, the t-shirts have been printed, the congratulatory emails and facebook posts have been written, and across the country, the celebratory drinks have been imbibed. And I utterly failed in my Jayhawk debate alum duties by forgetting to post about it here.

But now there is a new angle on the story. Check out the coolest new addition to the beautiful Kansas landscape:



How neat is that?

Congratulations to the KU squad on a fantastic accomplishment. And particular congratulations to Coach Harris, Coach of the Year. In an activity full of smart, hard working, nice people, there is no smarter, harder working, or kinder coach out there.

Somewhere Over the Rainbow

My morning walk has gotten a lot more colorful recently. It is Pride week in the District (and in the country in general), and we live in the heart of it all—Dupont Circle (also known as the “Froot Loop”). The local businesses have been preparing for weeks, hanging rainbow flags and streamers and all sorts of colorful decorations.

Our own celebration began Friday night, with a lovely evening at our neighborhood Italian restaurant, Dupont Italian Kitchen (lovingly referred to by locals as “DIKs”). We claimed the very last outdoor table so that we could relax and enjoy the lovely evening weather, delicious food, and the always entertaining sights and sounds of DC on a Friday night. Dinner got a lot more flavor, however, when the underwear models showed up. In their work clothes. Because really, the best way to sell underwear is to send a loud pack of half a dozen male models to gallivant around Dupont Circle in very small boxer-briefs.

That was just a warm-up to the next day’s festivities. Since we live basically on the parade route and had been hearing the rowdy crowd since noon, we just couldn’t bring ourselves to stay inside and work (it would have been hard to work with all that racket anyway). So we headed out to enjoy the experience. And experience we did.

Turns out, there are cowboys in DC too.



And fun hair-dos.



And leather.



And beauty pageant queens.



All things you can find in Oklahoma, right?

We saw lots of debauchery, and other things we’d never seen before. But we also saw things that moved us (well me) to tears. Like the group of parents marching with signs that said “we love our kids.” And the “marriage is a civil right” signs being carried by the children of gay parents. And the churches and synagogues who sent representatives to show their support.

All in all, an excellent way to spend a Saturday night.

Product Endorsements

A while back, I received a somewhat breathless call from my best friend, who just had to tell me about something wonderful she had discovered. Hostess, makers of most things delicious in life, has come out with something amazing: strawberry cupcakes in 100-calorie packs! Of course, these delicious treats sent us back to the good ol’ days of Ruff Draft and Mrs. Heitz and birthday cupcakes and beating the boys at Trivial Pursuit and sitting on the couch with a strawberry sheet cake between us and eating our ways to the middle.... But I digress.

I finally found a way to reciprocate Rachel’s kindness in introducing me to my new worktime fuel of choice. And that is to introduce you to the next big thing in processed commercial food—All Natural Cheetos! They’re delicious. They’re snackable. They’re “white cheddar” so they don’t turn your hands orange. And they contain not a single ingredient that you can’t pronounce. Pick one up at your local Safeway today! Trust me on this one.

More ketchup

It’s been over a month since my last post, so this one is probably going to an audience of two. Unfortunately, the brain-fingers dream team has a limited number of coherent sentences that it can pump out in a day, and this month, each one of these sentences has been stolen by briefs and motions and white papers. But while the husband is off swimming 60 feet below where humans are meant to be and I therefore can’t concentrate on brief-writing, I thought I’d catch you up on some recent events in our lives.

Separate vacations. We’ve not even celebrated our second anniversary yet and we’re already taking independent trips. A strange confluence of events resulted in my mom coming to visit us in DC on the same week that Ankur went to Kansas to visit his parents. A good time was had by all in both places, though, and now our freezer is fully stocked with Matzah ball soup and Indian chicken. Hooray for moms. I then made my own single trip home a few weeks later, for some father-daughter bonding time at the Women’s College World Series. We’ve been going to this awesome event since before I could see over the railing in front of us, and even years later, it never fails to disappoint.

Together vacations. We finally converged for a short trip to Nashville to see our dear friend Kate get married. It was one of the very best weddings we’ve been to. The ceremony was touching, the bride stunning, the garden reception laid-back and fun while maintaining its elegance, and Kate’s family—all seven siblings of them—made us want to get started on a big brood of our own. (Of course, when we spent all day Saturday working in the hotel instead of exploring the beautiful city of Nashville—to where we seriously thought about picking up and moving—we realized that maybe we had a while before we could get things started.) Congratulations Kate and Brent, and best wishes for a long and happy life together!

Work. There's not much to say about that. I’ve been working, husband has been studying, and nobody has been doing laundry. And that catches you up!

They are multiplying...

As flowers usually do as spring progresses...

Summer

My blissfully brown husband looked down at my feet this evening, laughed hysterically, and said "white people are funny."

You see, I am currently enduring my punishment for jumping straight into a whole day in the sun after six months indoors with no buildup period. Despite my best precautions--I applied a liberal dose of sunscreen *twice*--I came back from our first canoe trip of the year looking like a deformed zebra. (My husband, on the other hand, is completely fine.) Tip: always remember to apply sunscreen to the tops of your feet when wearing Tevas.

Not that I'm complaining about my genetic inferiority (well, maybe just a little)--the cause of my troubles was overwhelmingly worth it. We whiled away a wonderfully peaceful summer's day (yup, spring flitted in and out of our consciousness in about two weeks' time) canoeing down the Shenandoah River, at the base of the Blue Ridge Mountains. No blackberry service, no pollution, no noise, and very few other people--just a boy and a girl in a little canoe, with the sun shining all around. (Sing it, Camp Dakani fans.) Canoeing, we have discovered, is our "thing"--the perfect activity that allows us to work together as a team, get a great workout, enjoy each others' company, and revel in all of God's glory. A great day.

I do have one question for you Virginians out there, though: what is with all the Confederate flags? We saw at least four as we floated down the river, all displayed proudly on flagpoles staked at campsites. I mean seriously--of all the things to take on a camping trip, why did so many of these people pick a tent, a cooler full of beer, a folding chair, and a Confederate flag? Strange.

Oh what a beautiful day...

 

Today was one of the best days I have had in a very, very long time. In part, this must be attributed to the breathtakingly beautiful Spring weather; however, most of the credit goes to my darling husband and our dear friend Oz, who trained down from New York yesterday evening for a brief but wonderful 24-hour visit.

Last night, the three of us stayed up until 2am, just catching up and reminiscing. Today, we whiled away the day at Mount Vernon, soaking up some sun and history and togetherness. I must say, the feel of the sun on the skin has a way of brightening more than one's complexion. The red buds and cherry tree blossoms were out in full force, painting the vast estate's grounds in vibrant hues of reds and purples and pinks (which matched my nose and shoulders by the end of the day). Basking in the warmth, breathing the crisp, fresh air, and gazing out on the Potomac, I think we truly understood why George Washington almost turned down the presidency to remain at his home. I can't even begin to describe how much I enjoyed the day--I'll just note that, between the three of us, we must have proclaimed it beautiful about 30 different times before the sun went down.

This evening, after a quick visit to the White House and a scrumptious meal at our favorite Indian restaurant, we dropped Oz off at the train station. Although I usually despise such partings, and I did hate to see him go, I honestly couldn't muster up any sadness for the goodbye--I was too thankful for the sweet, simple, beautiful day.

Skype, and other amazing things

After sending my incredibly-good-sport-husband on a makeshift hunt for eggs--hardboiled, decorated with Sharpie, and hidden around the apartment--the two of us spent a lazy Sunday catching up with friends and family. Our chosen medium--Skype.

Now, I'm new at this Skype business. In fact, my grandmother--who has gone all the way from rotary phones and party lines to internet video phones--had to convince me to sign up for it. But she was right, as always--it's the coolest thing ever.

After taking showers and getting dressed so that we looked presentable enough to talk on the phone (*weird*), we started our morning speaking with the trendsetter herself. Among other things, we got to see the beautiful glass table my mother had made for her, and she got to comment on how much my hair had grown. From Florida. So cool!

While we were talking with Savta, my parents beeped in, wanting to talk (to "Skype"? Is there such a verb?). Apparently Savta has been after them about it too, so my tech-savvy brother set it up for them this weekend. As they have not yet been able to visit us in DC, they promptly requested a tour of our apartment. Now, I had thought to make sure we were properly clothed to talk on the internet phone (at least from the waist up), but I had neglected to anticipate the need for picking up the apartment. (The hidden flaw in the amazing Skype plan.) So Ankur stalled while I made the bed, and then we showed them around. Thanks to the internet, my mother gets to make sure I am cleaning my room, even while half a continent away.

Finally, and perhaps most amazing of all, we ended our Skype tour with a quick visit to Cousin Milap and family. In London. From across an ocean and six time zones, his mom got to inspect my tummy, see for herself that it was not expanding, and politely suggest that we get on with things.

So much family togetherness, from the comfort of our own living room! Indeed, our world is amazing. (Seriously. Click on the link--you'll be glad.)

See you on Skype!

How you know it's Spring--DC Style

I don't think I've mentioned this on the blog yet, but there is a tiny elementary school down the street from our apartment. I will not be sending my children there.

I'm sure it's a fine school--the parents who drop their kids off in their BMWs certainly look like they could have had their pick of places to educate their children, and they picked this one. But in my opinion, this is a very sad, sad elementary school. Not because the children who go there are "underprivileged" in the normal sense of the word--just the opposite. But these children are definitely deprived of something.

These kids walk to school every day on the concrete streets, dodging homeless people and pigeons, or else they are dropped off with the dry cleaning on their parents' way to work. These kids will never know the fun of handclap games played with Christi S. as they are shuttled into town on the big yellow bus. These kids will never have "field day" with shaving cream fights and kickball. These kids will never spend an entire recess camped out behind the school hunting for four-leaf clovers while plotting the next I Love Dusty T. Club. Instead, these kids will learn that trees are born in little fenced plots that crop up every five-or-so cement squares, and that the (imported) dirt they are planted in exists solely to serve as a dog-toilet. They will learn to modify their playground games so that they fit orderly into a 1/8 an acre space. And while these kids will have available to them every worldly opportunity--theatre, art, ethnic food, culture at their fingertips--at recess, these children will go outside and play on astroturf. Astroturf! This ra-ra city school can't even give these poor cement-grown children decent dirt and grass to play on outside.

The elementary school does at least make an effort to educate these kids a little bit about the seasons, however. Although the astroturf stays a vibrant green throughout the year, at springtime the teachers "plant" "flowers" in the "flowerbeds" that surround the fenced-in playground. So the kids at least get some plastic flowers to go with their plastic grass in the Spring. Ankur took a picture of one of these flowers on his way home from school the other day, so that I could share it with you.

Happy DC Springtime!

The best part of DC

It was 69 degrees and sunny--the first really nice day of the year--and even an impending biology exam and a half-finished preliminary injunction motion couldn't keep us indoors. So we abandoned our books and walked the two and a half miles down to the Tidal Basin, where we basked in the joy of the sun and the cherry blossoms with the throngs of tourists and natives out marveling at the beauty of it all. The best international gift ever. (Beats the heck out of a bunch of DVDs.)

Happy Spring!

 

Ketchup

First, an apology. It seems that whenever I have nothing to write about other than cupcake stores and how much I despise my office neighbor, I have plenty of time to do said writing. But whenever I have many interesting things to write about, I also have many interesting things that must be done. I apologize profusely for my neglect, and in an effort to get back in your good graces, I have arisen early on a Saturday morning to do all things life-related before I head to work.

Second, an update. Work has gotten approximately 1,287,526 times better recently. Work has also gotten approximately 1,287,526 times busier recently. I am entirely convinced that the driving force behind both of these changes is one teeny tiny life change--I moved offices.

After one particularly memorable outburst involving an F*$%ing printer and a techie who purportedly does bad things to his mother and a flying chair, I decided to make my difficulties known to the powers that be. My practice group leader took pity on me (apparently Loud Liverish Lobbyist has a reputation) and gave me his permission to occupy one of the empty "good" offices, which had theretofore been reserved for a summer associate. Let me fill you in on one of the dirty little secrets of Biglaw--the powers that be keep the "good" offices empty all year so that they will be available for the summer associates. This way, in the ten-week brainwashing session that is the summer, the recruits will garner the impression that all the other lawyers in the firm are totally normal, friendly people with whom you can see yourself working forever. Only after they suck you in are they willing to expose you to the innards of firm life, such as Loud Liverish Lobbyist.

Ahem...Moving on. So now I am actually on the same floor as the other lawyers who do appellate work. Not only are appellate lawyers apparently far nicer, nerdier, and more sedate than lobbyists, but they are also the ones who dole out the cool (in my opinion) work in the office. And now they all have to walk right past my desk to get to the bathroom. It seems that a lot of good thinking gets done in the bathroom, because these lawyers are constantly dropping by my office on their way back and giving me something to do. And now, like magic, I am in the thick of a ton of interesting matters.

Unfortunately, I can't tell you much about said interesting matters, and that is what is taking up all (and I do mean all) of my time right now. But I can tell you about my first Supreme Court experience, which occurred just a couple days after the Big Move. You might recall that I spent the bulk of my first few months at work poring over ancient English cases in order to show the real powers that be that due process does not include the right to a judge that is (or, more accurately, appears) unbiased--or, at least, that it didn't at common law. Well, that case was argued a couple of weeks ago, and the other associate who worked on the case and I got to go watch! It was one of the premier matchups of the season, with our Andy Frey (now 65 Supreme Court oral arguments under his belt) and their Ted Olson (former Solicitor General) duking it out over judicial bias before a bunch of judges. And it did not disappoint. Most of the Justices had clearly staked out a position early, and they were not shy about making their feelings known. The lawyers sparred admirably. I don't think any of the Justices' questions were a surprise, but the level of their vehemence (on both sides) certainly was. We'll see how it turns out.

The experience itself deserves some more discussion, though, just because it was an exercise in extremes. Another little legal insight for the lay readers out there--the Supreme Court courtroom is quite grand but really, really small. Because of this limited space, the Court's odd mix of egalitarian and elitist ideals are made readily apparent in things as simple as the manner in which people get in to see a Supreme Court argument. The process starts with the three lines: (1) the "three minute" line, (2) the Bar line, and (3) the Public line.

As soon as the Court announces the dates of its arguments, people start scrambling for "tickets" for the three minute line. Actually, there are no physical tickets, your name just goes on a list, kind of like an elite nightclub for law nerds. People with these tickets get to waltz right up the steps to the court, wait in line literally for three minutes, and get ushered in to a good seat. Magic. You get these tickets by either (a) being a litigant or one of his ten or so closest friends, (b) being a former Supreme Court clerk, or (c) being friends with a current Supreme Court clerk. As our litigant tickets were claimed by the client and the more senior lawyers on the team, as we were not former Supreme Court clerks, and as our Supreme Court clerk friends were barred from talking to us during the pendancy of the appeal (particularly important in a case involving judicial bias), we were unable to procure one of these golden tickets.

Which brings me to the bar line. The bar line is for people like our bosses, who are members of the Supreme Court bar. They have their own separate line, which is capped at a certain number of reserved seats. These members of the bar run some risk in particularly popular cases, but if they get there about an hour in advance, they're likely to get a seat. We are too young to be members of the bar, however, so that one was out, too.

Finally, there's the Public line. This line is for the crazy people who, for whatever reason, are so interested in the case before the Court that they are willing to wake up at the crack of dawn (or, for an argument that has generated a lot of press like our case, well before dawn) to stand in line for hours in freezing cold temperatures to fight for one of the 150 seats reserved for the public. These seats are on hard wooden chairs squeezed in between (and behind) big marble pillars, so you may or may not actually see the Justices. But you will be inside the Court, and you will hear them, and for those of us who do care enough to risk frostbite in order to hear Nino's take on the brief we helped write, that's enough.

So Other Associate and I got up at 4:30 in the morning, pulled on our long underwear underneath our best suits, and headed to the marble steps of One First Street to stand in the Public line. Let me tell you, long underwear and a business suit do not do much in zero-degree temperatures well before the sun comes up. But we bonded with each other, and with the Public Citizen lawyers and the West Virginia tourists and the Mississippi high school students and all the other crazies who were also standing in line. We also invented the Public Line Dance, which involves moving your feet from side to side in a little jig to keep them from freezing solid, and we bonded and danced for three hours until being ushered in to the hallowed halls of the Court.

So I've already discussed the argument, which was excellent, and which gave us a chance to thaw out a little bit and transition into our elitist experience. After the argument, and after Andy was finished talking to the media on the steps of the Court, the full legal team and the client all went out to a fancy lunch. It was my first client meet and greet, and it was an incredibly (and awkwardly) cool experience. It was also a bizarre experience. Our private room in the fancy steakhouse was filled with twelve big, old, white men, who were all talking animatedly about the state of the law, and two small, young, blond women at the far end of the table, who were trying not to spill food on their laps. The whole thing, from 4:30am to 2pm, was quite an eye-opener.

And with that missive, I must now go to work. One last thing--Ankur and I did take a break from work last Saturday to attend a simulcast of the Metropolitan Opera production of Madame Butterfly. Fantastic. You should definitely look into these simulcasts--they are so well done, and so much cheaper and easier than actually going to the Met!

Hope you are well!

Cupcakes Update

My most recent plus about DC--that it has an entire store dedicated to cupcakes--has been thoroughly rebutted. As Jessica points out, there are two cupcake locales in St. Louis. And, as I just discovered, there are even two cupcake bakeries in Oklahoma City! Here, and here. So thank you, dear readers, for reassuring me that we won't be missing much when the city is evacuated and we *have* to go home .

... And a minus about DC

A few days ago, unexplainedly, a bright pink list of every person in our office and their home zip codes landed on my office desk. I looked at it, briefly thought "why on earth are they giving me a list of zip codes?," and went about my business.

Apparently I was not the only one without a clue, because today we received the following memo:

There was a recent distribution of the Zip Code Report to all personnel. Those of you who have been with the Firm for years may recall the purpose of this report and that it is distributed quarterly as part of our Business Resumption Plan. For those who are unfamiliar with it , we offer the following explanation.

The report is provided to all personnel to facilitate the use of a "buddy system" for getting home in case of an emergency in which authorities ask us to evacuate the city. In such a scenario, it may prove useful for personnel living within the same zip code to have a plan for traveling together to get home.

Hopefully, we won't ever have to be in such a situation, but we still need to be prepared. So we urge you to develop your evacuation plan prior to such an emergency. The Zip Code Report is a tool to help you.

As you can see, I was not really able to go about my business after that one. Holy crap!

Another plus about DC

There is an entire store dedicated to CUPCAKES.

And a husband who finds said store, procures said cupcakes, and brings them to my office for my birthday.

Mmmm...

A note to my future self

No matter how big and important a partner I am, and no matter how valuable my time is, there is never a need to throw things. Yelling at my secretary will not encourage her to work longer hours or be more careful getting my work done. Screaming in the general direction of the population at large will not resolve my computer issues. No matter how creative I am with the use of the F word, it will not get others, and particularly not Congress, to do my will. And making the office a generally miserable place for my associates will do little to boost my PPP.

Happy Valentine's Day

After months of go-go-go, the husband and I were in serious need of some downtime to reconnect. So my darling husband planned a secret Valentine's/Birthday weekend getaway. He told me only that we were going somewhere "historical" and three hours away. Given that we live in DC, that leaves quite a few options--I was thinking Philadelphia, Williamsburg, or Harper's Ferry. But I was blissfully and completely wrong.

Three hours away from DC, tucked in the Shenandoah Valley, lies a stunningly beautiful, cozy, romantic, charming, peaceful place in the middle of nowhere called the William Cox Inn. The website does not come even close to doing it justice. Tom and Janet, the fantastic physicians-turned innkeepers, have transformed a home built in 1770 (by the infamous William Cox) into a lovely B&B that retains its historical character with all the necessary modern conveniences. They have thought of every single detail, down to a 1700s-era book on how to be a thrifty housewife on the dresser in our room (remember to wash your teeth with clean water every day, and to mend the socks before they tear--a stich in time saves nine). We slept in the tiny original bedroom, burned a fire in the original stone fireplace, and ate all-natural food entirely produced in the on-site garden and surrounding area farms, just as it would have been in the 1700s (but we thankfully did have indoor plumbing).

As the other details of the Valentine's Day weekend fall within the marital privilege, you get to read all about the food instead--and the details here just have to be relayed. Janet, a culinary genius, served a romantic four-course Valentine's dinner and the two most amazing breakfasts I have ever tasted. The food just kept coming and coming... On Friday evening we were greeted with a hot pot of all-natural tea and homemade scones, followed by local pear port and organic chocolate. Breakfast the next morning, served in the original 1770 dining room, consisted of baked local pears with nuts and cinnammon, blue-ribbon-winning light-as-air biscuits with fresh butter and homemade jam, local organic grain hot cereal (Ankur ate both of those), homemade oatmeal pancakes, and apple and cheddar omlettes made from eggs gathered that morning from the many free-range chickens roaming the property. A long walk with their two Golden Retrievers along the river on the beautiful property was necessary just so that we could make room for dinner. Speaking of, for V-day dinner, we devoured a hearty pumpkin stew, heart-shaped goat cheese ravioli, winter salad with dried cranberries, apple-stuffed free-range chicken, and a trio of romantic desserts--bread pudding, chocolate cake, chocolate-covered pears, and homemade coffee ice cream. And our (sad) parting breakfast was baked local apples, more of the scrumptious homemade biscuits, scrambled eggs with fresh cheese, and ginormous waffles. My mouth is watering just typing about it.

Our time at the William Cox Inn was full of amazing food for the stomach and for the soul. It was wonderful to get away from the hustle and bustle of the city and spend time reconnecting with each other. Make your reservations today, and tell Tom and Janet that we sent you!

I Heart Visitors

One of the best things about living in DC: people want to come visit us!

During the entire time we resided at our palace in the frozen tundra, we received a grand sum total of three out-of-town visitors: Parents R., Cousin Kay, and Former Roommate Jennifer. Those visits were fantastic, but we were really starting to question our desirability, or at least marketability.

All that has changed, however, with our recent relocation to a new (and slightly less snowy) address. I guess it's true what they say in the hotel industry--"Location, Location, Location."

Before we even had started unpacking our boxes from the move, we had our first out-of-town visitor--Lawyer Lincoln. (We therefore dubbed our spare bedroom/office the "Lincoln Bedroom.") Soon thereafter, we got to entertain Mayor Mike and Former Roommate Jennifer, visiting from the land of Oz, and Sooner Karen, taking a break from Where the Wind Goes Sweeping Down the Plain. In early December, our Acquaintances from Australia put DC on their world tour, and we got to show them the sights and sounds of our nation's capitol. Sister Ami delighted us with a visit over Christmas and New Years. Last week, Other Former Roommate Jennifer and Boyfriend dropped in from the Tarheel state. This weekend we are expecting--completely independently--Ankur's Former Roommate Justin and my Former Roommate Cassy, both of KC(ish) fame. And next week, Best Friend Rachel (coincidentally, also a Former Roommate) will be gracing us with her presence. And that's all in only three months! (I guess I can't really complain about DC being lonely anymore, can I?)

To those of you who have visited, thanks a ton--we've loved having you. To those who have already booked your rooms for the coming weeks, we hope you have a pleasant stay. And to those of you who are thinking about visiting, there's a surprisingly comfy air matress with your name on it! But you better hurry... this hotel may be relocating to a new location sometime in the near future!

In an effort to encourage repeat customers, we would like to solicit some feedback from former visitors and suggestions from others. Where should we take our guests in this massive city? Our typical tour involves a night walk around the monuments, a scrumptious dinner at Regent Thai, and a trip to the National Archives and Natural History Museum, time permitting. But we would like to branch out. To previous guests: What worked? What didn't? To any of you current or former DC-ites: do you have any suggestions for cool and/or off-the-beaten-path venues in the area? Good dining? Fun daytrips?

(Yes, this is my devious plan to get you to post comments. Suggest away!)

The best inaugural event!

No, not the inauguration of President Barack Obama--we missed that one, unfortunately. We fled the frozen, jam-packed, war-zone-like city of Washington over inaugural weekend in order to attend another big event in another city important to our colonial heritage--Kayur and Claire's London wedding.

It was a quick trip across the ocean (less than four days for me), and we are both still very sleepy. But we are so glad that we got to share in the joyous occasion! Claire looked absolutely stunning, Kay looked thrilled to be marrying her, the R. family was ecstatic to be inheriting such a wonderful daughter (or sister or cousin)-in-law, and the food and drink were bubbling over for the occasion.

A quick run-down of the details, and an explanation of why the best inaugural party was the one celebrating the inauguration of Kayur and Claire's married life together:

The venue: For the site of their nuptuals and subsequent party, Kayur and Claire selected an adorable seventeenth century hotel in a cute rural area outside of London. It was a beautiful hotel that exuded old English charm, and it seemed tailor-made for their event. The "registry" occurred in one beautiful old-fashioned parlor room; we moved seamlessly to another room for cocktails and "starters," a larger room for a scrumptious meal, and finally another room for dancing and drinking. We stayed the night at the hotel in a charming cottage on the grounds, and I discovered the inspiration for my future home.

Stokes Place

(Although London has a reputation for miserable winters, I can guarantee that it was not half as cold as the National Mall. Wedding 1, Inauguration 0.)

The ceremony: The happy couple were married in a very official British ceremony called a "registry." One of the highlights (other than the obvious happy result): Ankur gave an inspired reading of Percy B. Shelley's poem, Love's Philosophy. Or, I should say, almost Percy B. Shelley's poem. Two of the words had to be altered in order to avoid mentioning "heaven," as that apparently was too "religious" for the Crown.



(There was definitely no Rick Warren reading an inaugural prayer. Wedding 2, Inauguration 0.)

The fashion: In an inspired gesture towards blending the East and the West, Claire wore a gorgeous strapless sheath-style white gown constructed from a white and gold sari. She looked absolutely fabulous.



(The dress was also perfectly symmetrical--the essence of beauty--with no uncomfortable fidgeting every time she moved. Wedding 3, Inauguration 0.)

The food: In another expert nod towards cultural harmony, the lovely couple selected the best of both culinary worlds. The guests enjoyed a scrumptious indian meal, served family-style on each table, followed by English wedding cake and lemon tarts. Indian "savories," English "sweets" -- the perfect combination.

(And it sure beats wild game and root vegetables. Wedding 4, Inauguration 0.)

The entertainment: The speeches and toasts were hilarious. The DJ was excellent. The dancing was exuberant. The alcohol was copious. But the biggest entertainment of the night for me was my adorable little baby cousin-in-law Carys, who I got to carry, dance with, and play with for the majority of the evening. It was much fun and an excellent workout--my arms were unbelievably sore the next day!



(We got to stay at one great party, rather than dance the exact same dance at 12. Wedding 5, Inauguration 0.)

The result: The beginning of a wonderful, happy, and long-lasting marriage!

(This was a close one--I am a big fan of the regime change in Washington as well. But ultimately I have to go with the wonderful new addition to family--Wedding 6, Inauguration 0.)

In sum, a good time was had by all. It also brought back very fond memories of our own wedding a year and a half earlier. To all who made it possible--thank you for a fantastic trip!

A Snapshot

Two mzungu lawyer sister-in-laws are sitting on a couch, adorned with much gold jewelry and red dots on their foreheads, drinking indian tea and eating chevro. One turns to the other and says: "when you dreamed about being an old married woman, is this what you pictured?" They laugh, and together appreciate their wonderfully unpredictable lives.

Happy Birthday Ankur!

On this day in history, many years ago, my best friend and soulmate was brought into the world. To celebrate the momentous occasion, we 1) went to McDonald's for lunch (his request); 2) went to Whole Foods and explored (also his request), and 3) had a little get-together at our favorite local Thai place, followed by cake and Rock Band at home (a surprise). And so many people called and emailed and facebooked--it was a really nice, low-key day spent reconnecting with people.

Playing Tourists

Happy New Year! Thanks to the office entirely emptying out for the holiday, I got a rare treat--I did not have to do a single six-minute increment of work on Sunday! It was fantastic. In order to properly take advantage of the occasion, the husband and I decided to venture out and experience DC as it is meant to be experienced--as tourists.

We started our adventures by walking down to the scene of all the action lately--the Hay Adams hotel. We were two of the many, many curious Americans hoping to catch a glimpse the Obama family as they (along with so many other Americans) await the vacancy of their future home. We felt completely ridiculous standing there and gawking, waiting for the chance to wave at our future first family, but there was something really neat about the palpable excitement in the air, and we couldn't bring ourselves to walk away.

And our time spent standing out in the cold looking and feeling like idiots was rewarded--we got our second DC celebrity sighting! The Obama women exited the hotel, through the Secret Service tent, in a big black SUV with tinted windows, and surrounded by police cars and other vehicles. As they were driving away, Mrs. Obama looked out the window and waved at us! Some might see it as inappropriate or undistinguished, but I thought the fact that Michelle Obama waved at us through the dark windows had some nice symbolic value--she did not see the American public waiting outside her temporary home as a source of inconvenience or annoyance to be avoided, but instead as people whom she could help cheer and serve. Change is coming! =)

After the wave, we continued our walk down to the White House, where we saw the giant stage and massive rows of bleachers being constructed for the inauguration. We stopped to buy a couple of Obama T-shirts from a street vendor (hey, we were tourists!) and have a delicious lunch at Cosi. Then we headed further down to the Smithsonian Natural History Museum, where we saw reconstructed dinosaur skeletons, fossils, the Hope Diamond, a really cool video about the ocean and its creatures, and a lot of other really cool, really old stuff. After all that walking our feet couldn't take it anymore, so we metro'ed most of the way back to our apartment.

It was really nice to be able to take advantage of some of the amazing and unique (and free!) resources of the city in which we live. I still miss "home," but DC is a great place to visit!

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