Communicating in the City

A Close Call

I've flown back and forth to London a number of times over the past several years, but yesterday's flight to Newark will always remain vividly in my mind.

At about 6 hours into the Continental flight, everything was fairly routine - people were watching movies, listening to iPods and sipping their various beverages - when all of a sudden the plane started to shake violently. Turbulence is not uncommon when flying over the Atlantic but the concern in the pilot's voice could not be ignored: "Everyone get back to your seats and fasten your seatbelts - we are experiencing severe turbulence!" he shouted.

If that wasn't enough to make my stomach jump, I was then grabbed by a nervous flight attendant who was holding on to my arm for dear life as she crouched on the floor. Her other arm was busy securing the beverage cart so it wouldn't go flying down the aisle.

As frightened as I was, I kept focused and talked her through the situation; I also started chatting with my seatmates to keep our minds off the unpleasant condition we found ourselves in. I even quipped that we earned ourselves some wine to ease our jittery nerves.

While I may have put up an encouraging exterior, inside I was quite worried. The flight attendant admitted that we were already past Newfoundland and the usual turbulent flight paths; so what on earth was this patch about?

For 30 minutes, we continued to shake and sway, much to my (and others' discontent). Even the burliest of guys looked alarmed as they held their heads and knocked their knees.

So would this be it? Was this how it was all going to end? And if it was, would the pilot at least be able to steer us above land so we wouldn't end up as shark food in the Atlantic?

I kept thinking of the people I needed to say goodbye to and who I would leave behind; I thought of all the things I had experienced in life and the things I still wanted to do.

All my loved ones came to mind and I held out hope that the pilot would land the plane safely so I could see them all again.

Thirty-five minutes later he did.

This blog is for anyone who's ever ridden on a scary flight unsure if they'd make it home again.

So long Seattle

Great visit, more details to come soon....

I'm just a travelin' gal...

Back from the UK after a busy 2 weeks! From Brick Lane to Soho, from Brighton to Surrey, I really got around:

I even witnessed an impressive bonfire on a chilly February evening:

Now here I am back in New York, and with each day it appears that I really was gone for quite some time.

Ah, life on the road. So just what are the Top 5 signs that you've been away for a little too long?

#1 - You come home to a threatening letter and phone message from your cable company telling you that your service will be terminated due to an unpaid bill you forgot to pay before you left. Oops...

#2 - That beloved wedge of imported manchego cheese is now covered in mold in your refrigerator.

#3 - Your roll-on deodorant has completely dried up. (thank goodness I had a spare!)

#4 - You realize that your favorite social networking site has now had a facelift.

#5 - The price of bottled water in Midtown Manhattan is now up to $2.00! Whatever happened to recession-friendly prices??

Stop Clowning Around

Just a typical day on the New York City subway:

The "Queen" Comes to Brooklyn

Was on the way back from a video shoot yesterday when all of a sudden I noticed a long vessel peering out of New York Harbor. Cruise ships are a fairly common sighting in New York City, but when they dock in Brooklyn it makes it a bit more special - especially when the ship is none other than the Queen Mary 2 herself.

Intrigued, the Anglophile in me just had to get a closer look. Even the gusty March winds couldn't keep me away (not the best shooting conditions, but what the heck?). So I grabbed my camera and headed to the Red Hook Pier where the royal beauty was docked. 

As I approached the gigantic ship to give her a proper Brooklyn greeting, the Welcome sign posted underneath had already beaten me to it. In a matter of hours, the Queen Mary 2 would soon make her way across the Atlantic. The travel-lover in me did everything I could not to sneak on-board. It isn't every day you get to catch a glimpse of a famous ocean-liner, but yesterday I had my chance. God Save the Queen.

Hola, Everyone

Wow, I just realized that it's been 3 weeks since I've blogged! Sorry about the delay folks; guess moving to a new place and a trip to Spain had me pretty tied up in August.

And what a lovely trip Espana turned out to be.  I was there for a wedding in Granada, complete with fireworks and a beautiful reception under the Spanish moonlight. I danced till the wee hours of the morning (early by Spanish standards), making some new friends along the way. And did I mention I caught the bouquet? Perhaps there's a Spanish husband in my future.

The rest of the time in Granada was spent going on tapas crawls (can you beat those croquetas?) and sampling so much jamon that I had ham coming out of my ears by the time my girlfriend and I headed to Marbella.

Ah, Marbella - Spain's little jewel in the Costa del Sol. I've traveled to plenty of parts of Europe but nothing compares to the thrill I felt when I finally saw the crystal-clear waters of the Mediterranean. With Marbella's white buildings and sprawling Sierra Nevada mountains in the background, I felt like I had stepped into a postcard. And the Ferraris and Bentleys didn't hurt either.

Okay, okay; enough of the travelogue. After all, this is supposed to be a blog about production life and internal communications. I happened to do a bit of production while I was in Spain, videotaping the wedding in Granada. Being the producer that I am, I couldn't resist recording the French-Spanish wedding including multi-lingual vows, ethnic dances and a moving tribute to the couple played to the soundtrack of the incomparable Edith Piaf.

After the wedding, the happy groom informed me that I was the only one who videotaped the wedding. Upon hearing this, I realized just how different American-Spanish-French cultures are when it comes to technology. If this wedding were in the States, numerous camcorders and camera phones would be recording every last second. We're information and technology whores here...sometimes to a point where we forget to enjoy what we're recording. I see that at concerts all the time; people are so busy filming Sting or Snow Patrol that they lose sight on the excitement of just being there.

The Spaniards are all about living. If they have to close their business for a few hours in the afternoon for a siesta, so be it. An American store would never do that for fear of losing good money.

While I was in Spain, non-verbal communication came in quite handy during my trip. You don't need to speak the same language to communicate with other cultures (though knowing French did help me get by a bit better). Hand gestures, pointing and good old-fashioned smiling were all we needed to interact with people. In New York, I usually communicate with hand signals of a different nature!

When it comes to communicating information (especially bus schedules and travel directions), Spain leaves a little bit to be desired. Information is often spotty and you won't always get to where you want to go. Websites don't always work properly and buses tend to depart whenever they feel like it. As a New Yorker who always has to go by a set schedule, that took a bit of getting used to at first. However, it also forced me to slow down and just appreciate life, much like the Spaniards do. As they said at the wedding I attended - Viva!!

Oh, Canada!

Back from Montreal where I enjoyed some good food, scenic vistas and of course, music. Cheerful jazz filled the air Downtown, one of the sites of the the 28th annual Montreal International Jazz Festival. Locals and tourists alike sang along to the tunes and put on their dancing shoes.

When the sun went down, the music continued for my friend and me, as we hit one of Montreal's lively clubs, Bistro a Jo-Jo. Classic rock covers, friendly band members and a no-attitude crowd was a nice change of pace from the typical New York scene.

For photo ops, the St. Lawrence River waterfront and Mont Royal park provided lovely views of the city, but don't tell that to my friend. Getting him to pose for pictures was harder than any testimonial I've had to shoot. I had an easier time convincing female conference-goers to appear on camera without any make-up!

Okay, now that I've done the Canadian travelogue, let me now focus on the one down side of my visit up North: the flights!

As a writer/editor for a website that offers tips on better communication, I was appalled at the lack of it exhibited by Delta airlines. En route to Montreal, my flight was delayed because the pilot had reached the legal limit of how many hours he was allowed to fly on his shift. Okay, fair enough; no one wants their pilot to fall asleep at the controls. However, the situation could have been handled a lot more effectively - and honestly. Delta had allowed us to board the plane, seeming as though we'd soon be taking off. Not the case. Once seated, we were informed that we'd have an additional 45 minute wait, as a pilot made his way from LaGuardia Airport. Okay, not such a big deal - Kennedy, LaGuardia - they're both in Queens - how long could that take? But then a few minutes later, the flight crew informed us that the pilot was instead flying in from Boston and that we'd soon be deplaning. We didn't.

It's one thing for an airline to be delayed and completely disorganized, but to misinform people is another story. If I weren't so tired (I wound up getting in to Montreal at 12:30) and if the pilot wasn't so damn cute, I'd be really pissed off. So luckily, I chose to see the humor in the situation rather than the fact that Delta cost me an extra night out in Quebec. C'est la vie, I guess...

Flying home, I wasn't so patient as I experienced another Delta delight. Facing yet another flight delay (about an hour and change), I figured I'd kill some time in the airport bar. Unbeknownst to me, as I sat munching on my chicken quesadilla, Delta was busy canceling my flight. 

At 7:20pm, I made my way to the gate for my 8pm flight and took a seat. As I was about to take out my book (that by now, I had just about finished!), I overheard the Delta ticket agent inquiring about my whereabouts. "Everyone's checked in except for Kelly Kass," she said. "Hello, I'm Kelly Kass and I did check in," I corrected her.
Ticket agent: "Not on Air Canada, you didn't."
Kelly: "I"m not flying Air Canada, I'm flying Delta."
Ticket agent: "No, that flight was canceled, you're now on Air Canada. You were paged."
Kelly: "No, I wasn't."
Ticket agent: "Yes, you were."
Guy standing next to ticket agent: Nods his head no.

After that informative exchange, I was then told that I had to run to the Air Canada terminal because the flight was about to take off -"M'aam, don't walk, run!" Great. I went from casually killing time in the bar to sprinting down the terminal hoping the plane didn't take off without me. I didn't know who I was more pissed at - Delta Airlines for not paging me, or to the person who tossed her cookies all over the plane which caused the flight cancellation. The whole situation made me want to puke.

I didn't. But I did make my flight. And 54 minutes later, I was back in New York. Isn't it funny how you can spend more time on the ground waiting to take off than you do when you're airborne? 

Next time, I think I'll take the train.

Going Dutch

Just back from sunny Amsterdam where Spring has sprung big-time. Unlike cold, rainy New York City, the weather in Holland was absolutely perfect, helping to make it a trip to remember.

So where to begin?  Well, I can definitely say that I had the full Dutch experience. There were windmills, there were tulips, there were bicycles (lots of them), there were hookers (lots of those, too), there were Heinekens, there were...er...um...let's just say that my "tu-lips" are sealed.

What struck me the most about this great city was how happy and carefree everyone is. Maybe it's the pot, maybe it's the pretty flowers; whatever it is, Amsterdam has a wonderful, laid-back vibe that just doesn't exist in New York. Dutch people line the outdoor cafes, lingering over their coffees and mint teas, enjoying a cigarette and good conversation. As the saying goes, if you can't beat 'em, join 'em; so my friend and I did just that, blending in with the locals in parks, cafes and bars. People even spoke Dutch to us. (Don't ask me what they were saying!)

There's something for everyone in Amsterdam. If you like art, there are great museums to see (I was captivated by the Van Gogh exhibit); if you want to relax, there are dozens of canals to stroll along. If you want a bit of sleaze (or if you're simply curious), you can head to the Red Light District. I encountered some lovely drug dealers on my visit...but hey, I'm from New York, so it didn't even phase me. Of course, the real story is the ladies - the prostitutes who stand in the windows looking for their next "assignment". It's not like anything you've ever seen before.

That's what's so great about the Dutch - they're very open, tolerant people. Anything goes in Amsterdam; they don't even require you to fill out landing cards before entering the country. Stoll along an outdoor market amid the edam and gouda and you'll find penis lollipops and boob-shaped chocolates. Take in a game of soccer in the park and witness the smell of marijauna wafting through the air.

In Amsterdam, everyone speaks English so If your Dutch is rusty, have no fear. Many restaurants even carry separate English menus. Everyone is open and accepting; there just isn't any attitude.

With such a friendly vibe, you'll probably wind up making a few friends along the way.

A Shore Thing

One of the benefits of being freelance is being able to head out of town whenever I want. This past weekend I visited the quaint seaside town of Ocean City, New Jersey. Although it's only 2 1/2 hours from New York City, I had never been to the picturesque town. Like many, I had always opted for the closer, more well-known Jersey Shore alternatives such as Belmar and Point Pleasant. Who knew what a hidden gem Ocean City would turn out to be?

A bustling boardwalk, large amusement area and a white sandy beach are just some of the things that add to the charm. Homemade ice cream shops and numerous fudge stores cater to the summer sweet tooth while neighborhood eateries offer a homey, comfortable vibe - a refreshing change of pace from trendy New York restaurants filled with high prices and lots of attitude.

To my delight, I stumbled upon a little dining treasure called Periwinkles (822 9th St.) Specializing in seafood, I figured it would be the perfect spot to begin my Jersey Shore weekend. And it was. The quality of food rivaled those of any Manhattan restaurants, at 1/2 the price! I started off the tasty meal with a creamy crab and lobster bisque - the ideal way to warm up from the chilly ocean air. My coconut/macadamia nut-crusted Maui Coco-Mac Shrimp entree was positively succulent. Served in a coconut shell with a raspberry-mango sauce, I was almost inspired to book a flight to Hawaii. My dining companions enjoyed a delicious mesquite-grilled salmon and a beach picnic basket consisting of lobster tails, skewered shrimp, BBQ ribs, corn fritters and fries -  a true feast indeed! If all that wasn't enough, the meal even came with salad, wild rice and the freshest dinner rolls I've ever eaten. Adding to the satisfying meal was friendly, attentive service which will definitely ensure a return trip to Periwinkles the next time I visit Ocean City.

The next day we headed to Atlantic City, the East Coast's version of Las Vegas. As you enter the gigantic casinos, it's impossible not to become overwhelmed by the cacophony of slot machines and spinning roulette wheels. People from age 21 to 81 flock to the oceanside playground with the hopes of winning big and striking it rich.

While I didn't hit the jackpot last weekend, I did have a really nice getaway. Now completely relaxed and refreshed, I'm ready to tackle my next round of freelance articles and schedule additional shoots for my videos. After all, it's going to be a busy Fall.

Whatever Happened to Flying the Friendly Skies?

Like many people, I often have to travel for work. This fall alone I'm heading to Chicago and London (with the possibility of other cities). While the prospect of jetsetting usually makes my engines roar, nowadays I can't help but be a little less enthusiastic. Thanks to scummy terrorists yet again, tightened security and new travel restrictions have made flying a pain in the neck. I can't keep track of what you can and cannot bring on board, and for a woman, it's particularly challenging. Where will we be without our lipsticks, lotions and face creams?

In the old days of flying, you used to worry about being seated next to a fat person or some guy with body odor. Now you have to wonder whether your armrest buddy is really a lunatic.

Of course, I'd never let fear get in the way of traveling or doing my job. Life goes on and we all must live it.  Last summer I flew to London after the July 7th transit bombings and found myself right in the middle of the attempted second attack. One year later and now airlines are targeted.  Sadly, terrorism continues to be a way of life and we all must learn to deal with it.

And when flying is part of your job, you really don't have much of a choice. So next week, I'm going to suck it up and book my London ticket for October. After all, I have a pond to cross.