Flashback

I had spent an unsatisfactory week in London. Work was underway on the (light) rail connection from Bank Street to City Airport, so the last leg of my journey was via bus. It was a Friday evening: there was a huge crowd at security. In fact, security officers were, themselves, showing signs of stress: they had transformed from polite and efficient to surly and slow. “My” inquisitor confiscated the miniature screwdriver that I used to adjust my eyeglasses. This was a screwdriver too far for me:

“Are you out of your mind?” I asked. Politely. Deferentially. Courteously.

“A screwdriver is a threat to aircraft security,” the agent retorted. Angrily and irritated.

“That screwdriver has been in my briefcase - unmolested - for 25 years. Do you think I’ll unscrew the wing with it?” I responded. Reasonably and logically. “You are a power-crazed bureaucrat devoid of common sense and bereft of social skills,” I muttered under my breath. (Well, almost under my breath.)

The agent assumed the stance of an uneducated minion of the local constabulary and confiscated the cartridge (royal blue) from my fountain pen. “No liquids!” He sneered.

“So, the pen is mightier than the sword?” I replied, thinking that I had constructed a very clever riposte.

The agent, failing to see the humor in my comment, forced me to check all of my luggage - including my briefcase. He came to that decision after swabbing my shaving gel and counting my (dirty) socks.

Coming to my senses, I said. “Thank you for your diligence. It makes me feel so very safe.”

“And you’ve lost a sock.” he replied. Smugly.

End Flashback

“Don’t worry, Dad. I won’t get upset and I won’t say anything stupid.” Darius continued.

“Good,” I replied. “Do what I say, not what I do,” I thought.

Nazy and I drove to LAX, the Los Angeles Airport, to meet Darius. We waited outside the dismal and dreary International Arrivals Hall at Terminal 2. It is an embarrassment and a very sad way to welcome international travelers. There was a single Starbucks, a shuttered magazine kiosk, a broken soft drink vending machine and a plethora of police. The ceiling tiles were missing. In sum, it looked like an abandoned Greyhound bus station in a defunct ghost town - circa 1961.

LAX International Arrivals

Note: The Tom Bradley Terminal at LAX is okay; that is not where we were.

Although his flight was a little late, Darius had a smooth trip. He passed through immigration with no problems. He was, however, ‘randomly’ selected for special security screening.

We collected Darius and drove to Mar Vista to meet Mitra and Stefan for dinner. We had a very healthy (Mitra and Stefan are ‘into’ healthy) Thai dinner and, the next day, an equally healthy, organic, gluten-free, brown rice-enabled, genetically locally-grown, unmodified, low fat, sensibly carbohydrated Persian meal.

Nazy found a ‘bargain’ hotel in Beverly Hills, on Wiltshire near Century City. Between dinners, we celebrated our anniversary.

Darius decided to spend a few extra days in Los Angeles in order to

“... defend my winning streak.”

“Winning streak?”

“Right. Last year, Stefan, Mitra and I combined to win the team competitive mediation event. Our opponents, decidedly second-tier, demanded a rematch. It’s really warm here in California, but I guarantee that we will win the Meet in the Heat.”

“So you’re the team to beat in the meet in the heat?”

“Right. You think on your feet.”

“Repeat. Repeat. Don’t think of defeat.”

“Talking with you is a real treat.”

“Will the winner get a trip to Crete?”

I had planned a quiet romantic anniversary celebration while Mitra, Darius and Stefan meditated. Nazy had other ideas:

“Ideas that focus on the factory outlet mall in Camarillo.” I noted.

“It’s called Camarillo Premium Outlets,” Nazy corrected. “And they have great bargains.”

The car was full when we pulled into the carport. Moreover, Darius’ Amazon.com orders had arrived while we were in Los Angeles.

Darius got to Santa Barbara a few days later. He say his new nephew:

I also remarked on his book purchases.

“You have an eclectic interest set, Dar,” I began.

“I’m wide-ranging.”

“A treatise on the Crimean War, a review of economic systems inside high security penitentiaries, a mathematics text that purports to prove 2+2=ᴨ, a collection of essays by Paramahansa Yogananda, an opus entitled ‘A Brief History of Water’, by Steven Aquaman...”

“You left out ‘The Forgotten Popes’ and an organic chemistry exposition written in iambic pentameter.”

“My point is made.”

It seems clear that we instilled a love of reading into our kids. Like Darius, Mitra reads widely. Currently she is reading, among other things, “The Lean Startup”. Fortunately working on something she loves, Mitra is dedicated and totally focused on Oxygen Tango.

Nazy in Beverly Hills Hotel