THE TYGRRRR EXPRESS

The blood flowed in the streets of Los Angeles as stranded motorists turned on each other in a scene from Lord of the Flies. This Saturday was Carmageddon.

An interview between one intrepid reporter and one desperate citizen living in Los Angeles will be etched in America’s memory forever, or at least until Sunday.

Reporter: Hello America. I am your stereotypical self-important newsman with my stern jaw and crisp shirt and tie. I am here to over-dramatize something because weekends are boring for newsmen. This weekend brings Caramgeddon, the crisis of the 405 road closing in Los Angeles. Today I am interviewing a young man named Eric, whose life…his very existence…has been rocked by Carmageddon. The ominous music you hear will be repeated every time I say the word Carmageddon. There it is again. How are you Eric? Are you ok?

Eric: I’m fine sir. Good to be with you.

Reporter: I heard it took you almost three hours to get where you going yesterday.

Eric: Yes, but I was not on the 405. I was on different freeways. Trying to go anywhere in Los Angeles on a Friday afternoon is tough. My destination was 90 miles away, so the trip took me 45 minutes or so longer than usual.

Reporter: Miracle of miracles, you made it home in under 2 hours. Was that because of the efficiency of LA cit workers being ahead of schedule.

Eric: No sir, I came home at nighttime.

Reporter: Now you were interviewed last night and had blood on your hands. Has the pressure gotten to everybody?

Eric: It was ketchup sir. I stopped off just before my home to get a burger.

Reporter: So courageous that you took the risk to stop amongst all the madness. What about the traffic? How awful was it?

Eric: The lines were long. It took me almost 15 minutes to get my burger and fries.

Reporter: Horrifying: How do you feel knowing you may be trapped indoors all weekend?

Eric: Well I have a ton of stuff to do around the house, so I was planning on catching up.

Reporter: Have the people stayed in calm amidst the catastrophe?

Eric: Well sir, there were no tsunamis. I mean this is basically a road closing. People are used to road construction.

Reporter: You live near the 405 freeway. How did you get home?

Eric: I got off one exit early. It took me an extra 20 minutes to get home, although 17-18 minutes of that was getting my burger and fries.

Reporter: Your courage knows no bounds. Is it true that people fled the city in horror?

Eric: Actually they just took weekend getaways to San Diego and Las Vegas, and even San Francisco. They got caught in bad traffic but those who stayed in Los Angeles were barely affected.

Reporter: Has work been brought to a standstill? Is Los Angeles commerce officially dead?

Eric: It’s the weekend sir. Most people have weekends off.

Reporter: Are massive boycotts being organized? Are people protesting by staying off the roads and refusing to go to work?

Eric: Sir, it’s the weekend. They do not have to go to work. Also, people are staying off the roads because they are closed.

Reporter: Has violence broken out? Are people beating each other for scraps of bread?

Eric: A couple teenagers got into a shoving match at the burger joint because one tried to cut in front of the other. Although I think one was hitting on the other one’s girlfriend, so it may be because of that.

Reporter: Do you think this is a result of the tensions over the Carmageddon crisis?

Eric: I am not sure of that. Police officers are stationed outside this burger joint every night. It is located in a college town. The students walk there.

Reporter: Have people been hoarding food?

Eric: I did go to the 7-11 and got some pizza rolls and some soda, but I work from home.

Reporter: How did you handle the morning chaos today?

Eric: I got home late last night so I slept in this morning. It was quite relaxing.

Reporter: So your whole life has been affected since you were trapped away from your home last night.

Eric: Well, I had a business meeting that ran long. They did serve pizza though, and soda.

Reporter: Do you have any advice for the people suffering through the nightmare that is Carmageddon?

Eric: It seems to be a non-event.

Reporter: You poor brave man. How will you cope this weekend once your work is done? How will you avoid the madness of cabin fever?

Eric: I was going to go poolside and maybe take in a swim.

Reporter: You brave, courageous young man. America appreciates your grit and determination.

Eric: Umm, ok. Thank you I guess.

Reporter: This has been an inflated news report from a self-important inflated news reporter. Once Carmageddon dies down we will have the in-depth report of what Caylee Anthony thinks of the Natalee Holloway situation. Now back to endless coverage of the gridlock that has terrorized this once city of Angels who have had their automobile wings forever broken. From an empty freeway because the roads are closed for construction, goodnight.

eric

On July 9, 2011, I officially turned 39 1/2.

I have not acknowledged by half birthday since I was 14 1/2 and somebody told me I should have stopped a few years earlier.

I will not be going to Chuck E. Cheese today because the only people my age at Chuck E. Cheese without children are people who should be investigated by the cast of “Law and Order SVU.”

I have never been the midlife crisis type of guy. Perhaps I could be more introspective, but I have always found sitting around thinking about existential stuff and what it all means to be code words for overglorified navel gazing.

I do navel gaze, but that is when I am sitting by the pool, and I literally am contemplating nothing deeper than my own navel. I wonder how many milliliters of water it can hold.

I know that tomorrow I will be closer to age 40 than 39, but my reaction to this metric can be summed up in one word:

shrug.

Some may point out that if it was no big deal I would not have spent time preparing a column about it. Actually, this is not the case.

I woke up after a nice 10 hour nap (I do like sleeping in on Saturdays), realized I had forgotten to prepare something, and wondered what to write about. I saw the date and thought, “cool, I can do that.”

I guess I am blessed to be a guy who is comfortable in hos own skin. I do not have everything I want in this world, but I believe in the process. I am building a business and seeking a nice woman to settle down with. Today I plan to see friends and at some point I will watch football.

I really am that simple a guy. My needs are few, and I hope that stays constant.

For some people, turning 40 is the end of the world. Turning 39 1/2 is a reminder.

I am just glad that I turned 25 because that allowed me to use rental cars. Turning 35 allowed me to run for president, and I am still contemplating a run. It will be less a run than a walk since I am not into running.

So I guess I will stay the course, since I do not see any need for radical change.

Oh, and I am going to grow my hair long like it was in college. Why? Because I can. Fifteen years on Wall Street meant suits and ties. Now I wear Hawaiian shirts to work.

I prefer to do as I d@mn well please whenever I d@mn well please, which apparently is always.

Life does involve decisions, and the next decision I make will affect my life for several hours. What should I have for lunch? I am torn between the four basic food groups of burgers, pizza, hot dogs, and tacos.

A trip to the pool and jacuzzi will count as exercise.

Happy 39 1/2 birthday to me. The (in)significance is (under)overwhelming.

eric

I have been the recipient of a couple of random acts of kindness. Given how unappreciative I can sometimes be of life in general, I wanted to devote this Sunday to a pair of people who I may never see again, yet who I will never forget.

Last weekend I was scheduled to take a night flight from Utah back home to Los Angeles. It was Sunday, and Sundays in Salt Lake City are fairly quiet. I went to the airport, and was confirmed on the 3pm flight rather than the 10pm flight.

Normally this would be great except that my 10pm seat was in first class. 3pm provided no guarantees. This is not about being a prima donna. First class sometimes has plugs below the seats. I can get work done on my computer without draining the battery. I can recharge my cellphone. Most importantly, first class allows me to check in three bags free instead of two. This is vital when determining how many books I can bring with me when I do a speaking engagement or trade show.

The upgrade did not come through, but I was fine with it. It is not like I was bumped from first. I could have stayed at the airport another 7 hours. I made the sensible decision (law of averages and all). When I got to my seat somebody else was sitting in it. Again, I was not angry. People make mistakes, and for all I knew the mistake could have been mine. This young person (about 24) asked if they were sitting in my seat, and I confirmed this in a pleasant manner.

Out of nowhere this young man asks “How would you like my seat in first class?”

My jaw dropped, but they were serious.

The young man wanted to sit next to his sister. He got the upgrade. She did not.

I accepted his ticket, and quickly moved into first class. While I was sitting there I thought about how many siblings loathe each other. I would have let my sibling sit on the outside wing or in the lavatory for a first class ticket. This young man was willing to give up the comforts of first class just to sit next to his sibling. Family was more important than money.

Realizing this, I noticed that these were not wealthy individuals. Most people in their twenties are struggling. So I went back to his seat, and asked if they wanted me to buy them drinks. They said that they wanted drinks on the plane, but that they were too expensive. I gave them enough money. They had their drinks. The young man was surprised, but as much as that money meant a lot to him, sitting in first class and getting down to business meant something to me.

A week later I had already lost perspective. This past Friday I was having trouble with a rental car. I had left my GPS tracker at the hotel. I am terrible with directions, and although I knew my Dallas hotel was only 3 miles from airport, that was far enough away for me to screw it up.

Nobody at the rental car company could adequately explain to me how to get to my hotel. I was getting frustrated. When I tried to leave the rental car center, the gate would not work. Naturally I got far more upset than I should have. When I am lost, it brings out the worst in me.

Then a man came over to me and saw my concern. He was very tall, well over six feet, less than seven. He was from Senegal, and let me know that everything would be ok. He took the time to explain to me where to go in a clear manner, He actually did a lot more than that. To say he went above and beyond would be an understatement.

I asked for permission to contact his boss at the rental car company so I could pay him a compliment. He stunned me by saying that he did not even work for the rental car company. He worked at the airport for a different company but had nothing to do with the rental car company!

In the course of our brief conversation he told me that he has seven children back in Senegal. He is a devout Muslim, and that means he is obligated to help people in need. He loves America because anybody can make it here. He worked at a rental car company for 15 years, and then was laid off. After 10 months, he found work and still hates to see others hurting.

I told him that many people in America live well but do not appreciate it. They take it for granted. At that moment I was talking about myself. I offered him a small amount of money for his troubles and was glad he accepted it.

What does one say about a man like this? I think there is a special place in heaven for people who take joy in doing good deeds for the sake of the deeds themselves. This guy was as altruistic as it gets, because any ulterior motive he had was lost on me.

Thanks to this man, I made it to where I was going and had a pleasant evening. All I can say is I hope God looks after him and his seven children back in Senegal.

I need to do a much better job of bringing out my better nature. It does exist, but sometimes gets lost in a fog of worry and concern. That is an explanation, not an excuse.

For now, I just want to thank the two people who allowed acts of random kindness to be directed toward me.

On this Sunday, I hope many people are engaging in random acts of kindness. I will add myself to the list. It really does benefit the giver and receiver.

eric

On this Saturday, I am simply seeking solace. Before getting on a plane tonight from Dallas to Los Angeles, I have squirreled myself away from the world.

Last night I looked in the mirror, and I did not like what I saw.

I am under 40, and at the rate I am going I may be dead before age 50.

I don’t drink, smoke, or do drugs. I have no serious physical or mental health problems that I know of.

I have a loving family and the best friends a guy could ask for.

I lead a happy life.

Yet I am driving myself over the edge of sanity by constantly being angry about stuff that does not merit anger.

My desperate struggle to mellow out is not going well.

There is healthy and unhealthy anger. If a referee makes a bad call during a sporting event and it hurts my team, I may curse for a few moments. Then I get over it. Sports is just fun. It is not life and death.

With politics, I may yell at the television on occasion, but rarely. I come across as angry when I write, that is mock outrage at times.

Sports and politics are not the problem.

My real anger comes when feeling powerless. When something happens I cannot control, I get enraged. This usually occurs in two types of situations.

When I am lost, I scream my lungs out. It does no good. Yet I am simply unable to remain calm when I am in my car and I have no idea where I am. Traffic does not bother me nearly as much as when I get bad directions. I am convinced that I will end up dead in some unknown area because somebody insisted that they knew how to direct me.

If I miss a turn and then have to go a different way, I am pounding my fist in frustration.

The other time I get angry is when dealing with defective human beings.

I have tried to be patient with these people. I can’t do it. I made the mistake of flying American Airlines, which I never do. They still suck even by airline standards. I booked a package of a flight and three days hotel. My plane landed on time, and I called the hotel. They had no record of my reservation.

It took almost two hours, but American Airlines admitted that they neglected to fax the reservation to the hotel.

This is when I explode. I am sure other people remain calm in this situation, but how hard is it to fax one piece of paper?

I know it is not worth getting worked up over, but a combination of exhaustion and frustration led me to use language at a decibel level I am uncomfortable with.

I just can’t stand defective human beings. I want to rip their throats out. What I always told people was that when I worked in management, I was not warm or fuzzy. I could be heavy handed. Yet I was effective. I got things done. People knew they could count on me.

So to bring it back to getting lost in a city, I am too hard on others but even more ridiculously unbelievably hard on myself.

Some people would say “these things happen.”

I responded by saying “they shouldn’t happen.”

The response I get is that if I do not chill out I will heaven forbid have a heart attack or stroke.

I know this. That is why I am worried.

Slow internet access really makes me spit blood. Because my career involves me contacting people to book events, working internet is my financial lifeblood. I do not need a five star hotel. I just need working tv, phone, and internet access. That’s it. If I cannot make business calls and send out my resume, then my career grinds to a halt. Enough days like that, and I end up homeless on the street flat broke and dying of diseases found on those streets. It all starts without internet.

If somebody screws something up and it costs me money, I fantasize their generations burning in Hell. I don’t even have stuff to buy with the money. I don’t even need another possession. I have my toys. Yet when somebody causes me to lose money and is the callous about it, verbally beating them senseless makes sense at the time. It could be a soda machine that has my drink get stuck. I will shake that machine until it breaks, but I am getting my soda. I hate being cheated.

I know I am not crazy. I do not run around arguing with inanimate objects. Yet I also know that I have to somehow calm down.

There is an expression about people changing what they can, accepting what they cannot, and knowing the difference. I am terrible at this.

I got so angry this past Friday because I was lost on the way to synagogue for Friday night services. As I cursed and pounded my fist, somehow it hit me that I needed to be in synagogue more than I realized.

Synagogue for me has always been about the social scene. I see my friends, make new ones, and of course meet women. The prayers are often ancillary.

Yet this past Friday night saw me in a temple when I needed it most. I paid attention to every prayer, and cried in between more than one of them. Little by little perspective began to return as prayers for the ill and the deceased reminded me that I was neither.

There are people who have lost their homes due to natural disasters. Some have lost their family members.

In a world of real disease, war, famine, natural disasters, and other human suffering, I should thank my lucky stars that my life is very good. I have virtually everything a guy could want.

Yet the one thing I have been unable to do is accept my limitations. I am not superhuman. Humans make mistakes. They get lost in strange neighborhoods. It does not make them losers or bad people.

Yet I need to stop losing my patience with people and be more understanding. I also need to stop beating the daylights out of myself when I make a mistake. Otherwise, that early grave I am driving myself to will come much sooner than even I anticipate.

So last night rather than socialize in Dallas, I went back to my hotel room by myself and just forced myself to calm down.

Today on this Saturday I am engaging in solitude. I have everything in this world going for me, and I must calm down. Screaming my lungs out at people, even if I think they deserve it, is bad for everybody.

This does not mean I have to become a chump who just lets people walk allover him. Yet it also does not mean I have to be a battering ram with people just for making mistakes.

I will right a letter to American Airlines asking for compensation for my troubles, as the lady on the phone told me to do. Yet I will make sure I am calm when I write it.

It really will be ok. I just need to remind myself of that.

Then I need to breathe. Then I need to breathe some more.

After a completely fried Friday, by healing shall begin on Solace Saturday.

It will not be easy, but nothing this important ever is.

I have to do it. Stress kills, and I put too much on myself.

Besides what’s the point of great achievements if I cannot even sit back and enjoy them?

I love being alive, and am not prepared for my own death.

I built a business from scratch, and should be content. Yet being all business all the time has me so tightly wound that my lifelong short fuse is practically non-existent now.

This cannot continue. My life in its current form is unsustainable.

It is time to somehow calm down. It is time to mellow out.

It starts today with solace.

eric

Father’s Day 2011 has me far away from my family. My parents are in South Florida. I am on a night flight from Salt Lake City, Utah to my home in Los Angeles.

At some point there will be a phone call. It will be short, because my dad is a man of few words on the telephone. I think he gets that from his father. I remember calling my grandfather once a week, usually on a Tuesday.

The conversation consisted of “How are you feeling?,” How is the weather?,” and “I love you.” Yet as much as he disliked talking on the telephone, he would worry if I did not call.

Like my grandfather, my dad has had a hard life. He entered this world under nightmarish circumstances. His health has never been good. My mom insists that there was a time when my dad was a happy, healthy man brimming with optimism. I do not remember those days.

It is tough to be optimistic about life when you can’t be healthy. He sometimes coughs constantly. The doctors could never figure out why.

Despite having open heart surgery twice, all he wanted out of life was to be able to enjoy his fishing and read his books. Now his eyesight is not so good, and once again the doctors cannot seem to be able to figure out what is wrong. To not be able to read a book for him is tough. He can still go fishing, but when the weather is bad he cannot do that.

I worry because I remember how it ended for my grandfather. My grandfather lived until age 100. I saw him three months before he died. He was fine. What did him in was a brutally cold weather in New York in 2004. His one pleasure was sitting outside with his friends in the park. Yet that one cold winter prevented him from going outside. With nothing to do, and unable to leave the apartment, dementia set in.

My father does not have dementia. He has a sharp mind. Yet he is not 100. He is only 70. Yet it is so incredibly frustrating to be alive but unable to do things.

He has his hearing and his arms and legs. I just hope the doctors fix his eyes. I had laser surgery and my eyes are better than ever. Yet his are worse than ever. I wish I could share my newfound sight with him.

In some ways my dad is one of the luckiest men on Earth. He has things some people never have in this world.

He has been married to my mom for 46 years. They are very happy together. Their closest friends are my de facto aunt and uncle, and that friendship has also been several decades.

My dad has so many people who care about him. So did my grandfather.

My dad would really like to see me married with kids, and I certainly would like that. Yet I am at peace with this not occurring. He is not. It worries me that the one thing I want my dad to have…inner peace…he may never have while he is alive.

On more than one occasion he has said “my race is run.” Yet the rest of the family wants him to stay around. We just want him not to suffer so much.

Some people never know who their fathers are. Other people have distant memories. So of course I am grateful for still having my dad. I just wish something could be done to improve his quality of life.

I ask him if he is feeling better, and he says “I am not going to get better.”

I had not anticipated such a bleak train of thought on what should be a day of joy, but my Father’s Day will be spent just praying for my dad. I hope he has more good days than bad days. I just wish somehow, some way, he could just for a few moments experience what it is like to be healthy. He may never stop coughing, but at least if he could just have his eyes back to read his books, that would be something.

My mom will be with him, and that will have to be enough.

As for me, I just pray.

Dad, I love you. I wish you much better health, and much better days ahead.

eric

A few weeks ago I made a presidential announcement. That is not the same as a presidential decision. The announcement is just that I am thinking about running for the White House.

I can now say that I have reached the presidential exploration stage.

This is still not a decision, but it is more than an announcement.

This is not the same as an actual exploratory committee. I can’t stand committees. The only thing worse than committees themselves are committee meetings. When I want to accomplish nothing, I have a meeting.

I have been meeting with people around the country. I was in Montana yesterday and am in Utah today. I have met with delegates in South Carolina and will be meeting delegates in Iowa and New Hampshire in the days to come.

Now keep in mind that I still hate meetings, and much of these meetings was me selling them copies of my book. Handshakes were involved. Some of the meetings had finger foods and others involved knives and forks.

I know that if I ran I would win. This is because I am not grassroots. For those who do not know, when anybody tells you they are grassroots, it means they have no support whatsoever. The myth of grassroots is that you tell 10 people and they tell 10 and then it becomes exponential. What really happens is out of 10 people, 8 show up for free stuff and forget about you. The other two just forget about you while rejecting your free stuff.

So people who come to my rallies will get nothing. I will not give away candy, chocolate, or even bumper stickers. I want your money. Therefore, giving you free stuff makes no sense. you are supposed to give your stuff to me.

In the coming weeks I will make an official decision on whether or not to seek the White House. I am leaning either in favor of or against it depending on which way the wind is blowing.

What I do know is that not one poll has showed me as beatable…not one.

I have skipped the early debates because as a top tier contender, I can. I have the luxury of waiting.

So now that I have made my announcement, a decision will come. For now, the exploration stage is where my presidential campaign is.

I would consult with my consultants, because that is what people do with consultants. That is why they are called consultants. However, I don’t have any. Ever since the movie “Office Space,” I have found consultants to be overrated. The only thing more useless than consultants are highly paid consultants.

I do not have a pollster because I don’t need a pollster to tell me how I am doing. I am fantastic, thank you very much.

The media has been leaving me alone because they know better. There will not be any gotcha interviews. I am not doing interviews.

Anyway, exploration is similar to contemplation, so if any of you see me poolside or in the Jacuzzi, I am not in a state of contemplation. I am in a state of exploration.

This concludes my current presidential update. I will let you all know when the decision is reached. For now, feel free to come say hello on my exploration tour…provided you buy my book.

eric

On this Memorial Day, some sadness has hit too close to home.

Although it happened on December 28, 2010, I did not know until I received a phone call last night.

One of my favorite college professors had died. His name was Howard Langer.

He was only 44 years old.

Even worse, he took his own life.

http://memorial.yourtribute.com/HowardEugeneLanger/

He was one of the smartest people I have ever met. He was also one of the nicest people on this planet. The cliche in this case is very true. There was not a single person I ever met who had a bad word to say about him.

He was only in his early twenties when he was my professor. So he was like a friend as well as a teacher.

We lost touch over the years, and I often wondered how he was doing.

I took several business and economics classes with him. His favorite phrase was “ceterus paribus,” meaning “all things considered equal.” Every class it was a different language. One time he said it was Canadian for all things equal, another time Swahili.

He would give us essay exams that would make your arms fall off from writing. Yet with ten minutes left in the class, he would say, “Ok, you should be almost finished with question number one now.”

Sometimes I would stop by his classes even though I was not in them. I would peek my head in just to say hello as class was ending. He would say, “We have a guest lecturer today.” He was so down to Earth and funny.

Apparently he was from a very wealthy family, but none of us knew that. He acted just like a regular person living a modest life.

He was the one who prepared me for the Series 7 stockbrokers exam. If it was not for him, I may not have made it in the industry. My entire 15 year Wall Street career started with his guidance.

For those wishing to visit his grave site, he was put to rest at Mount Sinai in Hollywood Hills. He is interred in a Wall of Blessings in grave # 54348. Take a walkway between Maps 1 & 2 to the very back. He is on the 3rd level of the Wall. If you passed the Courts of Tanach, you have gone too far.

Simply put, he was one of the kindest people I have ever encountered.

He will be missed.

Farewell Howard. You were one of the best.

eric