To Wembley!

The smear campaign against Crystal Palace backfired.

When the Eagles arrived at the Amex, the home of bitter rivals Brighton & Hove Albion, they found the floor of their locker room literally smeared with crap. Palace cleaned up the mess in the locker room with a 2-0 victory on the pitch over Brighton, which eliminated their rivals from the Championship playoff and booked their spot in Monday’s playoff final at Wembley Stadium.

Crystal Palace was supposed to see their season end at the Amex. After all, Palace lost leading goal scorer Glenn Murray, who scored 30 goals in 42 games, to a ruptured ACL at home in the Selhurst Park leg of the semifinal and could only muster a 0-0 draw with Brighton in that game. With no advantage in the goal aggregate, Palace had to win the second leg at Brighton’s home ground to advance to the final; the pundits and neutrals already wrote off the Eagles because of their struggles away from Selhurst Park during the regular season.

But then “poogate” happened, Wilfried Zaha scored the two goals that sealed Palace’s trip to Wembley, and the predicted narrative was scrapped. Now the Eagles are only 90 minutes away from claiming the 2012-13 Championship playoff title and—more importantly—that final vacancy in the Barclays Premier League for the 2013-14 season, along with the international exposure and TV/revenue money associated with the Premier League.

I’ve waited eight years for this moment to finally arrive.

Crystal Palace, my favorite soccer team in England, has played in the Championship, the division below the Premier League, since 2005. Because of that, Palace has gotten zero TV coverage in the USA; I’ve spent the last eight years “watching” their games through online fan forums, Flashscore.com, and now Twitter. But that separation from coverage has strengthened the bond that I have with Palace; I’ve bought jerseys to financially contribute to the team from afar and engaged the Palace fans in London to learn more about the team.

If Palace can defeat Watford (who reached the final in their own dramatic circumstances) at Wembley, the eight year wait for that opportunity to properly support this team will be over. With NBC Sports Network picking up the broadcast rights for the Premier League next season and going all in with making every game available on one platform or another, I can finally be reunited with my unusual love in soccer every Saturday for at least one season.

On Monday, I will be on my couch, but as excited and nervous as the fans who will travel to Wembley to sing and cheer on the Eagles. I’ll have the laptop on the beIN Sport website to stream the final, and as happy as I’ll be to finally see Palace in action, I know that I’m condemning myself to a 90-minute roller coaster of emotions. But until the kickoff, I will remain overly optimistic that we will witness a Palace victory in the final, and that every Palace fan will use these three words from the team anthem to describe what this victory means to him/her: Glad All Over.

The Office

I started writing this with the intention of expressing the satisfaction I had after watching the 1.25-hour finale for The Office, but Pam Halpert took what I wanted to write and expressed it better than I ever could in only eight words:

“There’s a lot of beauty in ordinary things.”

If you want to, you can stop reading now.

If you’re continuing to read: Those words describe what made the show so enjoyable for me, even though I didn’t start sporadically watching the show until 2007 with Season Four’s “Fun Run” and had no work experience whatsoever that could let me relate to the daily grind of office life. But the show played to my curiosity/nosy side with its focus on the mundane interactions and relationships between the characters, and the bonds that ultimately grew out from their joys and struggles. Although the characterization got excessive toward the end of the series’s run (see: Andy Bernard), each episode always left me with at least a smirk and the thought that I wouldn’t mind coworkers like the folks at the Scranton branch at Dunder-Mifflin. Despite each character’s faults and the absurdities that they created when they were together, all of them genuinely cared about each other.

The finale struck the right balance of humor and poignancy, especially with the return of Michael Scott. I counted only three lines for Michael (including this gem: ”I feel like all my kids grew up and then they married each other. It’s every parent’s dream.”), but Michael’s silent presence in the background of the wedding and the reception was an effective way to reinforce that he still is the core of that group, even in absence.

While Michael’s return touched on the concept of nostalgia, Andy summarized it the best: ”I wish there was a way to know you’re in the good old days, before you actually left them.” I’ll admit that this was the line that finally broke me down, mostly because I’m away from my family in Illinois and my friends in Florida. The writers and cast (particularly Andy and Phyllis) gave a dead-on portrayal of that wistfulness for those far away, at least from my limited experience. Credit to the writing staff for using the reunion at Dwight and Angela’s wedding as the vehicle for examining our fondness for sentiment, and contrasting that with our fondness for the future, in the form of Pam and Jim’s big move to Austin, Texas.

The Office finale gave us one final, outstanding look at the relationships between past and present Dunder-Mifflin employees, now fully blossomed after nine years. The feel-good tone throughout the entire episode was a good reminder about the potential of all of our own relationships. To paraphrase Pam:

There’s a lot of beauty in ordinary people.

Renewal

The United Boeing 737-900 was supposed to land in Orlando International Airport on Friday morning in the middle of a thunderstorm. But because this is Florida we’re talking about, sunshine greeted the airplane as it touched down on the runway.

Storms pounded Florida the last few weeks, with the forecasts calling for more of that on Friday and the rest of the weekend. Except for a blinding, 10-minute torrent on Friday afternoon (Hazard lights polluted the road as everyone reduced their top speed to 15 miles per hour) and two hours of on-and-off rain during my Saturday morning run, the weather in Orlando this weekend couldn’t have been farther from the forecasts. Temperatures maxed out at 78 degrees Fahrenheit, the breeze was cooling, and the clouds made no effort to obscure the sun. I took two strolls around the community on Sunday, the first with a Slurpee in hand, and the second with Gelati (cookies and cream Italian ice swirled with vanilla soft serve) as the sun and breeze kept me refreshed during my walks.

Those strolls through the old neighborhood under this beautiful weather—this was Florida at its best.

————————

My nuclear family all returned to Chicago, but my extended family remains in Florida.

This extended family, the friends I made down here from my days as an out-of-place Midwesterner in elementary school to the ones who kept me laughing throughout middle school and high school, reminded me of how powerful a nearby support system can be. After almost a year of living up in the older and more insular Northeast, where I’ve become over-reliant on doing everything—traveling, training for this marathon, eating meals—alone.

I didn’t do anything “exciting” (from a tourism perspective) on this weekend getaway to Orlando. No theme parks, no beach. I attended a graduation party, ate lunches and dinners at the old restaurants we used to hang out at, watched Iron Man 3 at the local theater, flung a lot of crap that we thankfully define as “humor” when we hang out, counted the number of Florida alumni license plate covers as I drove, played Halo 4, shopped at Publix, and ran 11 miles in the old neighborhood where my cross country practices took place. You know, stuff I would have done if I still lived in Orlando.

The mundane gave me so much joy over the weekend, though.

You guys defined this trip for me and helped me come to terms with my current isolation in the North. You provided so many laughs and helped me find the ease in conversation that I sort of lost in the Northeast, and I’ll always be grateful for your generosity in listening to me vent and/or picking up the tab for a meal. Since I visited my family in Chicago in February, I’ve had the belief that, if I’m forced to make the choice, I’m that guy who needs to set family/friends/experiences as the higher priority over whatever career goals; you re-affirmed that for me. The plan is written out and I’ve made it a little more flexible, so whenever the timing is right, I’m ready.

The pleasant weather in Florida matched the revived sense of happiness and optimism that you all helped me find while I was down here.

Thanks for that, and see you again real soon.

Peanut Butter Jelly Time

This is the story of how peanut butter brought two people together.

When I was a sophomore at UF, every so often I would head down to Gator Dining to grab lunch between classes. There wasn’t anything particularly good from the kitchen that day, so I went to the sandwich-making aisle, where a variety of brand name breads and anonymous (smooth) peanut butter and flavors of jelly are stationed. It’s a free for all there; people take whatever bread they want, and take as much peanut butter and jelly sitting in open bowls to slather on that bread.

When I arrived at the aisle, another guy was standing where the peanut butter normally sits, so instead, I walked up next to him to swipe a couple slices of bread and spread some grape jelly on one of those slices.  (Seriously, who willingly spreads jelly on their bread before the peanut butter?) After I finished, the guy was still standing where the peanut butter should have been, but I saw that the bowls in front of him were empty. I looked at his place and saw no peanut butter spread on them, then I looked up at the guy next to me. He happened to turn toward me at that same moment.

We made eye contact and gave each other confused looks. We then shrugged at each other over the lack of peanut butter and went our separate and disappointed ways. I was still perplexed, though, over the lack of peanut butter and why–somehow–that guy looked familiar. But after 30 seconds of walking, I realized how much of a dolt I can be.

The guy that was standing next to me that entire time, a foot away, and who I made eye contact with, was someone named Tim Tebow.

Thanks for nothing, peanut butter.

Muse

Going against my usual austere lifestyle, I broke the bank and attended two Muse concerts—one in Boston, the other in Connecticut—on consecutive nights. Besides being temporarily blinded and deafened, I came away from both shows with the understanding that I witnessed science in the form of music.

Muse’s latest album, The 2^nd Law, derives its title from the Second Law of Thermodynamics, which states that the entropy of a system and its surroundings will increase when the system undergoes an irreversible process. You see this every day when the ice in your drink melts; you’re seeing the decrease of usable energy and increase of disorder in the universe. So predictably, the English trio took it one step further and decided to make its concerts for The 2^nd Law tour a grandiose demonstration of that principle: an audio and visual spectacle that overpowers your eyes and ears and keeps the crowd at a level of hysteria until the encore ends.

This is how each concert went for me, particularly in Boston. Muse is the system. The audience is the surroundings. The process is sensory overload: strobe lights, the shapeshifting pyramid, smoke, videos.

Focus. But the audience is getting louder.

Focus. Look at Matt Bellamy! Chris Wolstenholme! Dom Howard! The random touring musician! (He’s Morgan Nicholls.)

Look at Matt Bellamy! The spotlights are telling you to look at Matt Bellamy!

Focus. There is music. I’m supposed to be listening to the music!

The extravagance of the show and the excited crowds made it difficult at times to actually focus on the music, but really, that made the experience of both shows that much more fun. After all, this is supposed to be a representation of the Second Law; the wild crowd behavior seems appropriate for the type of show Muse is trying to put on.

Although Muse used many of the same special effects in both shows, the many differences between the setlists for the Boston and Connecticut concerts meant that the two shows also had different tones. Muse’s younger and relatively softer albums (The 2^nd Law, The Resistance, Black Holes and Revelations) dominated the setlist for the Boston show, while the Connecticut show took the crowd back in time to the band’s older and edgier albums that I’m more fond of (Absolution, Origin of Symmetry, and a Showbiz cameo).

Even though the Boston setlist was more melodic than Connecticut’s, the TD Garden crowd didn’t care about the pace of the music; whether it was a melodic song or a rock-out one, the crowd was consistently on its feet and singing along. The Boston setlist unexpectedly gave me a better appreciation for The 2^nd Law, which I had no intention of buying before attending the concert. After listening to it while working the last couple days, I’ve concluded that The 2^nd Law really isn’t as bad as I originally found it, but as the concert showed me, the album is an acquired taste.

From the Boston show: the shapeshifting pyramid–which also shows the videos–in action while Muse performs “Stockholm Syndrome.”

The Connecticut concert, though. This was the Muse concert I’ve wanted to attend since I was a high school student. Frenzied, frantic, energetic. It was a pulsating show where Muse’s edgier songs from Absolution and Origin of Symmetry whipped up the crowd early on and sustained that intensity throughout the show, even with 2^nd Law songs inserted at various points in the setlist. “Plug in Baby,” “Hysteria,” “Feeling Good,” “Time is Running Out,” “New Born”: these songs are now old enough to be called Classic in the Muse discography, but the band performed each one of them with the same ferocity that they had when those songs were first released about a decade ago.

From the Connecticut show: the “Madness” lyrics video that accompanies Matt Bellamy’s atonement song for Kate Hudson. M-M-M-M-M-M-Madness.

The one Classic that showed up in Boston, but not in Connecticut, was Absolution’s “Stockholm Syndrome.” Out of all the songs played at both shows, this was the one that brought out the best performance from the band; it almost felt like I was transported back to 2007 for the band’s HAARP concert in London’s Wembley Stadium, and to 2010, when it headlined Glastonbury. Besides putting on a spectacular performance for this song, there is something thematically beautiful in seeing Muse perform “Stockholm Syndrome,” then playing the riff to Rage Against the Machine’s “Freedom” as the song’s outro. Stockholm Syndrome and Freedom. I had to type them out again because my nerd side really can’t stop loving that juxtaposition.

The totals from attending two Muse concerts: $140 total spent on tickets to each show; a gallon of gas each to get to the train station to Boston and the Mohegan Sun (I don’t want to think about the hours spent on the road for each trip); $5 for the Charlie card to use Boston’s subway system to get to TD Garden; $3.20 for a slice of pizza and $6.00 for a Ben & Jerry’s milkshake (those were my dinners at Boston and the Mohegan Sun, respectively); and an extra day needed to recover from a sore throat I had.

I struck out the total costs incurred from attending both concerts because, in the end, none of that really matters. The incredible experience of finally attending a Muse concert—twice on consecutive nights, no less—was worth every penny I spent in that 48 hour window. Thanks for the fun weekend, Matt, Chris, and Dom (and you too, Morgan.)

EDIT: setlist.fm has the Muse setlists from Boston and Connecticut. I added some extra info from research on YouTube.

Boston (TD Garden) – April 12, 2013

The 2nd Law: Isolated System
Supremacy
Map of the Problematique
(Muse “Who Knows Who” outro)
Supermassive Black Hole
(Rage Against the Machine “Revolver” outro)
Resistance
Panic Station
(Star-Spangled Banner intro)
Knights of Cydonia
(Man With a Harmonica intro)
Monty Jam
Explorers
Follow Me
United States of Eurasia
(Muse “Butterflies & Hurricanes” tease)
Liquid State
Madness
Time Is Running Out
(House of the Rising Sun intro)
Undisclosed Desires
Stockholm Syndrome
(Muse “Yes Please” + Rage Against the Machine “Freedom” Outro)
The 2nd Law: Unsustainable
Uprising
(Extended outro)

Encore:
Starlight
Survival
(Dedicated to the Marathon Runners)

Uncasville, CT (Mohegan Sun) – April 13, 2013

The 2nd Law: Unsustainable
Supremacy
Panic Station
Supermassive Black Hole
Plug In Baby
(Guns N’ Roses’ Sweet Child o’ Mine outro)
Hysteria
(Star-Spangled Banner intro)
Animals
Knights of Cydonia
(Man with a Harmonica intro)
Monty Jam
Feeling Good
(Leslie Bricusse & Anthony Newley cover)(Lightning Bolt’s Dracula Mountain intro)
Follow Me
Sunburn
Liquid State
Madness
Time Is Running Out
(House of the Rising Sun intro)
Undisclosed Desires
New Born
(Deftones “Head Up” outro)
The 2nd Law: Isolated System
Uprising
(Extended outro)

Encore:
Starlight
Survival

———————————————————————————————–

Other random observations that I really couldn’t fit above:

A sunglasses-wearing Matt Bellamy was equally seductive to both crowds when he locked eyes with, and sang “Madness” to, the camera that zoomed in on him to show Madness’s lyrics flashing on his sunglasses. (Yes, another video that plays while a song is performed!) I’m sure Bellamy pretends the camera is his beloved Kate Hudson to get through that play-acting.

Speaking of Mr. Kate Hudson, Bellamy’s falsetto in “Supermassive Black Hole” is so much more eerie to listen to in person. I know Bellamy’s vocal range is naturally on the higher side, but he makes sustaining that falsetto for long periods of time look easy.

Finally, toward the end of both shows, Bellamy heads down to the floor level to shake hands with/high five/get mobbed by the crowd as he sings “Undisclosed Desires.” At the Connecticut show, this 40-ish year old woman seated near me ran down the seven rows ahead of us to the barriers separating us from the floor, in the hopes that Bellamy would shake her hand. Bellamy obliged and gave her a gentle hand hold/caress as he returned to the stage. As the woman returned to her seat, all wide-eyed and kind of shaking, I told her that she shouldn’t wash her hands anymore. Still wide eyed and shaking, she responded that she wouldn’t. So… For the sake of all the people she comes in contact with every day, I hope she didn’t listen to me.

The National Air and Space Museum

I completed two pilgrimages while in D.C.: one to the Basilica of the National Shrine of the Immaculate Conception (the largest basilica in the United States) and the other to the Smithsonian National Air and Space Museum. Yeah, I realize it’s probably blasphemous to use the word “pilgrimage” when describing a visit to a museum about aerospace engineering and its history, but that’s the only word that ran through my mind when I stood in front of this technological wonder.

The crude-looking, wooden aircraft pictured above is the Flyer, designed and manufactured by two men named Orville and Wilbur Wright, brothers with no formal education in aerospace engineering. Yet, with the help of a wind tunnel and a lot of ingenuity, these two men developed the Lift equation needed to make the Flyer succeed in that historic first flight in 1903 at Kitty Hawk, North Carolina. This piece of engineering history spawned today’s descendants that take civilians all around the world in record times and allow fighter pilots to reach supersonic speeds.

And that’s the strength of the National Air and Space Museum: it’s a pantheon for the history of flight. The Bell X-1 that Chuck Yeager piloted when he broke the sound barrier hangs in the atrium of the museum. Charles Lindbergh’s Spirit of St. Louis hangs alongside the X-1 in the atrium and Amelia Earhart’s Lockheed Vega is proudly displayed in the Pioneers of Flight section. (Those two are your historic firsts for solo transatlantic flights.) For the space travel fans: the Apollo 11 command module sits below the Spirit of St. Louis in the atrium and a Lunar Module sits outside the food court, among others. There are so many more aircraft that I haven’t gotten to, including the World War II fighters from both Allied and Axis sides, the cockpit and nose of a Northwest Airlines Boeing 747, and. To save us some hassle, Wikipedia conveniently compiled the aircraft in the museum right here.

It’s kickass to see all of the historic aircraft in person, but the icing on the cake is the technical information that accompanies each exhibit. A panel for the Lunar Module exhibit was dedicated to the material choices and why they were selected. Every airplane on display had basic specs, such as wingspan, and profile and plan view sketches of the planes. The Wright Brothers exhibit was particularly exceptional with tracing all the work they had to do get the Flyer off the ground, including sketches and models of the wind tunnel that they used and display boards that discussed some of the theory (e.g., the center of pressure, whose position the pilot controls for climbing and descent) that they had to contend with during the design phase. Even with the aerospace engineering degree, I learned so much more practical information just from reading the display information for each exhibit.

Ultimately, what I learned made this trip to the museum completely worthwhile. I don’t work in the aerospace industry now, and I’m starting to have doubts that I will get that opportunity, but the field will always hold a special place in my heart. (I honestly could not find a way to make that sound less mushy. Give me some suggestions if you succeed at where I failed.) I actually had fun learning/reviewing everything in the museum; it was a little strange, since I don’t think I’ve that much fun while learning something since the aerodynamics class I took three years ago. The National Air and Space Museum succeeded in engaging and educating me during my visit, which is the highest praise I think I could give to any museum in the world.

The Spirit of St. Louis

Amelia Earhart’s Lockheed Vega

Pratt & Whitney R-2800 Engine from World War II. Rotaries are cool to look at.

Lunar Module.

The Apollo 11 Command Module

The Newseum

I don’t think I’ve ever visited a museum where I’ve seen as many images of death, or items relating to someone’s death, as I have in Washington DC’s Newseum.

The numerous recurrence of death in this museum dedicated to journalism and its history is a strange twist on the old cliché of “If it bleeds, it leads,” but it’s also what gives the Newseum a depth that I didn’t anticipate when I planned my visit. The most poignant exhibits—the 9/11 Gallery, the Journalists Memorial, and the Time Warner News Gallery—housed within the Newseum are all rooted in death.

When I reached the 9/11 Gallery, my attention was immediately fixated on a mangled portion of the broadcast antenna that perched on top of the North Tower. The exhibit increased in intensity as I proceeded behind the damaged structure to see an encased piece of the fuselage from United Flight 93 and the recovered possessions of photographer William Biggart—the only journalist to die in 9/11—in a separate glass fixture. Chillingly, Biggart’s camera, glasses, and press credentials are still covered in the ash from the tragedy.

A viewing of “Running toward Danger,” an eleven minute video where a number of journalists recalled how the live coverage they delivered on 9/11 and especially the balance they all sought to find between doing their jobs and being compassionate and human as they saw the tragedy unfurled in front of their eyes. The first-person videos of the news crews and other people running away from collapsing towers and the moments captured before people jumped from the towers… Even over ten years later, those images still unnerve me. Of course, I left the exhibit quite sad and had to take a few minutes’ walk to get my mind in equilibrium; that’s how well-done this exhibit is, and alone it is worth the entire admission to the Newseum.

The Journalists Memorial lists the names of journalists that have died while reporting on a story or controversial issue since 1837, when abolitionist publisher Elijah Parish Lovejoy was killed by a pro-slavery mob in downstate Illinois (right next to the Missouri border), to 2011. Similarly to the memorial for the Vietnam War, the names of journalists killed on the job just jump at your eyes, one after the other. With the names written in white font and on translucent panels, it is a little difficult to read the names on top with the sun shining through the panels, but it does make the memorial very pretty to look at from afar.

I don’t know if this placement was intentional or unintentional, but the Time Warner News Gallery reinforced what I saw in the adjacent Journalists Memorial.  This gallery has various mementos from recently-deceased journalists, including the laptop and passport of Daniel Pearl, the Wall Street Journal journalist who was kidnapped and murdered in Pakistan. A photo of a kidnapped Pearl, with his head down, is placed next to his passport, which has a monochrome photo of a 20-something, wide-smiling Pearl. I’ll choose to remember Mr. Pearl with the latter photo.

The other eye-opening feature in this gallery was this map of “Freedom of the Press” throughout the world:

With green representing a free press, yellow representing a somewhat free press, and red representing no free press, it’s obvious that the majority of the world isn’t big on freedom of the press. When you think about it, it’s kind of depressing, given that we’re in the 21st century and have this technology at our disposal to easily disperse information. The more things change, the more they stay the same…

The Newseum isn’t entirely a Debbie Downer, though.  First Dogs was a fun little exhibit that briefs visitors on the history of dogs that lived in the White House, from President Obama’s Bo to President Reagan’s Rex to President Teddy Roosevelt’s Rollo. A portion of the Berlin Wall is on display alongside other artifacts of the fallen Soviet Union, including Gorbachev’s pen that ended the USSR, in one of its many exhibits dedicated to freedom.

The Newseum has a partial reconstruction of Tim Russert’s office, the former moderator of Meet the Press. I don’t watch the Sunday morning TV political shows, but I was surprised by the mix of professional (so much reading material, plus an atlas and dictionary!), family, sports, and faith found in Russert’s office. The most impressive part was that his office displayed one of the best rules in life that anyone could follow:

The Newseum sold “Thou Shalt Not Whine” magnets at its store; I now have one of those magnets sitting in front of me on my home office desk to remind myself to live by this unwritten Commandment.

The Bloomberg Internet, TV, and Radio Gallery chronicled the history of electronic media from the age of radio to today’s internet era. The gallery displays radio microphones for Jesse Owens’s historic Olympic performance, has information on the rise of TV coverage from the presidential election campaigns (Hi, JFK and Nixon) to Princess Diana’s wedding, and a big corner for our present-day methods of obtaining breaking news on Twitter and other forms of social media.

Of course, the newspapers aren’t left out from having a chronicle of its own lifetime. The News Corporation News History Gallery traces the history of newspapers with a collection of newspaper front pages dating back to the 16^th century. The history nerd in me geeked out over seeing a copy of a news book that covered the English victory over the Spanish Armada and U.S. coverage of D-Day, and decades/centuries from now, another 20-something will have that same feeling when s/he sees the Chicago Tribune’s front page for President Obama’s election as President in 2008 and the Chicago Sun-Times’s front page coverage on the Bin Laden raid.

Breaking away from the newspaper theme that dominates it, this gallery also had an impressive collection of items from news magazine satires (e.g., The Colbert Report and Weekend Update) and from previously-controversial issues where journalism played a role in breaking them down, such as slavery and the restrictions on the right to vote for women.

I wrote a lot from my four hour stay in the Newseum, but that’s only just a broad look I got of the museum. You probably do need two days in there because of the depth of all of its exhibits. It just so happens that a ticket to the Newseum is valid the day you first use it and the day after that. Next time in D.C., when I have more than just a three day weekend to see and eat everything, I’ll taking advantage of that unique ticket deal and dedicate two days toward absorbing everything that the Newseum has to offer.