Winding down the decade

Sometimes the things taking place in our world manage to slip right by us. New Year's Day is coming up in a few days, which means the start of another year is yet upon us. But this time it also marks the end of a decade. Now, some people think that each new decade begins with the year that ends with a "1" because we count from one to ten. The year ending in "0" would mark the end of the decade, thus meaning that the 2020s would actually begin in 2021. I have a different take on that. To me, the 2020s begin with the year 2020, the same way I consider 2010 the start of the 2010s. Some folks think I'm wrong and that's OK. It's just a different way of looking at things. I'm not like regular people. Everyone knows that by now since I say it in almost every post.

Does moving into a new decade warrant a celebration? I don't think so for myself, but to each his own. It does give us a reason to stop and think about what we have or have not accomplished during that time. During the 2010s, I really didn't accomplish much. For me, work was scarce. My health continued to decline; it still continues its downward trend, and will in the years to come. They should have named it "die-abetes" because that's what it eventually does to you regardless of how well you control it. Some will disagree, but this disease affects everyone who has it differently. Too many people don't get that. I have some stories, but I'll share those another time.

For me, 2020 is going to start off with a bang and it's right up my alley, too. I've signed up to be part of the media day event for a brand new roller coaster out at Six Flags Magic Mountain. West Coast Racers was supposed to debut during 2019, but some unexpected delays pushed it back to 2020. I may write a separate post about that event. We'll see.

Meanwhile, I'm going to continue my fight to feel good, get things done, and do what I can to get the 2020s roaring even more than the 1920s were! I've started my second decade of blogging and plan to keep it up—hopefully more often. Writing is good for you. It's a great way to unload stress, have some fun, make people laugh, record fun and/or important events, and even teach people some new things. You never know...

Watching people just for the fun of it

I know I haven't written much of anything about this, but I must confess to being a lifelong people watcher. Perhaps my quiet nature pushed me toward being that way. I watch and study the actions and movements of others, but by no means do I reach out and actually touch anyone. That would be kind of...ewww.

In all seriousment, I don't dislike people by any stretch of the imagination. Quite the opposite, actually. As a youngster, I was shy and didn't say much even if the people I were with were much loved family members or friends. Being part of a big family (second oldest of five kids!), being so quiet likely resulted in "getting lost in the shuffle." Not only am I quiet from the standpoint of saying little, but the volume of my voice is rather low. I hear the word "what?" a lot. It's because they didn't hear me, that's why.

So, if you can't get 'em to interact with you, you get 'em to entertain you instead. And you really don't need to do anything. Just watch and listen! For whatever reason, we quiet folks are presumed to be off in our own little world. No one thinks we're listening. Over the years, I've overheard some very...interesting...conversations because people oftentimes aren't careful about what they're saying or where they're saying it. Why? Because that quiet guy sitting nearby isn't paying any attention.

Oh, yes he is.

Don't get me wrong, however. I've never overheard anyone planning a murder or making plans to break into the White House or Fort Knox. Just the basic gossip about co-workers, family members, spouses and so forth. Regardless of what was said, I don't run around telling others what I've heard because it's none of my business—or anybody's for that matter. The one exception to this that I'd make is if I heard something that could seriously be threatening to someone.

What people say isn't always entertaining or even interesting to be honest. What some people do, however, can be quite funny. Over the years I've managed to capture some very funny stuff with those two eyeballs of mine. For the sake of your sanity, I won't get into anything specific here.

One of my favorite people watching spots is the local theme park—in my case, Six Flags Magic Mountain. I've had a season pass for 25 years now, so I can go out there as often as I want. Even on days when I don't feel like riding much, I spend the day walking around, or parking myself on a bench to take in the sights, smells and sounds of the place. For me this is at least as entertaining as watching a bunch of millionaires out on a field or in an arena battling to win a game. In a sense, it's free entertainment. If I spent the time, I could come up with plenty to share here, but it's not really the same thing as observing it firsthand. We all have our favorite stories.

Now that my age begins with a "6," it's not too likely that I'm going to change my ways anytime soon. From now until my dying day, I'm going to observe others. I'm going to listen but say nothing. So when the time comes that I'm on my deathbed, you'd better not do or say anything that you wouldn't want me to see or hear. I've heard that the last sense that people have before slipping into their final sleep is their hearing. That means I'll know what you said and who knows how I'll use that information in the next life. [winks]

Ten years' worth of Eric's Planet

I've been making all sorts of noise about my tenth blogiversary coming up, and guess what? It's here. On December 18, 2009, I wrote and published my very first blog post and joined the many others who do the same thing. True to my style, however, there's not going to be a big, giant celebration with cake and ice cream, confetti, fireworks, etc. With only a handful of people who actually read what I write, there's no point to going to great expense and time in jail for a celebration where a bumper sticker message reading "My other car is a Porsche" is longer than the guest list.

With my blogiversary approaching, I gave some serious thought about what I wanted to do to mark the occasion. Dogs mark things by lifting their legs and peeing on them. Nope, not my style. Cats claw the heck out of things. Not my style, either. I could spend the post reminiscing about what's taken place during the last ten years. Not interesting, said Eric.

And then it struck me. I don't even celebrate my own birthday for crying out loud. Why would I/should I create a giant fiasco for this creation of mine? Back in 2014, I wrote a post about my daughter. She's a creation worthy of celebrating.

I've been asked, "What is a blog? What do you write about? How do you do it?" And a hundredteen other questions. The answers? A blog is short for "web log." (Say that fast and you can figure out where the "blog" part came from.) I write about whatever I want. I use a Google application called Blogger. Well, those are the short answers. Just as in real life, my answers are brief and to the point. I don't say much in this life—never have, and probably never will. Frustrating for some; a relief for others. There is a reason for that, and someday I'll write about it. There are reasons why I am the way I am. One day, I'll get it all down either here in my blog or in my autobiography, should I ever decide to write one. Unfortunately, there are some folks still walking the Earth who need to be written about, but I can't do so until after they're in the ground and cold. That means I have to wait. Long stories there, but all of mine are "Long" stories...

The beauty of it all is that it gives me plenty of things to write about. Enough to fill a lifetime, perhaps. If I manage to keep it going, by the time I reach my 20th blogiversary in 2029, I'll have paid off my house, Los Angeles will have held its third Summer Olympic games, I'll have reached age 70 and collecting my Social Security benefit of $1.14 a month.

All right, time to get serious here.

I like to think that I've shared some things in my life with those of you who read this blog. And that's really what this blog is about. As the tagline says, My life's experiences mixed with a lot of utter nonsense, I write about what I experience, be it the serious stuff or the silly stuff. I just turned 60 last summer. For some, that's over the hill. For me, I'm just getting started. The health issues I've written about are kind of like the proverbial Legos on the floor when you walk through the room barefoot. It hurts a bit when you step on one (OK, a LOT!!!), but you get over it and move on. But this fat, 60-year-old diabetic will still get on a roller coaster, work a roulette table, or hop in the car to take a random 100+-mile drive to...anywhere. I have friends who are waiting for me to go visit them. 400 to 800 miles' worth of driving each way. All the way into [*GASP!*] other states. Sometime before I leave this earth, I need to visit more states to up my count from its pathetic seven. But more importantly, to go visit friends whom I've missed. A state of iffy health doesn't lend itself to a long drive. But I'll get there.

Congratulations to me for reaching ten years of blogging [tries to pat self on back, pulls shoulder out of socket]. And here's to at least ten more.

Casino Night at Los Angeles Union Station

Recently, I had the chance to work a job at one of my very favorite places: Union Station in downtown Los Angeles. The photo used here is not mine; I sneakily borrowed it from an article by writer Danielle Bernabe. Thank you, Danielle.

Los Angeles Union Station

As some of you know, I've been working something of a "side gig" since 1996. I work as a casino dealer for a "casino night" company. You've seen those to support fundraisers or for some plain old fun. I plan to write a more in-depth post about this side gig at some point—in fact, I have a post about it in process and I'm trying to tie up a few loose ends before publishing it here. You can bet on that.

For our holiday season, Sean got an opportunity to work a company holiday party at Union Station in the esteemed Concourse Room. When Union Station opened in 1939, this room served as the point of sale for those purchasing tickets to board passenger trains operated by Santa Fe, Southern Pacific, and Union Pacific. (This is how Union Station got its name—the three railroads came together there and formed, essentially, a union of the three.)

Even in its current state, the Concourse Room is very reminiscent of a bank, with lots of room for people to stand and a long counter with windows, behind which employees stood to help customers with ticket purchases, exchanges, etc. You can see that counter in the picture below. I remember going there for the first time when my mom took a Union Pacific train to Arizona back in the late '60s, then getting to board the train with my family to see her off. At one point, there were huge wooden chairs with heavy leather upholstery in that room. Those chairs have been moved out of that room, but there are still many of them along the main concourse leading to the tunnels through which you board your Amtrak or Metrolink train, or continue to the back of the station for the Metro Gold Line light rail station or the entrance to the Metro Red Line subway.

In the mid-'70s, our church youth director took an Amtrak train to Arizona. Our group went to see him off and celebrated with a very unusual cake made by a Russian guy who came to church a few times. This celebration was also in what is now the Concourse Room. Unfortunately, I don't have pictures of this room from way back when, but you can find them online if you look for "Los Angeles Union Station."

The party we worked was for Muir-Chase, a big plumbing company in the greater L.A. area. The guests were all very nice and had a great time.

Dual roulette table set up to handle the big crowds.

As I usually do, I worked roulette. That night we used the dual roulette table and I worked with a new guy, who went by his nickname of "D." He did tell me his actual name, but that was DAYS ago and my memory must have a hidden exit in it because stuff keeps slipping out. And, yet, I can still remember my hall and gym locker numbers and combinations from junior high school nearly 50 years ago. Go figure...

Sean had our parking all set up, but the thought of driving into downtown Los Angeles at rush hour on a Friday evening didn't sit well with me. Instead, I parked at the North Hollywood station for the Metro Red Line and took the subway all the way to Union Station. That meant that after helping with teardown when the job was finished, I had to lug my exhausted body back through that long tunnel, down to catch a train and spend a half-hour riding to North Hollywood, then another hour home (normally 45 minutes, but I was starved and wanted to swing through McDonald's for a late, late dinner). For even more fun, the escalator going up to ground level was out of service. I tried to take the elevator, but when it arrived, I was greeted with the smell of someone having used it to leave behind a "number two," along with the sight of the offending substance itself. Well, poop on that. It looks like I'm dragging this worn out body up six or eight stories' worth of stairs.

This party was the first of three I worked that weekend. The others were a party at someone's home and at a venue previously worked. Three parties in a row really wore me out, but I had fun and earned some righteous bucks! And I deserve every penny!