If it weren't for you meddling kids...

Anybody remember the old ScoobyDoo episodes we watched as kids where, after capturing the villain and pulling off his/her mask, they would always say something like, "And I would have gotten away with it too, if it weren't for you meddling kids!"

Kids have a way of meddling in everything. Once kids come along, forget owning anything nice, and forget having a moment's peace. You have to have the patience of Job, the forgiving nature of a saint, and the astute and clever nature of a fox. They will push you into psychological realms you didn't think existed within you. And contrary to what you may tell yourself before you actually have kids, they will not listen to you (for futher insights on the complexities of parenthood, I refer you to Bill Cosby who eloquently illustrated the plight of parenthood).

Take my kids, for example. By and large, I think people would say they are cute kids. But in looking and interacting with them, you'd wonder how they were fruits of the same womb. Worlds apart. The parenting techniques that worked with the one have no effect on the other. And do not be fooled by the pictures of these sweet-looking, innocent faces. Beneath them are personalities of a devious nature that is certain to keep you on your toes.

Then there are the "Oh my goodness, I've become my father" moments. Just today, I heard repetitive loud banging against the kids' bedroom wall. I opened up the door and asked Tyler what was going on. After about 15 seconds of stammering on his part, I looked around him and decided to use deductive reasoning: "Were you throwing your football against the wall?" "Um, I, um... yeah." I then gave the speech I had heard a thousand times as a kid from my own father -- balls belong outside, our bedroom is not a playground, yada yada yada. We finally compromised and propped some pillows up in a corner so he could throw his football at them.

It's funny how when I envisioned my life with kids -- before they actually came along, my envisioned life was so much more orderly, organized, and stress-free. Everything was perfect. But then these two came along and threw a serious kink in all of my plans. I had everything planned out for my life, and I would have gotten away with it too, if it weren't for these meddling kids.

Drivers Beware...

The greater Phoenix metropolitan municipal government, in its infinite wisdom, has decided to post speed traps throughout the valley to catch motorists exceeding the posted speed limit. I found this out the hard way when my friendly postman delivered my mail the other day.

The way it works is that hi-speed cameras are posted at designated areas with laser/radar guns. When your speed registers above the posted limit, the cameras take pictures of both your license plate and you the driver. Using the DMV database, a ticket is mailed to you with copies of your picture and a request to pay a fine.

The last speeding ticket I received was when I was in high school -- until this past week, when I was notified that I was being cited for speeding on I-10 in Mesa, Arizona, during my visit to family in the area. The speed limit was 55MPH and I was going 66MPH. It was NOT a construction zone (which begs the question as to why in the heck would the speed limit be only 55MPH on a multi-lane federal freeway???).

I am a Californian that lives in Orange County. Anybody living here knows that the speed limit here is more of a suggestion than a law. NOBODY here drives the speed limit (it is 65MPH everywhere in the city, 70MPH in the boonies). To keep up with the flow of traffic, you must go about 80MPH. I have passed highway patrolmen here going 75MPH. Nobody cares. So the fact that I was going 66MPH in Arizona shows my sincere attempt to obey the posted speed limit (I actually thought the speed limit was 65 until I received my ticket). They want to collect $175 from me.

The thing that bothers me most about this is that I didn't recall seeing any signs of photo enforcement in the area. Furthermore, I believe I should have the opportunity to explain myself to an officer and be confronted by a real human being. Or at least tell me that photo enforcement is in place. Plus, give me a break - 66MPH is nothing. Save the tickets for the real lawbreakers that speed down the freeway at 90MPH -- the ones with the whale fin on the back and the cherry bomb mufflers.

After considering my dilemma, I have applied probabilities to a variety of outcomes to determine the shortest time and money needed to make this go away. I have come up with the following two scenarios: If the ticket allows me to take online traffic school to avoid getting this on my driving record and reporting it to insurance, I will pay it. The time it would take me to contest this is worth more than the money needed to make it go away. However, if online traffic school is not an option, I will contest this ticket since I have little to lose, and the incremental cost to my policy over time plus the cost of the ticket would make it more expensive than the time it would take me to contest the ticket. It's a purely economical decision. Now read what my defense and approach is when I actually contest this ticket:

1. They sent me a letter asking me to respond by a certain date if (a) I am in the driver in the picture or (b) if I am not the driver in the picture, provide them the information and identity of the driver so another ticket may be sent to the appropriate driver. They are looking for a resopnse so they can prove in court that I had been "served" my ticket. Since I am obliged to respond, my choice will be (c) none of the above. Because the picture they sent is of poor quality, I will notify them that I am unable to determine who the driver is (whether it is me or somebody else) based on the picture, nor can I specifically recall that I was at mile marker whatever on I-10 in the date in question.

2. If after reading my response they continue to cite me, I will request a hearing in court. It will likely be a few months away. As the date approaches, I will request the manufacturer information of the equipment used to identify my speed, the specifications of the camera equipment used. I will do this because that equipment needs to be maintained and calibrated every so often. Then I will request the maintenance records of the municipality. I will then prepare an argument that since the equipment was not maintained exactly in accordance with the manufacturer's specifications, and given that the equipment has a posted margin of error, the speed I was cited for is inconclusive and cannot be relied on for my citation.

3. When the court date is about to arrive, I will request to postpone the date because I will be out of town, cannot make it to Arizona to appear, whatever. That will give me a few more months to let this fester. After I postpone it a couple of times, it will likely be upwards of a year since the original ticket was issued.

4. When I show up to court, the ticketing officer will need to be there. The burden of proof is on the city -- not on me. More often than not, the officer will not show up because (a) it's not worth the effort for a $175 ticket, as it would cost more to go to court to collect the money than it would to just let it go, or (b) the officer has since transferred to another department, moved, whatever, and is no longer available to appear in court, or (c) simply will not remember, recall, or have researched the matter and will not want to put forth the effort to appear so he won't show up. If the officer does not appear, my case will be dismissed. If on the off chance the officer does show up, I will present my evidence to the court stating that the picture does not clearly identify me as the driver and is inconclusive, the maintenance of the equipment cannot reasonably be relied upon, and ask that my clocked speed and photo not be admitted as evidence.

Hopefully my experience will serve as caution to any "foreigners" visiting the great state of Arizona. Not only do I not like Arizona for the heat and arrid, ugly countryside, but now I have another reason to hate going there. I'm telling you, if it weren't for family, I'd be fine never stepping foot in that brimstone-laden state again. If you have any suggestions to further solidify my approach or defense, let me know.

Flying used to be fun...

But now I loathe, detest and despise it. But I pretty much got it down to a science to make it as painless as possible. Unfortunately, I often get called out of town so I've developed these practices to minimize the headaches that accompany travel.

First, I avoid checking baggage at all costs. I took a trip to Amsterdam for work this year and was there for a week. Yep, you guessed it, I fit all my junk in a carry on bag, which brings me to a quick tangent:

On my last trip to Holland I decided to pick up some Hungarian Salami at one of the local shops there. I packed it into my backpack and took it on the plane with me on my flight back to the States. When the flight attendant gave me my US Customs declaration form, I must confess I debated as to whether I even wanted to declare it, because it stated on the form that meats were not permitted in the United States (Mad Cow Disease). And the last time I went through customs, they didn't even check my bags. But, being the honest guy that I am, I declared it.

So I get off the plane and pat myself on the back for not having to follow the other losers to baggage claim and get in a very long line to go through customs. As I stand there waiting, I notice a customs officer making her way up the line with a small dog about the size of a house cat. The dog was sniffing everybody's bags. That's when my heart started to sink. I wanted my Hungarian Salami, and no dog was going to take it from me. It seems the hundred or so people in front of me did not have any contraband, because the dog just kept making its way towards me. When the officer and her dog finally got to me (I had two carry-ons), I allowed the dog to sniff the one I was holding but did not remove my backpack. The agent then told me to remove my backpack. I relented, and when the dog got near it, it pounced on my backpack and stared up at the officer.

Then the questions started. "Sir, what do you have in your backpack?" That's when I was glad that I had declared everything on my form. "Well, officer, as you can see on my customs form, I have some salami in there, which is probably what the dog is smelling." Long story short, I had to stand in two more lines, have my bags emptied and searched, and got to keep my unpasteurized Dutch cheese but lost my delicious Hungarian Salami. The customs officers probably ate it themselves.

Anyway, back to the point I was originally making -- I don't check baggage. And Jessica bought me these dress shoes that have no back on them, so I can put them on like a pair of slippers, but you'd never know they were like that because my dress pants cover the back of the shoe. They are super comfortable and very convenient when I have to go through security at the airport. I keep my laptop in a front pocket so I can easily remove it and replace it (I don't take my laptop bag, it's just another piece of luggage to haul around).

When I fly I will always take an aisle seat that is closest to the front of the plane. And when they board, I will always be the last one on the plane after everyone else is seated and out of my way. I refuse to pay for headphones or peanuts (don't fly American for that reason), and I don't want to worry about getting a special code to upgrade my ticket to first class (avoid Delta for that). Class N, Q, B, S, or Y will allow you to upgrade, but apparently upgrading a class L ticket is an unpardonable sin. Even though I have more miles on my account than everyone else on the plane put together.

I miss the good old days when going through security was a breeze, the little things were free, and the customs people didn't take your meat away. Thanks, Osama, for ruining my fun.