Socializing flight anxiety


Mount Hood from UAL

Originally uploaded by moyalynne

… and other tales from “Web 2.0 meets the Enterprise”

Last weekend, I flew from San Francisco to Portland (and back again) with Leanne and Lucy for Leanne’s 20th high-school reunion. A pretty normal event (the flight — maybe not the reunion!) for most people. If you know me, you know it was a sheer panic attack for me (the flight — actually the reunion was ok!).

I know I know I know I Know I KNOW: “flying is safer than driving,” “you’ll have less luck crossing Market Street in San Francisco,” “these things can pretty much fly themselves,” and all that bit. I’ve been active on fear-of-flying message boards, gone for hypnosis, worn the rubber band, and done the whole gamut to try to analyze and overcome. In the end, for the present, at least, as little advanced notice as possible coupled with as many pills as I can safely take up until, at, and after the point of embarkation, are what keep me from running off the plane (which I hear they don’t like you to do). That, and trying to stay connected with every single person around me. Oh, and thanks for your hand, Leanne, you can have it back now (if I haven’t mangled it too much).

It was no different on the United flights this last weekend. Sweaty palms the night before turned to downright soggy Moya an hour or before the flight. Pills and my daughter and my wife kept me relatively sane, but of course, the whole thing — both flights — were perfectly beautiful and utterly uneventful (and the flight attendants were supportive) — and the views were nice, as I always find them to be. But one thing was a bit different, and maybe helped me feel a bit more, shall we say, grounded.

The difference this time was that I decided to “crowdsource” my flight anxiety, openly “coming out” about it via Twitter , and asking for help. What should happen but all these people — some I know well, some I don’t know at all — went out of their way to respond with kind words to me: @hambox, @calipidder, @panthea, @finnern, @residentgeek, @jyarmis, and of course @lwaldal. With their generosity, they formed a bridge for me between my isolating anxiety and tolerability.

Some people say that this anxiety reflects a wrestling with a lack of control — but for me, it seems that *being connected* is the key. In the past, I’ve gone up to meet the pilots. I’ve insisted on pre-boarding, and have to identify myself to whatever flight attendant I see when I get on the plane — sometimes they are sympathetic, sometimes they look a little freaked, like they’re wondering if I’m going to be “one of those.” Usually they offer alcohol gratis at one point during the flight. So the connection keeps me going. Perhaps the day I can stay connected online during the flight, it will be all the better.

Whether it’s lack of control or staying connected, it strikes me (of course) that there is a parable for “Web 2.0 and the Enterprise” here. People are saying lately that Web 2.0 for the Enterprise really needs to be about secure internal networks over which we can remain protected, determine permissions, and wield access control. I say the big disruption comes from breaking down, or at least in the attempts to break down, exactly those barriers. Call me crazy (by now you probably are), but once again I find that opening up is the key.

We’ve been playing around with a lot of Enterprise-Internal twitterclones lately and I often find myself confused about whether I should post — or am posting — “publicly” or not. Then there are the several different levels of “public” itself, and “follow” — within your whole company, or a hand-picked group? And the groups themselves: we’ve got people inside our company who don’t want to be talking to other teams much less to the whole company much less publicly. To me as a person, I find these levels of fragmentation confusing.

Of course — there are company-internal and group-internal secrets and plenty of good reason not to be open about everything all the time. And it’s often unwise or illegal to be open — and for good reason — and sometimes it’s just downright hard. But come on: if we’re honest, how much of what we’re closed about is really going to be a competitive secret? Like the good folks at Metaweb say regarding Freebase — is it really a competitive disadvantage if companies share their information about coffees (I think it was Colin Evans who said this at the Web 2.0 Expo)? Some of it is simply about being generous with information — and your person. So time and again I return to just how amazing it is when people *do* cast away these boundaries and access levels (for whatever reason) and truly “come out” in whatever way they want to, without having to think “Oh no — who’s going to see this? I better not say it then.”

That “fear-to-the-wind” moment is what happened to me last weekend, and you can ridicule my anxiety if you want, but I asked for and found a new place for the connection I needed, and furthermore, in the process know a little bit more about those environments in which I thrive best.

Opening up – I don’t care whether it’s to your colleague or to a total stranger or to the passenger next to you – that is the fight-or-flight, and that is the key.

Mirah and Spectratone International at Swedish American

If you haven’t been to the Swedish American Hall in San Francisco, you’re really missing out on something bizarre. I’ve been there a few times — it’s only a couple blocks from where we live — and it delights in its oddity each time. It’s like a cross between an old church and some sort of old nordic community center, replete with fachwerk, tall pointy pre-vatican-looking chairs, and dusty Market-Street-fronting windows up front, with a claustrophobic, usually cold music space at the back. (And yes, I’m babbling a bit because I’m flying on an airplane tomorrow and past blog posts, if tagged appropriately, attest to what happens to me when that happens.)

So it was the perfect place for the absolutely divine and bizarre Mirah — and Spectratone International — show this last Monday, September 8, revolving around Mirah’s latest Share This Space — revelations surrounding insects.

I admit, at first I did not think I was going to make it through the whole thing. The animation projected onto the circular screen directly above the band was technically awesome, but making me queasy. Various insects including dung beatles and glow worms — all fabricated — appeared to be burrowing into stocking-clad skin, while other slimy concoctions were sliding along the floor and some were breathing stickily in and out. Mirah’s vocal command and ethereal insect-related lyrics were fighting for my command — but I was losing track and I did want to vomit just a little bit. So that was terribly effective.

Let me say while I am at it that the accompanying four-piece Spectratone International was outstanding. The band suited Mirah incredibly well and blended together beautifully, nobody particularly outshining another but complimenting the vocals — and the insect presentation.

A fellow called Kane played an incredible instrument called the oud – a lovely guitar. Lori played just about the hottest cello I’ve ever seen. Kyle on accordion was great. And Jane Hall on percussion was utterly captivating, seeming to perform magic with her hands.

And I can say that by the end, especially with the revolving blue Q-Tip fuzzling (this was I believe a reference to a butterfly), I was utterly spellbound. OK — I guess I should finish with the superlatives.

Let me just close with this: The extra goodies that Mirah and the band threw in at the end neatly sealed the deal, and the set has been resounding through my head ever since. One standout was Windmills of Your Mind — and when Mirah was singing about the hands, I swear she could have been singing about the percussionist blending into her voice from across the stage. Nice chemistry, gals!

OH TCHO


‘nutty’ has arrived!’

Originally uploaded by moyalynne

Oh! TCHO! Just like Blue Bottle Coffee, you are ruining me for all the others; you are killing me quite nicely. I received your shipment of “Nutty” today. At once, all other chocolates lapse from my mind as mere impostors — and that is a tall order.

Let me try to repeat what happened with me when I uncorked “Nutty” today:

  • (tears open unobtrusive brown paper wrapper,) MMM, smells good
  • (places square in mouth,) Smooth texture; calm silky chocolate (at first!)
  • (chews chocolate,) Wow — powerful flavor. Nutty? I don’t taste nutty. I taste — wait a minute! — An onslaught of coffee (is that Blue Bottle?) — strikes my tongue, fills my head, removes all traces of worry or care in the world — In The World!
  • (swallows,) Kazaam — I Must Always Eat This Chocolate
  • (thoughts of peanut butter well up briefly but are overcome by aroma of coffee,) I will have more — but I must wait, briefly, to assimilate this experience —
  • (lingers…,) Ahh, I taste this chocolate for a loooong time after chewing and swallowing. This is a reallllly long finish.
  • (after the finish…,) Nutty — oh, Nutty? Ahh — yes, maybe — minutes later! I Still Taste the Chocolate — is that a Nutty aftertaste? aha. aha… more, please.

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