It's up to you Hunt Valley, Hunt Valley

Let me begin by saying that we had an absolutely wonderful time in New York City last weekend. It was just the ride back that wasn't quite so nice.

As brilliantly depicted, at left, in an original Uncle Louis rendition, um, well, the Hunt Valley Motor Coach tour bus we were riding caught fire.

It happened soon after we pulled out of the Lincoln Tunnel, heading home. A bunch of drivers around us starting honking and pointing at the underside of the bus. The driver pulled over by the first off-ramp and said everybody had to get off because the bus was on fire. We could smell the smoke.

This is where the fun started. We were towards the back of the bus and a bunch of people ahead of us starting making a big deal about getting all of their shopping bags out. So we're standing there, the bus on fire, while a few women tried to get their Macy's bags together. I eventually convinced them to move their asses.

(There was one guy, by the way, who refused to get off the bus. He sat there until the police made him get off.)

So we stood on the side of the road while the fire department put out the fire. Then they loaded us back onto the bus and towed us to an overpass where we waited in the hot sun for another two hours until they could get another bus for us. One of the Secaucus police officers was kind enough to buy a case of water for the parched passengers. We eventually made it home sometime after 1 a.m.

But perhaps more upsetting than the actual incident is Hunt Valley's poor customer service in dealing with it. In short, they were nonplussed, offering a mere $20 in compensation per passenger. They acted as if it happens all the time.

Only a few days later did I learn that, apparently, it does happen all of the time. Three days after our trip, another illustrious piece of the Hunt Valley fleet, this one leaving St. Louis, caught fire.

My phone calls to Hunt Valley have gone unreturned and a letter is on its way to the bus company's owner. Being the frequent customers that we are, you'd think they'd want us to be happy.

So what will Hunt Valley do? Will the company do the right thing and offer each person a free trip? Will they pay back the kind police officer who bought us bottled water? Time will tell. And when it does, I'll tell you too.

A dollar here, a caffeine pill there

In a little more than three weeks, I, along with my family and friends, will stay up and walk all night in an effort to raise money for the American Cancer Society. For my sleep apnea-ridden self, it should be quite interesting to see how awake I manage to stay.

I've never actually pulled an all-nighter, not even in college. I stayed up late many Sunday nights as we tried to meet our deadline for the college newspaper, but I never made it the whole entire night.

So in preparation for Relay for Life, I've got the caffeine pills and Diet Coke all ready to go. I do, however, need something else -- specifically, a few more donations. See I'm not just doing this walk for the free pizza at midnight.

I'm doing this to raise as much money as possible for cancer research. Is this a little selfish of me? Sure. As a two-time cancer survivor, I have a vested interest in making sure that cancer research and other important program are well-financed. But I'm not the only one who will benefit from the fundraising so I suppose I can consider myself slightly benevolent. Slightly.

My team, the Semicolons, has done an awesome job of fundraising so far. As of this moment, we've raised a total of $4,137.40. Pretty impressive, don't you think? But we still have a few weeks left and we might as well raise more money.

So, you want to donate? Great! That's exactly what I wanted to hear. Luckily for you, making a donation is incredibly easy. Just click here and enter my name. You can make a donation right there online using your credit card.

If you're not so comfortable with online stuff, you can make a check out to the American Cancer Society and mail it to me. I'll make sure it gets turned in by the May 31 deadline.

To all of you who have already donated, I thank you very much. Your contributions will help those who weren't as lucky as I was.

And now, as I get ready for the night of June 10-11, I think I will go take a nap. I'm going to need all the sleep I can get in preparation for the big all-nighter.

Sign, signs, everywhere signs (but not for long)

My father has always had a lot of causes, but chief among them would be the annoying roadside signs that pop up all over the community. By default, this is one of my pet peeves as well.

These annoying signs started littering the area in the late 80s and early 90s when there was a lot of new home construction. Each developer tried to outdo the next with a larger, more fluorescent sign, leading potential buyers toward its development and promises of a free bonus room.

More recently, it's not the developer signs that have become an issue but rather the "work at home," "meet singles in your area," and "need a mortgage" signs that proliferate every corner. Oh, and of course the "100 signs for $100" sign is all over the place.

Over the years my father has made it his personal mission to remove these signs at any opportunity. They're not just an eyesore, you see, but also a traffic hazard. In addition to making it distracting and difficult to see around busy intersections, the signs also fall into disrepair and cars can pop a tire by accidentally hitting a warped wood post or metal insert laying in the street. (Yes, I've actually done this.)

The signs themselves, located in the public right-of-way, have actually been illegal for quite a while. By county code, each sign is subject to a $500 per day fine. The problem is that the code only allowed a county inspector to remove the signs and as you might have guessed, they didn't exactly do that.

It's this long history of fighting the illegally-placed signs that makes a recent action by the Baltimore County Council all the more sweet. Finally, the council has taken a non-developer oriented stance and will allow citizens to legally remove these illegally placed signs.

So watch out illegal signs: Your days are numbered. And I can see the back of my father's van filling up very quickly these days.

The best five dollars he ever spent

Today my grandparents celebrate 68 years of wedded bliss.

For those of you keeping track, that translates into four children, nine grandchildren, three great grandchildren, a jewelry store, a hardware store, and an optical lab.
And they're still just as much in love today as they were back on their wedding day... probably even moreso.

"There is nothing in this world that I wouldn't do for him, and nothing he wouldn't do for me," my grandmother says.

I can listen to the story of how my grandparents met over and over again. My grandmother, on the advice of her sisters, got all dolled up and went to a practice for a local musical arts group where my grandfather, a saxophone player, performed with the orchestra. Despite the warnings of her father to stay away from those musician types, my grandmother thought my grandfather was cute and kept going back to see him.

As the only one of the group with a car, my grandfather got stuck driving everybody else home. At the beginning he would drop off my grandmother first because she lived the farthest from him. But after a few nights, he dropped everyone else off and would take her home last so he could have some time alone with her.

Grandpa jokes that he knew they were getting married when his father bought them a bedroom set. Adorably enough, it's the same bedroom set that they still use, complete with the double bed they've shared for all of these years. (How they managed to sleep in a double bed together all these years is beyond me. My husband and I have a king size bed and if I can even see him over on the other side, he's too close.)

My grandfather often jokes that he got off really easy when it came to paying for the wedding because his only expense was the marriage license. "It was the best five dollars I ever spent," he said.

My grandmother's wedding band, the same one I wore for my wedding, is the very first piece of jewelry my grandfather designed and crafted. (In addition to his talents as a musician, my grandfather is also an amazing artist and jewelry designer.)

So what's the secret to such a long and happy marriage? Grandma says the key is to always be willing to go more than halfway. She claims they've never had a fight in all of these years but Grandpa says she just has bad hearing and a short memory.

While I'm hardly the sentimental type, I can't help but share a few comments that my grandmother made during a visit a few months back. (My brother was smart enough to take notes.) Seriously, how can this not be the cutest thing ever?

"Marriage is forever. When you say I do, you are making that promise for life."

"Everything in a relationship is give and take. Sometimes you give more, and sometimes you get more. In the end it all balances out."

"Love your children equally, but all for different reasons. That way when another child comes into your life, you can love them just as much without taking anything from the others."

"The key to a great marriage is happiness. Strive to make your partner happy, and you will be happy."

Happy Anniversary, Grandma & Grandpa!

An open letter to my fellow subway riders

The New York City government recently took a drastic step and decided to legislate something that many citizens lack: Common sense.

According to the New York Times, the city will soon start fining people whose cell phone goes off in a theater, those whose car alarms go off for more than three minutes, and my favorite, the selfish subway riders who put their feet up and take more than one seat.

Now I'm not entirely comfortable with the idea of legislating manners. In fact, I'm not comfortable with it at all. So instead, I think I'll just write a friendly letter to the patrons whom I share the Baltimore subway with on a daily basis.

Hey subway people,

It's me -- you know, the girl that keeps her head buried in a book or newspaper at all times and tries to pretend she's not on the subway? Oh, come on... you know me. I'm the one who showers every single day and doesn't have one of those annoying Nextel phones that alternates beeping and static. That has to narrow it down to three or four people. Still not sure? I always wear headphones when I'm listening to music. Oh, and I'd be the one who has never elbowed an elderly person out of the way in an attempt to grab one of the seats reserved for the handicapped.

Anyway, I just wanted to make a few suggestions on how to make the daily subway ride a little more pleasant for those around you. The first topic I would like to discuss is hygiene.

While I certainly encourage good hygiene, and heaven knows several of you have a long way to go, the subway isn't really the place for your primping. Now I'm okay with an occasional make-up check or running a brush through your hair, but I'd really appreciate it if you'd save your nail clipping for later. It's one of those things you really shouldn't do in public. The same goes for those of you who like to apply or remove nail polish on the train. The smell is, well, nauseating at best. An unventilated train isn't the best place for your manicure.

The next set of people I'd like to address are the seat hogs. These come in a few different forms. There are the ones who get on when the train is empty and spread out across two seats but then don't adjust when the train soon becomes crowded. I don't care if you spread out when there's no one else around, but when people are falling over one another and packed in like sardines, it wouldn't hurt for you to move your leg.

Similarly, if you're an able-bodied person, it would be nice if you would offer your seat to someone who isn't quite as lucky. That means when you see someone get on who might be elderly, uses a cane, or for some other reason, may need a seat that day, you can stand up and see if they might want to sit down. They may say no so you may get off easy. And if you're in the seats reserved for the elderly/handicapped, just move your ass please.

I also have a special message to the five young gentleman on the subway yesterday afternoon who thought it was a riot to pry the doors open while the subway was in motion. Do you really have that much confidence in the construction and maintenance of the Baltimore subway system? If so, you're far more optimistic than I am. You know the same people who can't keep the escalators running for more than 13 minutes at a time? They're the same ones working on the trains. If you want to be sucked out of a moving subway car that's fine, but please wait until I get off. I'd rather read about it in tomorrow's paper.

Well guys, I don't want this to run too long because I know you're eager to get off and smoke that cigarette, but if you could wait until you actually leave the train station before lighting up, those of us who don't enjoy a face full of smoke on the escalator would be forever grateful.

Actually, now that we're talking escalators, I do need to add a few more things. I'm thinking that whole walk-left/stand-right thing really may need to be legislated because for some reason, some of you just aren't getting it. And you're the same people who get annoyed when someone says "excuse me" and tries to squeeze past you.

Another escalator-related issue comes when a train arrives and everyone tries to get on the escalator immediately. Perfectly understandable, considering we're all in a hurry these days. But did you notice that line of people waiting patiently to board? Just out of curiosity, why is it that they should wait in line while you just push your way in? I'm sure you have someplace to be but I was just thinking that if you're that important, you might be an interesting person to talk to on one of our daily treks.

Well, that's it for now. I know this ran a little long but hey, with all the train delays, you should have plenty of time for reading!

Thanks everybody, and I'll see you on the subway!

Politely yours,
AlisaBS

The Lady Terps, aka "Overtime is our time"

I have to admit it. I was happy to wake up this morning to reports of small-scale rioting and fires in College Park. I was actually hoping the students at the University of Maryland would show some support, even drunken revelry, for their national champion Lady Terps.

Now I don't typically advocate this sort of thing, but I think it's important for the school to show its excitement as it would had the men's basketball team won.

It takes a lot for me to sit through more than a few minutes of a basketball game but last night's NCAA Women's Basketball championship game between Duke and Maryland kept me riveted. Usually I'm of the belief that a basketball game should last no more than five minutes because it's only the last few minutes that make a difference in most games. Last night's overtime win over the Blue Devils showed that. Of course the Lady Terps also came from 13 points behind earlier in the game so my theory might be somewhat flawed.

(As a side note, I'm also of the belief that basketball should only be played by short people. If you're 6 foot something, you should be a good basketball player. You should be able to dunk. I want to see people my height playing the game, a la Muggsy Bogues. Midget basketball is good basketball.)

But back to the Lady Terps who deserve today's focus. They played a great game, coming from behind to force the game into overtime. They looked thoroughly excited to have won and they should. Not only did they make it to the NCAA tournament, which their counterparts on the men's team could not do, they tore through the bracket and beat Duke. Every victory is sweeter when it's against Duke.

So celebrate your win today ladies, but please, whatever you do, don't turn into arrogant players like the men's team has. You're better than that.

Who I am, according to Baltimore Magazine

I need a really expensive house and a bunch of plastic surgery. Baltimore Magazine told me so.

Okay, so technically that's what Baltimore Magazine's advertisers are telling me, but you get the point.

I'm pretty sure I fall into the 99-year-old magazine's intended demographics. I'm a married, late 20-something professional, who dines out regularly, goes to the theater, and, in theory (only in theory, I might add), I have disposable income because I'm childless. Now I don't live within the city limits, but I think Baltimore Magazine still hopes to attract suburbanites like myself. With all of the lavish houses out in the Valley advertised for sale at a mere $7 million, apparently county or country living isn't all bad.

It's actually quite interesting to flip through an issue of the magazine and learn just who it is that's supposed to be living in Baltimore. I have to be honest: When I think of Baltimore, ritzy socialites don't come to mind. I picture a high murder rate. I picture an out-of-control drug culture, filled with violence, absentee parents, and illiteracy. I picture the Baltimore I see on the subway everyday.

While I do acknowledge the success of some revitalization efforts, you're still not going to see me walking around the outside of the Hippodrome at night. I ride the subway everyday to and from work and I can tell you that Baltimore is not as high-brow, upper-crust, and hoity-toity as advertisers may want to believe.

But Baltimore Magazine thinks that's the real Baltimore, or at least its readership. According to its website, "Baltimore magazine readers are educated, affluent professionals with an average investment portfolio worth almost $200,000. They use credit cards almost twice as often as the national average. Eight out of ten readers read every issue and nine out of ten use the magazine to make buying decisions."

Of course I'm in no position to tell the advertisers what does and doesn't work. Obviously they're seeing some sort of return if they continue to run high-priced ads in the glossy monthly. Someone out there must be reading it and agree that, yes, cosmetic dentistry is a must, and I really do need to trade in that 05 Mercedes/Lexus/Hummer/Bentley for a newer model.

I don't begrudge those who can spend with reckless abandon. I simply doubt they're as prevalent as the magazine indicates. Is there a small sub-culture of the cultured (and filthy rich) living among us that I just don't know about? If so, where do I sign up? I'm ready for my $148 umbrella that's pictured on page 94 of the April issue. The broken ones littering the streets of downtown on rainy days just bring me down.

Beware the Terps of March

It's a rough time for Maryland basketball fans. It's gotten so that rioting and setting fires just isn't fun anymore.

Just a few short years ago Terps fans watched as their team, led by the likes of Juan Dixon and Steve Blake, plowed through the big dance and emerged victorious.

Oh how the snotty have fallen.

As if a lackluster season wasn't bad enough, Maryland's men's basketball team apparently felt the need to make sure they went out on an equally sour note, losing to Manhattan in the first round of the NIT.

Originally Coach Gary Williams said his team didn't want to play in the NIT. Well guess what, Gary. It showed.

Senior forward Nik Caner-Medley summed up the team's feelings by saying they just weren't into it.

"This whole year is embarrassing," Caner-Medley told The Baltimore Sun following the game. "Not making the NCAA tournament is embarrassing. Obviously we wanted to be in the NCAA tournament, and I think we probably would've played better if we were [there]."

I feel for you, Nik. I really do. You see I can only pretend to know what you must be going through. You've had nearly four years of a free college education now and all you'll have to show for it is a degree a lot of national exposure. That must be tough. I, on the other hand, have nearly $50,000 in student loans to show for my education.

I guess when it comes to spoiled demagogues like Caner-Medley, it takes more exciting things to get hyped up... exciting things like his July 2004 arrest for disorderly conduct following a drunken brawl.

Then there's senior Chris McCray, the player deemed academically ineligible in January when his GPA fell below a 2.0. (Incidentally, McCray officially withdrew from classes just a few days ago, obviously crippled by the concept that some professors expected him to attend class every once in a while.) His parents must be so proud. Afterall, this comes on the heels of his August 2005 arrest in College Park after refusing to leave the scene of a fight.

Okay, so let's see what we have here. There's a coach who makes millions of dollars a year who feels that playing in anything other than the NCAA tourney is beneath him. Then there's a few holier-than-thou college athletes who have been given a free ride yet can't seem to appreciate it. Oh, and let's not forget the multi-million dollar state-of-the-art Comcast Center where the pampered players can work and play.

Gosh, how could things have gone so wrong? Something tells me the results might have been a bit better if all that money and attention went into the school's academics instead of thuggery training. Of course the parties after a mock trial competition just aren't as cool.

Circus, Circus, and yes, Circus

It's probably bad for my image to admit this but I will anyway: My husband and I are circus geeks. Most people would find it more than adequate to go to the circus once a year. Not us. Once again, we'll be attending the Ringling Brothers circus three times this year.

Before you scoff, you have to understand something: There's not just one circus. There are actually three Ringling Brothers Circuses (Circi?) currently traveling the country. There's the Red Tour (which stars Bello, the best clown ever), the Gold Tour, and the all new Blue Tour.

This year we will attend two performances of the Red Tour (one in Baltimore and one in D.C.) and then finish out the circus season with the all new Blue Tour in Hershey, Pa. (For the past two years we've traveled to New York for our third show.)

I'm particularly excited to see the all new Blue Tour this year which promises to revolutionize the circus-going experience. No more three ring circus, they say. Instead, it's supposed to be more Cirque de Soleil and less cirque de kids screaming.

Of course I'm also looking forward to the two Blue Tour performances where Bello is the star. He's not just a clown, you see. He's an acrobat, athlete, and death-defying stunt performer. Take that stupid French clown David Larible. (In the interest of full disclosure, Larible is technically Italian, but you have to admit that "stupid French clown" sounds much better.)

But it's not all about the clowns. The other performers and all of the amazing animals quite a treat. Rich loves Crazy Wilson and the wheel of death. I love the way the elephants all line up and take the tail of the one in front of them. And please, you can't not get a rush when you see Mark Oliver Gebel, son of the famed lion tamer Gunther Gebel Williams, work with the giant pachyderms or dance with the big cats.

Surprisingly my experiences with the greatest show on earth didn't start out so great. I had a terrible case of the flu for my very first circus visit, around the time I was six years old. At my urging, my father decided to take me anyway. My only memory of that circus visit is that a canon went off somewhere and I vomited soon thereafter.

I'm glad to say my recent circus memories are far happier ones... except for the $17 cotton candy. Two years ago, Bello came right up to the seat in front of us and sat down for a picture. Maybe this year will be even better and Rich will finally get a turn on the wheel of death.

This is probably only interesting to me

Recently I dined at The Waterfront Hotel, a Fells Point restaurant best known for its role as the bar on Homicide. While the good food and great view of the water are enough to attract most people to the year-old establishment, this restaurant has special significance to me as it was where my great-grandmother grew up. While there, I couldn't help but look around and try to imagine what life must have been life for her in late 19th and early 20th century Baltimore.

The Waterfront's website provides a little information about the building's history (like the fact that it built as a private residence in 1771 or that it's the second oldest brick building in Baltimore) but I still wanted to know more. The only thing I could remember was that my great-grandmother, Mom-mom, lived in the house during the Baltimore fire of 1904. When I was young, she told me about how they waited for the fire to move from east to west across the city and wondered whether it would make it to them.

For more information, I checked with my father who said he didn't really know much about the time my great-grandmother lived there but reminded me of a family history written by my great-grandmother before her death. Sure enough, in checking this family history, I found out a few interesting details that I will now share with you.

One of eight children, Mom-mom estimates that her family moved to the house at 1710 Thames Street around 1900. (She would have been around 8 years old at the time.) Her father had been running a men's clothing store around the corner on Bond Street and the family lived above it. The landlord, though, who also happened to be a cousin, was upset because the location did so well. The cousin decided he wanted to set up his own shop there and my great-grandmother's family had to move. "As soon as they moved, the cousins moved into the corner store, and that was the beginning of a feud that was worse than the Hatfields and the McCoys," my great-grandmother recalled.

So back to the Thames Street house. Mom-mom said that in its day, the place must have been a mansion because it was so big. "The rooms were enormous, with plaster cornices," she said. "There was a wide hallway with a magnificent stairway and balustrade running to the third floor." (By the way, if anyone knows what a balustrade is, let me know. I was too lazy to Google it.)

The store was on the ground level of the house. Mom-mom went on to say that the first floor had a dining room and kitchen, the second floor was the living room and her parents' bedroom, and then the other bedrooms were on the third floor. Her father built a three-story extension on to the house that they rented out, mostly to other Polish immigrants. The house itself had no heat and relied on three stoves. Her brothers brought coal up from the cellar every morning so her mother could make the fires. Then there was the bathroom: "We had an outhouse with three holes and you had to be careful where you stepped," she said.

Incidentally, as a side note, I should mention that Mom-mom's brothers are a story all their own. Two of them, Ben and Herman, started Channel 13 (now known as WJZ) in Baltimore in 1948 and went on to buy Pimlico Race Track in 1952. It's nice to know that my ancestors had a part in Baltimore's history.

Mom-mom said that during the Baltimore fire in 1904, people from other neighborhoods sought refuge at their house because they were so close to the water. In preparation for the fire, her father hired a wagon and loaded the store's merchandise on it to save it. "The only problem was that he neglected to get horses to pull the wagon," Mom-mom noted.

It isn't entirely clear how long the family stayed on Thames Street. Looking through the family history, it appears that Mom-mom's father closed the store and the family moved to Clarksburg at some point. But after another business venture went bad in 1915, the family moved to 1207 North Broadway and her father opened the store again back at 1710 Thames. He sold men's clothing and items catering to sailors. In 1920, the family moved to Reisterstown Road.

I plan to return to the Waterfront in the near future. This time I want to explore a little more though. Now that I have a little more knowledge, I want to try to imagine what went where back in the early 1900s. Oh yeah, and the food is really good, too.