WuFlu Blues: A Personal Ode to the Months-Long Lockdown

I'm not the kind of guy who wants a solid 30 minutes of creativity to go unnoticed. Therefore, I decided to publish a poem I wrote answering the request of one of the car companies for short notes, videos and audio recordings offering a diary of what each of us did during the WuFlu lockdown. Attention has turned away from the WuFlu, but my verse, I think, still resonates.

WuFlu Blues
by D.R. Heaps

I like me the way that I am.

I like bacon more than ham.

I like the Steelers of the NFL.

Belichick and his Patriots can go to hell.

I like good bourbon and I like beer.

I like pizza and the flank of a steer.

I like writing about and videoing cars.

I agree: Women are from Venus, Men are from Mars

All that seemed to matter mere weeks ago.

That was before the pandemic. WuFlu, you know.

What transpired in a short amount of time

Brought the world to a halt; it stopped on a dime

Doc Fauci took over; man, what a tool.

Shutter every business. Close every school.

Close the parks and the beaches, too.

Wear a mask or shame on you.

Like obedient little serfs we hunkered down.

Stayed in our homes, stayed out of town.

We did it in the name of flattening the curve.

Those medical resources must be conserved.

Back at home, we lounged about.

We didn't work, we didn't go out.

Frustrated and furloughed from my biggest gig

I was gaining weight, fat as a pig.

Sitting on my ass is never okay.

If only there was an alternative for spending the day.

A voice began screaming inside my head.

Do a project, get busy, don't wait, it said.

For years, renovating the kitchen lurked in the back of my mind.

But, where to get the money, and where to find the time.

Money can be borrowed, the devil on my shoulder cried.

And you've got time spilling from your ass, the angel replied.

Determination and a shed full of power tools are all you need.

When it comes to home improvement, I can do it, that's my creed.

Ripping out cabinets, tearing things up.

Demoing a kitchen doesn't suck

The fridge, the oven, it all must go.

Are new appliances expensive? I don't know.

Out with the old, in with the new.

Something borrowed, something blue.

Don't hesitate. Don't stop to think.

Step on the gas. Wait, take a drink.

A sip of bourbon every day.

That's the spirit. Was that a cliché?

I spent money as if I was making it.

Dumping cash by the bucket down the kitchen pit.

What I didn't know how to do, I faked.

Not spending a nickel on labor at stake.

This house is old, built on a wing and a prayer.

How old, you ask. Apparently older than the level and square.

With nothing level and nothing plumb,

Renovating is a fool's errand. Man, I'm dumb.

Relocating the sink was a dicey chore.

Plumbing is tough, there were leaks galore.

Flooring down, cabinets set, appliances in, it's nearly done.

Not so fast, cowboy. There's more to do and more to come.

More than the cabinets, appliances or floor,

The countertop nearly broke the store.

Then there's the backsplash remaining to do.

I think maybe I bit off more than I can chew.

Renovating was a job needing done.

Now, the kitchen war is nearly won.

Yes, I spent too much money with no income in sight,

But, hey, it's only money, right? Holy Christmas, I hope that's right.

WuFlu Revisited

I'm not the kind of guy who sees the benefit of throwing water on a drowned man. No point in recovering ground once covered. But, hey, I'm essentially trapped in my home office with nothing better to do. I'm becoming a bit cranky over this WuFlu lockdown. The longer it drags on, the less in favor of it I become – and, I wasn't a true believer to begin with.

I think 50 years from now when history takes an objective look at this pandemic, it will be referred to as the Great Toilet-Paper Famine of 2020. Every textbook for sociology, economics and political science will frame this virus and our over-the-top reaction to it as the killer of the most robust economy in a generation. Is “killer” too harsh a characterization? I guess we'll see, but consider this....

In what we now call the Great Recession that began in 2008, basically, one element of the economy took a dump: the housing market. I won't go into the whys of how so many bad loans were made, but the easy-mortgage market created a false demand for housing that drove values far beyond fair market. When the defaults began pouring in, the housing market collapsed, taking a huge chunk of financial institutions and the stock market with it. Getting the economy booming required nearly a decade.

Look around today. Following recommendations from the Feds, state and local governments have shuttered any and every business deemed nonessential, cutting across a wide swath of the economy. Most of those not closed are operating under some sort of duress. Sixteen million workers are sitting on their duffs at home hoping the unemployment checks begin soon. Who knows how many small businesses will never reopen their doors?

Although I have little regard for “experts,” some have lined up to predict the unemployment rate will reach 15 percent before this is all over. That rate averaged less than 10 percent at the height of the Great Recession in 2009. You do the math.

Even as someone in the higher-risk pool, none of this makes any real sense to me. I still don't know anyone who knows anyone who is sick from this. Our (U.S.) experts have admitted to inflating the death numbers. Even at that, I don't know anyone who knows anyone who knows anyone, well, you get the picture, whose death was attributed to the WuFlu.

There is still no clear picture on how many have been infected because in some people the symptoms are very light and others don't even exhibit symptoms. Hell, half of us could already have had it and don't even know it. The first reported case in China was in mid-November, but that wasn't patient zero. Reportedly, the Chinese can't find patient zero and have no real clue how long the virus was spreading through China before the first case was reported.

We know we can't believe the virus numbers coming out of China. The hysterical media in this country are claiming reported U.S. virus deaths now surpass China's. “Reported” being the key word in that headline. Knowing how the virus spread in this country, is it reasonable to think fewer people died there, when China didn't even know what it was dealing with in October and November? If you do, I have some beachfront property in Iowa I'd like to unload on you.

(Here's a math problem for you to ponder: How is it that Beijing, China, with 21.5 million people sitting 700 miles from Wuhan, only reports 8 WuFlu deaths? Shanghai with more than 24 million people lying 500 miles from Wuhan only reports 6 deaths? And, New York City with its measly 2.4 million people that is 7,500 miles from Wuhan reports more than 5,500 WuFlu deaths? Let's see, carry the one.... Really, how is that even possible? Hmmm.....)

My point in all of this is, it has become clear that the early models for this pandemic are wrong. Remember the 2.2 million U.S. death-toll prediction? Do you know how many are being treated on the hospital ship sent to New York City? Zip, zero, zilch. Nary a one. What about those desperately needed ventilators Gov Andrew Cuomo continues to whine about? New York still has a stockpile of thousands of unused ventilators.

And, allow me to drift into the political for a paragraph. Isn't Andrew Cuomo the chief executive of New York? I've got that correct, right? If I ever had the misfortune of being elected governor of New York, knowing that the numero uno target of every aspiring great-infidel-hating terrorist is New York City, I think I would ensure warehouses outside of the city are filled to the brim with ventilators, gas masks, medical supplies, hospital tents, hazmat suits, bags of rice, and so on and so forth. The fact that New York was caught as flat footed as every other state, is the fault of, wait for it, Andrew Cuomo. I get why Lincoln, Nebraska or Minot, North Dakota wouldn't be prepared, but there's no excuse for New York to not have stockpiles of stuff in case of a terrorist attack, biochemical or otherwise. Cuomo can point the finger at Trump, but in fact, making sure New York is prepared is Cuomo's job.

So, here we are heading into month No. 2 of the Great Toilet Paper Famine of 2020. It's time to climb out of our bunkers, stretch our legs and get back to work. Anyone who is still worried can stay hunkered down at home. Otherwise, head out, buy some Schweppes Tonic Water and zinc tablets, and let's get things rolling again.

WuFlu Panic: Are You as Confused as I Am?

I'm not the kind of guy who believes everything he hears. Even some things that play into my preconceived beliefs, I look at with a cynical eye. I don't believe in Santa Claus, the Easter Bunny or the Tooth Fairy. I don't believe Lee Harvey Oswald was the lone shooter. I don't believe George Washington chopped down a cherry tree as a lad. I don't believe FDR saved us from the Great Depression. I don't believe Jonah was swallowed by a whale and then spit out again fully intact three days later.

I do believe in the Holy Trinity. I do believe Neil Armstrong stepped on the moon in 1969. I do believe Stalin murdered 20 million of his own people. I do believe Muslim terrorists crashed planes into the Twin Towers on 9/11. I do believe Ted Williams is the best hitter in the history of major league baseball. I do believe the Road Runner is smarter than Wile E. Coyote. And, I believe in the resilience of the human spirit.

In the end, what I believe shouldn't matter to anyone, but me. No matter. I use Clanging Bell to let you know what I think anyway.

I am no physician. I didn't even stay in a Holiday Inn Express last night. I am just an old guy who tries to put life into some sort of perspective. And, as I sit back and watch us turn our world upside down in response to the WuFlu. I continue to ask myself, What in the hell is going on?

I am composing this post on Friday morning, March 20. As of this morning, there are just over 14,000 reported WuFlu cases in the U.S., translating into nearly 220 deaths. This among a population of over 327 million souls. World wide the number infected is 255,000 with 10,500 deaths among a population of nearly 8 billion.

Italy, the country of 60 million souls with the most deaths from WuFlu, today has 41,000 infected with 3,405 deaths. What these infected/death numbers don't tell us is that the average age of the dead in Italy is 80 years and 99 percent of them had previous health conditions. So, basically, Italy reflects what the experts have been telling us about WuFlu all along: Fatalities will be primarily among the elderly and those with preexisting immune or respiratory issues.

If you can find an average age for those WuFlu has killed in the U.S., it will be somewhere between 75 and 80 years, depending on the date released. But, the best of luck in finding a news source publishing the average age in the U.S. Apparently, our “need to know” doesn't extend to this important statistic.

Again, from the get-go we have been told that this virus is most likely to kill the very young, the very old and those already suffering from some sort of immune or respiratory issues. Seems like the medical experts were correct about that, right? Or am I missing something?

At the risk of sounding cavalier, I have no dog in the fight where the stock market is concerned. That it has lost most of its gains of the past three years has no direct impact on me. I have no stocks, nor do I have any retirement accounts tied to the stock market. I am generally affected, though, because major drops in the market affect how businesses invest and spend money. When the market drops, so does investment and spending. All of that is to say, I'm not wringing my hands over the recent losses. The market will recover at some point. When that recovery comes is more a function of how much panic can be whipped up and how long that panic will last. Right now, I don't see an end. Certainly, the media isn't going to calm down any time soon.

No, my economy concerns rest more on the retail (pedestrian) level: People being able to work and businesses being able to function. This seems like basic stuff to me. We want people employed and businesses thriving. Most of my family members and other people I know have limited savings and at least some debt. These folks need to be able to earn a living to pay the bills and put food on the table. No income, no food, no car, no home, no hope.

So, here are four my questions relating to the WuFlu and, what I think is, our rather radical response to it....

1. What are we so damn afraid of? Yes, WuFlu is deadly, but so is whichever strain of the flu sweeps this country annually. There are tens of thousands of deaths from that flu (for which hudreds of thousands have been immunized) in this country each and every year. Why now? The Hong Kong Flu in 1968-69 killed more than 2 million people around the world with around 34,000 of those deaths in the U.S. I was around for that. I was going to college at the time. We weren't sent home from college and I don't remember restaurants being closed. There was no panic. People got sick, some of them died, but life went on. It was the flu!
2. Is the prevention more devastating than the disease? I don't think any sane person will argue that shutting down half of the economy to “flatten the curve” of this outbreak isn't a radical measure. It is. The government (in this case federal, state and local), urged us to stay home. Almost no one followed that directive. For one, humans are social animals. We like to mingle. We like to make contact. Secondly, most of us need to earn an income, which involves a majority of us heading to a job somewhere. The result of our indifference: The government shut the doors of many businesses, throwing their employees out of work. I have service-industry friends sitting at home wondering how they are going to pay the rent, the car payment and, maybe, buy formula for a newborn. Meanwhile those shuttered businesses are also at risk. How long can they sustain closed doors? I have friends who own breweries that won't survive if this lasts longer than the end of the month. It's one thing if this lasts two weeks. It's another if it goes on for months. Even if the $1 trillion bailout is passed, bureaucrats will pick winners and losers. How much of that will really trickle down to the street level? Very little, I wager.
3. What is the obsession with WuFlu testing? In the early stages of this breakout about all we heard was the shortage of testing kits. There aren't enough kits to go around! What will we do, what will we do? The only people showing symptoms who need testing are those at the highest risk. For the rest of us, it doesn't matter if we have the virus or not. There is no cure. Have you ever been tested for the flu? I never have. When we get sick, we stay home in bed and a few days later we feel better. Anyone showing symptoms, who is tested, is supposed to follow the same procedure whether the test is positive or negative for WuFlu: Stay home, get plenty of rest, and so on and so forth. It's the flu! There is no cure! The only reason for widespread testing is to keep track of the spread rate. But, is that really important? To be tested, you have to go somewhere for the testing, right? If you do have WuFlu, you risk infecting others while out and about getting the test. And, to what end? Now you know you have WuFlu? It doesn't matter unless you are one of the high-risk people, requiring extra care or hospitalization. Otherwise, it's go home, stay home, get plenty of rest and wait for it to play out.
4. What are the chances the population continues to voluntarily follow government orders if the government-imposed economic shutdown goes on for longer than three or four weeks? Right now most of us are willing to go along with all of this self-imposed quarantine silliness because we can put up with just about anything short term. But, at some point, our patience will run out. This will be particularly true if it becomes more and more apparent that nearly everyone who is infected recovers. If the death rate remains statistically low, confined primarily to the elderly and, indeed, the vast majority of those infected recover, how many of us are going to be willing to stay cooped up at home? How many of the surviving businesses will be willing to keep their doors closed? How many of those unemployed by the government shutdown will quietly remain docile? And, if we don't continue to tow the government line, what will be the government's response? There are already cities with curfews. Is Marshall Law on the table? I shudder to think what the public's response to that would be.

As you can probably tell, I am really confused and frustrated by what is going on right now. I think government reaction is way over the top. This isn't Smallpox or the Black Plague. It's a unique strain of the flu. I'll turn 69 years old in a few months. I'm relatively healthy and probably not in that top tier of at-risk Americans. But, I am at higher risk than most of the population. More than a week ago I was in a crowded bar in Boca Raton, Florida. There were probably 250 people in the joint. Thirty of them were part of a pipe-and-drum corps from Boston. I met a table of three couples from Iowa and there were many others there from around the country. They were in South Florida for the Delray Beach St. Patrick's Day parade and celebration originally scheduled for that following Saturday. It had already been canceled, but a lot of people traveled in anyway.I did.

Strangers hugged, shook hands and toasted one another. I was party to all of that. Guess what? Neither I nor any of the several friends I was with is sick. I don't know anyone who is sick from WuFlu. Do you? Do you know anyone who knows anyone? Do you know anyone who has died from it? We could Kevin Bacon that question, as well with probably a negative outcome.

As someone who is in the higher-risk pool, I'm ready to end this shutdown today. I want my friends and family back to work. I want the restaurants open. I want kids back in school. I want to go back to the gym. I want to see the people in charge to stop politicizing this thing, stop trying to one-up each other and get the country back on track. And, as a higher-risk person, if that happens, I'm more than willing to take my chances. It's the flu!

Park City, Utah in Winter: Toyota Throws a Snow-Driving Experience and I Live to Tell About It

All ready for a day of snow adventures.

I'm not the kind of guy who looks death in the face and laughs. There was a time when I was more adventurous. You know, when I thought I was bulletproof. Those days are long gone. No more do I long to jump out of a perfectly good airplane simply for the adrenaline rush. The group of fraternity brothers that I join every year or two on a trip somewhere have pretty much decided we will return to Eatons' Ranch in Wyoming this September. This will be my 11^th visit there. I, along with one or two other brothers, announced that we will attend, but won't be climbing aboard a horse this year. As anyone who rides with any regularity will tell you, it's not a matter of if the day will come when your noble steed tosses you to the ground, it's a matter of when that day will be. Having never been thrown, the odds aren't with me. Nope. Not going to do it.

Actually, if I knew the outcome of doing something dangerous was either coming out the other side unmolested or being killed, I would be more inclined to do it. At this point, I'm on the downhill slide of my life. I've lived a rich, fun-filled run. I wouldn't change much of anything. My fear isn't termination, it's being maimed doing something silly. I'm old. I don't mend nearly as quickly and easily as I used to. Not to mention, there are those injuries from which you literally don't walk away. You may still be breathing and your heart still beating, but that's about it. So, I've opted to sit on my cabin's porch, sip some bourbon and read a few chapters of whichever book I happen to have with me as most of my brothers ride off into the Wyoming mountains. Godspeed, boys.

For nearly 15 years I've followed the advice of Sir Richard Branson: Life is more fun when you say, yes, than when you say, no. I still do, to a certain extent. Adhering to those sage words provided the opportunity for having some great times. But, now I usually draw the line at things that just seem a little nuts. “Usually” being the operative word.

In mid February, Toyota invited me to a snow-driving event in Park City, Utah. It served as host of the 2002 Olympic Winter Games, and for good reason: There's always plenty of snow. More of a boondoggle than anything else, this event did provide the attending media the opportunity to pilot its sedans and car-based crossovers armed with all-wheel drive on a rather challenging snow course.

2021 Toyota Avalon AWD.

The stars of the show were the 2020 Toyota Camry AWD and 2021 Toyota Avalon AWD. Camry hasn't offered AWD since 1991, and 2021 will be the first-ever AWD Avalon. As other carmakers are abandoning sedans, Toyota is working to give more folks a reason to buy a sedan. Because of the widespread use of the Toyota New Global Architecture across a variety of models, Toyota was able to swipe the engine, transmission, transfer case, rear differential and some other underpinnings from the AWD RAV4, dropping them into the Camry and Avalon. The result is two surprisingly competent AWD sedans.

Toyota had me driving these AWD machines on the snow course, as well as paved roads on the first day. The second day Toyota offered a number of snow-related activities in which we could participate. I checked the box next to snowmobiling. Somewhere between making my pick and arriving at the Montage Resort in Park City, my name was also added to the list for the bobsled run. Neither of these events seems well suited to someone who has become a bit squeamish about his fragile health in his advancing years. But, nothing ventured nothing gained, right? Er, right.

All dressed up in snowmobiling gear.

Snowmobiling was my morning event. Toyota packed six or seven us into a van and we headed off the resort property to some snowmobiling vendor. There are several in Park City. There we dismounted, signed the usual “don't sue us” form and donned vendor-provided snowsuits, helmets and boots. Then we loaded into one of the vendor's vans for the ride to the trailhead. The vendor blended a young family with two little kids, as well as two older ladies from parts unknown into our merry little band.

Our snowmobiling group taking a break. Where's Waldo?

After a brief tutorial on snowmobile operation by one of the two guides tasked with overseeing our adventure, we chose a machine, climbed aboard and followed nose to tail, single file a mile or two to what the guides called “the meadow.” From the moment we cranked up our machines, one of the small children began wailing, which commenced and terminated with the ignition on the snowmobile on which he was riding being engaged and switched off. The kid's bawling was like a GPS: We always knew where that particular snowmobile was. We stopped at the top of a steep hill and climbed off our machines to get another tutorial on what the next 45 minutes would bring. Basically, we were turned loose.

Although this area is called the meadow, it's composed of some flat land, woods and hills. The biggest hill was the one on which we were standing. It was so steep, you couldn't see the bottom until you were over its crest. Then it was like the big summit at Cedar Point's Top Thrill Dragster roller coaster. So, for roughly 45 minutes we went as fast as we wanted on, what was basically, a closed course. During our initial instruction, we were told that if we lost control and the machine wound up on its side, to keep our feet locked into the footholds and not try to use our legs to keep from going over. I found this to be handy advice as my machine went over after taking a corner a bit too fast.

We had been out for about two hours when we returned to our starting point where we turned in our gear, hopped in a van and headed to the resort.

Around 2:30, nine of us loaded into a van bound for Park City's Olympic Park and the bobsled run. Upon our arrival, we again signed the appropriate paperwork, this time at a computer kiosk. We also had to answer a few health questions. Then for the third time in this process, someone droned on about all the physical ailments that would disqualify us from the ride. Heart issues, back issues, neck issues and on and on and on. I doubt the list would have been any longer had we been there to be shot out of a cannon or to have a heart valve replaced.

We were in the staging building for about 90 minutes as we were signed in, questioned, tutored, helmeted and so forth. Some of the downtime was spent simply strolling around the Olympic exhibits on display. Finally, came the moment to mount up. Because Toyota arranged this event (And, obviously I'm too much of a slacker to research it.), I don't know how many times a day Olympic Park offers this experience. I suspect only two or three times. The course must be groomed and repaired at the start of every day. As with our snowmobiling adventure, we shared this one with a number of civilians unrelated to our group.

Also because Toyota arranged this for us, as well as another wave of media the following day, our group was pushed to the front of the line. Each bobsled group consisted of an experienced pilot and three of us. I was part of the first three of our group that probably numbered 18 or 20 people in total. There was a group finishing up ahead of us and we queued up waiting for the next sled to roll over the finish line. Yes, this is the same bobsled course that hosted the 2002 Olympic competition. For safety's sake, we weren't going to run alongside the sled pushing it and then jumping in; nor were we going to experience the entire course, which would have propelled us to roughly 90 mph. For the public experience, they utilize about half the course.

I can't imagine the practice and athleticism required to push one of these sleds and then jump in. We were packed in this thing, spooning the person in front and behind. When we finally got to the point to situate ourselves in a stationary sled, getting the three of us lined up behind the driver took three or four minutes. There are metal handholds attached to the floor that we grabbed once seated. That's good because there isn't a back on a bobsled. Before actually being seated in this contraption, I had visions of us popping out the back one by one like candies from a Pez dispenser. Once seated, however, it became clear that only the Jaws of Life could sufficiently free one of us to bounce out the rear.

In the back of the truck awaiting the trip to the top of the run.

Getting a bobsled and its crew to the top of the run is an ordeal in itself. With only two sleds in operation, one is always being carted back up the course as the other is racing down it. Once the sled is stopped and unloaded of its shell-shocked passengers at the bottom, two attendants drag it off the track and place it on ski-like runners. They then maneuver it into the back of what looks like a midsize U-haul truck that is also fitted with a bench seat along one wall for the passengers. Once loaded with sled and passengers, the truck is driven to the staging area where the operation is reversed. This, folks, is how they do it at the Olympics, too: Sled and team are transported to the starting point in the back of a truck.

Once situated in the sled, the pilot reminded us how to position ourselves throughout the ride. We were to sit upright with our shoulders hiked up as far as possible, as if frozen in mid shrug. Our helmets, he added, would protect our noggins and the mid-shrug thing our necks. Oh boy...

Cheated death once again.

I have no clue who the first person was who thought racing down a twisty ice track in, what amounts to, a fiberglass canoe was a good idea; they must have had a screw loose. But, of course, what does that say about me? The entire ordeal occupied a mere 48 seconds with a top speed of just under 65 mph. That section of the course contains 10 turns, which means 10 times we were somewhat perpendicular to the floor of the track. It was zero to sheer terror in about five seconds flat. But what a rush. My buddy Javier Mota had a camera attached to the front of our sled. You can watch the video he posted to his YouTube channel here.

At the finish, extricating ourselves from the sled proved a bigger challenge than getting into it. Slowing my heart rate to something close to normal probably required four or five minutes. Simply, it was an almost unbelievable experience. Sir Richard Branson, you magnificent bastard!

Another Encounter with the Friendly TSA: You've Got to Be Kidding

I'm not the kind of guy who responds well to someone who thinks everyone (which includes you and me) they encounter is a moron. I give you the TSA.

I do more than my fair share of traveling. You're welcome. But, I don't travel nearly as much as some of my A-list comrades, who basically live in planes and airports. Most of the carmaker-media events I attend are one or two night affairs. Unfortunately, the one-night events are becoming ever more common. When these take place on the west coast, I often spend more time in airports and on planes than I do at the actual event. I try to avoid these “one nighters” when I can. Put a couple of them back to back in the same week and a weekend doesn't provide enough time to completely recover.

I probably had between 60 and 70 encounters with TSA in 2019. I am pretty well versed in dealing with this agency. Ten-or-so years ago, I ponied up $100 for Global Entry, which includes TSA PreCheck. This streamlines my entry back into the United States after traveling outside its borders. (Something I rarely do anymore.) It also includes expedited PreCheck screening for all domestic flights.

To qualify for Global Entry, I not only had to stroke out a $100 check, I had to fill out an application, be cleared through a background check and spend a day driving to Atlanta where I had a one-on-one interview with a TSA interrogator, was finger printed, and photographed. PreCheck alone costs $85, but I believe involves all the same upfront security screening as Global Entry.

One problem with the PreCheck is, the airlines are allowed to randomly bestow PreCheck on passengers who haven't been through all of the advanced screening. Consequently, everyone in the PreCheck line is still treated with a certain amount of heightened suspicion by TSA personnel. All my efforts and money spent (I have had to renew my Global Entry once since having it for an additional $100.) really only guarantee that I will have PreCheck on every trip. It doesn't mean I'm considered less of a threat. The TSA personnel manning (womening, iting?) the screening lines at the airport have no way to identify people who have been through the Global Entry/PreCheck prescreening process from the airline-awarded random PreCheck passenger. There is absolutely no effort on TSA's part to identify those of us who are registered PreCheck with heightened clearance from those who aren't.

In fact, I'm not even guaranteed PreCheck because TSA will sporadically withhold it. I won't go into that here, but having paid for and survived the prescreening doesn't mean I will get PreCheck 100 percent of the time -- just most of the time.

There are a few major advantages to PreCheck: shorter lines, keeping on your shoes and belt, leaving everything in your carry-on and pretty much keeping everything in your pockets. Right on the TSA website home page it states, “With a 5 year, $85 membership, you can speed through security and don't need to remove your: (sic) shoes, laptops, liquids, belts and light jackets.”

On trips of more than one night, I check a bag. Because I shoot video on most carmaker trips, I have a tripod and some other gear that I pack in a rollerboard with my clothing. That gets checked. I carry on my backpack. Typically it contains a laptop, a kindle, a video camera, a still camera, my cell phone, a gallon plastic bag with batteries and chargers, and other assorted odds and ends. About half the time, a second laptop will be in there, as well. The only item in that backpack that I routinely remove and send through the x-ray separately is the bag of batteries. If left in the backpack, it will get the backpack pulled for a hand search everytime.

My annual Christmas celebration every year includes a journey to my sister's in New Mexico. I drive from Greenville, SC to Atlanta, drop my carmaker test car off at the valet in Park N Fly Plus, shuttle to the airport and pass through security. This year I traveled on the Sunday before Christmas. To minimize the number of miles the ticket cost, I booked a flight that left Atlanta at 2:15 p.m. My average drive time to Atlanta airport is two-and-a-half hours. I left my house at 9:30 for a leisurely drive to Atlanta. I didn't realize it was raining until I loaded my bags into my car. I would have left another 30 minutes earlier had I known. As it was, the drive required nearly three hours that day thanks to a wreck on I-85 about 60 miles outside of Atlanta.

When I entered the security line, I had an hour and forty-five minutes before my flight was scheduled to depart. Plenty of time, right? I have PreCheck. I had removed and left at home several of my usual backpack items for this “pleasure” trip because I didn't need them. I left behind the cameras and bag of batteries. I did have two laptops (I had some work to do.) and my Kindle.

Atlanta has adopted this ludicrous bin system at the security x-ray machine. There are a half dozen stations where passengers must take a bin for every different item they are sending through the x-ray. Once you've taken your place at one of these stations, you grab a bin from down below, place it in the staging area, put you bag or whatever in it and then wait for an opportunity to push it on to the conveyor belt. Once that bin is on is way along the belt, if you have another item, you repeat the process. If you are at one of the stations downstream you might stand and wait five minutes before the stream of bins provides an opening to shove your bin into. Somewhere, someone probably earned a promotion and a bonus for thinking up this better mousetrap; except, it is less efficient and more time consuming than the line moving up one person at a time, filling a bin(s) and putting it on the end of the conveyor. Even though it is clear this system is less efficient than the traditional way practiced at most airports, Atlanta has invested so much money into the new system, we'll be stuck with it for years.

From the time I stepped up to a station at the conveyor on that Sunday, it required almost 35 minutes for me to clear security. Some of that time was eaten up by the wait at my station to insert my bin on to the conveyor. Some of that time was also spent because this was apparently TSA training day. The person operating the x-ray was obviously training. He paused at every bag, staring at the x-ray screen as though he were participating in a “Where's Waldo” tournament. The line was barely moving. Finally my bag moved into the x-ray machine and I cleared the passenger x-ray. I stood on the other end for at least five minutes before my bag exited the x-ray machine and another five minutes before it moved far enough down the conveyor that anyone could get to it. When it got there, it was pulled off the conveyor for hand screening.

As frustrating as it is, bags being pulled for no real reason does happen. The problem here was, the genius watching the x-ray monitor was having one out of every three bags pulled. The bags selected for hand searching were stacked up like cord wood. When a TSA person finally got to my bag, he pulled out one of the laptops, scolding me that according to regulations, if you have two laptops, one of them must be removed.

“Since when?” I asked. Thinking perhaps this was a new regulation and looking for some clarification.

“It's always been that way,” was the response.

“I beg to differ,” I said. “This is far from the first time I've traveled with two laptops and it's never been an issue.”

“That's the way it's always been,” he persisted as he rifled through the rest of my bag with a Delta 2 Million Miles tag waving in his face. This obviously wasn't my first rodeo.

He took my bag and the now-removed laptop back to the x-ray for a second run through. Five minutes later both items exited the x-ray. At which time, my bag was pulled for a hand search again. WTF? I about popped my cork.

I attempted to get the attention of one of TSA bag searchers to get my bag, which had already been hand searched, into the front of the line. No luck. I stood helplessly as four or five bags were searched ahead of mine. When my bag reached the front of the line, the same TSA clown got it again. “I'm not getting this,” I said, “this bag has been searched. You searched it.”

“Well, it's going to get searched again,” he responded.

“I have a flight to catch.”

“So does everyone else here,” Captain Obvious replied.

“Yeah, but their bags haven't been through the x-ray twice and searched once,” I said as calmly as I could at this point.

With that, he pulled out my Kindle. “Only one electronic item can go through the x-ray,” he chided

“You guys are now considering a Kindle the same as a laptop?” I asked, reacting to what was also a new development.

“We always have.” was the only response I received as he handed me the laptop that had gone through by itself the last time. He carried my bag with the remaining laptop, as well as my separated Kindle back to the x-ray and ran them through again. This time everything came out unmolested. Tick-tock. Thirty-five minutes. Wow, this PreCheck thing is quite the deal.

How many of you reading this have been in a PreCheck line and heard a TSA wonk yell, “Everything stays in your bag.” I've probably heard it nearly every time I've flown since PreCheck began. What in the world changed since the last time I flew two weeks earlier? I wondered.

Fast forward to my flight back to Atlanta on December 27. In the PreCheck line in Albuquerque. I get to the conveyor, grab three bins and commence removing the Kindle and one of the laptops from my backpack. “Leave everything in your bag,” the TSA drone instructed.

“Yeah, but I have two laptops and a Kindle in here,” I said.

“Doesn't matter,” he replied. “This is PreCheck and everything stays in your bag.”

“You should tell TSA in Atlanta that,” I answered.

“Everything stays in the bag for PreCheck,” he reiterated, as though I hadn't said anything.

“You should tell TSA in Atlanta that,” I repeated. “They said only one electronic item could remain in the bag. I had to send a laptop and the Kindle through separately.”

“Every airport has its own rules,” he said as I turned and walked through the metal detector.

Every airport has its own rules? What? How does that work? Anyone who travels with any frequency understands the TSA is more about show than substance. I get that, but every airport has its own rules? Why have TSA at all. Why not just have every airport hire a bunch of mall cops? Why even put on a show of having any sort of national standards?

The culprit causing half of the stress involved in flying today is the TSA. The Disney World-like lines, the constant shouting of instructions, the bag hand searches, pat downs and so on. At least they could make some effort at consistency. There is no reason in the world the security procedures in Atlanta shouldn't be exactly the same as in Salt Lake City, San Francisco or Greenville/Spartanburg.

And, of course, making any protest beyond a mild question or two will result in being ushered off into room somewhere, cooling your heels as your flight departs. Is this a great country or what.

Saving Big Bucks: I Did a Little Cord Cutting

I'm not the kind of guy who loves change. In fact, I hate it. And, it's not because I'm old; although, I suspect my embrace of change has weakened in my declining years. I can't tell because I never liked it. I'm a creature of habit. I drink at the same places when in Greenville. I try to park in the same row in the same lot whenever I fly out of the local airport. Saturday nights at home mean Italian food and rented movies. I like to stick to a routine. Does that make me boring? I don't know, but I do know I'm not bored.

During the past 30 days I initiated two big changes in my connectivity. So far, so good.

I have contemplated “cutting the cord,” abandoning my cable TV completely for more than a year. Until the first of this month, the main source of my TV programming was AT&T's Uverse. Available sources for my programming consist of Uverse and Comcast. Because of a copse of tall pine trees on the adjoining lot on my property's southern border, satellite TV has never been an option. I also pay for Netflix and get programming through Amazon Prime.

When I first moved to Greenville, Comcast was my only option. Boasting the worst DVR in the industry, Comcast was a compromise I simply couldn't live with long term. As soon as Uverse became available in my area eight or nine years ago, I dumped Comcast and picked up Uverse. Eventually AT&T provided my cell phone service, my broadband and my TV.

A few months ago I dropped its broadband for Spectrum, thus saving $20 a month and improving my speed by a thousand percent. With AT&T, uploading a 30-minute video to YouTube required seven or eight hours. I can upload the same video through Spectrum in about 45 minutes.

Beginning November 1, I dropped Uverse. The monthly cost without any movie channels was around $120 a month. That works out to $1,440 a year. Hey, I work for a living. Forking out nearly $1,500 a year for TV that I'm only home to watch about 250 days a year simply doesn't work for me anymore. After looking at streaming alternatives, I settled on YouTube TV. My monthly bill with fees is less than $55 a month or less than $660 per year. That's an annual savings of $780 over Uverse.

I am satisfied with the switch to streaming so far. Two downsides are first, I no longer have a guide for upcoming programming. That is not a big deal, I rarely watch TV in real time. The programs I record are on a weekly schedule. The second shortcoming is I can no longer fast forward through the commercials. Because the programs I record are set up to stream, the commercials are limited, but I'd still prefer to fast forward through them. I'm getting used to this change. (Update: YouTube TV recently enhanced its recording capability that allows fast forwarding through commercials on recorded programs. Yea!)

To recap, in switching my broadband and TV services from AT&T to other sources, I'm saving more than $1,000 a year. That's a lot of bourbon.

AT&T is forcing me to haul my DVR, modem, remote and assorted wires to UPS to ship them back. All of this stuff is over eight years old. I suspect they will open the box and then chuck the whole mess into the trash. This is more to punish me for leaving them than it is to somehow refurbish all that junk for someone else's use.

I have to make a trip to UPS anyway. When you reach a certain age, rather than a colonoscopy, the health of your colon can be evaluated by shipping your poop off somewhere to be analyzed. I call it, “poop in a box.” The company sends a box in which you poop. You then take said box to UPS and some poor counter person sends it on its way. In the case of my Uverse junk, UPS boxes it up, labels the box and sends it off free of charge. I will accomplish both these tasks on the same visit. I hope the UPS clerk doesn't make a mistake and switch them. Someone at Uverse will be in for a big surprise.But it would accurately reflect my feelings about them gouging me all these years.

My second big step in the past 30 days was to replace my P.O.S. Samsung Galaxy S7 with a Google Pixel 3A smartphone. I only had my S7 for seven months when I dumped it. I must confess, I made the change for reasons other than not liking the S7. I would have held on to it for at least 12 months. I hate spending hundreds of dollars on something as stupid as a phone. As it is, I never buy a phone new. I buy phones that are at least a generation old and save roughly half on them. But, in the case of the 3A, it was still about $350.

One of my main gripes with the S7 was that almost every day, I would have to access it by typing in my password rather than using my thumb print. I know. Not exactly the last chopper out of Saigon, but annoying nonetheless. Doing a little research, I found this is a common issue with the S7. There is a very involved possible fix, but I never could muster the energy to follow the numerous steps. I don't get it. The damn phone updates itself once or twice a month with things that have no bearing on my usage nor service. Why not do an update and fix a real problem? Nope. At least once a day I'd have to type in my password.

The real reason I switched phones is I wanted a phone better suited to live broadcasting to Facebook and YouTube. My team (Yes, I have a BEER2WHISKEY team.) will be live broadcasting from Barley's Biggest Little Beer Fest in January. After talking to people who do a lot of live broadcasts and researching gear, I decided the simplest path would be to use a smartphone. Always one to take the easiest road, I began looking for a smartphone capable of broadcasting in HD (S7 isn't) that also has a 3.5 jack to plug in an exterior microphone. Of course, it had to have a great camera, as well. The 3A filled the bill.

Thus far I am pleased with the 3A. I have yet to find anything to hate. That's a major thing in itself. If we are Facebook friends, you will probably see more live broadcasts from me between now and the January beer fest as I attempt to get comfortable with the process. I did some live broadcasting from the Whiskey Vault and the Texas Truck Rodeo a couple of weeks ago. Seemed to be fine.

Stay tuned. More to come.

Pittsburgh Steelers: Managing My Expectations

I'm not the kind of guy who always sees a glass as half full. In fact, you wouldn't need look too far among those who know me well to find someone who would laugh out loud at the idea I'm a half-full guy at all. Some of that reaction is based on the character I play. Yes, I do some play acting, even among my friends. Inner Russ, the one people don't see much of, usually hopes for the best, but mentally prepares for the worst. Part of that preparation often surfaces as negative statements. Does that make me fun to be around? Probably not. This is particularly true when the Pittsburgh Steelers are involved.

I have friends who won't watch a Steelers game with me. I can't blame them.

Truth be told, I have calmed down a lot where the Steelers are concerned. Life is too short, especially from where I'm sitting, to get all wound up about something that has absolutely no impact on my world. I still wear my black-and-gold colors on most game days and watch the games when I can. My Sunday watering hole doesn't have Direct TV's Sunday Ticket. I'm not willing to forsake my normal Sunday routine to go sit in a crowded, noisy sports bar to see the game. So, unless the game is carried by my local CBS affiliate, which is indeed rare, I miss at least the first half of most of the Sunday early games.I might wander into a sports bar for the second half.

If they have the second Sunday game, as they do against the 49ers today, I'll miss the game entirely if it's not shown locally. I often only watch the first half of night games because, win or lose, I'm too amped up after a game to sleep. It takes me a couple of hours to wind down enough to fall asleep. If I began that process at 11:00, I don't fall asleep until 1:00 or so. I wake up at the same time no matter what, which means I get four or five hours of sleep, tops. That doesn't work for me.

Much of my growing indifference to the Steelers fate results from their colossal under performance the past three years. If a team doesn't have the personnel or the coaching talent to get it to the Super Bowl, well, as a fan, I can understand that. But a team populated with the veteran talent the Steelers have had in recent seasons to sputter and stall enough to either not make the playoffs or lose in the first round of playoffs, is disheartening. It's also inexcusable.

So, now we find ourselves in the 2019 season. Bell is gone. Brown is gone. Ben is out for the season. Does any of that matter? They were inconsistent as hell with those three guys playing. The Steelers couldn't get to the championship game with those three guys there and healthy. What now that we're in uncharted waters?

The good news for me as a Steelers fan is, I have no expectations. If the Steelers manage a .500 season, I will be surprised. Any win they get will be a gift. Christmas come early. I know very little about Mason Rudolph, Big Ben's backup. I was traveling last Sunday and missed the entire game. He may be the second coming of Big Ben. I don't know. Can Pittsburgh somehow get its running game together? I don't know. Can the defense find a path to holding the opposing offense to fewer points than the Steelers offense puts up? I don't know. But, I'm not counting on any of those things.

I have no expectations. Based on the first two games and the loss of Big Ben, I have envisioned a season where every game will be an up-hill slog. We can't even count on beating the Browns this season.

In other words, I am confident I won't be disappointed this season. Hope for the best and mentally prepare for the worst. Oh, I'm prepared.