flights

A couple of years ago, I worked on a project that had me flying to LA on a weekly basis. I flew Southwest Airlines, and I had it down to a science: I would check in online exactly 24 hours before my flight (securing a spot in the coveted “A” group), then I would drive to the Oakland airport the next day, go through security and show up at the gate – usually – no more than five minutes before boarding.

One day, however, the website rejected my attempt to check in, and so did the kiosk at the airport. I had to go to an agent at the counter, who informed me that I was flagged because “someone with a similar name” was on the terrorist watch list. Noting my raised eyebrows, she helpfully added, “Don’t worry, it’s just your last name.”

For those who don’t know, my last name is Smith. To this day I believe that this itself was the act of terrorism – inconveniencing every Smith attempting to travel.

Now, apparently, the US Terrorist Watch List has grown to nearly a million names, which either means we’re all goin’ to Gitmo, or the list is almost completely useless.

There is an upside. The hysteria responsible for inflating the list is something the average person can exploit to address problems they might be having with friends or loved ones, like this guy did.

Seriously though, the super-sized list and shenanigans like that Swedish dude’s can’t be making things easy for the folks at Homeland Security. So how, you might ask, are they cutting through all the noise and nonsense?

Falafel. That’s right. Those clever FBI agents figure that if you follow the falafel trail, you’ll find the terrorists.

Brilliant! I feel safer already.

It really bugs me… They say, ‘Oh, David Beckham – he’s not very clever.’ Yeah. They don’t say, ‘Stephen Hawking – shit at football.’

- Paul Calf

As I mentioned recently, I attended my 20-year high school reunion last month, and I enjoyed myself. I haven’t been very good about keeping in touch with people, and it was good to see friends I was once very close to.

One of my good friends from high school was (very) pregnant during the reunion weekend, and the other day I received the news that she gave birth to her fourth child, and first daughter. Four kids. A surprising number of my classmates are now parents of three or four kids. One of my classmates has six!

I have to admit I struggled with what to say to my friend with the new baby. On one hand, she is an amazing person, meaning there’s a good possibility that her kids will be amazing people. Probably already are. On the other hand, I’ve become acutely aware lately, for some reason, of overpopulation and the stress that humans are putting on this planet’s resources.

The world’s population is at 6.6 billion right now and rising by 1 million every four days. Whether or not you believe humans are causing – or at least exacerbating – global warming, or think it’s a problem, here are some other frightening factoids that have little to do with climate change:

The number of large fish in the world’s oceans is estimated to be just 10% of what it was in 1950, mostly due to over-fishing but also polluting of the oceans and rising water temperatures. That’s 90% depletion in just over 50 years, and scientists project a near total annihilation by the year 2050 without some radical intervention.

There is a swirling stew of plastic twice the size of Texas floating between California and Hawaii that didn’t exist in 1945, and it’s growing tenfold every decade.

The US has the resources to sustain less than half of its current population of 300 million. If all 6 billion people were to share the world’s resources equally, Americans would have to reduce consumption by 80%.

By 2040, we will need to triple the global food supply in order to meet the basic food needs of the 9 to 11 billion people who are expected to be alive. But doing so would require a 1,000 percent increase in the total energy expended in food production. Meanwhile, food production is expected to have decreased by then because of a variety of factors (water shortages, land shortages, energy shortages).

Even if projections like these are off by 15 to 20%, which is highly unlikely, it’s clear that much of the planet is screwed if we keep cranking out babies. And kids being born today are entering a world that won’t be able to support them.

Is there any one of us who doesn’t see with our own eyes how the nature we enjoyed as kids has diminished during our lifetime and given way to sprawling suburbs and industry?

By the year 2050, the earth simply will not be able to support an acceptable standard of living for hundreds of millions of the 9 billion people who will be using it. And you can be certain that when water and food become truly scarce, the privileged and wealthy of the world will go to great lengths to keep what’s left for themselves. The gap between the haves and the have-nots will become wider than you can imagine. Luckily, I suppose, we are among the haves.

I want to congratulate my classmates on their fertility, but the bottom line is if you have more than two children, you are part of the problem.

Simple as that.

This evening on my way home from work, one of my neighbors boarded my bus. Immediately I started to imagine the walk from our stop to our respective homes – trying to come up with ways to avoid a two-block conversation with her and contingency planning for the possibility of being trapped into one.

It occurred to me that this was a defining scenario for the introvert vs. extrovert question. My response was the natural one for an introvert. I imagine an extrovert would have been delighted to see a familiar face on the bus, would have relished the chance to chat as a welcome bit of serendipity. Maybe it’s a matter of degrees – of familiarity. If it was my friend who boarded the bus, rather than a neighbor whose name escapes me, I would have happily closed my book in favor of conversation.

This is something I envy about extroverted people. To me they seem fearless, fluid and… well… friendlier. My career has often required me to push through or around my introvert tendencies, to play the role of an extrovert. It takes a lot of effort and always makes me uncomfortable, but I play the role convincingly enough that my colleagues laugh when I tell them I’m naturally introverted.

So, as the bus climbed the long hill to my street, I resolved to embrace the challenge of my situation. I would be fearless, fluid, friendly. I would engage my neighbor in conversation. I couldn’t remember her name, but no matter. That would be my first question: “I’m sorry, I can’t remember your name. I’m Shawn.”

When the bus stopped, she was the first to the door. It opened, and she walked straight out the door and to the left around a parked car. I, however, shot diagonally to the right and slipped through a narrow gap between two other parked cars. My way was shorter, and I was instantly six or seven paces ahead of her.

Conversation was out of the question.