exit row

(“exit row” was initially published on culture-voice.com)

I used to travel a lot. I mean a lot. Three out of four weeks I’d be out of town due to my work. I thought of myself as quite the savvy traveler. I looked down my nose at the ‘vacation’ travelers that would clog up the security checkpoints and ticket counters come summer. They moved so slowly. Did they have to bring everything they owned on vacation with them? Didn’t they realize that some of us were working.

It was around this time when I became an exit row sitter. I knew the system, and somehow at that point it hadn’t occurred to the masses that they too could request an exit row. It also hadn’t occurred to the airlines that they could charge extra for an exit row. So I partook of the knowledge from my frequent traveler status and got an exit row aisle almost every flight. It was so nice not to be crowded. So nice not to have the person in front of you practically in your lap for the duration of the flight.

After enjoying and taking pride in my travel savvy ways for quite some time I had a troubling encounter. As I was walking smugly toward my exit row seat I happened to notice the man sitting in the row directly in front of it—you know, the row that has no leg room and also can’t lean back, due to the exit row behind? This man had to be pushing 7 feet tall. He was in aisle seat, but still, there was hardly room for him to bend his legs to wedge them in. My smug glee melted as I sat down in my roomy seat behind him. I’m 5 foot 2.

The exit row was mine, fair and square. I’d asked for it, I’d been given it. I hadn’t stolen it from anyone. I spent way too many hours on planes in my life during those days, so it seemed almost like I deserved some comfort, didn’t I?

Yet I couldn’t shake it. The nagging sense of guilt. Not the bad kind of guilt, but the good kind. The kind that tells you when something isn’t as it should be. When you might be playing a part in what’s not quite right in the world.

The thing is, though it’s of course nice, at 5 foot 2 I don’t need an exit row. Sure, it’s cramped when the person in front leans back and you can’t even move your legs. No, I don’t enjoy being crowded on an airplane any more than the next person. Yes, I avoid middle seats like the plague. No, I’m not some sort of martyrous glutton for punishment.

But in a world where so few of us use such a disproportionate amount of the planet’s resources, is there perhaps a place for not taking up all the space that we can procure for ourselves? Is there room for knowing one could get an exit row, but choosing instead to leave it to others? Or is that just nonsense? Someone’s going to get the benefit of that extra 5.3 inches of legroom—it might as well be me, right? If I don’t ask for it, who knows who might? Maybe someone even shorter than me, who deserves it less! Or maybe some arrogant jerk business traveler who thinks he’s better than the rest of us peons crowded in?

Or maybe, just maybe, there’s something to be said for relinquishing what I ‘deserve,’ regardless of the outcome?

7 days in the wilderness

I was about six years old at the time, I’m guessing. My parents were our for the evening so Trish was babysitting me. She was in high school at the time and part of a backpacking club at Newport Harbor High School. That night they happened to be having a meeting. Part of the meeting was a slideshow of photos from a recent trip to the Sierra (I’ve been told Sierra is already plural so no need for an ’s).

That evening inspired me toward a love of photography and a desire to experience the beauty of the mountains thru backpacking.

Though I’ve gone on two mini backpacking trips in the intervening 30+ years since that initial exposure at the backpacking club, (both were just a night or two) this will be my first multi-day (7) trip.

I’m going with friends who have planned the trip we will take in Sequoia National Park. They estimate we will hike about 8-10 miles per day, amongst peaks that are in the 10,000 to 12,000 foot range.

My pack is as light as possible, with only one short sleeved shirt, one long sleeved shirt, pants that zip to shorts, long underwear, windbreaker, down jacket, beanie, gloves, three pair of wool socks, sleeping bag, insulite mattress, and, of course, my camera.

thoughts on surfing

I’ve always wanted to know how to surf. Back in January, during “New Years Resolution” time, I decided that this year would be the year to learn to surf. After my first full attempt, I’m realizing it might have been a bit naive to assume that the ‘learning to surf’ would somehow be accomplished so quickly! 

I also realized that it’s a bit humbling to try something new.  Okay, more than a bit. It’s hard to pretend you know what you’re doing as you’re falling off the board more than staying on.

A few things I’ve learned, thus far: 

• It’s way more fun to go when the water is warm, even with a wetsuit
• Though the cool yellow/orange colors of my ‘challenger’ board (bought at the K38 Surf Shop under Jesus) might have been appealing, the ‘foamy‘ that a friend let me try today is probably a lot more realistic for my current abilities. 
• Don’t try to look cool, it’s just not possible (yet!)
• It’s really fun when you actually can catch a wave and do a decent job of standing up
• There’s something freeing (though also dangerous) about being surrounded by other beginners who are flailing around as well
• I think I need to get in better shape
• I’m looking forward to going back out again

spaghetti with sun-dried & fresh tomatoes

Some of my favorite cookbooks are from the Moosewood Collective, in Ithica, NY.

Tonight I made a modified version of one of their recipes, from Moosewood Restaurant Simple Suppers–Fresh Ideas for the Weeknight Table. 

Because I didn’t have any sun-dried tomatoes I oven roasted some fresh tomatoes from the garden. I also added some fresh basil from the garden as well. Yum.

spaghetti with sun-dried tomatoes & pine nuts

1/2 cup sun-dried tomatoes (or 3-4 medium sized roasted tomatoes, quartered, drizzled with olive oil, balsamic and Kosher Sea Salt)
spaghetti
olive oil
garlic cloves, minced
toasted pine nuts (I didn’t have any)
salt and pepper to taste
grated Parmesan
fresh basil

Cook the pasta in salted water.

Heat the oil and garlic until golden.

Roast the tomatoes, quarter the fresh tomatoes. Cut/tear the basil.

When the pasta is done, drain, mix in a bowl with garlic and oil, roasted tomatoes, fresh tomatoes. Garnish with basil and parmesan cheese. Enjoy!