HipAeroNerd

I have decided that Boston is
joining Frankfurt on my blacklist of airports.
In order to connect from a domestic to an international flight, you must not
only exit security, you have to walk down a sidewalk outside. I had the
pleasure of doing this in the rain. Then, I had the pleasure of being detained
by the TSA and having them try to send my things off with a confused Italian
teenager. When I boarded the plane, I thought my annoyances were over…

Just as all the passengers completed boarding, and we were
about to push back from the gate, a severe thunderstorm hit Boston Logan
International airport. The wind was so strong it was rocking the plane back and
forth. Next to us, two Aer Lingus cargo bins blew off the loading machine and
began sliding down the tarmac towards our aircraft. Two vans were able to park
and stop the bins from hitting my plane.

After waiting for the weather to calm down, we were finally
ready to take off. The rain had stopped but the runway was still wet. As we
began to lumber down the runway, a very strong crosswind caused our planned to
begin skidding and crabbing down the runway. The plane was shaking and making a
horrible noise as we slid for about 100 yards. I didn’t know if we would be
able to stop on the runway or if we would slide into the grass or into the
water. Luckily, the pilot was able to stop the plane, sideways on the runway,
and we were able to taxi around and join the queue for the runway once again.
While we were waiting, two other airplanes also had to abort their takeoff
because of the crosswinds. On our second try, we took off without incident.
Once in the air, I enjoyed the comforts of Lufthansa’s new business class
seats, ate a good meal, and then slept for a couple hours. I arrived in Munchen
ready to enjoy the day!

Picture it. Rio, 2005. (Said like Sophia from the Golden Girls). Its a warm, sunny morning, and I am laying on the Copacabana Beach in Rio de Janeiro, enjoying a good book. Next thing I knew, a guy was asking me for the time. I told him I didn’t know, but he persisted. I replied that I didn’t have a watch, yet he continued. I thought to myself, my portuguese isn’t that bad. Why isn’t he understanding me. Then, I decided to look over my other shoulder, and I saw another beach thug running off with my backpack. I thought to myself, I’ll be damned if that little shit steals my backpack. So, I jumped up from my beach towel and sprinted after him. Picture a tall, white, barefoot, American in nothing but a speedo sprinting down the sidewalk. The teenager had jumped on his bike by this time, but I was still in hot pursuit. When I’m pissed, I can run damn quick. There were many people around, all observing this scene. I yelled "Me roba!", and a Brazillian man joined me in pursuit of the teenager. We managed to catch and tackle him off his bike. The boy got cut up, I retrieved my backpack, and the Brazillian man rode off with the teenagers bike after I thanked him for his assistance. That boy fucked with wrong American. The boy left pissed off, while I left with a feeling of pride.

About twenty minutes later, I saw the boy return with two friends and I saw them pointing at me. I decided that it was time to put my pride aside and move to the Impanema Beach, lest there be another incident. I spent the next three hours on a picturesque walk along the entire length of the Impanema and Leblon beaches.

Saturday night, while drinking caiparinhas in a gay dive-bar near the Copacabana Beach in Rio de Janeiro, one phase of my life ended and another one began. Sten asked me to marry him. Of course I said yes. For a while, we had been talking about wanting to spend the rest of our lives together, and we’d even discussed some ideas for a honeymoon and ceremony. But, that night, we made it official. Monday morning, we went to the H. Stern factory here in Rio and picked out matching silver bands.

At the risk of sounding sentimental, I am very, very excited about this new chapter in my life. Nobody understands the intricacy of my delusional mind like Sten. Nobody has made me as happy as he is. I am looking forward to a wonderful and exciting 60 plus years together!

Thursday night, Sten and I met up with our hot Brazillian friend Saulo. On the way to the restaurant, we stopped by another hotel to pick up Saulo’s friend Tony. Before continuing with our exciting evening of gaity, a further desrciption of Tony is required. I had met several of Saulo’s friends last Saturday when I went out (see Paulistas sao loucas for details). They were all young, attractive, friendly, and a lot of fun. Standing in the hotel lobby, Sten and I were expecting the same. To our suprise appeared "um oso", or for those English speakers, a bear. When I think of the stereotypical Venice Beach bear (ok, so he was from Laguna Beach), Tony’s image comes to mind. He obviously works out his arms and chest for hours a week, yet almost takes a certain pride in flouting his large beer belly. Likewise, he also obviously spends a lot of time in the sun in an attempt to leatherize his skin. To complete the description, he is covered in a Robin Williams level of hair. Hair is sprouting out of every opening in his clothes. Wondering if I had misjudged Saulo’s taste in men, I asked him if he and Tony were friends or "friends". Saulo’s very animated response of "No, no, no, no! We are only friends!" made clear that I had not misjudged.

After picking up Tony, we proceeded to a restaurant that was Sao Paulo’s equivalent to DC’s Peppers. Well, except that the food was very good. For a couple hours, we ate, drank caiparinhas, and chatted with some more of Saulo’s friends. A further description of his photographer friend also requires further description. In three words, he was gorgeous. But he also knew it. His dark brown hair was perfectly styled, and his deep blue eyes lit up when he flashed his perfect smile. The curious part about him was that throughout the entire night, he had his handsfree attachment to his cell phone in his ear, as if we were less important than any call he may receive. During dinner, I tried to speak to him a few times, and he more or less just ignored me. I was starting to get irritated because I thought that he was acting as if he was too good to converse with me. After about an hour, I realized that he didn’t speak any English. Once I began conversing with him in Portuguese, he was very, very nice. I guess I shouldn’t have been so quick to judge.

After leaving Sao Paulo’s version of Peppers, we went to Sao Paulo’s version of Nation. Well, the atmosphere and the people were similar to nation. The club itself was clean and beautiful, which is so unlike Nation. On the first floor of the club, there were several bars, couches, and tables, so that you could sit down and relax over a "hay-dgee boule e vodka". After a failed attempt to convey to the bar tender the method in which I wanted to become intoxicated, I realized that Brazillians pronounce Red Bull "hay-dgee boule". After that realization, it was on. On the second floor of the club was a glass-bottomed dance floor. You could sit downstairs, look up, and watch the gorgeous Brazillian boys dance. After going upstairs, I came to my second overgenerlazation about Brazillian men: they are beautiful. In DC, Sten and I feel that we are in the top quintile. However, here in Brazil, we are in the bottom quintile. We are the last call boys. Everyone was shirtless, displaying their perfectly scultped and tanned bodies. Before returning to this country, I will be spending a lot more time at the gym. An interesting sidenote about the dance floor: Oso Tony was dancing with this shirt unbuttoned, proudly displaying his mass of hair.

As I had to make my final presentation the next day, about 3:00, Sten and I decided that we had had enough fun, and it was time to cease oogling hot guys and return home. Overall, it was a very fun night, and it has enamored me to Brazillian culture just a little bit more.

In case anyone was wondering why there were no posts during the week, I was crazy busy. Each day, class would start at 8 and would end around 7 or 8. Then, we’d go to dinner and have a few drinks, and get back to the hotel around 11 or 12. There wasn’t even enough time for me to get my 8 hours of beauty sleep, let alone post blog entries. Here is the brief description of my week of class and plant visits. I learned all about how to do business in brazil and visited Embraer, GM, Banco do Brasil, and Natura to see their manufacturing facilities and listen to presentations by company executives. All of the plants were in towns surrounding Sao Paulo, so we would take the bus to them. Let me just say that even on a good day, getting in and out of Sao Paulo is miserable. After our tour of GM, Sao Paulo received more rain in two hours (66mm) than they usually receive all winter. Since the government filled in most of the wetlands and rivers to build roads, several highways were completely submerged. This led to 195 kilometers of back on Sao Paulo’s roads, which was the worst since they began keeping records 40 years ago. Needless to say, we spent a few miserable hours on the bus. While I will miss the Paulistas, the school, the food, and the caiparinhas, I will not miss that miserable bus.

Two nights during the week, the program sponsored dinner and drinks out. Wednesday night, we had pizza at the Skye Bar at Hotel Unique. The hotel itself is a concrete structure with several large, circular windows in a non-traditional form (see pictures). The hotel is located in the middle of the Jardins neighborhood, and is the tallest building around for miles. On the top floor, there is a bar, restaurant, and patio with spectacular views of the entire city. The whole city just rises out of the trees of Jardins in all directions. It was quite a site. The only other detail of note from the Skye Bar was my classy exit. We were on our way out at about 11, when Patrick stopped me, pointed to my watch, and asked if it was broke. "I know you aren’t going home this early." My classy reply was, "Let’s just say I have other interests right now" as I grabbed Sten’s ass. Classy.

Paulistas (people from Sao Paulo) are crazy. Most restaurants don’t even open until 8 and most clubs don’t open until midnight. To me, it just seems there is something wrong with eating dinner at 11 and then getting to the bar at 1 and staying until 6. I will say that Paulistas sure know how to have a good time.

Saulo, the Brazillian I met through friendster, picked me up at my hotel and we first went to L’Open, which is a gay bar/restaurant in Jardims, with two of his friends. One friend was Argentinian and the other was an American. The conversations were interesting to say the least. They made me speak in Portuguese to practice, but they replied to me in a mix of English and Portuguese. I’ve learned that there is an inverse relationship between the number of caipirinhas (a mix of a local sugar cane spirit, cachaca, and lime pulp) and my ability to speak portuguese. By 6am, I was only able to say "Bom" (good) and "Descuple" (I’m sorry). After L’Open, we went to an 80’s bar in Centro. They played a mix of Brazillian and American 80’s pop. When ABBA or Madonna was on, I sang my heart out. When it was a Brazillian song, the rest of the club went nuts and I smiled and nodded. After my fourth caipirinha, I was a "dancing queen".

Last night further proved my point that Brazillians are great hosts and very friendly. Not only did someone I only met through the internet take me out with his friends, but they all insisted on buying all my drinks (and trust me, that was a lot). They spoke to me in English so that Drunky McDrunk could actually understand and showed me a great time. I plan to meet up with them a couple more nights while here. Paulistas, while crazy, are some of the nicest people I have ever met.

This is the first of what will hopefully be several postings from the largest city in the southern hemisphere. Today, I arrived in Sao Paulo early in the morning after a surprisingly pleasant flight. I can’t believe what a difference business class makes. Making that statement has led some people to call me a princess, but they can suck it. It was the difference between napping all day in my
hotel and exploring the city. After the queen at Dulles upgraded me, I boarded the plane, ate filet mingnon and chocolate bottom cheesecake (when have I ever been known to pass up a bottom) while watching Sideways, and then slept for 4 hours. I awoke to breakfast being served and then I was on the ground. It did not even seem like I was on that 767 for 10 hours. Plus, it was the first and probably last time, anyone has ever said to me, "We would like to welcome you aboard, Mr. Wehr. Thank you for being a frequent flyer."

After checking into my hotel, I decided to go exploring the area. I saw several museums which I will come back to on my lunch breaks between classes. Then, feeling adventurous, I took the metro to a bus to the Jardim Botanica (Botanical Garden). While it is fall down here and most things were not in bloom, I did see several butterflies, ducks, and giant spiders. It was a very peaceful walk through the lush flora.

When I tried to make my way back towards the hotel, I was surprised by Brazillian hospitality. In my extremely broken Portuguese, I asked the security guard, "Where is the bus for the metro". When I didn’t understand his response, he walked me over to the bus stop. There, he found a woman who also spoke no English who was also going to the metro. She told me how to pay on the bus and where to get off, and was so happy that I was trying to speak Portuguese to her. I was shocked at how they both went out of their way to help a stupid tourist. That being said, I am also very happy that I learned a little bit of Portuguese.

Since I only slept on the plane and was out in the sun all day, I was thinking of making it an early day. But, then I thought, this isn’t the Tom we all know and love. How can I not go out on a Saturday night in Brazil? So, I called up Saulo (someone I met thru my friendster network and with whom have been exchanging emails). He has a friend that lives close to my hotel, so he’s coming over to pick me up, go to dinner, and then go to this massive club. I don’t know how long I’ll last, but I have to give it a try. Tonight’s phrase will be "Quero uma cerveja".

As I have argued in a previous posting, the key to protecting our environment is the use of financial incentives and disincentives. Transportation contributes a large amount of the greenhouse gases that are released into the atmosphere each year. The carmakers have technology, such as hybrid gas-electric engines and 6-speed transmissions, that can reduce emissions. However, these would make the cars more expensive, and so they have generally not been pursued.

To counter this, the Tom Party would create a national excise tax on automobiles. All cars that get better than 30 miles per gallon will not have to pay the tax. The more a car is under the 30 miles per gallon, the more they will pay. For example, an SUV that averages 15 miles per gallon would pay an excise tax of $1500, will a car that averages 26 would pay $200. The taxes collected would be used on other environmental protection measures.

Having to pay a $1500 excise tax will make those soccer moms think twice about buying that Expedition!

The key
to protecting the environment is a different approach from the current system
of regulations and forced compliance. The protection of the environment needs
to be based upon a solid "business case" instead of ideals. The
Millenium Ecosystem Assessment
(http://news.bbc.co.uk/2/hi/science/nature/4391835.stm) is a revolutionary
approach to protecting the environment: it quantified the services provided to
us by the environment, such as clean air to breathe or wild fish to eat.

Currently,
environmental protection falls into what economists and game theorists call a
moral hazard. There are no consequences to the individual firm for polluting or
depleting natural resources. Therefore, every firm’s dominant strategy is to
ignore environmental effects. In order to encourage environmental protection,
these public costs need to be levied on all firms. Under this situation, firms
will have an incentive to protect the environment.

However,
it would be infeasible to implement this solution immediately for all firms in
an effort to cut pollution. Instead, a policy of emissions quotas should be
implemented. Each year, a firm will receive a quota. These quotas will be
allowed to be traded. The first year, this will not incur any additional
expense on firms. However, each year, the quotas issued will be reduced
slightly, say 1-2% a year. Then, the firm has the choice to either reduce its
pollution or purchase unused quotas from other firms.

Similarly,
quotas for catching fish, or draining water from a river, or cutting down a
tree need to be auctioned off. The auction price will be, set at a minimum, to
the public cost that depleting the resource incurs on society. This will
encourage conservation of resources.

The
key to protection of the environment is to move towards a market-based system
that includes the public costs of either depleting the resource or polluting
the environment. It is only when it is economically feasible to protect the
environment, that any progress will be made.

(Phone call at 2am last night)

Tom: Hello?

Caller: Hullah?

Tom: Who is this?

Caller: Barbara.

Tom: [irritated] I think you have the wrong number. I don’t know any Barbaras.

Caller: [indignant]What you mean, you don’t know any Barabara. You sure knew my name when you got me pregnant. You’re my baby’s daddy!

Tom: [laughing] Now I know you have the wrong number. I don’t know a Barbara and I sure as hell didn’t get you pregnant. I’m gay. Unless 9 months ago you sprouted a dick and now have a fetus growing in your ass, I didn’t get you pregnant.

Caller: [loud shriek, followed by a click]