Kids These Days... (part deux)

In continuation of my last blog about recent college grads and their string of poor interviewing etiquette with me, I must admit I was pleasantly surprised with a one new interviewee. And, equally as disappointed with a separate one.

So, good news or bad news first? ... Alright, I'll go bad news first. So, as you are all aware, we're interviewing for a position on our editing staff. What characteristic do you think an "editor" might have? For example, go ahead and conjure up a few words that might sketch your image of an editor. Like, being a good writer, right? OK. Good. What else? Do you think an editor might, um, read? Surely, right? 

Well, I guess one of our interviewees thought she could slip by and become a great editor without being a good reader. 

What ticked off that my judgement? I asked a seemingly simple question to her: Who's your favorite author? 

After waffling for about 10 seconds (i.e., an eternity during an interview), she said she couldn't name one. 

OK, I thought. She must have a slew of writers she loves and can't just name one. So, I tried to help her out and asked her who her favorite five authors were so that she didn't have to choose just one. Seems I only made it worse.

"Um, well, I, um, I don't really, um, you know, um, read much," she said. "And, I don't remember any of their names if I do read their work."

Yes, red flags, alarms, toll bells, North Korea's nuclear bomb, whistles, etc., all went off in my head. Wow, I thought, can't she just make up a name? Like, just say Salinger, Fitzgerald, Hemingway, King, whatever. Geez, name ME as your favorite author if you can't think of one. 

A blank, sheepish, blush-filled face looked right at me. I don't even want to think about what my facial reaction was staring back at her.

Call me crazy, but I find it difficult for a person to be a good editor or writer without being a good reader. Our words, syntax and style shouldn't be learned via Ryan Seacrest's monologues on "American Idol" or from dialogue from the latest "Twilight" movie. 

But, there was redemption later that day when we interviewed another candidate. Perhaps she was reading my blog from last week (doubtful, but hey, I can dream, right?), but she did the rare deed of asking for my business card before she left for the day. Just as she was about to form the words "May I have your business card?", the conference room where the interview took place became a slow-motion "Matrix" scene where her mouth was moving -5 mph to utter those six magical words. I even thought I saw a rainbow appear behind her.

Hallelujah, I thought. They do exist.

Kids These Days...

What's up with kids these days? I've been interviewing recent college grads for the opening of our associate editor position at the mag, and seriously, have we forgotten how to teach our kids etiquette and manners? Please, if you're out there looking for a job, don't Linday Lohan yourself by creating a self-spectacle and not exuding normal professional manners.

Example #1: Dude, where's my thank-you note and follow up e-mail/letter/phone call?

Dude, isn't it just customary to send a follow-up e-mail to thank your interviewer for the chance to meet?... What? Do you think you can just wait around expecting an e-mail to arrive from me? Or, wait... Maybe it should be ME who should thank the candidates for the opportunity to interview them! Eureka! Maybe I've gotten it all wrong this whole time. 

Only one of my six strongest candidates was keen enough to do so. That's 16.6 frickin' percent. Sixteen percent is a horrible free throw shot percent, an atrocious batting average and barely above the abysmal New Jersey Nets' 14.6 percent win rate. And guess what? It's also an unacceptable rate of e-mail follow-up among these kids. 

[For the record, this season my flag football team's record completely sucked (2-8) and we managed to go better than 16.6 percent. That's pretty sad.]

Example #2: Sending an e-mail solely with attachments and no greeting message

If a person thinks they are actually going to get an interview by applying for a job with an e-mail whose subject line states "Applying for Associate Editor Job" and sending it only with a resume and cover letter attached, then you're just plain dumb. Seriously. Do I even need to explain why this is unacceptable?

Example #3: Not making your Facebook page private

We're all guilty of it. You know, party pics with red solo cups in hand and silly photos with half-naked people (well, everyone's guilty of it except me. You know, since I'm an angel). But hasn't the media and all your friends warned you about the perils of posting those photos? Like, in the event a potential employer has at all come out from behind a rock in the past five years to discover Facebook?

Example #4: Not asking for the potential employer's business card at the conclusion of the interview

Man, this was something that was ingrained in me at the end of college. Everyone I talked to advised me to conclude the interview with a sincere thanks, handshake and request of a business card. It kind of signals interest and a mature level of professionalism, no? NONE of these candidates have asked for my business card. One person even left without shaking my hand. Geez.

Listen, if you think I'm being harsh on these young'ins, then go ahead and think it. But this job's tough, and the job market is even tougher. We've already got to teach this person about the pitfalls of journalism and why it's still relevant in this age of Twitter, and it's disappointing we now have to teach them etiquette and manners, too. 

R.I.P. Cero / Hello Via Luna!

A new guido's in town. And Fort Lauderdale-lites should be prepared for an onslaught. 

The Ritz-Carlton Fort Lauderdale recently replaced its beloved restaurant Cero with a brand-new Italian grill restaurant, Via Luna. Cero coincidentally happened to be one of my favorite restaurants in all of Fort Lauderdale, and when I found out via a press release of its closing, I think I took it as hard as when my goldfish, Tigre, died (I'm still claiming he committed suicide over Thanksgiving break). I remember opening the e-mailed press release and struggled to understand why Cero -- a restaurant with sauces and combinations that were close to genius -- would be replaced.

After dining at Via Luna this week, I kinda sorta understand why. It seems the Ritz needed a change, as PR Director Michelle Payer said. Via Luna offers a beautiful menu of gorgeous seafood items and more that all have genuine flavors. I had a halibut over a pea risotto and jumbo shrimp over linguini with white wine sauce. 

As a card-carrying member of The Clean Plate Club, I appreciate a good, hearty meal. My hat's off to Via Luna as each plate left my sight with an approval from The Clean Plate Club. I noted to the guests in my party that the prices at Via Luna certainly aren't cheap (they started around $25 and went up from there). Because of that, I could appreciate the restaurant's obligation to serve a beautiful dish that's still filling.

I've known Executive Chef Christian Clair for a couple of years now, mostly via my business relation with the Ritz. I pulled him aside before dinner and asked him an honest question: What do you think of the change?

And, he gave me an honest response: "I'm still getting use to it. It's not my style. But I think it will be good." 

Chef Christian, it should be noted, is classically trained in French cooking. At this level, though, he can do anything. And do it well. So, while this type of cooking might not be his exact cup of tea, I think that's the mark of a brilliant chef -- one who can do unbelievable things to styles he doesn't favor.

Red-Light Special

I remember running a red light when I was 16 years old. Right as I gunned it in my Honda Accord V-6, my friend and passenger, also 16, muttered something I'll never forget. "Man, I try to never run a red," he said. "You can kill someone out there. Or, you can get killed."

As my grip on the steering wheel tightened, I remember thinking how mature my friend's statement was for his age. Truth be told, it's a bit of a no-brainer. But still, I began seeing with clarity how profound that little piece of advice was.

As Gov. Crist signed a recent bill allowing Florida to used red light camera on its state roads, I find it easy to remember my friend's advice and applaud him for his forward-thinking drive. If this bill does anything, perhaps it'll get Florida drivers to realize seeing red can mean life or death.

I used to live in Miami, where there's little to no adherence to traffic laws. As a driver, it was basically a catch-22: right as the light turned from red to green, you were either suppose to gun it within a quarter-second of the light change, or face an onslaught of honks from the drivers behind you as you waited to confirm it was clear to proceed.

Me, I always remembered my friend's voice. There's a fair chance someone would run a red light at an intersection, especially in Miami. Because of that, I always wait a second or two -- face the torrent of honks of drivers who felt a two-second wait was the equivalent of an eternity -- and look left and right before I accelerate forward.

Even though I lost touch with that friend after we graduated high school, I sincerely and subconscious thank him every time I'm behind the wheel. A lot of people don't give any credit to young drivers; In this case, I give him all the credit he deserves.

More Zero Gravity Photos!

A Workout Even I Can Appreciate

The best-kept secret in Broward County happens to be tucked on the 8th floor of a facility I hope I don't ever involuntarily get admitted to. You can find the area's best hidden gem inside Broward General Medical Center, where its little-known Wellness Center is bar none the only thing in about 10 years that actually made me want to start working out.

If you're anything like me, you don't voluntarily go to a hospital. Unless there's a life-threatening moment upon myself or a loved one, you wouldn't catch me dead inside there. But, the Wellness Center has since changed my stance on hospital visits.

I stumbled upon its existence at a recent gala celebration, where I saw a silent auction bid for an annual membership and personal training lessons. I did a little research on it and saw it also offered classes like yoga, pilates, tai chi and spin.

And when my boyfriend recently had surgery at Broward General's outpatient center, I decided to occupy my excruciating 11.5-hour wait at the hospital by visiting its gym and fitness room.

It must be noted that the last time I actually went into a gym not on assignment was back in college. And I vowed never to go back after doing a crazy ab workout that nearly punctured my small intestine. Gym rat, I am not. If you couldn't tell by looking at me, I'm not the most eager gym individual (I'll leave that to my co-worker, Jen, to write about on her blog). Even so, I found the Wellness Center totally un-intimidating. The place has lots to offer, including state-of-the-art facilities, superb trainers and a friendly staff.

So yeah, that's the motto for every gym in the world, right? As the Wellness Center's website states, it's "more than a health club"; it's a "serious approach to fitness." I couldn't agree more. There's professionals at the center who are certified by the American College of Sports Medicine and the National Strength and Conditioning Association. The folks at the center are trained in exercise physiology and nutrition, making the necessary recommendations to treat not just you, but your body and overall health.

Even better, it's just a down-to-earth wellness center with a down-to-earth client base. Leave the makeup and pressure to impress at other hoity-toity gyms.

Also, the membership fee is pretty manageable, too. There's a one-time initiation fee of $49 and monthly fees are only $30. When I showed up on Tuesday, the gentleman at the front even told me that there's a special that includes a two-person sign up for $25 a month each instead of the full $30.

But, shhhh. Keep it a secret, OK?

Ristorante Broward General Hospital

I was at Broward General Hospital's outpatient surgery department for 11.5 long hours yesterday. My boyfriend was having surgery to repair his left ACL, an injury he suffered four weeks ago while simply running toward a soccer ball that was 5 feet away (don't believe him if he tells you he tore it as he successfully attempted a bicycle kick to score the winning goal in the final seconds of his soccer game).

While there, I couldn't help but make the analogy how restaurant-like the service was at the outpatient department. A restaurant with no food to serve.

Here's my bulleted evidence of why:

• Upon arrival, we checked in at what appeared to be the hostess stand, or reception desk.
• After giving them our name, we received a beeper that vibrated and blinked its red lights when they are ready for you -- the same ones they give at restaurants.
• And just like at a restaurant, we waited. And waited.
• The "hostess" kept saying it'll "only be a few more minutes"; it turned out to be SEVERAL more minutes. They lied. Just like restaurants do.

All in all, the experience was pretty exceptional. The staff was great. My boyfriend got through surgery well and hopes the next six months of rehab go as easy as his surgery did. Meanwhile, I've been jumping up and down, doing twists and spins on my legs to show him how awesome it is to have two fully functional ACLs.

Into Thin Air

Before you read: Click here to see amateur video footage of what Saturday's zero gravity flight looked like.

"Yes, Neil Armstrong, I like floating in zero gravity, TOO!"

Yep. That was my first thought as I experienced complete weightlessness this past Saturday: What would be the first thing I'd say if I ever met astronaut Neil Armstrong? 

The icebreaker, I thought to myself, needed to include a common denominator: That I've floated in complete weightlessness, too!

Upon our chance encounter, I may or may not add a teeny, itty bitty discrepancy that separates Armstrong and my excursions: While the great moonwalker experienced his in space (oh, say some millions of miles from earth), I was only about 30,000 feet above the great Sunshine State.

I guess a little explanation is needed. On Saturday, my boyfriend Josh and I had the once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to fly on a specially designed Boeing 727 and experience zero gravity (courtesy of Space Adventures). Zipped up in our complimentary navy flight suits, we and about 20 other passengers flew out of Fort Lauderdale's airport and headed west across the state. 

While there's plenty of science and cool explanations to how we got airborne and reached zero gravity, I present the Cliff Notes version (remember: journalist, not scientist). Once we got to about 24,000 feet (basically the height a regular commercial airplane elevates to), the pilot took the plane up a certain parabolic route (basically a hill-like pattern with gentle crests and falls). Our peak trajectory was about 32,000 feet above ground. The subtle up and down motions are what simulated a zero-gravity experience (or so that's how I'm paraphrasing the info from the flight safety video).

This flight completed about 15 parabolas. In each parabola, we experienced about 30 seconds worth of weightlessness. For 30 seconds I was like a asteroid in the sky, floating in the fetal position with no itinerary in mind. And after that half minute, I fell flat on my back. And then up again. And then down again. 

The feeling of being weightless was wicked sick. One moment I'm pressed against the floor at 1.8G (that's 1.8 times of gravity), and then suddenly I'm levitating and then flying! I was completely weightless, experiencing the same range of motions astronauts do when they are in space. 

As we were initially instructed to lay flat on the plane's specially installed cushioned floors, major anticipation crept in everyone's stomachs. Tiny beads of sweat popped up on my forehead, my palms got stickier, and then... floating!!!! Almost simultaneously, all 20 of us passengers started levitating. And, shrieking. A group yelp could be heard as our bodies simultaneously started to defy gravity.

You can flip, somersault, spin, be a super hero, float and whatever else. Or, if you're like me, you can just hold for dear life onto the safety rope tacked up against the plane's walls with a completely freaked out look on your face. Whatever you wish.

Admittedly, it was weird not being in control of my own body. I mean, one second I was lying on the floor, then the next I inexplicably was floating up to the top of the plane's cavity. And I didn't even do anything. There's no "float" button, no "fly like Superman" controller that you can manually use to maneuver yourself. You're kind of at someone else's disposal.

But that's the cool thing. You're in completely out of control. Here's your chance to let your body do what it wants to do. And you just go with it. Being up in the air is kind of like being in another area where humans don't naturally function: the ocean. You're completely out of your own element, in a space where you don't normally belong. 

Space Adventures is giving everyone a chance to experience what astronauts experience while in space. Except not in space. Well-known figures like Martha Stewart, Steven Hawking and Joey Fatone (yes, he is well-known in some circles) have already made the leap. It's such an incredible trip that EVERYONE should experience. Just be sure to take your dramamine.

Oh What Fun it is to Ride in a Weightless Chamber Sleigh

Whenever the Tom Hanks/Ron Howard movie "Apollo 13" is on TV, I find myself watching it. Finally, I can say that I've experienced it. Sort of.

Today my boyfriend and I went on a complete weightlessness experience, courtesy of Space Adventure's division Zero G. Man, oh, man was it awesome.

More details to come, but take a peek at the video for the teaser. I'd write more, but I'm actually still acclimating my head back to Earth's gravity and can barely type. Seriously. And it's been more than 10 hours since the flight! Enjoy the video for now, but expect more later!

Who Knew Flag Football Was A Contact Sport?

The Sun Sentinel headline said it all: Four shot during flag football game in Miami. 

Damn. I play flag football. Could I get shot? 

I guess the correlation between last night's shooting and me is far fetched. (Watch. Just because I wrote it, it's going to happen.)

The article says the shooting took place last night during a women's game. Some male spectators got into a dispute, and, well, you know the story from there. 

I have a co-ed flag football game tonight in Fort Lauderdale. One time two girls from opposing teams got into a physical skirmish, but that's really been it for the violence in our league. Better safe than sorry. Shields up for tonight's game.

The Biased ABCs to Florida Education

My publisher's latest blog points out Gov. Charlie Crist's recent signing of an expansion on Florida's private school voucher program. Senate Bill 2126 broadens the number of students allowed to participate in the program and increases the cap by $22 million, from $118 million to $140 million in FY 2010-2011. From there, the cap will increase.

I see the program as both good and evil. It's a fantastic opportunity to allow kids who otherwise could not receive high levels of education to immerse themselves in a nurturing, learning environment.

But my biggest beef with it is what about the public schools? It upsets me that with Florida's dismal public school systems, money -- private or public, from individual or corporations -- is not focused on our public schools. The message I feel Senate Bill 2126 gives is that Florida is here to help a select number of students, not the entire body of them.

I think excellent education should be a standard. Anywhere. Not just at private schools. There are several socio-economic factors that prevent many public schools from achieving the high test results private schools receive. It seems the Florida Lotto is not doing enough to help out these students, and my hope that a future program will transform the lives of tens of thousands of students.

It should be noted that Senate Bill 2126 had bipartisan support. Democrats were quietly won over with the idea that vouchers have merit. "I am a great fan of the public schools," said Rep. Bill Heller, D-St. Petersburg. "But there are some kids it doesn't reach. For those kids, this is an opportunity."

Private schools rightly have a place in society, and they are achieving fantastic results for our nation's future. But, aren't private schools funded by (and stay in business because) of private funds (so literal, I know)? I think it's called tuition. Like, $18,000 a year tuition. For kindergarten. 

Because of that, shouldn't any government funding help out those not funded by private people and institutions?

My publisher also points out how private schools in his hometown of Philadelphia are closing. But private schooling is just like any other business -- if it goes busts, it must be for a reason. I hate to bring religion into this (especially because I'm pro everyone's right to choose their faith and practice freely), but it's been mentioned that several historic private Catholic schools have closed down. Senate Bill 2126 can use these tax credits to make everyone happy (administrators and certain low-income students), and the Catholic schools will stay in business. But let's think about why these institutions need this bail-out to avoid shutting their doors. It's hard to accept that the Catholic schools are getting much good press these days. Let's just say all these alleged cases of priests molesting kids don't help out. Perhaps the saying "there's no such thing as bad press" doesn't hold water in this case.

So while I applaud the government's actions to give this small percentage of indigent students a chance at fantastic, academically proven learning institutions, I also scratch my head to the notion that there's not a broader chance to help all students. I remain truly happy that some low-income families will have the same opportunities to give their children the same level of education as affluent families. But, public schools shouldn't be considered "throw-away" schools that the poor and unlucky attend. Senate Bill 2126 only enforces that notion. I'm afraid this will be the beginning of the end of the possibility of a good public school education.

The irony lies that in order to complete his blog, my publisher needed my help to figure out how to post it. He went to private school his entire life. I went to public.

Weekend with Tator

For anyone who's reluctant to get a pet, meet the new love of my life, Tator. He's a 5-month-old "morkie" (maltese-yorkie mix), and is just plan adorable. I dog-sat him this past weekend, and just fell in love. He's pictured above while we walked him around a neighborhood in Coral Ridge. Other than the six accidents inside the living room (including one No. 2), it was a perfect weekend. I miss him.

Dog-sitting Tator got me thinking. Maybe I should adopt a pet. There's plenty of options out there when looking to get a pet. Here are some potential organizations who'd be happy to guide you:

Humane Society of Broward County: http://humanebroward.com/

Abandoned Pet Rescue: http://www.petfinder.com/shelters/abandonedpetrescue.html

Fort Lauderdale Animal Shelter: http://www.broward.org/animal/ani00900.htm

Animal Aid: http://www.animal-aid.com/

Good morning, Vietnam

My parents were both 34 years old when they came to the United States. With the eclipse of the 35th anniversary of the fall of Saigon this past Friday, I find it fitting to honor their bravery during the harshest of times of their lives.

On April 30, 1975, Saigon succumbed to Vietnam's communist forces. And with that fall also crashed my parents' dream to ever live in their home country again. Like tens of thousands of other Vietnamese who were forced to leave their country, my parents gave up hope long ago that things will ever be the same, and they started a new life in a new country.

Like most immigrants, they rarely talk about their past. And like most children of immigrants, my brothers and I rarely probed into it. Strangely, it was intuitive. We knew when to ask questions, and we also knew when they weren't welcomed. 

Only recently have my parents began unrolling their stories and telling us what we've always wanted to know but never had the courage to ask. Slowly, very slowly, I'm finally starting to understand who my parents are. Perhaps it's because my parents are aging and realize there's no need to hold onto their stories. Or, perhaps it's because they're starting to understand that it's finally OK; It's OK that no matter how much my brothers and I will never fully grasp what it's like to be completely displaced, we will always listen.

During the Vietnam War, my father served in the South Vietnamese army. If I recall correctly, he was a sergeant (though when I was a kid, I didn't know the difference and used to tell my friends he was a four-star general). My mom was a math teacher. Though my parents married after arriving in the States in 1976, they knew each other while living in Vietnam. Funny story, it turns out my father used to date my mother's younger sister. 

My parents were boat people. From my gatherings, they were the same people that the movies and historical photographs portrayed. They were at sea for weeks in unbearable conditions -- completely cramped and with wretched supplies. Sometimes I think about how horribly motion-sick my mom gets these days, and I can only imagine that the thought of finding new life elsewhere kept her from puking out her insides. 

They landed in the Philippines. Or was it Japan? Either way, after that they were granted sponsorships from two Baptist churches -- my father got his from one in Orlando, Fla., and my mother in Jacksonville, Fla. Completely out of their element and with possibly negative comprehension of the English language, my mom worked at a local bakery and my father was a laborer. 

Things are different for my parents these days. They've retired in central Florida. They've bought a sizable house that's completely too big for the two of them. My dad's days seem to be confined to fixing his sprinkler system and feeding his parakeets. My mom is now the social queen of the neighborhood, with folks stopping by all the time to chat with her. 

They still hold resentment toward the Communist party. My parents are proud people who still hope to see a democratic Vietnam during their lifetime. They haven't been back to Vietnam since they left their country almost four decades ago. They want to go, but something's holding them back. 

One time recently I did ask why they've yet to go back. I got a mumbled response.

These days, my brothers and I have been trying to get my parents to adopt a dog. We hear that it's therapeutic to have a pet -- it takes away the loneliness and stress. They keep saying that they will. Maybe they'll actually seal the deal some time soon. Undoubtedly, they'll have plenty of stories to share with that dog.