There's a story in everything...

... and in any place and at any time.

I coincidentally met Trek today, a man aptly named for he has spent most of his life living up to his name: months living in the desert alone, a year of driving the States, and other adventures throughout the world. I made the one block walk down to my office away from my office, a coffee shop I can nearly hit with a strong throw of a stone, whereas he'd driven more than 26,000 miles to get to the same place.

For nearly half an hour our kindred souls danced to the music of the things we've done, things we're doing, and things we plan to do, the latter with an exacting focus on the "now." We were two storytellers talking about the ability to find good stories in everything, everywhere, and at any time--in the small towns on the road, in the faces of the clouds or the trees, in the conversations at middle-of-nowhere gas pumps... and in the products, processes, and people of companies.

It easy to think your day's mundane work is uninteresting, but to someone else the things you do are magical. A college professor once told me that there is at least one thing to learn from every person you meet, and I have never found his words to be untrue.

I challenge you to find a good story to tell from the daily things you do, be it from the passion you put into repetitive work or the handshakes you extend as a measure of personal policy or the notes you attached to every purchase as heartfelt thanks.

Stories are everywhere, and they want to be told. Tell 'em!

And I recommend this gentleman's story: The Good in America.

I don't see dead people. I hear crickets.

The time difference between Europe and the States sure makes for a quiet social mediasphere in the middle of my day. In Scandinavia, I'm 7 hours ahead of those in the Mid-west. Now that I've been here for a week (from Oslo to Stockholm to Oslo and back to Stockholm again), I'm missing the quick hits that I normally get in my workday that give my mind a second to reset while I reply to a tweet on Twitter or a comment on Facebook.

Image by Jonatan Ortega via FlickrAnd, I just don't understand why a few of you fools aren't staying up all night to entertain me and make me more productive. #Weaksauce.

Last night, Pia and I realized that I can tether (use her iPhone as a wifi hotspot) with her phone. In the States we can't tether our iPhones, but it's all good in Sweden. This makes me feel better about our coming trip to the islands on the west coast of the country. You know... a freelancer doesn't get any paid vacation, yo!

Notes:

• I think I had the most expensive beer I've ever had in my life while in Norway: $92 NOK, or about USD $15.
• ICEBAR at the ICEHOTEL is cold, but the drinks are terrible.
• Being in Scandinavia isn't "in your face" foreign like many other countries that I've been in: nice cars, hardly see poverty, you can even buy Doritos.
• I suck at posting pictures and I know that when I'm out of memory and must post pictures of my South America trip earlier this year that I will confuse the crap out of everyone and you'll all ask, "I thought you went to Europe?"
• Deal with it.
• Norwegian Airlines has been the least expensive carrier... strike that, "cheapest" carrier. When you select your seat, you pay extra. If you want a drink, you pay extra. #Weaksauce. However, a brand new 737 sure looks pretty... pretty obvious that you have to charge for everything to pay it off.
• After one week, leaning more toward the blondes of Scandinavia than the brunettes of South America--same beauty/less attitude, more outdoorsy/less clubby. Now, about whether I prefer Norwegian women or Swedish women? Hmmm.
  

Skol!

Välkommen till Sverige!

My trek to Sweden was a bit longer than planned, but I made it! Due to the weather in Chicago, my plane left a half hour late. This made us land a half hour later in Amsterdam and left me a mere 20 minutes to make my next flight. Now, have you ever gone through customs in Miami when returning to the United States? You have to walk about 2 miles to get through customs and back to the domestic flights. The same thing exists in the Amsterdam airport. Knowing this, the United agents met me as I disembarked and handed me my new ticket for a later flight--one that didn't fly directly to Stockholm, but to Oslo first. All in all it added about 4 hours to my travel, from 14 and a half hours to 18 and a half.

On the other hand, it allowed my good, long-time friend in Sweden to pick me up on her way home from work instead of my having to take the bus into town... so that worked out! And, United put me on SAS in first class for the last two legs! I could drink like a Swede! (I had one glass of wine and that was it for me--too tired--not much like a Swede at all.)

So...

• 4 airplanes
• 5 airports
• 3 customs check points
• 2 security screens (I accidentally exited the Oslo airport looking for my connecting flight. You get to keep your shoes on here.)
  
• 2 glasses of wine
  

Staying just southwest of Stockholm in a 'burb called Bromma, which is about 4 miles from the downtown area. Had a nice walk last night and a longer run this morning in the area. It sidles up to the water and has many great hiking and biking trails. Also home to Mats Sundin for you hockey fans.

More later...

When Fire Meets Sea

A month and a half ago, I sat staring into the fire: the fire of anger, the fire of ailing friends, the fire that once burned brightly, but was singeing the long hairs hanging from my head. Though the fire provided light, it was fueling my desires in the dark.

A voice called out from afar, “Come here.” I obliged.

For a month, I walked unquiet shores and dilapidated facades to find a peace among friends—a different world of weather, wine, and women—who helped unearth my core, my soul, and dilute the importance of my senses.

Instead of jibberish, speak now more the language of truth and love. And, when fingers touch, make sure there is a spark. Bzzzzt.

Born again—refreshed and committed to my goals—I returned home, an arduous journey of reflection, with a sadness for having left a country I admire, but also with a greatness welling up inside, symptom of my life's mission, with each mile that I drew closer to home.

“Left my soul there, down by the sea.” A piece of it, yes. I will come back for it soon.

Thank you, my friends, for all the analysis and support that you provided during my journey. I will not be soon to forget your kindness nor your love.

Suerte,
Bob

Building the Perfect Airplane

Image via Wikipedia

Prior to the start of a meeting the other day at Rockfish Interactive, I was asked to team up with a good friend and peer to describe what we'd call "The Perfect Airplane."

Our conversation started with a personal bubble: private, expandable to suit your travel-mates, floats to the destination, but then she wanted to be entertained. So, I asked...

Would you rather travel with your living room or your bedroom?

Hmmm. "Bedroom," she said. And, when I asked why, she spoke of the comfort, being able to rest, and that she had books and a television in her bedroom. We decided that most beds are large enough to fit your kids--as if you were all packing in to watch a movie--but she stated that there was something missing. "Room Service," she added, and I agreed.

So, our description of the perfect airplane was simply, "My bedroom with wings... and room service." (Call Sir Richard, I have an idea for him.)

In the end, we wondered if we really want to be awake while traveling... hmmm... just pump something into the cabin air and get us there.

HEY Bitter Stewardess Lady!

Yeah, I called you a stewardess. Deal with it. What the hell is your problem anyway?

You ask me to hand over all of my trash and discards so they don't get left in the seatback pocket and then refuse to actually take them from me? Instead, you reach for the magazine that I was finished reading, pull your hand back, execute a piercing look and then walk away.

"What the heck was that?" I asked the lady sitting next to me.
"I have no idea," she replied.
"I've never had that happen to me before."

As punishment, you've been charged with using a toothbrush to scrub all armrests of this calamitous, end-of-the-world-we're-all-gonna-die swine flu pseudo epidemic (which we all now was started by the face mask manufacturers) on all planes that you board this week. Deal with it.

By the way, I was the one that left two magazines, an empty bottle of water, 2 pieces of plastic and about eight of those pollen cards from Wired strewn about my seating area.

I hear Virgin serves Absinthe in the air now... enjoy my free magazines United Air, they may be the last you see for awhile... well, I mean, like, after I fly you to Chicago next week.