An Ode to Turkish Airlines

                Like many frequent flyers, I tend to stay “loyal” to an airline mostly out of a desire for comfort and predictability.  This is where airlines masterfully manipulate their customers through loyalty programs that promise great benefits to those whose loyalty is greatest.  The fallacy with this is the fact that most of the “benefits” were common features available to anybody just a few years ago.  As a Delta frequent flyer, mostly overseas, I get very comfortable with the lounge access, better seating, and of course the early boarding thus securing overhead bin space. 

                After being used to the “benefits” of status, it is sometimes difficult to embrace change. In my case, it usually has to be forced on me by schedule or price.  A recent trip to Rome from Tbilisi brought about a revelation:  Turkish Airlines is my new most favorite airline.  It also brought another revelation: The Istanbul airport (Ataturk) is my new least favorite airport.

                The Turkish Airlines planes were new Airbus 319’s; Comfortable seating, easy boarding, nice flight attendants that actually seemed happy to have a job, and most surprising… Great food.  Meals were served on both the Tbilisi-Istanbul leg (2 hours) and the Istanbul-Rome leg (2 ½ hours).  The lamb chunks on rice were incredible for airline food.

                 The only downside to Turkish Airlines is that you normally have to connect through Istanbul Ataturk Airport (IST).  What a mess.  Even though it is a major transfer point to destinations in Europe, Central Asia, the Middle East, and Africa, the transfer process appears to be completely made up as they go along.  The signage directs you to a security choke point that is about as organized as the Grand Bazaar in downtown Istanbul.  Pushing, shoving, cutting in line, and a general disregard for personal space is the order of the day.

                 Before hurling yourself into the security gauntlet, you must first get your boarding pass for the transfer flight if (if you don’t already have one).  In a microcosm of the Istanbul Airport, the clerk at the British Airways desk didn’t speak English.  In the interest of reinforcing the irony, I say again… The clerk at the British Airways desk didn’t speak English.  I had to wait 45 minutes sitting on the floor near the transfer desk for an English speaking attendant to show up.  Then, he was obviously annoyed and tossed me my boarding pass without a word being spoken.  Whether he spoke English or not is still a mystery.

                The best fate you can have as a transfer passenger is either a short layover (2 hours) or a long one (over 7 hours).  A short layover will get you through the airport and on your way in constant motion… eliminating the opportunity to pay $33 for 2 drinks in the bar.  The food and drink are some of the most expensive that I have experienced in any airport.  Although the short layover is preferred, watch out: Gate changes are only announced in Turkish so you have to be prepared to run if necessary.

Not sure what this was... $22 for combo #5 and beer

                The long layover gives you the opportunity to see one of the world’s great cities, Istanbul.  If you are an American citizen, you have to buy a $20 visa to enter the country.  Just get in the visa line and pay with cash.  Then store your carry-on bags at the airport and catch a taxi to the Blue Mosque area (about $22).  The bus is cheaper if you dare.  There you will find two great landmarks: The Blue Mosque and the Hagia Sophia.  There may be long lines at both so be prepared to wait or just wander over to a local café for a doner sandwich and a cold beer.  The donar is basically a Turkish gyro.  Lamb (or a mix of beef and veal) served on a pita bread with sauce and vegetables.  Too bad it’s normally served with Efes, the Turkish beer, which is awful. 

                The Hagia Sophia was built in the 6^th Century as a home to the Orthodox Patriarchy and was the largest church in Christendom until 1453 when the Ottomans seized Constantinople and turned the church into a mosque.  In 1931 it was converted to a museum.  The Christian frescoes were restored and the Muslim writing left intact. 

               The legendary Blue Mosque sits across a park area and is well worth the visit.  Again, there is usually a line to enter, and you must abide by the dress code.  Veils and gowns are available to women to adhere to the Muslim code.  Visitors are welcome and it is certainly worthy of your time.

     

               With a few hours to spare, I took one of the open-top tour buses for a 3 hour bus tour of Istanbul.  Although a little cheesy, it was worth the time.  Istanbul is a huge city and it gave me the chance to see more of the city than I ever could on foot.  This particular bus crossed the Bosphorus and into the Asian side of the city.

               Another taxi ride and I was back at the airport.  Make sure you tell the driver which airport you are going to (Ataturk) or you will end up with a very expensive ride to the wrong airport.  Entering the security gauntlet and wandering to the gate, I was tired but happy with the visit.  I was mostly relieved because I knew I would be heading home on a great airline with decent food that seems to appreciate my business… Turkish Airlines. 

To Be a Greek Dog

               The concept of Reincarnation has never really appealed to me.  I figured my return to earth would be the punishment or reward for my previous life.  Based on that, Karma would kick in and I’d end up as a mule, or a mosquito, or maybe an inanimate object like a Frisbee; spending perpetuity spinning around fast until I ended up on a garage roof for all of eternity.  That was my attitude until I found the one animate creation worth living a better life for… A Greek dog.

                In my travels, I have seen some wondrous sights.  To me, the most amazing natural spectacle was certainly the Grand Canyon.  The most incredible man-made spectacle had to be Saint Peters Basilica in Rome.  Combine those two qualities and you have the Island of Santorini, Greece.  In the village of Oia, The whitewashed buildings with bold azure roofs contrast the deep, navy blue sea.

This is a dreamy place where wandering the side streets and paths may lead to a small café, a quaint shop, or suddenly lead you out to a broad panorama of the sea and surrounding islands.

I can’t say that I’m an expert on Greek dogs, but every one of them that I came across had an odd canine grin on their face… like they knew something we mortal humans didn’t.  I imagine them gazing at us with a certain canine curiosity about why we would walk up and down the endless steps just to gaze at the sea while at the same time walking the opposite direction of a skewer of roasted lamb.  If they could talk, surely they would tell us which are the best blue roofs to lie on, who the kind dog lovers are, and what restaurant had the best souvlaki scraps. 

It’s pretty unbelievable that I would actually be envious of a dog.  Sniffing other dogs’ rear ends and drinking water from the toilet have never been my thing.  But dogs are happy to simply be petted, loved and slipped a few moussaka scraps under the table now and then.  We humans can learn a lot from the simple expectations of a dog.

          
              I can think of no better reincarnation fate than that of being a Greek dog.  Surely this would be the highest level of my soul’s earthly existence.  It would certainly beat spending eternity on the garage roof.

Shadowboxing the Apocalypse...

                 When the Mayans said that the world would end on December 21st, 2012, I wasn’t much of a believer; but just in case, I thought I better squeeze in one more trip to Las Vegas before the apocalypse would rob me of another opportunity to prove the existence of the horseshoe. 

                 I’m speaking of course of the lucky horseshoe (according to local household legend) that is firmly implanted up my posterior.  Some are lucky in life, some lucky in love, and I seem to be lucky in Las Vegas.  If the world were to end, a thousand years from now I envision my smiling skeleton lying under a pile of Bellagio chips and a future paleontologist saying “Hey!  How do you think that horseshoe got in there?”

If the world ends, my money's on Caesars Palace to survive



                The third weekend of December (the weekend that immediately preceded the end of the world) was perfect.  The college football bowl games would be starting on that Saturday and the NFL games on Sunday would give a once-in-an-end-of-the-world opportunity to go out of this earthy life with head high and horseshoe intact. 

                Thanks to frequent flyer miles, my flight cost me $7...  Round trip shuttle from the airport $13 (great tip to avoid the $20 cab fare each way)… and a cheap room at Planet Hollywood made the trip very affordable.  The most expensive part of the trip was the parking in Atlanta. 

                 As with every trip to Las Vegas, I learned something new: When the bartender at the sportsbook gives you a tip, bet on it.  It all happened like this…

                 I arrived late Friday night, ran into my co-conspirator Clark, and headed to the MGM Grand.  It was the last weekend of the National Rodeo Finals and the casino was filled with cowboy hats and lots of leather.  At the sportsbook, all the TV’s were tuned to the rodeo.  I asked a nearby cowboy “How do you bet on this?  They’re all named Cody!”  After playing cards with a table made up entirely of cowpokes from Abilene, Texas, this Greenhorn reckon’d he would mosey on back and retire for the night.

                The breakfast buffet is a must for me.  Linger, eat lots of carbs, and fill up on coffee.  As the day went on, the three pounds I gained would be all that I gained throughout the day.  I couldn’t win to save my life.  At one point, I swore that the loud ‘clanking’ sound I heard was that of the horseshoe dislodging and rolling down South Las Vegas Boulevard. I felt as if I were shadowboxing the apocalypse… wandering the land.*

The Horseshoe fell out right about here...

                Then came Sunday... While watching the NFL games at the Bellagio, a great tip came my way.  I was rebounding very well from the day before and was surrounded by my co-conspirator Clark on one side and Larry from Flagstaff on the other.  Larry, who I had never met before that day, was a pretty humorous character that brought some interesting insight to the day.  He and his wife were quite opinionated about the ‘big’ night game… New England at home against San Francisco.  New England was a 4 ½ point favorite, and the money was flying into the book in favor of the Patriots.  Larry was convinced that New England was the ‘lock’ of the day.

                During our heated discussion, I realized that my beer was empty.  The bartender, Vic, said “Lance… want another beer?”  “Of course!” I said.  Vic got stuck in a conversation with another bartender, and the delay in delivering my beer was unusual, but somewhat unnoticed due to the ongoing dialogue.  Vic apologized and at last brought my beer.  At this point, the other bartender waved me close as he leaned over the bar… “Sorry man” he said “I kept Vic from getting you your beer.”  “No problem!” I smiled calmly and waved it off.  He motioned me closer and said under his breath “Take San Francisco and the Money Line”.  He then whispered “Don’t spread that around!”

                To bet on the Money Line means to wager on a team regardless of the point spread.  An underdog, like San Francisco, pays about 2 to 1 with that kind of line.  I scurried off to make the wager.  When I got back to my seat, Clark and Larry were perplexed… “Where did you go?  What did you bet on?”  I let them in on the secret… I took SF.  “Huh?  What? EVERYONE is taking New England!”  They were stunned.

Lobby at the Bellagio... paid for by people who have a "system" for roulette



                San Francisco won 41-34.  The horseshoe was firmly back in its rightful place.  The world can end now.  I flew back on Monday ready to face the day of reckoning head on.

                Friday, December 21^st, 2012, came and went without a whisper of calamity.  Like the late night television preacher in the polyester suit and fake hair, the Mayans didn’t quite get it right.  That’s OK though.  Sometimes it takes an impending apocalypse to just get out and do something fun… Like taking the horseshoe for a little ride through Las Vegas.

* “Shadowboxing the apocalypse… wandering the land” is a lyric from the Grateful Dead’s "Esau’s Brother".  A very fitting theme.