Doyle held a meeting today at work. I have to say that I really like the people at the office, though the commute is rough. If I don't plan, and manage to catch the train, the hour commute each way is PAINFUL.

I, fortunately, arrived early enough to make the meeting, which was held at lunch at Macks BBQ in San Bruno. The weather is wonderful, Doyle was driving (complete with heckling about my taking pictures up my nose), the meal promised to be great (boy did I choose a bad day to change to a vegan diet), how could I not go?

The place even had carbonated lemon soda. Man, this place was great.

Because what we need to do is spend $500 a year just to have the card.

What I really want to know is if this black card really has the purchasing power of a real black card, the card that opens up stores at 1:00am because that's when you want to shop.

I went over to Google today for a javascript meetup. I've been trying to be more active and involved in the various communities, groups and events that living in the Bay Area offers. This event was one in a small series of potentially interesting topics. I arrived, parked the car, and wandered around to the front of the building, not really sure where I was going, having only the building number.

When I arrived at the front of the building, the main door had a key pad on it. Okay, that wasn't the right door, so I asked the guy standing next to the door, with a key card in his hand. "Hi, I'm here for a javascript meetup. I'm supposed to go into this building, but I see this door requires a key card, and the lobby is dark. Can you help me?"

"Uh...."

"Could you suggest where I can try next to get into this building?"

"Uh, no?"

A little stupified, and more than a little annoyed, I asked, "Is there another door to this building, or is this the only door available?"

"Oh, yeah, around the corner," he answered, pointing to my left.

"Thanks," I offered, and started walking away, completely amazed that the company that supposedly hires the best and the brightest clearly missed the mark with some of its employees. Maybe lessons in "common sense" should be on their 20% agenda.

So, I wandered around to the next door, and found it happily open, with the lights streaming into the lobby and a small line of people waiting to sign in. I stood in line and, when I was second in line behind the guy entering in his information, I tried to see what he was typing so that I knew what to expect. I missed most of his work, as he shifted his body over to prevent my viewing the screen.

Because, you know, I wouldn't be able to read his nametag on his chest after he signed in.

So, when it was my turn, and the second page of options had more than one perfectly valid answer, I asked him, "What did you mark for the reason for the visit?" he threw up his hands and yelled at me, "OH I DON'T KNOW!"

Everyone in the lobby turned to look at us. I smiled. "Well, then, I'll just put down social visit here." He walked away.

Google is looking a little tired these days, I have to say. The energy and excitement of the place is totally gone. The enthusiasm of the campus, once so overwhelming, was absent, too. I can't say I felt any of the tech love that just oozed from the buildings. Instead, the place felt cold and down. Even the seats in the auditorium we were in are, well, a lot worn:

Of course, that could have been because I had people yelling at me and staring at me. The first not so enjoyable. The second can be entertaining, appropriately applied.

The actual meetup was a little weird, too. About 10 minutes into the first presentation, which wasn't the expected first talk, a group of four Asian kids walked into the room. Okay, not kids per se, they were in their early 20s or so. They couldn't have been too old, as a few moments later, a girl walked in, clearly knowing the other four. Close to her hip, an an old woman walked in behind her. The girl quickly sat down in the last empty seat in the first row, next to the four guys, leaving the old woman to wander and find her own seat. A few moments later, an even older guy came in and spent the next 10 minutes wandering back and forth and back and forth in the rows looking for a seat.

I couldn't figure out if these two really old people were really interested in javascript. More power to them, if they are. if they aren't, good lord, you ignornant, disrepsectful, asshole kids, find f---ing seats for your parents.

The talks themselves were, unfortunately, not what I was interested in hearing about. Although I was impressed somewhat with the first talk, and unsure of the point of the second talk, the third talk was fun, but not as applicable to my project as I had hoped it would be. I think my next JS approach is going to be a post to the list asking for help instead of trying face to face.

Having bought an "adult" scooter a few months ago, I hadn't really had a chance to ride it yet. Since my car service light went on, I figured I'd take the opportunity to scoot scoot home from the train station after taking the train down from the station close to the dealership.

One of the first items in the Caution! section of the scooter instruction manual is the suggestion to push off one foot for 10 or so steps, then switch feet to push 10 or so steps from the other foot. I tried this, and quickly discovered that, without a doubt, I am goofy footed. All those times I suggested during snowboarding that I could ride either way? No. I'm goofy all the way.

Though, with enough scooting, that could change, I guess.

I managed to go the wrong way down a path, and circle around along the Stevens Creek trail. I'm not sure who thought it was a good idea to put a beautiful trail under the thundering concrete of a freeway, but said person was a moron. That has to be one of the most nervewracking trails ever built. EVER.

I did manage to scoot home in about 30 minutes. Not quite the 50% savings in time that Beth manages with her scooter, but, well, for a first time out, a 33% savings isn't so bad.

The bonus? I didn't crash.