The Angry American

After managing to set a personal speed record in finishing NaNoWriMo - over 52,000 words in just 11 days - I have returned to the FunTrivia fold, and to my blog, which has been dormant for about a month.  I'm not an official NaNoWriMo winner yet - winner certification doesn't begin until November 25 - but I did want to share an excerpt with you from The Big Winner, my sixth NaNoWriMo novel.  Enjoy!

“Hi there, Terrence!  This is Christina Drew from ‘Risk It?’  Thank you again for coming to our auditions in Charlotte back in October.  I’d like to talk to you when you have a chance.  Please call me back at your earliest convenience.” 

 

I replayed the message just to make sure I heard it correctly, and I wrote down the number that Christina left in her message.  I could’ve easily called her back on the office phone – making long-distance calls was something we did as a normal part of our jobs – but I didn’t feel like the company should pay for a personal endeavor like this.  I took my cell phone and went into an unoccupied conference room.

 

“Hello, Miss Drew,” I said when I finally reached her, “this is Terrence Atkinson returning your call.”

 

“Yes, Terrence, hello!” Christina Drew said enthusiastically.  “Thank you for calling me back!  I need to follow up with you on a few pieces of information that you shared with us in your application to be on ‘Risk It?’”

 

Christina and I talked for a few minutes, going over and verifying some things I had related.  One of the things she focused on was the answer I gave about other people I had known who had appeared on the show.  Turns out that I had gone to college with three people who had been on the show.  None of them won big on the show, and I really hadn’t kept in touch with them over the years.  She also asked me some more questions about my job.

 

“Congratulations, Terrence!” Christina Drew said after we finished.  “I’d like to invite you to come out to Los Angeles for a taping of ‘Risk It?’!”

 

“That’s great news, Christina,” I said with a laugh.  “I’ve been waiting a long time to hear those words.”

 

“Well, I think you’re going to have a lot of fun out here.  It would be great if you won a lot of money, too.”

 

“That would be nice.  When do you want me out there?”

 

“We’d like you to be out for our taping sessions on Wednesday January twentieth and Thursday January twenty-first.  That’s about six weeks from now.”

 

“What does the taping schedule look like?”

 

“Well, we tape a total of ten shows per week at the Fairfax Television Center near Beverly Hills.  That’s five shows per day, two days per week.  So figure on getting on at least one episode while you’re here.”

 

“Sounds good.”

 

“You’ll be responsible for your airfare and your hotel,” Christina Drew continued.  “But we have a corporate account at one of the hotels near the studio.  If you choose to stay there, you’ll get a thirty-percent discount on your room.”  I wrote down all the information that Christina Drew shared with me.  And as it turned out, I had more paperwork to do.

 

“There will be a packet of forms coming to you in the next few days,” Christina said.  “Once you get those forms, fill them out as quickly as you can and get them back to us.  And if you have any questions about anything, don’t hesitate to call me.  Congratulations again, and we’ll look forward to seeing you soon!”

 

Once I clicked off the phone with Christina Drew, I sat there in the conference room soaking it in.  I was going to be on “Risk It?”, one of America’s most popular game shows.  Me, Terrence Atkinson, assistant editor of the Saint Francis Carillon, alumnus of Saint Francis State University and Eastern Carr High School.  Me, on the edge of 40 and about to fulfill a longtime dream.

 

Without thinking, I let go an ear-splitting cheer.  Even though the door to the conference room was closed, it wasn’t long before someone came knocking.

 

“Everything okay?” Pam Wallace, one of our copy editors said as she opened the door.

 

“I’d say so,” I replied.  Pam was the first person I shared the news with.

 

“That’s wonderful news, Terry!” she said.  “You’re going to do well on that show!  I know it!”

 

“Thanks, Pam,” I said.  “I just don’t want to get out there and look like a complete dork.”

 

“Trust me, you won’t.”  Pam gave me a quick hug before closing the door on me again.  I then dialed Cassandra and gave her the good news.  Her ear-splitting cheer caused me to drop my phone.

Trivia is something I enjoy immensely.  I love playing the quizzes; I love chatting with other players and exchanging ideas.  I also love writing this blog that has given me an opportunity to talk about real-life issues and inject humor into the proceedings.

But I've hit the wall.  I haven't really been motivated to play very much in the last few weeks.  My brain is frazzled and I'm tired.  NaNoWriMo is less than three weeks away, and things are picking up at work.  It's time for a break.

I will be back here, but it won't be until I finish NaNoWriMo, sometime around Thanksgiving.  In the meantime, I hope everyone continues to enjoy all that FunTrivia has to offer, and that you'll be here to celebrate when I return.

Peace...

US Representative Joe Wilson (Republican, South Carolina) recently proved that free speech does not come without personal responsibility.

Former Domino's Pizza employees Kristy Hammonds and Michael Setzer will likely prove that in certain cases, free speech does not come without legal liability.

Earlier this year, Hammonds and Setzer, who worked at the Domino's location in Conover, North Carolina, posted a video to YouTube that by all accounts was supposed to be a prank and never supposed to be for public consumption.  It showed them tampering with food while they were in the kitchen.  The tampering involved acts that were certainly unsanitary and fed into fears and stereotypes about people who work in food services. 

The video received worldwide attention.  Part of that attention came in the form of media outlets that replayed portions of the videos in their newscasts, including stations here in the Charlotte area.  It also attracted the attention of officials in Catawba County, who closed the store and had it sanitized, including throwing away all opened food items.  It led to Hammonds and Setzer being charged with contaminating food.  (Both appeared in court this past April and will return to court in January.)  And because the store closed this past week, it may also lead to an array of civil suits.

By exercising their First Amendment right of free speech, in the form of a motion picture, Kristy Hammonds and Michael Setzer were directly responsible for the closure of that store - that according to Tim McIntyre, who represented the Domino's brand.  By exercising their right of free speech, they damaged a nationally-known brand that has worked hard to earn its reputation, for better or worse, as a leader in its fast-food niche.  And by exercising their right of free speech, they put other co-workers out of work at a time when our economy is struggling.

Even if Kristy Hammonds and Michael Setzer were merely illustrating the kinds of things that do go on in the fast-food business - and we've all heard those kinds of horror stories at some point - they were both way too old to know better than to do this.  They weren't goofy teenagers killing time; they were goofy adults (Hammonds aged 32, Setzer 31) killing time. 

Time isn't the only thing they killed.  And they may be both criminally and civilly liable for it.  As well they should.  

Realizing a dream like playing on Jeopardy! is one of the high points of my life.  But now that my episode has aired, I can speak more freely about my experience after the show.

Immediately after our game was over, as Gary Bechtold, Jillian Hinchliffe and I made our way toward the front of the stage, we all shook hands with each other.  (That wasn't seen on camera.)  Gary said to me as he shook my hand, "Man, you are tough!"  I also shook hands with Jillian and congratulated her on playing so well.  I was a little worried about her - during practice, she had difficulty with the buzzer.  But once the lights came on, she played well. 

As we stood on stage with Alex Trebek, in the dead silence of the studio, I asked him, "Of all the game shows you've done prior the Jeopardy!, which one was your favorite?"

"To Tell the Truth," he said without hesitation. The reason was very simple - it was the only game show he's done to this point that allowed him to sit down.

"We're clear!" stage manager John Lauderdale said as our faux impromptu chat with Alex wrapped up.  But my Jeopardy! experience wasn't over.  I had to walk over to the production table and sign for my prize money - $2,000 for a second-place finish.  Jillian signed for her prize, too - $1,000 for third place.  (Of course, it'll be a while before I see that money - the check should arrive about 120 days from the date my show aired.)  Handshakes with Lauderdale, contestant coordinators Robert James, Glenn Kagen and Maggie Speak, a walk back to the green room to pick up my clothes, and then Jillian, my wife and I made the long walk back to the Overland Gate at Sony Pictures Studios to catch a cab back to the hotel.

We hadn't even gotten halfway to the gate before we were met with our first challenge.  A tour guide taking fans around the studio grounds asked us if we were on the show.  (The black tote bags with the Jeopardy! logo emblazoned on them kinda gave us away.)  The guide asked us how we did.  "I can't tell you that," I said.  "You gotta watch!"

Even though I was finished taping on Tuesday, I wasn't scheduled to fly back to Charlotte until Thursday.  That gave the Dear Missus and I a day to lounge around and explore things at our discretion.  We didn't rent a car - smart thing, too, since we had never been to Los Angeles before this trip - so the only transportation we had were the Culver City buses and our own two feet.

Our first foray on Wednesday involved a bus ride up Sepulveda Boulevard to a shopping center with a Blockbuster and a Toys R Us, among other stores.  We killed some time there before going across the street to Big Lou's, a store that sells various collectibles, including die-cast cars.  The trip to Big Lou's was productive - I got replicas of a Chevrolet Vega, a Ford Maverick, and a Ford Crown Vic in California Highway Patrol colors. 

After returning the cars to the hotel room, we went out again, this time on a walking expedition up Sepulveda to Westfield Fox Hills, a big shopping mall that has been featured in several movies and TV shows.  Our goal there was to find some place that sold post cards and refrigerator magnets.  Didn't find anything that fit the bill there, but the mall itself was quite interesting.  I haven't seen that many skybridges since watching Metropolis.

We were pretty hungry after our trip to Westfield Fox Hills, so we ended up walking back to Dinah's, a well-known restaurant at Sepulveda and Centinela.  The Dear Missus had the all-you-can-eat fish and chips, while I went for the steak sandwich.  Neither of us went for the fried chicken, something that Dinah's is famous for.  And at Dinah's, I saw something that I thought I'd never see - two older black men dining together, one wearing a Dodgers hat and the other wearing a Giants hat.  (There's a lot of venom in that baseball rivalry, and neither time nor the move west has seemed to diffuse it.)

We ended up going to the CVS up the street from our hotel after dinner and buying some post cards of the city.  Normally, whenever I go out of town, I buy enough post cards to give to everyone on my team at work.  But I didn't find any really good deals on post cards, something that rarely happens to me, so I just bought a few for my own collection.

The ride home to Charlotte wasn't quite as long as the trip to Los Angeles, but it was still a leg-numbing four-hour trip.  It was good to get home and only have to drive about 20 minutes across town to get into my own bed.  For fellow Jeopardy! contestant Dave Sutherland, who rode the shuttle with us to LAX, he had a much longer drive ahead.  After flying into Calgary, he had a three-hour drive across the mountains to his home in Invermere, British Columbia.

The six weeks or so after taping ended were the toughest six weeks of my life.  Of course, everyone wanted to know what happened, and we couldn't tell them.  That didn't stop people from trying to trip me up to find out, either.  (Like I said, the Sony Pictures Studios guide tried, and he couldn't get anything out of us.)  But after Friday night, when most of the country got to see what happened, I could finally relax and talk about it.  In fact, shortly before I started writing this entry, I talked with a reporter from The Gaston Gazette and gave him a similar post-mortem.  I can only imagine what's it's going to be like at work tomorrow.          
       

On Friday, television history will be made.

Okay, it won't exactly be earth-shaking, but it will be fun.

I will be making my national television debut on the hit game show Jeopardy!  This is it - the culmination of watching hundreds of episodes, answering thousands of questions, doing auditions and finally standing on the stage at Sony Pictures Studios.  I'm just as excited now as the day I hit the stage.

And I'm proud that I'll get to share this moment with my FunTrivia family.

Before we actually started taping, though, we had one thing to do - Hometown Howdies, which are short promos done for our home markets to run during the week prior to the show.  You can see my Hometown Howdy, and those of my fellow contestants, by clicking here. 

I hope you watch the show, and that I did you all proud.

On the eighth anniversary of the devastating terrorist attack on the World Trade Center, Derek Jeter gave New Yorkers something to smile about.  Against the cellar-dwelling Baltimore Orioles, the longtime Yankees infielder passed Baseball's original Iron Horse, Lou Gehrig, to become the team's all-time hits leader. 

Jeter represents some of the great things that make baseball America's game.  He plays hard; he works hard; he keeps his nose clean; and most impressive of all, he's played his entire career with one team.  It's something that Gehrig did, as well as Baseball's new Iron Horse, Baltimore's Cal Ripken, Jr.  That's almost unheard of today, where players change teams as casually as they change socks.

Of course, Jeter is playing on the best team in baseball this year, and there's a lot of talk that he's in a great position to pick up his fifth World Series ring.  And there's a good chance that Jeter will join the hallowed 3,000 hit club in the near future.  The late Roberto Clemente is the gatekeeper of the club - his final hit was his 3,000th - so when Jeter passes him, it will put him even further on the plane of baseball immortality.

This fan of baseball salutes you, Derek Jeter, for your many accomplishments and for doing your part to keep the game pure and clean.

Overshadowed by the remembrances of the terrifying attacks on New York and Washington eight years ago, this past September 11 marked the 35th anniversary of one of the most notorious aviation disasters in American history.

Eastern Airlines Flight 212, a scheduled flight from Charleston, South Carolina, to Chicago, Illinois, was making its final approach to Douglas Municipal Airport in Charlotte.  Seventy-eight passengers were on board the McDonnell Douglas DC-9 during what should have been a routine flight.  The pilots of the aircraft - James Reeves, the captain, and James Daniels, the first officer - were fighting ground fog as they were guiding their ship toward Runway 36 at Douglas.  They were also trying to keep an eye out for the fledgling Carowinds theme park, several miles south of the field, and an observation tower there that Eastern sponsored for many years.  And somehow, they both managed to lose track of their altitude - they were 1,000 feet lower than they should have been.   

Eastern Airlines Flight 212 crashed short of Douglas Airport.  Seventy-two people, including Captain James Reeves, died.  Also among the dead were Rear Admiral Charles Ward Cummings, the acting commandant of the now-defunct 6th Naval District, headquartered in Charleston, and his aide, Captain Felix Vecchione; John Merriman, longtime editor of The CBS Evening News; Wayne Seal, news anchor and news director at WCIV-TV, at that time Charleston's NBC affiliate; Dr. James Colbert, the vice president of academic affairs at the Medical University of South Carolina and two of his younger sons, Paul and Peter.  The Colberts were on their way to Charlotte to catch a connecting flight to Connecticut.  Colbert's youngest son - Paul and Peter's baby brother, Stephen - is now a well-known political satirist and television host.  First Officer James Daniels was among the ten survivors of the crash. 

The National Transportation Safety Board's report on the accident, released in May of 1975, cited pilot error as the cause of Flight 212's crash.  Specifically, the NTSB cited Reeves and Daniels for engaging in unnecessary chatter during the approach, focusing on politics and used cars, as per information recovered from the cockpit voice recorder.  The NTSB also noted that Reeves did not make the required altitude calls, compounding the problems with loss of attitude awareness.

As a result of the crash, James Daniels had his pilot's license revoked - a penalty later reversed to a six-month suspension, according to William Stockton's book on the subject, Final Approach: The Crash of Eastern 212.  And the NTSB recommended to the Federal Aviation Administration that new rules and training be drafted to focus pilots on flying their aircraft, and not engaging in non-essential chatter, especially during low-altitude flight.  In 1981, the FAA introduced the Sterile Cockpit Rule, requiring pilots to refrain from non-essential activities during critical phases of flight.  That rule was in force 20 years later, ironically, when terrorists flew commercial jetliners into the World Trade Center and the Pentagon.

Today, Runway 36 is now known as Runway 36 Right - the shortest of three north-south runways at what is now Charlotte/Douglas International Airport.  The observation tower at Carowinds, which itself has changed hands a few times since 1974, is still there and in use.  And Eastern Airlines, which at one time was headed by former astronaut Frank Borman, ceased operations in 1991 - but not before I made my own trip from Charlotte to Charleston, and back, on board one of their workhorse DC-9s, in 1984.  

US Representative Joe Wilson (R-South Carolina) gave Americans a prescient object lesson in the concepts of free speech and personal responsibility.  During President Obama's recent speech on the contentious health care reform issue, Wilson blurted out "You lie!" after the president denied that the health plan would cover illegal immigrants as well as American citizens. 

That Wilson would accuse the president of lying is not the issue I want to address here.  That's a topic for a different post.  But the issue here is that Wilson allowed his emotions to get to him and broke protocol that is normally accorded to a president who is addressing Congress and the nation - the decency to stay cool, keep the mouth closed, and make comments when and as appropriate.  Making such comments during the president's speech was clearly inappropriate.  They would have been inappropriate if Wilson had agreed with him, as well.

The United States is, of course, is a society where the right to speech is protected by a written constitution.  Regardless of what anyone thinks of Wilson's comments, he's certainly entitled to his opinion.  He's also entitled to express that opinion at an appropriate time and place.  Time and place were not on Joe Wilson's side.

To Wilson's credit, he didn't waste time issuing an apology for his outburst.  He should have apologized, and done so profusely.  He took responsibility for his actions, which in this day in time is a refreshing thing to see.  The president accepted Wilson's apology.  And as an American citizen, I accept his apology.  As far as I'm concerned, he's forgiven. 

Wilson, however, has not finished paying for his gaffe.  According to a CNN.com article, Rob Miller, the Democrat who is challenging Wilson for his seat in next year's midterm elections, raised over $200,000 from 5,000 individuals after Wilson made his remarks.  If Wilson loses that seat, I hope he'll be man enough to admit that this one outburst is what cost him.  That would be refreshing, too.      

Labor Day is, of course, the last holiday of summer - a time for families to enjoy one last hurrah on the beach or at the grill before the chill of autumn and the crush of homework kick in. 

For Gaston County, North Carolina resident Brittney Johnson, it meant the end of a life only sixteen years in the making.

According to the North Carolina Highway Patrol, Johnson may have been distracted while using a cell phone on Sunday night, as she was heading toward the town of Stanley, in the northeast corner of the county, when the Chevy Lumina she was driving ran off the road, struck an embankment and cracked a utility pole.  Johnson was the only casualty of the horrific crash.

If it's true that Brittney Johnson lost her life because she was talking on a cell phone while driving, then her death should serve as a very valuable object lesson to her friends, to her family and to everyone else who engages in this behavior while trying to control what is essentially a wheeled missile.  Phoning while driving does not mix.  It is dangerous, it is stupid and it is unnecessary.

On more than one occasion, I have used my cell phone while driving to report accidents on the highway, dangerous debris in the road, and malfunctioning traffic signals.  These instances would be considered to be bona fide emergencies requiring action from state or local law enforcement authorities to keep the driving public safe.  These are also the only instances that I would ever consider using my cell phone while driving.

Every day, as I drive along I-77 and I-85, the two mainline interstate freeways that serve Charlotte, I pass no fewer than 10 vehicles in which drivers are engaged in conversations on cell phones.  They're not reporting accidents or malfunctions - if they were, I'd see what they were seeing - but they are typically driving between 10 and 15 miles per hour below the posted speed limit.  They are forcing me and other drivers to navigate around them, fanning the flames of a city already hot with road rage.  They are, in short, a hazard.

That Brittney Johnson died in this manner is bad enough.  Had she injured or killed other members of the motoring public, or if instead of striking an embankment her car had plowed into someone's home, the aftermath of this tragedy would have been much worse.  This was an accident that didn't have to happen.  Now her family and her friends are left to wonder about what might have been, to mourn a life that ended much too soon.  I feel for her family and her friends, but I'll confess that I'm much more angry than sad.

The article about this accident has pictures of Miss Johnson's car as it is being towed away.  Please take a moment to read it and if you have young eyes reading with you, be mindful that reader discretion is advised. 

On the night of September 21, 1989, I watched WRAL-TV's chief meteorologist Greg Fishel give an update on Hurricane Hugo.  I was on my phone with my dad at the time, and he asked me what Fishel was saying about the storm.  Landfall near Charleston was imminent, I told him.  And I told him something else - Hurricane Hugo was too big to break up once it made landfall.

Our home in northeastern Gaston County, North Carolina, was surrounded by trees of varying sizes.  As such, I figured that if Hugo really did make it some 200 miles inland, it would be safer for him and the the rest of my family to make the short walk next door to my grandmother's house.  There weren't nearly as many trees around it, so if the wind blew one down, it would be less likely to fall that direction.

That conversation took place around 11 PM.  About five hours later, the fire alarm in Turlington Hall, on the NC State University campus, went off.  According to one of our resident advisors, some trash blown into one of the smoke detectors set the alarm off.  Standing outside with my fellow hallmates, I could see clouds scudding across the sky and feel the wind gusting around us. 

Charlotte, North Carolina's largest city, and Raleigh, its capital, are separated by about 165 miles.  But on that night, Hurricane Hugo managed to touch them both.

As I stood under the clouds, having been rousted from good sleep, my family on the ohter side of the state was not sleeping at all.  After devastating Charleston and blowing through the South Carolina midlands, Hugo turned north and took aim at metropolitan Charlotte.  The area was battered with Category 1 hurricane winds that took ancient trees down in Dilworth, Plaza-Midwood, and Myers Park; that blew the glass out of office towers downtown; that cut off power to thousands of people; and that surprised a region that is unaccustomed to seeing such natural fury close up.

When I finally talked to Dad again several days later, he told me that our house had survived the storm.  (This was in the days before cell phones, so landlines were still the primary means of communication.)  Everyone was okay, he said, including my sister, who was still sick as a dog while carrying the first of her two sons. 

Several weeks passed before I made my first visit home during that fall semester.  Although there were still a few downed trees near our house, that was nothing compared to the devastation I saw in downtown Charlotte.  Massive billboards were missing panels or completely knocked down.  Overhead road signs pointing drivers at Independence Boulevard and Interstate 77 had been blown down.  And people were still in shock. 

Still, Charlotte was fortunate.  Early in the spring semester, on my first trip to Florida, I got just a small taste of what Charleston and downstate South Carolina endured.  All along I-95, thousands of trees were down, stripped of limbs and leaves by the brutal winds.  The sight reminded me of pictures I had seen of the Tunguska region of Siberia after a mysterious airburst flattened hundreds of square miles of forests there in 1908.  Between Florence, South Carolina and Savannah, Georgia, it looked as if ten such blasts had occurred.  It was a scene that played out again almost 16 years later, between Pearl River and Hattiesburg, Mississippi, along the I-59 corridor - an artifact of the equally powerful Hurricane Katrina.

Charlotte and the surrounding area have, of course, long since recovered from Hugo.  But very powerful memories remain.  It's why whenever there's talk of a hurricane out in the Atlantic, our ears perk up and our anxiety rises.  The question is never asked out loud, but it's always in the back of our minds - when will we see another storm to match Hugo?