New Years in Nashville: Long Live Alliteration

Short and sweet. That’s the best way to describe my 36-hour New Years adventure in Nashville, where the booze, courtesy, and music flow. After landing at BNA, a quick 15-minute drive got us to the Millennium Maxwell House Hotel, a music-themed hotel with impressive lobby and large rooms. Located 2.2 miles from downtown, the hotel provides a free shuttle service and is close enough to the Starbucks across the street to steal wi-fi (I’ve spent enough money at the ‘bucks in my life to justify this action). While typically running for under $100, the holiday price hike boosted the hotel to $150.

We headed out to mid-town to find dinner and to do a drive-by Vanderbilt University. Campus seemed to have a nice Southern flair to it, but it also mimicked the slow drawl…students vacated the area for break, so the vibe was off.  But gorgeous brickwork architecture and sprawling green campus lawns make it worth a stroll even during the off-season. Plus, the college bar and restaurant scene is plentiful.

Wander through the downtown region of Nashville in daylight and you’ll quickly gather that most of the action happens in the dark of night. The next day, while crews were setting up for the big guitar drop scheduled for that evening, we walked freely in front of the stage and surveyed the commotion. To get a better view, we trekked over the Shelby Street Bridge—one of the longest pedestrian bridges in the world. Even though bridges aren’t the safest place for two tourists, it did provide some great views of the Cumberland River and surrounding city. 

The primary visual element of the view includes the eye-catching statue Ghost Ballet (best name ever?). Funded by the Metropolitan Nashville Arts Commission, it stands 100 feet high and wide and acts as an arty backdrop to the downtown skyline. 

With our mandatory culture points racked up, we spent the rest of the afternoon record shop hopping. Past the Rescue Mission and in a rundown neighborhood, you’ll find Third Man Records owned by Jack White of White Stripes fame (RIP White Stripes). Of course, if you’re us in the middle of the afternoon on New Year’s Eve, you’ll find Third Man Records closed. Something for next time. Next up, Grimey’s New and Preloved Music, a small hole-in-the-wall record store off the beaten track and worth the trek. Go beyond the tiny entrance and discover stacks of reasonably priced music. I dare you not to buy something. 

Here’s the thing about Nashville: as friendly as it seems, as modern as it appears, it doesn’t feel safe. It’s a fairly basic tenet of travel that you’re going to wander mistakenly into a sketched out neighborhood or two in an attempt to find a must-see place, but in Nashville I felt uneasy most of the time. It took four attempts at various stores before we even felt secure to get out of the car (I’m sure all the parents out there reading this are duly impressed, don’t worry…we kept the doors locked). So when it comes to Nashville, and perhaps anywhere foreign in general, I advise you to travel in pairs, stay aware, and know when to admit it’s time to turn around. 

Despite the feeling of slight unease, we were ready to rock downtown for the evening. While Alicia and I joked that hanging in the hotel and avoiding the crowds was probably a better alternative to joining the hoards of drunks, we decided against it; you can’t go to Nashville on New Years and not go downtown (think of the alliteration!). So after a drink and gussying ourselves up (well, as gussy as we gals get), we hitched a ride on the free hotel shuttle with some dolled up Southern blonds who told us the primo locations for New Years. We took note of their advice, and reserved it for our “no way are we going there” list.

Let’s establish first and foremost that New Years Eve is one of the most highly anticipated—and in turn biggest letdown—holidays of the year. The pressure is on to have a blast, and if you’re not trying to live up to the hype, then you’re intentionally downplaying the magnanimous event by coolly saying it’s not your thing anyway. The latter excuse is for people who don’t have plans—not that there’s anything wrong with that. After all, I rang in 2010 in my dreams.

We dropped into the Beer Sellar (107 Church Street), a pretty basic lower level bar that only charged $1 cover. If you like your beer with a side of moldy basement and noticeable lack of fire exits, this is the place for you. The vibe was decent, but it cleared out around 11:45 in time for the guitar drop. We headed out and ended up gliding by the ineffectual security guards straight into the main area, right by the stage just in time to count down to midnight. 

The fireworks were spectacular and lasted just long enough to maintain my interest, and even though the guitar drop was anti-climactic (allegedly it didn’t even drop all the way), the crowd made it a worthwhile endeavor. Friendly, polite, and enthusiastic, the downtown celebrators were a hoot.

The crowd then spilled into the dozens of bars that line the main street; cover charges were all forgotten and bouncers were letting most people in. We went into the first bar we found with a live band, which was absolutely on point doing a Journey cover. Magically, we secured two stools at the bar and ended up taking orders for the five-person-deep line that formed behind us. We later ended up singing along with the band in front of the stage. Friends were made. Beers were downed. Tunes were heard.

Set aside your pre-conceived notion of Nashville being just a country music hotspot and recognize it as the music haven it truly is. Rock, pop, jazz, blues—it’s all here. And while the country music scene is huge (Nashville hosts the annual CMA Music Festival), it is ideal for all music lovers, regardless of genre.

We got our fill of 80’s and 90’s rock cover songs and headed to the bar next door, which proved to be a true honky-tonk country joint with old-timer musicians rocking away. We toasted last call with some champagne and then hailed a taxi back to the hotel in the rain. Our bar-hopping experience proved Nashville to be one of the nicest cities in the world, what with the Southern gentlemen and their drink-buying ways and the friendly girls who were always chatty. Even on New Year’s Eve, the bartenders were all attentive and talkative. Overall, and for once, NYE lived up to the hype and proved to be one of my favorite holidays of all time. 

The next day, before we departed for Jackson, Tenn. to see Alicia’s brother, we scouted out a Diners, Drive-In’s, and Dives location. Athen’s, a tiny Greek family-run restaurant, had a chaotic, 20-minute wait, but ultimately that resulted in a heaping pile of gyro and fries. Was it worth the wait? Eh. I’m sure Guy Fieri would lead you to believe it was, but it's certainly no diner from My Big Fat Greek Wedding.

The first time I visited Tennessee, I was surprised to find myself there and thought I’d never return. But about a year later, I found myself back on Titan soil and this time, it really was everything I would expect from a hip-and-happening Southern city. From the bar scene to the music scene, the polite people to the downtown vibe, Nashville is indubitably the entertainment and courteous capital of the South.

To Do: Denver

Does Denver have a bad rap? Really, that's a legit question...think about this. What's a negative to Denver? I guess you could say the unpredictable weather, but who doesn't like a little variety? And I'm sorry, does the music scene just offer TOO many options for your melodic palate? Speaking of palates, I guess one could say the insane amount of microbreweries in the area could potentially lead to an awesome overload for your taste buds.

So it's decided then, right? Denver is the place to be? Ok, good. Because I moved there.

When my brother sent me a listing for what can only be surmised as my dream job at the University of Denver, getting the gig seemed farfetched. But when the stars aligned and I got the job, Denver became reality. That nixed any London plans (apologies to my would-be flatmate Sarah, I owe you), but the opportunity was irresistible. Fast-forward a few months later (after interviews, getting hired, giving two-weeks notice in Albuquerque, celebrating, packing, moving, and settling in)—and here I am, in a new house that’s a 15-minute walk from a new office in a new city.

Unlike previous entries, this post will end as purely aspirational—consider it my Denver to-do list (with some action items already crossed off with the help of friends who have been to visit; thanks to Alicia, Kate, Mike and Erin Schelle, Tara, Matt, and Rosie for coming to chill, plus my brother Mark who is usually my pal in painting the town red). In a dynamic city such as this, one can get overwhelmed by the sheer magnitude of concert venues, restaurants, bars, theaters, museums, outdoorsy stuff, stores, sporting events, etc. So I’m busting out the post-it notes and creating a 100%-hands-down-have-to-do-this-while-I'm-here list.

But before we get to that list, here are some tried and true locations around town.

To say there are "plenty of bars and restaurants" in the 16^th Street area seems general and hackneyed, but trust me—that's the best way to say it. With tons of options to choose from, you could be bar-hopping for days. Rock Bottom downtown is my top choice, with multiple seating options including a backroom bar, dining area, and patio. The Falling Rock Tap Room prices the menu so with tax it all lands at an even number (great for mathphobics, therefore great for me). If you can withstand some staredowns, The Tilted Kilt is enjoyable. It has a chuckle-worthy name, but the real kicker is that it's a Scottish-themed Hooters. Sitting on the patio in plain daylight (yes, we were day-drinking, don’t judge) proved embarrassing as passersby did double-takes at the servers' attire, or lack thereof...but the British-ness of the joint makes it worth a pit stop.

The Rio offers delicious Mexican fare and uber-strong margaritas that rival Del Charro. At night, it transforms into a trashy disco, so grab a drink at dusk and then hurry across the street to Freshcraft before the sun goes down. The beer selection is staggering, and they offer smaller ounces to get a sample taste. The Yardhouse will be opening up the street in December, and that's a favorite from Phoenix.

Near DU, Jordan’s is slightly overpriced with hit-or-miss service, but the cozy atmosphere and Strongbow on tap make me forget about its indiscretions. For cheap eats and drinks, Pioneer boasts an incredible happy hour, with $3 pint-size margaritas everyday until 7 (plus, it's walking distance to my house...score one for Pioneer). When giving directions to my house, I have the classy privilege of saying "hang a left at Spanky's Roadhouse." This place is far more couth than the name implies, with mouth-watering burgers and a wholesome feel to it. But if you want to get really townie, hit up Smugs around last-call.

The concert and sports scenes in Denver have yet to disappoint. From Ben Folds alongside the Colorado Symphony Orchestra to Ozomatli at The Ogden, from the New York Knicks v. the Denver Nuggets basketball to DU v. Boston College hockey, Denver entertainment keeps my calendar full (with an adverse affect on my bank account).

DU itself is breathtaking. I walk through the green, perfectly-manicured campus with the staggering mountains in the background and I'm truly thankful for living where I live—especially since I can walk to work through quaint, quiet neighborhoods, yet still be a mere 7 miles from the action of downtown Denver.

But enough with the gloating. Without further delay, here is my forever-fluctuating list of things to do in Denver. If you have any suggestions, be sure to let me know! Consider this a living document, in more ways than one.

Concert Venues
Fiddler’s Green
√ Ogden Theater (Guster in January)
Invesco Field at Mile High (U2 in May)
Bluebird Theater
Fox Theater
√ Boettcher Concert Hall

Restaurants
√ Little India (live sitar music and delish chicken tikka? Yes, please!)
Mustard’s Last Stand (have to go for the name alone—it’s a hot dog joint)
Cherry Cricket (featured on Man v. Food)
Snooze (breakfast of champions)
Undici (gotta wait for the parental unit to foot that bill)
√ Le Central (French food and flair at its finest!)
√ Café Berlin (Ich liebe Deutchland!)
Helga’s (my constant craving for German food can finally be satiated)
Twin Dragon (best Chinese restaurant in Denver? We’ll see.)
Middle Eastern Row (a block of Middle Eastern restaurants on Colorado Blvd.)

Bars
Streets of London
√ The Fainting Goat
√ Pint’s Pub
√ Jordan’s
√ Crimson and Gold
√ Pioneer Pub
The British Bulldog
√ Bull and Bush Pub
Campus Lounge
Stadium Inn
√ Spanky’s Roadhouse
Bonnie Brae’s
Hade’s

Museums
Denver Art Museum (DAM!)
Colorado Ski Museum (Vail)
Denver Firefighters Museum
√ Santa Fe Art District

Outdoorsy Stuff
√ Washington Park
City Park
Mountains (not quite sure how to enter that in my GPS, but we'll find out)
Vail
Idaho Falls
√ Boulder

Stores
Googie
√ Tattered Cover Book Store
Wax Trax Records
Twist & Shout Music
Cherry Creek Shopping Center
Dave-Co Liquors (Biggest inventory in CO)

Sporting Events
√ DU Hockey
Rockies Baseball
Broncos Football
√ Nuggets Basketball

My Two Cents: The TSA Controversy

In 2006, I wrote an op-ed for The Arizona Daily Star, imploring the TSA to enforce the established airport security rules. The liquid regulation had just taken effect and the PA system continuously reiterated the need to dump your liquids, gels, and aerosol cans. In the article, included below, I indicated that the TSA was always reactive opposed to proactive. So now, four years later, when the authorities are finally being proactive in their approach, I stand by them.

The TSA is catching national flack for invasive pat-downs and incredibly detailed body scanners. My only gripe with the scanners is the potential health risk, which has been debunked considering your flight emits 150 times more radiation than one time through the scanner. I've been through a body scanner more than once at ABQ. Sure, there's an added ten seconds of standing with your arms in the air, but I'm not about to boycott a system that has been established to ensure my safety.

However, I'm not the target market for TSA body scanner protests. I fly about 10 times a year, which is minuscule compared to Up in the Air, but more than the typical family of four who embark on a runway annually for the winter holidays. The people who are enraged over the TSA pat-downs and full body scan system don’t seem to be regular travelers, and their delusions of bunking the system is laughable.

The instigator of the body scanner boycott explains on optoutday.com that they "want families to sit around the dinner table, eating turkey, talking about their experience." Well, that’s not going to happen. If these people opt out, the inevitable delays caused will require them to eat Cheetos from the airport vending machines when they miss their flight. Enjoy Thanksgiving, kids.

There have been reports of improper searches, and it's unfortunate that some TSA employees don't take the moral high ground. However, it also a misguided sweeping generalization to imply all TSA pat-downs are uncouth. While the masses complain that the screening process is inconsistent across the country, I wonder when it has ever been completely standard. I know I can get through TUS faster and with more leeway than PHX. MDW is easier than ORD. LGA is a breeze compared to JFK. ABQ is a delight over DEN. That doesn't make the inconsistency right, but it certainly implies a widespread variation of techniques that work for each individual airport.

This TSA ruckus has obviously turned political, as complainers incite the constitution and their right to a reasonable search. While I understand this argument, it's also ridiculous. You are choosing to fly and therefore choosing to undergo a search. If you refuse the full body scanner, you are subjecting yourself to a pat-down. A simple solution to avoid this: don't refuse the scanner. Empty your pockets. Take off your belt. Avoid carrying change. Don't be a jerk. And if you’re still afraid of ten seconds in a glorified revolving door because one official will see under your clothes? Don't fly.

Airport security has been too lax for too long. And while my tune may change the minute I'm forced into an uncomfortable enhanced pat-down if something goes wrong with the body scanner, for now I thank the TSA for finally being proactive. I prefer an added twenty minutes of inconvenience and a fleeting moment of a stripped scan over the potentially fatal alternative caused by negligent security.

Travel Rules Need to be Enforced;
Published September 2006 in The Arizona Daily Star

Travelers were quickly downing their coffees for the 7 a.m. flight to Los Angeles two weeks ago as the repeating PA system warned against bringing "liquids, gels, or aerosol cans" on board. But passengers were not greeted with strict security as we were led to believe over the past few weeks since the latest liquid rule.

Security on the West Coast was meek Labor Day weekend. It was as if homeland security relaxed the rules instead of strictly enforcing them as made abundantly clear by recent media. It is especially important to have higher security standards when headed to such a busy hub like LAX, which was more stringent than Tucson International Airport when it came to security efforts, but still did not live up to expectations.

Homeland security is always a few steps behind the terrorists; when the shoe bomb threat was thwarted, we took our shoes off and when dangerous liquids nearly made it on board, we dumped our water bottles. Security should be proactive instead of reactive.

Airports across the board cannot simply rely on passengers to adhere to requests to take out liquids or gels opposed to thoroughly checking bags. Terrorists will not feel compelled to throw away any dangerous items before they board because an automatic announcement politely instructs them to do so.

Americans say they are willing to sacrifice a few personal liberties as a way to protect U.S. soil—and skies. That should include time and effort at the airport. Travelers should expect to arrive early to flights so security can do its job. And that job should entail more than a smile and a glance as passengers walk through metal detectors.

Meticulous baggage checks should be administered for all travelers, especially now with the new restrictions against liquids and gels—as ridiculous as that rule may seem to some. Perhaps two check points should be implemented, along with a valid ID check at the gate with the boarding pass. Bags for flights should be limited to one, small, carry-on for essential items only, the rest should be checked.

The x-ray machine should not be the only form of vigilance as passengers go through check points; random searches would be extremely beneficial and that applies to baggage going into storage as well. Society’s slant toward technology could also put safety in jeopardy. E-tickets or automatic check-in counters at the airport are just one less step rebels have to take to get on board without face-to-face interaction.

Though these strategies would be inconvenient for frequent travelers, if homeland security is going to demand harsher rules, then they should be effectively enforced.

Loading Up on Fun: Fort Walton Beach

Once you show proof of identity, get passed the armed guards, drive along the exercise mud pit, and sneak by the explosive device detonation area, you’ll find yourself in Ammo Country. Of course before all that, you need to get to Fort Walton Beach, Florida. And it might help to have a friend in the Air Force.

For the second time in 2010, I found myself walking along the beach with a Starbucks in hand, and this time I was in northern Florida. My Fourth of July weekend exuded patriotism: fireworks by the beach, an American-style cookout, and lots of beer. Can’t say I’ve done all that before, and there’s no other person I’d want to celebrate our country with than my pal Jo, a Second Lieutenant in the United States Air Force (you may remember her from stand-out trips such as Nice, Paris, Grenoble, Dublin: Round One, and a recent stop-by in Denver).

Flying into Pensacola a day late, thanks to an impromptu stop in Abilene to refuel that resulted in a missed connection in Dallas, I was thrilled to touch down along the coast. Pensacola came across as fairly flat and industrial. Surely there are some more impressive parts to it (surely? Maybe not…I don’t know why I’m giving it more credit than it likely deserves), but either way I was pleased to head about an hour east to Fort Walton Beach.

The view from Jo’s house is that of pure envy for anyone who values beauty and seascape. With waves lapping up along the sandy white coast, boats zooming by at high-speed, and sun-bathers lounging on the shore, it was almost hard to believe that the devastation of the BP oil spill was approaching Jo’s backyard. A deep sniff of the seasalt air revealed a hint of oil fume mixed in, and it was a glib reminder of the struggle going on in Florida, Mississippi, Louisiana, and beyond.

Along with a whiff of oil in the air, there was also a noticeable hint of anger from the locals; anger towards BP, the state and federal governments, and the media. Trucks sported signs on the windshields with the number of days since the spill scrawled out, tee-shirts damning BP were selling on the streets and in stores, and beaches were far less populated than a holiday weekend would normally pull in. Jo and I vigorously discussed the overarching issues related to the spill, particularly the response time and steps being made toward resolution. As always, we decided to put politics aside for the rest of the trip—but there’s no denying on either side that the BP oil spill resulted in far-reaching, earth-shattering devastation. You can donate to the Gulf Coast Oil Spill Fund here.

Fort Walton Beach and Destin were still unaffected, but the proper authorities were gearing up for the worst. Areas in Pensacola were already closed, and it was only a matter of time before the oil made its way to Jo’s neck of the beach. We took advantage of the untainted waters for what little time remained.

I don’t subscribe to the no shoes, no shirt, no problem philosophy, so my flip-flops and tee-shirt landed me in the minority while walking along the Destin boardwalk (apologies if “Under the Boardwalk” is now stuck in your head). Plenty of scantily-clad individuals were hanging out on boats, enjoying mid-day margaritas, and making noise on jet-skis. Deemed the “Red-Neck Riviera,” Destin certainly lived up to the stigma. This kind of thing isn’t my scene, but the experience is one worth having every now and then simply to confirm my prejudice remains intact for good reason.

So skip the ski-dudes or whatever they’re called, and go to Destin for the only thing worth going to Destin for: McGuire's Irish Pub. With nearly $1 million worth of singles on the ceiling and walls, this isn’t a classy joint—and that’s fine by me as long as good beer is involved. Jo and I rocked a pitcher of the red microbrew, and got down to business with some custom burgers. From the Skippy peanut butter burger to the hot fudge sundae burger, you can get pretty crazy in your ordering technique. Or you can put on your fancy pants and get a $100 burger that’s fitted with caviar and a bucket of champagne. My $9.99 sharp cheddar and bacon burger suddenly didn’t seem quite as adventurous. Also of note: the 18 cent bean soup…$18 if that’s the only thing you order.

After an obligatory stop at Starbucks, we headed to the ocean. Now, I’m not a very exciting person. It’s ok, I can admit it. I like reading and television and leisurely bike rides. I don’t like surfing or snowboarding or bungee-jumping. Geez, I don’t even have my ears pierced. So taking a quick, unscheduled dip in the ocean fully clothed is as crazy as I want to get, and Jo always brings out the crazy. Of course, three days later I paid for this spontaneous act and needed to get my ears professionally drained at Urgent Care, but whatever. I may not be exciting, but I’m not a fuddy-duddy. Although, I suppose using that turn of phrase automatically makes me one.

Enough about burgers and beaches, let’s get to Ammo Country (aka Eglin United States Air Force Base). It has all the necessities you’d expect at a top military outlet: state-of-the-art gym, gigantore AF flags, and an immaculate commemorative area dedicated to defunct airplanes and helicopters that played integral roles in past operations. It’s all very humbling and I want to express my respect for past and present American armed forces around the world—thank you for all that you do.

That night we enjoyed some flashy fireworks and perfectly grilled steak on the deck, making it the ideal Fourth of July. The next day we crawled our way to The Donut Hole, a hotspot for locals and visiting celebrities alike. About 30 minutes worth of waiting in line proved worth it for some top-notch donuts and coffee. With that, we were all caffed up and raring to go...just in time to head to the airport. My weekend of Fort Walton fun came to a close as I found myself sitting in the Pensacola departure lounge (sunburned) and reading some terrible airport-only book.

Though I don’t anticipate more trips to Florida in the near future, I did enjoy this one. Long holiday weekends and Fourth of July in particular are best spent in someone’s backyard—especially when that backyard is Jo’s and it’s looking out over the ocean.

So Long Smooth Sailin’: Expect Delays

Gone are the days of no delays and easy flights. If you can find a flight that isn’t running late, overbooked, or generally hellacious—I applaud your good fortune, and beseech you to be my good luck travel buddy.

Unfortunately, I’ve been on a lot of trips this year that have gone awry. Nothing catastrophic, but little inconveniences that add up to a giant mistrust of airlines.

Take my flight from Chicago to Denver for instance, during which the captain uttered the words, "Well folks, this has never happened to me before…"

Or a leg from Albuquerque to Dallas that diverted to Abilene for more fuel, then missed the connection resulting in a discounted night at Motel 8 along President George Bush Turnpike.

And then, there’s the impromptu plane-swap in Minneapolis en route to New York City after firetrucks escorted us from the runway back to the gate.

Some of the aforementioned situations were handled with grace, others with demonstrated frustration—and I’m talking about the crew, not me. I try not to make crying in airports a habit (save for my first solo trip to Nice).

So with all the obstacles we face while flying that we can't control, here are some tips to ease the experience that we can control. For the frequent flyer, these are pretty obvious tips, but if it saves even a minute or an ounce of frustration, it’s worth it.

• Never store your carry-on bag in the overhead compartment behind your seat. The ideal sweet spot? Two bins up from yours.
• Don’t fly via Dallas in the summer, Chicago in the winter, or Denver ever.
• Carry a few granola bars as sustenance for when you’re stuck in the air or on the runway—even short flights can have long waits. The exorbitant food prices in airplanes and airports will blow your mind (or at least your wallet).
• Take two books of different genres to cure boredom. Also, take a serious book to cover up that embarrassing Nicholas Sparks novel you’re sporting.
• Never book the last flight of the day if you can help it, and that includes connecting flights. You’ve got to leave room for error, as it seems to be running rampant lately.
• If you’re facing a massive delay, make the decision early if you can take the hotel and voucher deal if offered. People literally jump at the chance, so if you snooze you lose.
• Avoid ice in the drinks for sanitary reasons, but also to avoid spillage and excess liquid. More often than not, the service comes through faster than a college kid can take a shot of Jaeger, let alone allow time for you to finish a full glass of soda.
• Store wheeled suitcases above the 3-seat areas, wheels first. Plus, don’t be the wannabe-macho guy who tries to stuff it in there.
• Ladies—wear pants or long skirts or leggings. Think how many backsides have been in the chair you’re about to cozy up in.
• Long layover? Use Facebook to find friends who might be stuck in the same place. Or better yet, arrange a meet-up with a friend who lives in that city, like Jo and I did in Denver last month.

• Post-trip, use disinfectant wipes to clean up the bottom of bags and purses that hit the ground at any point during the trip.
• Load up the ipod with tunes and juice—there are usually outlets by the check-in counter or by water fountains.
• Shut your phone off before you board, when you have elbow room to find it. Bonus! You won’t be that annoying passenger talking on a cell phone!
• As for shoe wear, aim for comfort and convenience. No flips, tie-ups, heels, etc. The convenience factor is big for the people behind you in the security line, waiting for you to loop the rabbit ears. And the sound of clicking heels running through the corridors might act as a good warning system for people to move out of your way, but how comfortable could you possibly be?
• Book your seat in the back of the plane for a better chance of snagging an empty one beside you, plus it’s safer.
• Check the seatback ahead of you as soon as you sit down, if your magazine is missing, steal your neighbor’s before they show up.
• Never open Sky Mall. The temptation is too grand, and so are the prices.

The ultimate tip? Keep cool when faced with a nuisance, as there are bound to be plenty of them. Control what you can, and if you see me on your flight, expect delays. Happy flying.