This Week: Please Donate Blood

On March 9, 2010, I was able to do something I haven't been able to do for a year. I donated blood. Last March Colorado's Bonfils Blood Center deferred me from giving blood for a whole year because I had spent a week in the Central American country of Belize. I knew travel abroad can be a concern for blood agencies, however, I learned the hard way just how strict those rules were. I remained patient and with the year over I can once again donate needed pints of blood.

Donating blood is one of the simplest, yet most important things that a person can donate. I have been donating blood since I was first eligible at age 17. I don't know the exact amount since I have worked with three different blood agencies over the years, but estimate I have donated at least eight gallons of blood.

Donating blood takes about an hour for most people. Upon arriving you check in with the attendant. This person keeps track of when you last donated and gives you a questionnaire. Some of the information they ask of you is to list all foreign countries you have visited in the last three years, what medications you are taking and what illnesses you have had. After filling out the form a nurse takes you into a small, but private screen room where he or she takes your temperature, blood pressure and pricks your finger to do a hematocrit (red blood cell) test. They also review your form to make sure you didn't miss anything. If you are accepted then you wait for the first available chair. Let the bloodletting begin!

The phlebotomist (person who draws blood) first sterilizes your arm with iodine, a dark yellow liquid on a large q-tip. Then an additional sterilizing agent is applied by a small sponge. The phlebotomist then hands you a small vinyl ball and asks you to squeeze it several time so your vein will appear. They refer to it as "popping" the vein. The phlebotomist then marks the vein with a marker or by applying a pressure mark with a fingernail or plastic tube. Once the vein is marked, the blood press cuff (sphygmomanometer) is put on your upper arm and tightened. This fills the vein making it even easier to see and preps it for the needle. At this point, you are ready for the stick. They use a large needle so the phlebotomist will give you the option to look away if you want. Yes, you can feel the needle go in, but once set, that feeling goes away. Sometimes it stings, but only briefly. Once the needle is inserted and the blood flowing, the phlebotomist tapes the needle down with a sterile cloth to keep it in place.

There is a ten minute time limit for blood donation. Most people can fill a pint in less than ten minutes, however, I am a slow bleeder. The cure for this is to drink lots of water prior to donating. Whether you fill up the bag or not, the phlebotomist will stop at ten minutes so you don't have to sit there for too long.

I have been deferred from donating three times. Once was because my blood pressure was too low, however, I blame the Broncos football team for that. It was during the Broncos Blood Drive back in 1999. Thousands of people were there so I had over an hour wait just to get to the pre-screening area. I had fallen asleep while waiting so my blood pressure was at sleeping level by the time they got around to me. I now make my own appointments with the Bonfils center in my neighborhood. The second time was because my iron levels (hematocrit) were too low - by only one point!!! That shows how strict they are. Then I had the deferral last year from my trip abroad. I don't consider myself to be an exotic traveler so I was quite surprised to discover Belize was on the list. (It is not listed on their website, but on a larger list kept at the center.) I was told that malaria is prevalent in many Central American countries, such as Costa Rica, Honduras and Nicaragua. While rare to develop it in Belize, it is all the same geographical area, so Bonfils erred on the side of caution. Other places on the deferred list are most African countries, Haiti, Indonesia, Vietnam and, surprisingly, several locations in Mexico. I was also surprised to discover that extended travel in Europe can also lead to deferral, but they determine that on an individual basis. Extenuating factors include specific locations, such as rural England (remember Mad Cow disease?) and whether you had medical treatments while there.

Creepy as it sounds, I enjoy donating blood. I find it quite relaxing. You get to put your feet up and nurses are at your beck and call. Cold? Ask for a blanket. Thirsty? Ask for bottle water or juice. Some places you can watch TV. There have been several occasions when I have almost fallen asleep during the procedure. Unfortunately, the nurses won't let you fall asleep because you have to keep squeezing the ball to keep the blood flowing. Then afterwards, they give you cookies. How cool is that?

I currently donate blood to Bonfils Blood Center in Colorado. They supply up to 80% of the blood used in Colorado's hospitals, however, less than 4% of Colorado's population participates. There are many ways that blood is used and one pint of blood can help up to three people. In times of need, Bonfils can supply blood to out-state agencies. They supplied blood to the Gulf Coast after Hurricane Katrina and to New York after 9/11. They even supply blood to the US Military so my blood could be going to help the troops in Iraq and Afghanistan.*

Little has changed in the procedure for drawing blood in all the years I have participated, however, the rules and restrictions for who can and cannot donate have changed greatly. HIV was little known when I started and global travel wasn't as common back then as it is now. The basic requirements* are:

• Must be 18 years old (16 or 17 with parental consent)
• Weigh at least 110 pounds
• Be in good health with no history of hepatitis or HIV/AIDS
• Been at least 56 days since your last donation

Here are some suggestions if you are interested in donating blood: 1) Make an appointment rather than attend a crowded blood drive; you can always tell the attendant if you are donating for a specific organization; 2) Drink plenty of liquids, but not caffeine, before you go; 3) Relax!

People have told me they want to donate blood, but then find excuses not to. Some say it takes too long, but if you follow my suggestions above, it won't take more than an hour. Some people complain that it hurts. Please! I've had paper cuts that hurt worse. Stop making excuses and do something that will immediately benefit your friends and neighbors. Donate blood today.

You can find out more information and even make appointments at the Bonfils Blood Center website. For those of you outside of Colorado, check the American Red Cross to learn more about blood donation in your area.

*Information from Bonfils website.

This Week: San Pedro, Belize

…For Me to Poop On

On Wednesday nights, as they had for years, the Pier Lounge Chicken Drop held court on the beach behind the bar. This event took place in the village of San Pedro on the Caribbean island of Ambergris Caye, Belize. Never one to turn down a chance to win some money, I had to participate. A raffle was a raffle, right? Well, the winner of this raffle was determined in the messiest of ways: Chicken Poop.

Set in the sand, a waist-high fishing net guarded the white board that contained the raffle numbers. The large white board was divided into smaller squares with numbers printed in red from 1 to 100. On this wooden board a chicken was placed and whatever number the chicken pooped on determined the winner. The bar opened up ticket sales around 6 p.m. Numbers are $1 Belize each. Just so you know, Belize currency is based on the US dollar at a 2:1 ratio; $2 Belize was $1 US. I purchased 10 numbers. Winner receives the entire pot, $100 Belize.

A line of about 12 people were already in front of me when I went inside to get my numbers. A man stood behind a wooden podium taking money for the chicken drop. The man drew individual numbers printed on pieces of paper from a large jar. When my turn at the front arrived he pulled my ten numbers, one at a time, and set them on the wooden podium for me to see. Then he took a long skinny ticket slip and wrote my numbers on the bottom: 50-72-6-43-67-31-53-3-45-86. At the top the slip said “The world famous chicken drop at the Pier Lounge” next to a cartoon drawing of a chicken. The raffle cashier also wrote that my tickets were for Drop #1 above my numbers. The bottom of the slip said “San Pedro Town, Ambergris Caye, Belize” just in case I forgot where I was.

The Pier Lounge ran about five chicken drops a night and the games didn’t begin until all drops were sold out. My ten numbers just about emptied the jar for the first drop so we had a ways to go. We passed the time by drinking Belikins, the local ale, and listening to a two-man reggae band. We were also able to stake some prime viewing territory right at the board. My husband prepped his camcorder.

After about an hour, a man with a microphone and head wrapped gangster-style in a scarf announced he was our MC for the night and that it was time for the presentation of the chicken. Everyone began to crowd around the raffle board. He introduced the manager, a tall white guy who could have passed for a frat boy on the mainland. He came from the shaded area outside the spotlights carrying a large basket. It was tall and round with a lid. He set the basket down and picked up the lid with one hand and with the other hand held the largest, most beautiful chicken I had ever seen. The chicken was a dark brown, almost red, with long silky feathers. She had the bright red giggly thing under her beak. The manager handed the chicken to a young woman with long blonde hair and short black skirt. The MC said it was her job was to “encourage” the chicken to do her business in the fastest manner possible. The MC instructed the blonde to “shake the chicken.” She gingerly moved the chicken up and down and from side to side. The MC told her to spin the chicken upside-down. She did so slowly. Then he told her to blow on the chicken’s butt. This was all to help the chicken, the MC said. She held the chicken out as far as her arms would go and blew. Then the MC told her to toss the chicken onto the board. The woman gently set the chicken down on the board in front of her. The game was on!

As the chicken looked around at us, everyone began yelling and cheering and coaxing and pleading. The chicken took a step forward. The crowd got louder. Then the chicken took a few steps in our direction. One of my numbers was 3 and the chicken was heading straight for it.

“Com’ooooon chicken!” I yelled.

The chicken then turned and headed in another direction but that was OK because one of my other numbers was 67 and chicken approached it slowly actually standing on the number for several seconds. Then she was on the move again this time back to the side she started from. The ruckus continued to grow. In case they needed video proof, my husband recorded every move of the chicken with his digital camcorder. An older woman who slurred her shouts of chicken encouragement stumbled her way in front of me and I had to hold my camera over her head to take photos. Soon, standing proved too difficult for her and she ended up kneeling on the sand yelling at the chicken through the netting, providing an unobstructed view for me. Now on the other side of the board, the chicken approached number 86, another one of my numbers. Without fanfare the chicken pooped. I didn’t see it at first, but people on the other side of the board were jumping up and down. The chicken had pooped about two squares from number 86. I was a loser.

We hung around the Pier Lounge long enough to discover that the winner must clean up the poop on the board before claiming their prize. An older woman in t-shirt and shorts had won and with a rag provided by the MC, she stepped over the netting and wiped up the poop. Then she was handed the cash. You won’t see that on the World Series of Poker. I think I’ll stick to the lottery.

This Week: Key West, Florida

Awesome Adventures

Gwen and I slept in on Saturday. We were in our hotel room and from the window we could see it was still a little cloudy from an early morning rainstorm, but the heat of the sun would soon burn off the clouds and it would be another gorgeous Key West day. What to do, what to do? Yesterday afternoon we soaked up the sun on the beach and spent the evening shopping and dining. Then at night we hit the clubs and danced until 4 this morning, just a typical day in the Keys. Gwen wanted to do something on the water, like rent jet skis or boating or sailing. Without a clue as to what I was looking for, I grabbed the phone book and flipped through the yellow pages. There was a category called “Water Sports.” The very first ad said “Awesome Adventures – Parasailing.” Gwen thought that sounded good so I called the number.

“Awesome Adventures! This is Mark.”
“Hi, Mark. We want to go parasailing today.”
“Well, talk to me.”
“How much?”
“Forty dollars per hour.”
“That’s sounds great. Where do we go?”
“Do you know where the Marriott Hotel is?”
“Yeah, we drove by it yesterday.”
“Well, they have a pier that they let us pick people up at. Just walk around the hotel to the beach and out on the pier. You need to be there at noon. Are there two of you?”
“Yes.”
“Awesome. You sound like a lotta a fun.”
I rolled my eyes at Gwen. This was going to be interesting…

As instructed we parked our car at the Marriott Hotel. Then we walked around the hotel to the beach and pier. The pier had a sign that said it was for hotel guests only, but no one stopped us as we made our way to the end. We’d barely been there a minute when a sea green and white motorboat with chrome trim pulled up beside the dock.

“Hey ladies!” The sandy blonde driver said. “Did you just call me?” We said yes.

“Awesome! Get in” he said. “I’m Mark and this is my helper Sam. It’s his first day on the job.” Sam waved at us from the back of the boat. We asked Sam how he liked his new job. He didn’t know because we were his first customers ever.

“I have to warn you, it’s been extremely windy lately and we can’t sail in those conditions. If you’ll bear with us, we’ll drive you around to see if the wind will cooperate.” We sat down in the front of the boat while Mark took off. We went all the way down to the tip of Key West where the Atlantic meets the Gulf of Mexico. Mark whipped the boat around and we headed back watching all the people gathering along Smathers Beach. After this test of the waters and wind, Mark decided it was OK to parasail.

Gwen went up first. Mark showed her how to put on the jacket and straps that would attach her to the parachute. He then spent the next ten minutes explaining to Sam how to open up the sail and run the rope line. Finally, Mark was back at the wheel of the boat and he yelled at Sam to let go of the sail. On his first try, Sam threw the sail and it opened up as the boat moved forward. Gwen’s feet lifted. Sam turned on the motorized tow rope ring and slowly Gwen drifted into the air. I waved at her and took some photos. Mark easily moved the boat along the Key West shoreline.

“You wanna drive?” Before he could change his mind, I was behind the wheel and asked him where he wanted me to go.

“See where that dark water is. Head that way.” I did and when we got there Mark turned off the motor. The water was dark because the area was filled with kelp. Gwen slowly sank from the sky. She yelled down to us.

“What are you doing?!?”
“Taking you for a dip!” Mark replied as he took over the boat’s wheel.

“Noooooo! Not in that nasty water!” Gwen began kicking her feet in hopes she would rise again as she dropped closer to the kelp covered water. Just before Gwen’s feet touched the water, Mark hit the throttle of the boat and Gwen popped back up into the air and she was sailing again. I laughed hysterically at the trick Mark just played.

“Just wait until your turn,” he said with a grin. Mark made a sweeping turn to get the boat back around and heading south. As we rode, Mark’s cell phone rang and asked me drive the boat again. It was another customer. He told them he would pick them up at the Marriott dock in 45 minutes. A few minutes later Sam reeled Gwen back to the boat. When she landed, she gave Mark a piece of her mind about dipping her into the kelp water.

“Oh, com’on. I was just having fun. That’s what Key West is all about.”

It was my turn to strap on the preserver and get hooked up to the sail. Again Sam threw the chute perfectly and it popped open as Mark moved the boat forward. I began my ascent slowly as Gwen took photos. It was high, very high. Even though it looked like the boat was moving fast, I felt like I was hardly moving at all; I simply floated above the water. In the distance I could see the outline of a large cruise ship heading into the Caribbean. Nothing but the sound of the wind as I sailed along the coast. Then Mark stopped the boat.

I didn’t see any of that “nasty” kelp water below me. Whew! My only worry was just how wet Mark was going to get me. I sank fast. I heard Gwen laughing from the boat. As my feet hit the water I was pretty sure I let out an embarrassingly girlish scream. Mark gunned the boat and I flew up again; I had been dipped up to my knees. All too soon my time was up and Sam reeled me into the boat. Now I knew why Mark said the word “awesome” all the time.

“Hey, we got a family to pick up next. You girls wanna stay on the boat and help us out?” he asked. He got a ‘hell yeah!’ as a response. “Awesome,” he said.

Mark whipped the boat around and we headed back to the dock to pick up a family of four from Texas; mom, dad and two sons, I guessed around thirteen and eight years old. Mark drove the boat out into the open water and asked me if I would straighten out the boat while he got the jackets ready. Mom and dad were going separately and the boys would go together. Gwen helped Sam gather up the parachute and get it ready for launch. With mom ready to go, Sam threw the chute, but it didn’t open. I pulled the boat forward while Gwen and Sam gathered it up again. Second time was a charm and we got mom up in the air. She even played the good sport when it was time for her dipping. Gwen chatted with the boys while I drove and the dad took photos. Then it was dad’s turn. While their dad flew up in the air, the younger of the two boys asked me if I had worked for Awesome Adventures a long time. Sensing his nervousness, I nodded my head.

“So you’ve done this before?” he said pointing gingerly toward his skyward father.
“All the time.”
“So it’s safe then.”
“Of course!”

With the two boys ready to go in the double parasail strap, they looked rather odd with the older brother being so much taller; his legs dangled down awkwardly while the younger boy kept his legs tucked up. Mom expressed a worry that their odd sizes would affect the parasail, but Mark assured her they would be fine. Gwen drove the boat for the boys and she made sure both got a big dunk when the time came. They laughed and hollered. We dropped the family off at the Marriott dock and when dad asked how much, Mark told him it was 40 dollars for the hour. He gave Mark three twenty dollar bills and thanked him.

“This is why I work in the Keys!” Mark said as he pocketed the money. With no more customers we drove the boat around the coast and got to know our shipmates. Mark owned the boat and he looked like he came right out of a Beach Boys song with his dark sunglasses, board shorts and pearly white smile. Although I guessed he was mid-30’s, he didn't act that age. The boat was how he made his living, simply driving up and the down the shores of Key West seven days a week waiting for customers. And if there were no customers?

“Who cares,” he said as he held his arms up to show off the spender of the coastal waters and the beautiful shoreline.

Sam was a dread-locked Australian who began traveling the U.S. three months ago with nothing but a backpack. Mid-20’s or so, he had made his way across North America from California. Sam said Key West was, by far, the best place he had been on his travels. After meeting Mark at a bar, he asked for a job.

“Isn’t it great to be on vacation and not at work?” Mark asked us. Before we could reply, he said, “Oh, wait. I AM at work!” He and Sam laughed as Mark’s cell rang with another customer.

This time it was two teenage girls. They were with their mom when we met them at the pier, but mom didn’t know how to swim and didn’t want to get on the boat. We took the girls out to sea and they sailed together in the dual strap. Again Sam had a little trouble with the chute so Gwen had to come to his rescue. I drove the boat. Once we got the girls in the air, they wouldn’t stop squealing. We stopped over the kelpy water and girls squealed louder as they dropped toward it. One girl was begging us not to dip her in the kelp. Mark ignored them and actually let them sit in the kelp for a second until they stopped whining. Then he told me to gun the motor and up into the sky they went. When their turn was over, they were all giggles and smiles as they came back onto the boat. We dropped them back off at the Marriott pier where mom was waiting.

While cruising the Atlantic Ocean, Mark saw a friend of his riding a jet ski. Bob was enjoying his weekend on the water. Mark waved him over to the boat. After proper introductions, Gwen begged him for ride, climbed on the back and off they went. Mark, Sam and I went to pick up another customer. After an hour, Gwen and Bob cruised up near the boat and with Gwen driving. She turned the handles sharply and the ski almost came to a dead stop as the back end whipped around. Bob was thrown clear of the ski and despite trying to hang on to Gwen, she managed to stay afloat still on the ski. We laughed at the sight of tiny, demur little Gwen able to throw an experienced jet skier like Bob right off.

Now my turn on Bob’s jet ski with Gwen driving Mark’s boat. We headed down the coastline of Key West and I weaved in and around all the boat traffic. I did a sweep to the Gulf of Mexico side just because I could, and then we headed back. Bob wanted to drive so we traded places and with his more advanced skills he jumped some of the ocean waves. We were airborne! Soon Mark’s boat was in the distance. Mark didn’t appear to have any customers and Bob was running low on gas, so it was time to drop me off.

“5 o’clock!” Mark announced that he was done for the day and turned on the boat’s radio to a reggae station. The four of us motored around the gulf side of Key West toward the marina so we could see the famous Key West sunset, but first, some food. With his cell phone, Mark called his favorite pizza place and ordered two pizzas and some beer. He told the pizza place he would meet them at Pier 13 in 20 minutes. Soon enough we headed to Pier 13 and there was the pizza guy, standing on the end of the dock with pizza boxes and a six pack of beer. Armed with sustenance, we again headed out into more open water, waving at the passengers on the evening booze cruise ships that had just left the marina. We danced on the front of the boat until Sam told us to check out the sky. The sun had disappeared behind a cloud and rays of light were spilling out from above and below. Then the sun reappeared below the cloud and the sky filled with pink, red and orange. The water glistened as the huge, orange orb fell behind the water. With the sun gone it was time to take the boat in.

Mark and Sam dropped us off at the Marriott pier where we had met them seven hours earlier. We paid for the parasailing and our share of dinner. Arrangements were made to meet them at a Duval Street pub later, but for some reason they never showed. Actually, a more accurate story was that we arrived too late and they got tired of waiting for us. Oh well. They had been perfect gentlemen all day on the boat and meeting them at the bar may have ruined their cavalier perception. So ended an Awesome Key West Adventure.

***

Sadly, Awesome Adventures is no long around, but there are many fun things to do in Key West. Visit Keywest.com for more info and some great web cams.

This Week: New York City, New York

Late Nite with Conan O'Brien

At 3 p.m. on New Year’s Eve, 1996, my mom and I walked into 30 Rockefeller Center. We had two tickets for Late Nite with Conan O’Brien on NBC. My New York City guide book said to arrive around 3 p.m. to make sure we were guaranteed a seat. Already a number of people were sitting on the floor at a roped off elevator entrance. As we sat down on the floor, my mom overheard a girl in front of us say something about Canada so she asked her where she was from. Turned out she was one of five college students from Toronto who got up before dawn, packed in a car and drove down to NYC just to see their favorite Canadian band, Barenaked Ladies. Since we didn’t know who the guests were, I was thrilled to learn they would be on the show. "If I Had a $1,000,000" was one of my favorite songs. My mother, who only listened to country music, was absolutely mortified that a band would call itself Bare Naked Ladies. I had to reassure her they were not obscene. As we sat there on the floor and waited, we watched the group of people behind us grow larger and spread across the lobby.

After an hour of sitting on the floor bored out of our minds, an NBC page finally rounded us all up. In small groups we were herded into the three elevators that took us up to some unknown floor. We walked out into a labyrinth of offices and filing cabinets. Several NBC pages pointed us through a maze of several hallways and finally through some large metal doors. Even though we were one of the first people to show up to 30 Rock, sadly we ended up in the back row of Studio 6A.

The stage set was very blue, a deep blue, like the nighttime sky, appropriate for a show that airs around midnight. In the left corner was the band section and a drum kit on a raised platform. At the back wall of the stage on a blue platform were musical instruments, which I assumed belonged to the Barenaked Ladies. Next to the stage was Conan’s wood desk and two chairs for guests. Behind the desk was a window facade of the nighttime NYC skyline. On the far right were fire doors that were open with people going in and out. Three large TV cameras were positioned opposite the set. There were already several people working around the cameras and moving wires behind them. Above us televisions hung down from the ceiling rafters. Below each TV was a white sign that said “Audience” in red letters. These TVs would broadcast the show to us as it happened. Since we were sitting in the last row with the stage far below us, those TV’s would come in handy.

Just as we were about to fall asleep waiting for something to happen, a stage manager, clipboard in hand, introduced a comedian. He said the comedian had been on Seinfeld, but I had never heard of him. He told a few jokes, but nothing particularly entertaining. Finally an announcer, who we couldn’t see, got things rolling by introducing the Late Nite Band, The Max Weinberg Seven. He introduced Max first and Max ran out through the open doors, across the stage to the drum kit, jumped onto his stool and began banging away. Better know as the drummer for Bruce Springsteen's E Street Band, he played a fast jazzy beat with a goofy smile on his face. One by one each band member was introduced and then came running out to his place in the bandstand. When they arrived at their place, they picked up their instrument and began playing, each member building on the previous sound. With all seven band members introduced Weinberg kept things moving with a frenetic swing beat while the horn section blared away. Most impressive was the trumpeter who blew a continuous note for one whole minute.

With the pre-show off to a bang, Conan sprang through the fire doors. Upon his introduction, he not only came out onto the stage, but ran up the first few steps into the crowd and sang a rendition of Elvis Presley’s “Burning Love” with the band backing him. His 6'4" frame towered over a woman in the third row as he serenaded her with "hunka hunka burning love!" She shriveled away from him, laughing hysterically. His performance was amazing and the crowd roared with applause when he finished. Finally some real entertainment!

As Conan settled on the stage receiving a touch up of makeup, the stage manager explained how the show would work: The show was shot in real time including commercial breaks and that every time the red light above the TV was lit, the show was live. Also when the audience sign lit up, we should be as “exuberant” as possible. Lastly, we were to have lots of fun. Then the countdown was on…four, three, two, one.

Simultaneously the red light and audience sign lit up and the Max Weinberg Seven began playing. We yelled and clapped as loud as we could, even though we still had no idea who Conan’s guests were. Then the unseen announcer began:

“It’s Late Nite with Cooooo-nan O’Briiiiii-eeeeen! And the Max Weinberg Seven! Tonight’s guests are Scott Thompson and from Saturday Night Live, Molly Shaaaaaannon. Musical guest, Barenaked Ladies!”

We continued “exuberantly” clapping and hollering until Conan asked us to stop so he could deliver his monologue. Conan went through his jokes, which were quite funny, and then the show went to the first commercial break as the band played. They played through the entire two minutes while Conan had his make up touched up some more. During the commercials, there was a countdown clock on the TV monitors so we would know when to be “exuberant” again.

The first guest was Scott Thompson, who was hilarious, expletives and all. One benefit of being in the studio audience was hearing the inappropriate words that would get edited out later, like being in on a private joke. Thompson was on the Larry Shandling Show at the time, but was probably better known for being a member of “Kids in the Hall” with Dave Foley. Conan and Thompson took the time to celebrate the Central Time Zone New Year (since the middle of the show occurs at midnight in the Central Time Zone) complete with confetti and balloons and the band playing Auld Lang Syne, which we all sang.

After another commercial break the next guest was Molly Shannon. At the time she was a new member of the Saturday Night Live cast. She spent most of her interview telling a terrible story about her encounter with actor Gary Coleman in Los Angeles. The story was awful and so outrageous, I had doubts it was even true. Before the show went to its final commercial break a bright light came on behind my mom and me. Surprised, we turned around to find a camera in our faces. We were on TV!

The Barenaked Ladies provided the finale for Late Nite by playing their song, "Brian Wilson." The song’s refrain was “I’m lying in bed, just like Brian Wilson did…” My mom leaned over and whispered, “Are they saying ‘Brian Wilson’?” I told her yes. She said she thought so. I waited for the next question (why are they singing about Brian Wilson?), but it never came. Good thing too because I had no idea how I was going to explain that.

The show ended around 6 p.m. so we had plenty of time before midnight and Times Square. We ate dinner at a restaurant nearby thinking we were close enough for the New Year’s Eve ball drop, but we were wrong. We didn’t get within ten blocks. The streets were packed with people or closed off by police barricade. Several hours later after squeezing ourselves between as many people as we could, we managed to see a tiny white dot sink between two buildings and heard cheering in the distance, so we assumed it must be midnight. Feeling rather anti-climactic we squeezed back through the crowd and then walked down Broadway toward our hotel. Just as we approached the southwest corner of Central Park, a firework show began. Pleasantly surprised, we enjoyed a 15-minute firework show that was far more exciting than being squished between thousands of strangers watching that tiny little dot.

When the fireworks show ended, we went back to our hotel arriving just in time to watch the NBC broadcast of Late Nite on television. The show was even better on TV then when we were in the studio. The crowd sounded louder and the jokes were still funny. The best part was seeing us on TV when the crowd shot was shown before the last commercial. And we thought sitting in the back row was bad thing!

***

You too can be a member of a studio audience - You can find information about tickets for all kinds of TV shows either through their website or through the website of the network on which they appear. However, keep these things in mind: Be sure to request your tickets far in advance of your visit to guarantee you get tickets in the first place. To ensure a full house, TV shows give away more tickets than they have seats, so you must arrive several hours before taping, tickets in hand, to guarantee your spot. Be aware most TV shows don’t even tape during holidays, when most of us regular people do our traveling (TV people need vacations too!). The best months for seeing major celebrities on a talk show are the “sweeps” months of November, February, May and July. No recording devices of any kind are allowed (that's why I have no photos of Conan to show you). It’s interesting to see how TV shows are made and if you have the opportunity to get into one, go for it. Remember to be flexible, patient and, most importantly, exuberant!

If you are in New York City, something else that’s fun to do is wave to the cameras at the Today Show, which we did the day before New Year’s Eve. The studio is on the corner of 49th and Rockefeller Plaza. Be sure to dress for the weather. Back then, the Today Show was only two hours long; it’s now four hours long (that’s a lotta standing). We got up at 4 a.m. and arrived at Rockefeller Center around 5:30 a.m. We were nervous about walking around while it was still dark, but there were several shops already open (we bought orange juice and bagels on the way). There were several homeless people sleeping on the streets, however, police officers came around and woke them up telling them to move on. Shop keepers were washing off the sidewalks with hoses and garbage trucks were picking up garbage bags. The city was being cleaned up as we watched, homeless and all. At the time, I thought standing at the Today Show was the silliest, most touristy thing I had ever done, but I had fun. I admit I even made a sign for the cameras. After the show was over, we got a photo with Matt Lauer and his autograph.

This Week: Aspen, Colorado

The MotherLode

“So you goin’ to the 'Lode?” I was subbing on a volleyball team when one of the players asked me this question. I said I’d never heard of it and asked him to explain. This was my introduction to the MotherLode Volleyball Classic back in the summer of 1997. Held in Aspen every Labor Day weekend, the MotherLode was one of the largest pro-am tournaments in doubles volleyball in the country. After several years of playing in the tournament, I wanted to find out about its roots and why people continue to go back every year. I talked to Leon Fell, Tournament Promoter since 1981, and the MotherLode’s biggest fan. He told me a story about a backyard Bar-B-Q.

In 1972, two transplants from Newport Beach, CA, Howard Ross and Gordon Whitmer, co-owners of The MotherLode Restaurant, missed playing volleyball on the shores of the Pacific. For a little fun, they decided to organize a barbecue at Wagner Park complete with food, a keg of beer and volleyball nets. Fourteen teams showed up and they had so much fun they did it again the next year…and the next year…and the year after that. Each year more teams showed up. During those early years, the restaurant’s bartenders took registrations and one of the waiters designed T-shirts. Simply through word of mouth, the message got out that Aspen was the place to go for volleyball Labor Day weekend. Soon they had over a 100 teams and almost half were from out-of-state, more than they could handle.*

In 1981, Ross and Whitmer brought in local event promoter Leon Fell to coordinate the tournament. Fell had produced a series of events for the Subaru/Aspen Winternational World Cup Skiing Week held in Aspen that year so he definitely had some experience. Fell asked them if they were interested in doing what it took to take the MotherLode to the next level. They said yes, but didn’t really think anything would come of it. Fell, a self-admitted industrious fellow and not the type of person who did anything half-heartedly, immediately set up a marketing and promotional group called MotherLode Volleyball Productions. Thinking big, he had the goal of making the MotherLode the country’s most popular doubles volleyball event. He more than succeeded.*

Fell said one of the toughest parts of creating the MotherLode each year was keeping the experience similar the first tournament over 30 years ago.

“It was just a few of people who wanted to have a good time and play some good volleyball,” he said. “It’s not about the prizes or the money. People, professionals, come here because they have a good time.” No one knows how to have a good time like volleyball players. Just walking down the streets of Aspen during Labor Day weekend you see bars and pubs overflowing and hear music from every hotel room. A Players’ Party is held on Sundays, which is free to all participants and has plenty of food, drink and live entertainment until the wee hours of the morning.

Fell was most proud that he had been able to maintain this atmosphere all these years. Although the prize purse was bigger and the names of the players who participated better known, that was not why people came. For example, Fell pointed out there were only two small sets of bleachers set up at Koch Park for the Open events. When the bleachers filled up, people had to sit on blankets or chairs in the grass surrounding the courts. He purposely did this because he didn’t want all the craziness of a professional tournament like you would see on TV. Spectators sat right next to the courts heckling players and always cheering for the underdog teams.

The volleyball tournament is two-on-two volleyball. Everyone is welcome to play with divisions for men, women and co-ed teams, from recreational players to Association of Volleyball Professionals. FIVB/AVP rules apply, such as rally scoring. The divisions include Men’s and Women’s Seniors (age 45/50 and over), Men and Women’s Masters (age 37/35 and over) played on Thursday, and co-ed play for Open, A, BB and B on Friday. Men’s and Women’s Open, A, BB, and B play Saturday/Sunday. The matches are held in parks all over town. The Open divisions play on the sand courts at Koch Park. All other divisions are on grass courts at various other locations. These include Wagner Park in the center of town, Rio Grande Park on the north edge of town, and near Aspen High School just outside of town at Islip and Rotary Parks.**

Doug Jones of Denver, CO, had been volunteering for the MotherLode for over 15 years. He started out as a player in 1979. As bad knees slowed him down, he started helping out with the tournament. Then in 1988 he volunteered full time. It was a little easier on the wallet as well.

“Volunteers get a place to stay, which was great incentive and I’ve stayed at some pretty nice places.” He said it wasn’t the only reason, however.

“I’ve been running the Women’s BB for so many years now that everyone’s become a regular. They’re like my girls,” he said. “I've seen moms whose daughters have grown up and are now playing. There are families from Chicago and all over and I get to see them every year.”

“And then of course, it’s Aspen,” he continued. “The view from Rio Grande (Park) being in the valley with mountains surrounding you or watching the open courts when the para-gliders start coming down off the mountain. It’s just beautiful.”

More than just volleyball, the MotherLode has many events going on including a Bar-B-Q and beer garden at the sand courts. The Town of Aspen is welcoming to all with fall sales in the stores and special happy hours at the bars and if you just can’t stand to see anymore volleyball, you can enjoy the Jazz Aspen Snowmass Labor Day Festival in nearby Snowmass featuring nationally known music acts.

I met my husband at the MotherLode back in 2000. I recognized him and his partner as players from Denver and when I said hello, he said he couldn’t focus on playing volleyball anymore. He had brought his dog, Jasmine, with him and I was instantly in love…with Jasmine. We married in 2002. My cousin from Omaha, NE, proposed to his girlfriend (and my volleyball partner), on their first trip to the MotherLode in 1998. They now have two kids. These weren’t the only stories of love at ‘Lode. A woman on a team I played against invited everyone at the park to her wedding atop Aspen Mountain that Sunday. She and her fiancé decided after they arrived that they wanted to marry in Aspen and called a Justice of the Peace. Because of the impromptu nuptials, they invited everyone at the MotherLode as witnesses. Their service was at sunrise, which was a little too early for this volleyball player, but the thought that she extended my partner and I, complete strangers, an invitation was something I never forgot. According to Fell, there have been many “marriages made in Aspen.” He was glad to have been a part of it.

Registration for 2010 is already open. The dates are Thursday, September 2, through Monday, September 6. Pre-registration for the MotherLode ends Friday, August 27. The fee is $60 ($80 for Open). Late registration is $80 ($100 for Open).

For more MotherLode information, visit http://www.motherlodevolleyball.com/
For lodging information, visit http://www.aspensnowmass.com/
For Jazz Aspen Snowmass Festival, visit http://www.jazzaspen.org/

WRITER’S COMMENTS – Original article written in 2003, however, this has been updated with 2010 MotherLode information. I hope Leon remembers I interviewed him for this story back in 2003. The story was turned down by Volleyball Magazine a few weeks later. I was told by the editor that they were sending their own writer to cover the event for that year. In the interest of full disclosure, I have not played in the MotherLode since 2003. However, if anyone needs a B, BB or Master Women’s partner, I’m available. Email me!

*Information obtained from the MotherLode website. Leon gave permission back in 2003 to use that information for the VM article. I hope he remembers that as well. Thanks Leon!
**Rules are always subject to change so be sure to check tournament website, entry forms and/or your division director for full information.

This Week: Ambergris Caye, Belize

The People Perch


Some 25 years ago Susan Lala bought six acres of land one mile south of the tiny fishing village of San Pedro on the island of Ambergris Caye, Belize. Her plan: To build a secluded hotel. People said she was crazy to build so far away from town. Hardy and rare was the tourist that took the tiny plane or lurching ferry boat to San Pedro. After all that, why would anyone want to trek on the bumpy dirt road to stay at a hotel in the middle of nowhere? What stunned locals even more was that she only built the resort on three of the six acres.

Today Caribbean Villas are just one of hundreds of places tourists can spend their vacation. At the time it was built, the hotel was the farthest place south of San Pedro anyone could stay, but not anymore. Exclusive resorts, luxury condos and private houses take up every available space along the Caribbean Sea all the way to the southern tip of the island. And the road heading south is mostly paved. What makes the Caribbean Villas unique is the three acres of space that Lala didn’t develop. Today those acres are part of a bird sanctuary and three of the precious few acres of littoral forest left on the island. Standing three stories tall in the middle of this forest is Lala’s People Perch.

A littoral forest is a forest that exists near the shore. Any place near a body of water can have a littoral forest and the plants and animals contained in such forest depend on the body of water, the land and the latitude so each one is unique. A littoral forest in Georgia will not be the same as one in Oregon, Madagascar or Guam. Ambergris Caye’s littoral forest, which was only a thin slice of land on the windward side, has been stripped to make way for more and more housing. Lala’s bird sanctuary comprises most of what is left; a piece of what the island looked like 25 years ago. A small path near the resort’s office leads you into the forest. So thick is the foliage, you can’t see the sky. However, when the wind blows, you can catch glimpses of the sun’s rays filtering through. The path is marked with signs that provide the names of the different trees in the forest such as the seagrape, palmetto and wild oregano. The forest is filled with birds, but the challenge is to see them through the constantly shifting branches that change the light and shadow.

The People Perch sits about half way through the path. Its base is a concrete storage structure brightly painted with tropical birds and trees on a yellow background. The stairs and upper decks of the perch are unpainted wood. The stairs are steep, but sturdy. The structure does not sway in the breeze or creek under your feet. From the top are 360 degree views of the island just above the trees. The Caribbean is to the east and San Pedro Lagoon to the west. San Pedro town is to the north, and to the south is Hol Chan Marine Reserve. Even from the top of the perch, the birds can be difficult to find. You hear them first; a whistle here, a rustle of branches there. By the time your eyes focus in on the sound’s location, the bird may already be gone, but don’t let that deter you from climbing to the top. When first built, the People Perch was the tallest structure on the island. Now with condo development rampant, several buildings are taller, but not by much. The People Perch still provides a rare view to those who climb it.

During our walk in the sanctuary, we find great Kiskadees. Their bright yellow breasts give them away. However, all the other birds, I have no idea what they are. Most are tiny, but like an image inside an optical illusion, once you see the first bird, they start popping up everywhere: black cat birds, orioles, tody flycatchers and seedeaters. I admit it; the names are from a list of birds the hotel has documented as living in the sanctuary. Don’t ask me to tell you which birds are which. I just enjoy the challenge of finding them. Along with the birds we also see tiny frogs, beetles and geckos climbing the trees. Their stillness makes them easier to find.

Caribbean Villas Hotel is small by today’s standards, only 12 rooms in two buildings, but it has everything a visitor to the island needs to have a safe, relaxing stay: clean rooms, lounge chairs on the beach and a private pier. A few years ago Lala retired, selling her hotel to a gentleman from Great Britain. That man’s son and daughter-in-law, Graham and Ruth, manage the place. They have made many fabulous changes, such as a new teak-decked swimming pool with two hot tubs and a thatched-roof bar and snack shack called The Catamaran. However, many things, including Susan’s bird sanctuary and People Perch, remain untouched.

Along with the birds, the Caribbean Villas also set up a sanctuary for marine life. Several years ago the new owner recycled an old golf cart chassis and crane jib by placing it under the hotel’s pier to create an artificial reef. It’s loaded with all sorts of fish while crabs and other underwater creepy crawlies cling to the posts of the pier. The reef is a great place to practice snorkeling. We use it as a quick tune up before heading out to the barrier reef. If you can’t swim or are just plain lazy, you can sit on the pier’s ladder with a mask and stick your head in the water to catch the view. When you are done, take a nap in the pier’s hammock while swaying in the Caribbean breeze.

I don’t know what Susan’s motives were for creating the bird sanctuary along with her hotel. Twenty-five years ago the words “environmentalism” and “conservationist” had yet to become common vernacular, but foreseeing the island’s development potential, saving the forest could have been on her mind. The hotel could be considered green with its solar panels and rain water irrigation system, but back then island electricity was unreliable and connecting to the town’s water system expensive. Perhaps she just wanted to create a peaceful place where she and her guests could relax. Or she happened to like birds and trees just as much as beach and water. Whatever her motivations were, she saved a tiny bit of ecosystem for the birds and us to enjoy.

To learn more about the hotel and the island in general, go to their website: Caribbean Villas Be sure to view the hotel video on their home page. It will make you wish you were there.

To learn more about bird watching in Ambergris Caye visit: Birds of Ambergris Caye

This Week: Great Sand Dunes National Park and Preserve (Part 2 of 2)

A World Away

Medano Pass Primitive Road had 25 campsites from bottom to top. We chose site 2.1. It was downhill from the pass road, surrounded by trees and Medano Creek flowed behind it, about as picture perfect a campsite in the Colorado Mountains as you could get. It was hard to believe that just two miles down the mountain were the largest sand dunes in North America with desert climate to match. As we breathed the cool mountain air and washed our dishes in the ice cold creek, we felt like we were in another world.

Before picking this particular spot, we had stopped at Site 1.8 just before this one, however, it was above the road and the trees opened up on one side to the strong winds that batter the Sangre de Cristo Mountains. We also could have gone higher up the pass, but the higher you went, the colder it got, even in August. There could easily have been a 10-15 degree difference between this campsite and the ones nearer the top (above 9,000 ft). The campsite had three areas, the tent area, the fire pit and the bear box, each with several feet in between. The bear box was an essential part of the campsite as black bears were alive and well in Colorado and it was large enough to fit our cooler and two food bags. After pitching the tent, my husband, Jasmine the world’s greatest dog, and I all waded in Medano Creek. The creek wasn’t deep enough for Jasmine to swim, but was still running wide and swift for August. With Colorado in a drought the last decade, most creeks are just a dribble this time of year, but a decent snowpack last winter and plenty of June rains had things flowing nicely.

The only problem with the campsite was that we were not allowed to drive the Jeep down to it. A log blocked the path down to the site. We assumed this was to protect the area from tire damage, which was understandable, but it was still an inconvenience to haul all our stuff (such as our very heavy cooler) over the log and down the hill. This also meant that I would be unable to hear the Jimmy Buffet concert that would be played on Sirius Saturday night, unless I walked up the hill and sat in the Jeep. I was looking forward to hearing the show while roasting marshmallows by the campfire and gazing at the stars while the band played Southern Cross. Bummer.

The winds that created the sand dunes blew swiftly through the woods. The trees were in a constant state of motion and the wind howled making quite a racket. Even sitting next to each other by the fire, we had to speak loudly to be heard. This worried us at first, however, the winds turned out to be a blessing. When we went to sleep at night, they provided a “white noise” over which all the creepy sounds of the forest couldn’t be heard. (Have my husband tell you about our first camping trip sometime. I annoyed him all night asking “What’s that?” every five minutes.) At some point during the night, the winds died down. The silence woke us up each morning just as the sun popped up above the mountains. It was the most perfect time of day at the site, completely quiet with a soft light filtering through the trees and causing the shadow on the mountain face across from us to slowly recede. Within the hour the winds would begin again.

Medano Pass Primitive Road could be summed up in one word: FUN! A great place for novice and expert drivers alike and it included nine creek crossings. The first part of the road, down at the dunes, was sandy and flat, fun to build up some speed and slide around in. Traveling north, the road also hugged the eastern side of the sand dunes, where they were at their steepest and most dramatic. Then as we approached the park preserve, the road turned right (east), changed to dirt and the ascent began. Although very bouncy, the road was easy to navigate. Shortly beyond our campsite location, the road narrowed and the trees leaned in close with their branches swatting the Jeep. At approximately the middle of the ascent, the road became rocky and more careful driving was required. Here the road came to its narrowest point, rocks jutting out on both sides, and we had to slowly drive through. Our Jeep, tall and narrow, fit through just fine, however, one afternoon we saw a Ford F-150 heading up the road from our campsite. Sure enough, about 15 minutes after it passed we saw it go back down again. Unless you like to detail your giant truck with some new stripes, I wouldn’t recommend driving it up Medano Pass Primitive Road. Once beyond this narrow passage, the road widened out to a small valley and you could see Medano Creek weaving in and out of the tall summer grasses. From here it was an easy drive to the top, well marked by national park signs and about six miles from where the preserve began.

Our reward for all that driving was a heavily forested area with log benches and parking for about six vehicles. Two other Jeeps, Wranglers just like ours, were already parked at the top, both with Kansas plates. Six people, all retired couples, were already there and eating a packed lunch of sandwiches and cheese and crackers. They had come up from Highway 160 from Walzenburg and wanted to head the way we had driven to see the sand dunes. One of the couples said they spent winters in Phoenix and told us about all the Jeep trails they had been on in Arizona. The two couples in the second Jeep were friends of theirs, but still lived in Kansas and met them in Colorado just to go 4-wheeling. They asked us about road conditions since they were headed in that direction. My husband was glad to oblige.

There wasn’t much to do at the top, other than let the dog run around so we strategized our next move. Off to the north was a gravel road that wasn’t marked on the map. With the possibility of an adventure waiting to happen, we put the dog back in the Jeep and took off. It immediately got very steep, but the rocks provided plenty of traction. As near as I could tell, this road followed the national park boundary, but the map did not show it as a road. We drove about a mile ascending a particularly steep portion. At the top we stopped. Mountains were all around us, including Mt. Herard (13,297 ft) to the northeast and Blanca Peak to the south (14,345 ft). Since the trees were becoming scarce at this high point, we guessed we were about 12,000 ft. As we took photos from this vantage point, a black Jeep Wrangler with two guys in the front and three kids in the back came lumbering by, continued past us and up the road. I wondered aloud how far the road went, but my husband told me we weren’t finding out because we had less than ½ a tank of gas and he wasn’t about to get stuck on top of a mountain without any gas. Just as we were putting the dog back in the Jeep, the black Jeep returned heading back down. Well, maybe the end wasn’t much farther anyway. We waved at the kids and followed them down to Medano Pass. Here they parked their Jeep while we continued back down to the campsite.

On the way down, we decided to let Jasmine cool off in Medano Creek and stopped where the creek widened out into the mountain grasses. It was an area that was wide enough for us to pull completely off the road incase another vehicle drove by. It was also very sunny and beautiful with blue sky above the tall Aspen trees on one side of the road, green grass and amber water on the other side. Jasmine enjoyed her wade through the creek, still not deep enough for her to swim, but she walked around and lapped up the water. The cool water felt good on her belly. As I walked around, I found a carcass of something that once lived on the edge of the road. There was no skull, but a long, thick spine and possibly a pelvic bone parallel to the road. Could be an elk; we had heard there were many around here, or mountain goats. Whatever it was, it was big and sun bleached.

Speaking of animals, we didn’t see any until the morning we left. We had gotten up early to beat the Sunday traffic on I-25. We drove down at about 8 a.m. when we spotted our first critters: A group of mountain goats eating a breakfast of grass in an open space between the trees. There were five altogether. We stopped and took photos. They looked us over and when they realized we weren’t getting out of the Jeep, went back to eating breakfast. One of them disappeared into the trees, probably not happy we disturbed him. Then just before getting back on the paved road, we saw a momma deer and two babies eating grass next to a tree, the babies’ ears barely visible above the grass. We also took photos of them as they ate their way around the tree until we couldn’t see them anymore.

Leaving the park we drove past the towering dunes again, a reminder of how different the terrain was from our campsite to the San Luis Valley. From alpine to desert and back to the city, all in four hours.

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Please note - The National Preserve at Great Sand Dunes and Medano Primitive Road require a 4WD vehicle. Medano Primitive Road starts just past the RV campgrounds in the national park at Pinyon Flats and is a dirt road for about 1.2 miles. Although this first part does not require 4WD, that does not mean you should drive your Ford Taurus or Toyota Tercel here. Then you come to the Point of No Return. They aren’t kidding; there is a sign that says “Point of No Return” along with a parking area and turn around for those without 4WD. From the PONR the road turns into sand and you must maintain a little bit of speed to get through it. Some vehicles may even have to let air out of the tires to maintain traction. You’ll drive between 3-4 miles before the road turns back to dirt and begins climbing Medano Pass. WARNING: If you drive your non-4WD vehicle on this road and get stuck, the fines for being towed out start at $600. When we arrived a truck was towing a car back to Pinyon Flats. The car held four people who looked barely old enough to drive. Don’t be an idiot!

For more information visit: Great Sand Dunes National Park