Beautiful Plano, Texas

There are thousands of amazing cities in this world - places with rich history, stunning architecture, world-renowned restaurants... and then there's Plano, TX.

First - to get there from the Dallas airport, you travel along the President George Bush Turnpike. I'm not shitting you. Dude's still in office and he already has a highway named after him. And to top it off, I have never paid so many tolls for such a horrible trip in my life. The irony was not lost on me.

Don't get me wrong - Plano is truly breathtaking... if you are a huge fan of strip malls, chain restaurants, bland architecture, and giant trucks and SUVs. Everywhere - giant people driving giant vehicles. And by giant people, I mean the kind of people who eat a hearty breakfast at McDonald's, guzzle Starbucks frappuccinos all day, pop in to Chili's for lunch, and eat Applebee's for dinner. What a lifestyle.

At least they have a fantastic beer selection at the local pubs. Wait... did I say local pubs? I meant the cookie cutter martini bars and chain restaurant happy hours. Oh and I just realized I said "fantastic beer selection". I'm a silly goose. Obviously I meant "bullshit selection of colostomy bag contents poured into a brown bottle". You like Michelob Ultra, Budweiser, Coors, and Miller Lite? Plano is perfect for you. You can even try the one beer they offer that maybe you haven't tried before - Shiner Bock. What a treat - a beer brewed in Shiner, TX. I wonder if people in Plano realize that other countries do in fact brew beer. Some of those international beers are actually pretty tasty. I should have informed them.

Okay, I realize I'm being a pompous ass. People are different. For all I know these are nice people with great taste. Maybe they swarm to the strip malls in their SUVs to sip Budweisers because they have no other options. Ahh fuck it. If that's the case, I still feel sorry for them. Dopes.

Motherfucker Gonna Turn Up the Pressure

I can't believe I haven't told you this story yet. This shit is insane.

Momo and I traveled to Peru last year with J-Mo and P3. The four of us stopped in several amazing cities and towns, but the main attraction for us was the temple complex at Machu Picchu.

To get there, we took a train from Cuzco to Aguas Calientes, which is at the base of Machu Picchu (translates as "old mountain"). Learn more about all that shit on Wiki. I'll tell you all about that experience some other time. This story is about the train ride back to Cuzco.

The ride took several hours. We were exhausted from hiking and figured we'd sleep the whole way back. A couple of hours into the ride, a surreal fashion show broke out. It started with a couple of Peruvians dressed in traditional costumes with masks and headdresses (kinda like this). They ran up and down the aisle of the train jumping and dancing. I was trying to sleep when they ran up and they scared the shit out of me.

Next, this trendy looking Peruvian couple started strutting back and forth down the aisle. They worked for the travel company, but I guess they also had a side job as fashion models. Dance music was blaring through the speakers in the train. It sounded like techno music with samples from old 80's club songs. The two "models" were wearing hip, modern clothes along with Peruvian-made scarves, sweaters and shawls.

In Peru, a lot of people speak English. But for the most part, you have to speak clearly and articulately to communicate effectively. So during this little fashion show when the music was playing, I really don't think the Peruvians understood the lyrics. The words were moving fast with audio effects on them and they were overshadowed by repetitive bass beats. After a couple of songs, it all started to blend together.

"chucka chucka dun dun na na na sessha" .... "chucka chucka dun dun na na na sessha" By the third song I was barely paying attention to the music and I had no idea what the lyrics were. Especially when I was so distracted by the fashion models.

Then I heard it. The words were clear and there was only one line to this song, repeating over and over again.

"Motherfucker gonna turn up the pressure! Motherfucker gonna turn up the pressure!"

This might be hard to believe, but it got even worse. The sample began repeating "Motherfucker! Motherfucker! Motherfucker! Motherfucker! Motherfucker! Motherfucker!" I am not shitting you. The song must have repeated the word motherfucker a hundred times.

The four of us looked at each other in amazement and confusion. No one else seemed to notice. All of these Peruvians on the train just bobbed their heads along with the beat watching the fashion show. And the models smiled and strutted the whole time.

I hope they got that song stuck in their heads and they sing along at home not realizing what they're saying.

The Difference Between First Class and Business Class

Read this post about First Class first.

I should point out the fact that business class and first class are entirely different. I was under the impression that those terms were interchangeable. And on my first flight, they were. It was a domestic flight from Philly to Chicago. I was listed as business class, but my seat was in the second row.

There was no distinction between business class and first class on that flight. On this flight, the seats were pretty standard, in the sense that they were in rows, all facing forward. But the seats were far roomier than economy class and I had plenty of space to stretch my legs. Plus, each seat had its own two armrests. There would be no bumping of elbows. In business class, there was a power outlet for my laptop, and we were served breakfast (French toast) on actual plates with real flatware. I don't think economy class received a meal on that flight.

At this point, I hadn't yet experienced real-deal first class. When I was checking in at the Philly airport, I used the self service kiosk. The computer asked me if I wanted to upgrade to first class for my flight from Chicago to Beijing. I was perplexed, because I was under the impression that first class and business class were one in the same. But the $629 increase in fare proved that they were different. I declined the offer. But when I got to the gate and gave the staffer my boarding pass, she said I had been upgraded. Honestly, I don't know why they chose me. Maybe it's because I was so polite and handsome (heh heh).

When I boarded that flight, I was ushered off to the left, toward the nose of the plane. To my right, I saw the business class passengers. It was a huge plane and there were maybe 20 business class passengers. In the first class section, I was one of maybe ten passengers. This is where I first sat down in my little mini-suite. How will I ever fly economy again?

Read more about my trip to Kuala Lumpur here.

The Kuala Lumpur Airport

Making my way through Malaysian customs in the Kuala Lumpur airport proved to be incredibly simple. If you have nothing to declare (you're not bringing a ton of cash, cigarettes, booze, etc with you), you can just grab your luggage and leave the airport. Of course, the lines are considerably shorter for first/business class. But even in economy class, I would've been off my plane and in a cab within 20-30 minutes.

My departure was just as easy. I've been in line for hours on end in airports in Manila, Bangkok, Lima, etc. KL is an entirely different story. As an American, I was ushered through security quickly and politely.

The customs agent looked at my passport, which contains a photo of me taken nearly ten years ago when my hair was quite short. She asked curiously "Were you in the Army?" For a moment, I thought this would affect which security line I would have to pass through. I assumed they had a different protocol for military personnel and veterans. I replied "No." She said, looking at the photo, "Your hair was so short." "Oh, yeah. That was a long time ago." "If you don't mind me saying so, you look much younger now." "Wow. Thanks. I'll take that as a compliment." She smiled and wished me a good flight.

At the gate at the KL airport, I ran into a fellow I met several days earlier on my flight into KL from Beijing. On the flight into KL, we discussed our mutual love of beer and he told me how much he enjoyed California wines, which surprised him. I didn't ask any personal questions on our flight into KL, but I could tell he was European. His accent sounded British to me, but with a hint of something different. Scandinavian perhaps.

He's a middle aged man, who wears jeans with hiking shoes and a sport coat. Very much a traveler. I guess the one thing that struck me about this guy was he was unapologetically guzzling the free drinks they deliver in business class. I had a few beers myself, in addition to the champagne. He then moved on to the California white and kept going. I was impressed.

So as I arrived at the gate for my departure from KL, there he was. I had some time to kill, so I continued our conversation from earlier in the week. "Here we are again." "Yes yes. So how was your stay in Malaysia?" I told him I was quite busy for the most part and didn't have much time for sightseeing. The same was true for him.

This time, I gave him my business card and explained what I do for a living. He gave me his as well. Looking at his business card, I could see that his company is based in Norway. But he explained that he is actually from Denmark. I told him my wife lived in Norway years ago. And somehow we got on the subject of seafood (even though I explained that I'm vegetarian).

He described the paradox of Scandinavian seafood. He says the fish is some of the freshest and most delicate in the world, but Norwegian chefs are terrible. They take an amazing catch and make it nearly inedible with awful seasoning and improper cooking. He says it's a different story in Northern France, where they can take an average catch and turn it into something extraordinarily delicious. He said the perfect combination would involve a French chef cooking a Norwegian fish.

The conversation turned toward China, where he currently lives. He owns a home in Denmark, but works in China for most of the year. His wife lives with him in China as well, but he said she is in Denmark for the month taking care of the house. And recently, his company decided to move him to Shanghai. He'll make the transition in a couple of weeks, which he seems very excited about.

He says "Shanghai is metropolitan and vibrant, with a thriving arts community and great restaurants." And the thing that he says he really loves about China is its rich history. People have called the country home for nearly six thousand years. He says the people in Denmark were cave dwellers as the Chinese built their first empire. I commented that I live in a country that has existed for less than 250 years. I thought about mentioning the fact that Kuala Lumpur has only been around since 1857, but I couldn't think of a way to slip that into a conversation about China without sounding awkward.

We boarded our flight and this time, he flew economy class. He told me business class tickets was sold out when he bought his ticket. It's probably for the best. Without being distracted by conversation, I got a lot of work done on the flight.

Read more about my trip to Kuala Lumpur here.