The Fear Of Flight From 32,000 Feet

This isn’t normal. Glasses aren’t supposed to roll off the flight attendant’s table and shatter on the floor. The pilot isn’t supposed to sound so shaky on the flight PA. We’re 32,000 feet over the icy North Pacific Ocean. A butterfly-in-your stomach dip later and we’re 31,800 feet up.

Your whole life is supposed to flash in front of you in moments like these. The big events—graduations, weddings, Super Bowls. And the even more memorable, smaller events—sleepy Sunday brunches with the favorites, Chinese checkers games with the grandparents.

And I did think about all that. Eventually. But at that moment—at the very moment when my life hung in the balance—I was thinking about college basketball. I was wondering if Duke had enough inside presence to survive the ACC. I was thinking about March Madness brackets and why some company didn’t just offer $1 billion to anyone who correctly predicted every game AND the championship game final score.

In my defense: 1) Not even the prophetic Paul the Octopus would win the billion, and the free publicity would be a marketing bonanza. 2) Such random near-death thoughts are not uncommon. One “Miracle on the Hudson” passenger reported all she could think about during Captain Chesley B. “Sully” Sullenberger’s valorous water-landing was how she never cleaned out her garage.



The plane barreled through another gust. Passengers gasped. I sighed: this is it. Vague feelings of unfilled potential. Things I’d never said. Books I’d never read. Countries I’d only seen on Rand McNally rainbow colored world maps. Then the hodge-podge check-lists of lasts. The last meal I would ever eat was those Biscotti airline cookies and tomato juice. The last conversation I would ever have with my younger brother was my secret trick to baking the best pre-made Tollhouse chocolate chip cookies on Earth (Patent pending). The last movie I would ever see was the in-flight film “Nights In Rodanthe”, starring Diane Lane, Richard Gere –which would have arguably been the greatest tragedy of all.



And then calm. Ten minutes later, the pilot turned off the fasten seat belt sign. 30 minutes later, the flight attendant drink cart rolled down the aisle again. And 5 hours later, the soggy McGriddle sandwich at O’Hare that remains to this day the best meal I’ve ever had.

*****

I know. The odds of dying in a plane crash are 1 in 11 million. You are more than 100 times more likely to be killed by a swarm of killer bees. Statistically, you are much more at risk driving to the airport. “Relax,” my dad always says. “It’s out of control. Let it go.”

But flying just doesn’t feel right. And percentages and common sense mean nothing to me when the plane ride gets bumpy. So below are three leading methods I’ve devised to cope with my fear of flying (starting with least effective):

1) The Stay Up The Whole Night Before Strategy: In theory, you will be so tired you will sleep through the turbulence. In practice, you just end up exhausted and terrified. If you’re lucky.

In college I was supposed to fly to Hawaii for Spring Break. I stayed up all night with my buddies, but I still magically made it to LaGuardia. I made it through security. And I even made it to the gate, where I promptly fell asleep. I woke up five hours later to find out I’d not only missed my scheduled flight but the only other one I could have boarded three hours afterward. Due to the Spring Break crush, it would cost $1400 to get on another flight. I instead paid $2.25 for the saddest Subway ride back to school of my life.

2) The Megan Fox Strategy: There’s a lot to like about Megan Fox.



My favorite detail, though, is how she deals with her fear of flying. Megan Fox knows it’s not her destiny to die listening to a Britney Spears song. So every time she flies she blasts a Britney Spears album on her iPhone.

Warning: Results may vary. I have confused many a fellow passenger when I boom “Oops, I Did It Again” on repeat. And I know the lyrics to “Toxic” far, far too well.

3) The American Pilots Are Meaner Argument: In his 2008 book Outliers, Malcolm Gladwell examined why plane crashes occurred in some developed countries more than others. He found the reason why certain nations suffered more plane crashes lay not so much in technological and quality control discrepancies but “the cultural heritage” of the pilot and First Officer. Gladwell argued there tended to be more plane crashes in Colombia because Colombian people tend to be more respectful to authority than people in other nations.

Essentially, the more obnoxious and blunt the pilot, the safer the plane. If a plane is running low on fuel, a meeker pilot would patiently wait on the command tower to reroute other planes and wave him in. But could you picture a loudmouth pilot from the Bronx being put on hold by headquarters before he was signaled in? It’s for this reason Australia’s Quantas Airlines last fatal airplane crash took place in 1951.

*****

Don’t tell the fine folks at Delta, but I have a Superpower. The rest of the world would call it a technical glitch. My dad and I share the same first initial (K) and last name (Moats). Somehow Delta Airlines fused our accounts and SkyMiles together years ago. So collectively, we have flown over 1 million miles and are automatically upgraded to first class anytime we fly Delta. When I check in curbside, the bag guy typically looks down at his computer, looks over at my passport, and finally looks up at me puzzled. “Business,” I sigh. “It takes me everywhere.” Nonetheless, the K.Moats account has a long way to go before 10 million miles and its name stenciled on a plane like George Clooney. Current estimates peg our Estimated Time of Arrival at 2039.

Thirty years before the Air K.Moats, George Clooney mythologized the rarefied air of the ultimate jet-setter in the overlooked 2009 film “Up In The Air.” He is perfectly at ease at a life in transition in between time-zones, Hilton Hotels, and first class lounges. Clooney is ironically both surrounded and yet (spoiler alert) insulated from his fellow passengers:



Unfortunately for director Ivan Reitman and Mr. Clooney, “Up In The Air” was arguably a) too raw and b) too soon to be truly appreciated by Oscar voters. (See also: c) “Hurtlocker, The”) Still the film offers up one of the most poignant films of the Great Recession across the backdrop of phony corporatism and heartless downsizing. The movie also delivered the 6th greatest flying tip of all time:

6. George Clooney: [on getting through airport security] Never get behind old people. Their bodies are littered with hidden metal and they never seem to appreciate how little time they have left. Bingo, Asians. They pack light, travel efficiently, and they have a thing for slip on shoes. Gotta love 'em.
Anna Kendrick: That's racist.
George Clooney: I'm like my mother, I stereotype. It's faster.

5. Barring a razor-thin connection time, when the plane has taxied to the gate there is no reason to immediately spring up from your seat and grab your bags. You invariably just stand around shifting your weight for 5-7 minutes.

4. Rule #7.315: There’s a 63.1% chance you’ll order tomato juice on a plane. There is a 2.3% you’ll order tomato juice anywhere else.

3. “Man Law” Nominee #1,347: If you’re not in the aisle seat, you’re not allowed to get up to the bathroom more than once. Even the first time is pushing it.

2. Dear Every Airline Pilot Ever,

You realize you don’t have to speak so close to the mic on the PA. We can hear you. Your awkwardly-timed breaths? Those too.

1. Delta Airlines is the best U.S. airline. US Airways is the worst. But Southwest has the greatest flight attendants:



I hope these tips helped. And if you ever see an exhausted, terrified twenty-something listening to “Hit Me Baby One More Time” on your next Delta flight… don’t take it personally.

Republished from ProseBeforeHos: Up In The Air And Terrified.

Who's The Biggest Loser Of 2010?

This is the second part of the Half Year In Review. See the first part here, 2010 Half Year In Review.



LeLoser Of The Half-Year, LeBron James: You had it all. You were the hometown boy bringing the local team to the cusp of NBA glory and immortality. You were so beloved even President Obama said he was you: “I’m LeBron, baby! I got this.”

But then you quit. You bailed on your Cleveland Cavaliers when the going got tough against the Celtics in the playoffs. Then you deserted them for good in free agency a few weeks later. The irony is your Cavaliers were arguably the best team in the league last year. Everyone just got hurt, including your own elbow—now closing in on 17,000 followers on Twitter. (http://twitter.com/lebronselbow) But you didn’t just bail on your home-state, you opted to dump Ohio on the grandest stage possible. You arranged an ESPN made-for-TV event dubbed “The Decision” to announce you would be “taking [your] talents to the South Beach”.

Admit it. You were afraid you’d be another Kevin Garnett. A.k.a. a freakish, high-school-straight-to-the-pros prodigy who let his prime years go to waste for an also-ran team in the Midwest. You panicked about the rings. Jordan won 6. Kobe now has 5. DWade, 1. You have 0.

And LeBacklash began. You, with the Akron area code inked on your arm had to flee your own state. Cleveland fans are burning your jersey. There’s now even a beer named after you. Great Lakes Brewing Co. created "Quitness", a dry hopped India pale ale that leaves an appropriately bitter aftertaste. The most recent batch sold out in three hours—almost as quickly as LeBron did.



So now we are all witnesses … to a sidekick in Miami. The Heat will always be Dwyane Wade’s team. He already brought Miami a championship, and now he miraculously recruited the top two players on the market to join him. LeBron will merely be the super-star who couldn’t win one with the cards he was dealt and bailed for the better hand. In baseball terms, LeBron will be the Alex Rodriguez to Dwyane Wade’s Derek Jeter.



In Star Wars terms, LeBron is now Anakin Skywalker. He switched to the Dark Side under the lure of the Evil Emperor (Pat Riley). But fortunately for the small market NBA team Jedi, there is one more. The day before LeBron admitted he couldn’t win a ring by himself, Kevin Durant quietly tweeted his 5 year extension with the Oklahoma City Thunder. Kevin Durant is the Luke Skywalker for the small-market team trying to compete with the massive media markets. Last season, Durant became the youngest scoring champ in NBA history, pushed the eventual champion LA Lakers to seven games, and flashed a Jordanian canny to score at will.

Back in Michael Jordan’s day, he just took out a page in the Chicago Tribune saying he was back. Now His Airness is pillorying LeBron for jumping ship, saying in his day he would never imagine teaming up with his nemesis Detroit “Bad Boys” Pistons. Magic Johnson and Larry Bird wouldn’t even speak to each other during their storied 1980s rivalry. The NBA just isn’t that a) talented and b) hard these days. Now LeBron bikes around with Carmelo Anthony and Dwyane Wade in Beijing.

For taking the easy way out. For slamming your legacy harder than one of your trademark Tomahawk jams, LeBron James is 2010’s Worst Person Of The Half-Year.

#2: Summer Movies Not Named “Inception”:

a) “Grown Ups” (Rotten Tomato Rating: 10%)

Dear Adam Sandler & Chris Rock,

You are both legitimately funny and worth hundreds of millions of dollars. So aren't you past the point in your careers where you need to work with David Spade and the Fat Guy from the “King of Queens”?

b) “Prince Of Persia” (Rotten Tomato Rating: 37%)

Why is the Prince of Persia a white guy (Jake Gyllenhaal) faking an English accent?

c) “Sex & The City 2” (Rotten Tomato Ranking: 16%)

In the words of Lindy West from The Stranger, "If this is what modern womanhood means, then just fucking veil me and sew up all my holes. Good night."

#3 Arizona: “I was also going to give a graduation speech in Arizona this weekend. But with my accent, I was afraid they would try to deport me.” –Terminator-turned-California Governor Arnold Schwarzenegger.

#4 NBC: Let’s see. You lost over $200 million dollars on the Vancouver Winter Olympics this February. You lost another $35 million inadvertently making a martyr out of Conan O’Brien a month later. You then brought back Jay Leno… to only get worse ratings than ever.

Even President Obama can rip on you: “Though I am glad that the only person whose ratings fell more than mine last year is here tonight. Great to see you Jay. I'm also glad that I'm speaking first. We've all seen what happens when somebody takes the time slot after Leno’s.” It got so bad a Taiwanese news station simulated a wrestling cartoon match with Jeff Zucker & Jay Leno tag-teaming Conan O’Brien & Jimmy Kimmel:



#5: Snoop Dogg: To film your latest music video, you just tried to rent Liechtenstein. () As in an entire sovereign country. Smoke more weed, Snoop Dogg. Seriously. Smoke more weed.

#6 Glenn Beck: You’ve cried away 50% your audience. News Corp. Inc has had to buy up over half of your ad spots after you called President Obama a Nazi. And Jon Stewart skewered you in one of the most pitch-perfect impersonations ever.

#7 President Obama: The man heralded as the most promising politician since Robert F. Kennedy is starting to look a lot like… Black Cinderella.

The President misread his sweeping 2008 election as a mandate for federal activism. Except Americans didn’t want a more involved government. They just didn’t want George W. Bush, or 95% of him in John McCain. And yes, Obama got a little caught up in the “Change” election fever. Lobbyists not only stock his administration, but remember the iconic Hope poster than captured the nation’s imagination in 2008? It was sold to a museum by two lobbyists and is now a work of satire.



Yes, Obama dithers. Save for health-care reform, the cerebral Professor-In-Chief doesn’t have his Cheerleader-In-Chief predecessor’s brazen gung ho to just ram legislation through. Obama holds office hours, not pep rallies. Obama’s Afghanistan decision took painfully long and isn’t working. His response to the Gulf Oil Leak has been judged worse than President George “Brownie’s doing a heckuva job” W. Bush’s to Hurricane Katrina. For the first time, less than half the country approves of President Obama. But the clock hasn’t struck midnight on Black Cinderella.



Don’t tell the former half-term-Governor-from-Alaska-turned-Wannabe-White-Oprah but President Obama’s tanking approval ratings mirror those of her idol—Ronald Reagan. Like Reagan, President Obama is an outside-the-Beltway, eloquent President who inherited the office in a time of dire economic conditions and war. Like Reagan, President Obama is liked more for his personality than his actual policies.

Spoiler Alert I: Reagan’s popularity plummeted to a low of 42 percent in 1982, and Republicans lost 26 seats in the House of Representatives in the mid-term election. Spoiler Alert II: The economy recovered. President Reagan went on to land-slide the 1984 re-election bid and became one of the most popular presidents in recent memory.

Dishonorable Mention: Baltimore Orioles, Europe, The French World Cup Team, “Girls Busch Girls” (The ladies’ ridiculously lame rebuttal to “Bros Icing Bros”), “Jersey Shore 2” (I’m calling it now), Jesse James (REAAALLY? You’re married to Sandra Bullock!), Lindsay Lohan, Miley Cyrus (The tail-spin Britney Spears trajectory begins), and Tiger Woods.



And Finally The Getting Beer Fail Of The Half-Year: True, this incident occurred last October, but something tells me this fella still can’t tell the difference:



Republished from ProseBeforeHos: The 7 Biggest Losers Of The Half-Year

The 2010 Year In Review: The Halfway Mark

We threw everything at it. Trash, dog hair, “containment domes.” We even called in Kevin Costner’s goofy ping-pong ball machine. But the oil kept on gushing. Only BP’s lies could keep up. BP first reported 210,000 gallons were spurting out a day, if that. The latest estimate is between 1.5 and 2.5 million gallons were leaking into the Gulf. (Or one 1989 Exxon Valdez catastrophe every 4-7 days.) We are holding our breath that BP finally capped the leak last Thursday, but you’ll understand if we’re still a tad skeptical.



Chocolate-colored pelicans. Florida children playing on oil-slicked beaches. Daughter Malia asking Daddy Obama, “Did you plug the hole yet?” All the hallmarks from the greatest environmental disaster in U.S. history. Now, to call it the Gulf Coast Oil Spill is a misnomer. The BP Oil Leak is more accurate. The Gulf had nothing to do with this. The Brits are entirely to blame. And tankers spill oil. Millions of gallons of oil angrily surging from Mother Earth are something else entirely.

We keep throwing money at it. The EU tried injecting a trillion dollars to immunize against The Greek Contagion. Too bad Spain and Portugal already caught it. Obama debates to spend-or-not-to-spend to ward off a Double Dip. All the while, the Feds quietly shutter another couple regional banks come Friday afternoon. Again and again in 2010 our best laid plans crumbled in the face of Nature and our own hubris. The Great Recession cares little for our governments’ models and corollaries.

It’s a good thing Time Magazine doles out its Person of the Year award in December because through the first six months Wild is trouncing Man in a landslide. Twin earthquakes abruptly rocked Haiti (7.0 Magnitude) and Chile (8.8) before they were just as abruptly forgotten by the U.S. press. An Icelandic volcano grounded trans-Atlantic flights and befuddled us with its pronunciation: Eyj… (OK, does anyone pronounce anything when they read that volcano's name? Or are you like me and just completely skip it and think nothing but silence in your head...)



Why do we keep doing this? Why do we still make things we know we can’t fix? Why do we keep cobbling together these rickety Megalith-symbols-turned-ultra-expensive-metaphors? Forget Enlightenment. It’s been a half-year of Sturm und Drang. 6+ months reminding us it’s Earth’s Earth. We’re just living on it. Forget Too Big To Fail. In 2010 nothing is Too Small Not To. A blown transformer on the oil rig. Apple’s iPhone 4 prized jewel needs duct tape to make it work. And a technical glitch plummeted the Dow 1,000 points this May.

Turns out, the Oracle doesn’t hail from Omaha. He’s a two year old invertebrate from the Berlin Zoo. Paul the Octopus correctly foretold all eight of his World Cup predictions, including Spain’s final win over the Dutch. (The odds were 1:255.) Paul is retired now, but PR firms estimate he could be the first ever millionaire octopus—pegging his fame and worth at $4.5 million. Yet even Paul the Octopus would turn green in envy of these guys’ 2010 years:

WINNERS

PERSON OF THE HALF-YEAR, BRIAN AUSTIN GREEN: I have no idea who you are. Girls tell me a) you were on “90210” and b) you are generally a lame human being. Nonetheless, you somehow convinced Megan Fox to marry you. This is a miracle but not unprecedented. Julia Roberts once married Lyle Lovett until she realized he was… Lyle Lovett. And supermodel Adriana Lima is married to Marco Juric, a guy averaging 2.6 points a night off the bench for the Memphis Grizzlies.



For reminding bros everywhere of the old “Dumb & Dumber” line — “So you’re telling me there’s a chance!?!” — Brian Austin Green, you are 2010’s Person Of The Half-Year.

NOURIEL ROUBINI: He’s Nostradamus. If Nostradamus was Turkish and had to teach economics to snobby NYU kids. Roubini has nailed the Great Recession going back to his 2006 warning that the U.S. housing market was about to go bust. Roubini is on every financial minister’s speed dial and Foreign Policy magazine just named him the #4 top thinker on the globe. Want more evidence it’s been a rough year? It’s probably not a good sign that the nickname of 2010’s most prescient mammal is Dr. Doom.

THE KARDASHIANS: It’s good to be famous for … no real reason. Kim gets paid $10,000 a tweet. Kourtney just gave birth to an adorable son Mason. And Khloe (somehow) snagged an LA Laker. Your smash-hit reality TV show “Keeping Up With The Kardashians” returns for a 5th season next month on E!

Not to mention you have the Midas touch with athletic significant others. Every overrated sports star you date wins the championship. (See: Bush, Reggie; Odom, Lamar.) You must get it from your Mama. Because the overbearing Step Dad? He’s Bruce Jenner, the 1976 Olympic decathlon gold medalist.

LADY GAGA: You know you’ve hit Madonna Status when even America’s Finest in Afghanistan are covering your songs:



ELIN NORDEGREN & SANDRA BULLOCK: You go girls! Your celebrity husbands cheated on you with porn stars (among others). But you weathered the heartbreak and ensuing media firestorm with poise and grace. Miss Nordegren, in 9 months you will go from getting to bash in your fleeing husband’s SUV with a golf club to winning at least $100 million and the kids in the pending divorce. (Go On. Beat A Tiger.) Miss Congeniality, you donated $1 million to Haiti earthquake relief and adopted a beautiful baby from New Orleans.



THE REVENGE OF GAIA EARTH: It’s Global Weirding, Thomas Friedman warns us. Not Global Warming. During February’s blizzard of Washington, the family of Republican Senator James Inhofe of Oklahoma sculpted an igloo next to the Capitol with a sign reading “Al Gore’s New Home.” Meanwhile, across the continent, Canada had to import snow to Vancouver for the Winter Olympics we forgot happened. It got to the point this Winter where Republicans virtually cheered for freak snowstorms.

5 months later, the same skeptics were mysteriously silent during the East Coast’s record July Heat Wave. Or when the National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration (NOAA) reported 2010 is on pace to be the warmest year since record-keeping began in 1880. Last Friday, British Open organizers had to delay play because… of extreme wind. Even the Weather Guy lost his mind trying to keep up.

GOLD: In a sign of the times, Cash For Gold could afford a Super Bowl ad in 2009 starring MC Hammer. 18 months later, they could probably afford to rename the entire NFL. Gold surged to a record-high $1260+ per ounce earlier this year as skittish investors took cover in the metal as a safe haven.

THAT TAIWANESE KID WITH A BOWL HAIR CUT WHO SINGS WHITNEY HOUSTON BETTER THAN … WHITNEY:



HONORABLE MENTION: The Atlanta Braves, Brazil (except the soccer team), “I Write Like” Website (even if you did say I write like Dan Brown), “Inception”, Justin Bieber, Jonah Hill, a.k.a Our Generation’s John Belushi, Michelle Obama, The Old Spice Guy, Spanish Athletes.

*******

Top 6 Quotes Of The Half-Year

6) "F--- my victims. I carried them for 20 years and now I'm doing 150." – Inmate #61727-054, Bernie Madoff

5) "I don't sit around just talking to experts because this is a college seminar, we talk to these folks because they potentially have the best answers–so I know whose ass to kick." –President Barack Obama, on the BP Oil Leak

4) "I think the Vatican - they've got more to talk about than the Beatles." -Ringo Starr, on a Vatican newspaper lauding the band 40 years after they broke up.

3) "I think Jesus was a compassionate, super-intelligent gay man who understood human problems." –Super-Intelligent Gay, Empathetic Singer Elton John.

2) "This is a big f---ing deal." -US vice-president Joe Biden, on passage of healthcare program.

1) "I'll do my f----- best." -Lady Gaga, asked whether she would cut down on coarse language in her next show.

And Finally The #1 Bush-ism Of 2010

President George W. Bush “getting his hands dirty” for Haiti humanitarian relief:



“The Half-Yearish In Review: Part 2” premieres Thursday, featuring The Biggest Losers Of 2010. (NBC, take a bow.)

Via ProseBeforeHos: 2010 Half Year In review

War & Pizza Hut

For the previous entry, please see War & Pizza Hut: Volume 1

*******

Vietnam

My “uncle” would not go to Vietnam. Some of his friends fled to Canada. Others loped off part of their trigger fingers. He settled on a less permanent escape. The night before his Army evaluation he chugged coffee and pounded bars of butter. When he showed up the next morning, the tester gasped at his blood pressure readings. Normal blood pressure is 120/80, but he racked up 100/150. He was a miracle to be alive, let alone fight in a war half across the globe.

Vietnam was the ignominious chapter when the American Empire got its dark streak. Man fought machine and man, unfortunately, won. If JFK’s assassination was when America lost its innocence at home, Vietnam was when America lost its innocence abroad. (see: The Gulf of Tonkin Resolution in 1964). Now, it wasn’t the first time the U.S. started a war under false pretenses (American Indian Wars, Mexican War, Spanish-American War) or the last (Iraq), but it was the first time America picked a fight and lost. And 58,159 of America’s finest paid the ultimate sacrifice. 58,159 sons, brothers, and fathers died because President Johnson couldn’t admit he was wrong.

Talking About Gen Y!

Generation Y is sick, yo! We’re 70 million Americans strong, born between 1981 and 1992, and always have the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles’ back:



Ahhh Generation Y! Our best days start (and end) with Fruity Pebbles. Two 25 year old guys—LeBron “King” James and Mark “Thief” Zuckerberg—are the co-valedictorians of our class. We’re allergic to voicemail, addicted to texting, and checked Facebook twice in the time it took to read this sentence. And studios, if your action flicks don’t have at least three explosions, you’ll be lucky to get an illegal download from us guys. If that.

*****

We were first dubbed “Generation Y” in a 1993 editorial to distinguish us from Generation X (born between 1972 and 1980). It’s only fitting the piece ran in an “Ad Age” publication, because we are the most marketed-to-and-researched generation of all time. The problem is “Generation Y” is a dreadful name: a) it’s not original, b) it’s not clever, and c) it’s dead wrong.

You see, we are nothing like our Generation X brethren. Generation X grew up on MTV and is a little darker. And can you really blame them? Their childhood coincided with their parents’ 1970s Me Decade hedonism. Their best video game was Atari (1977).

No, Generation Y admires its grandparents the most, a.k.a. The Greatest Generation. It’s not hard to see why. Our grandparents were born into the Roaring 1920s. They languished through the Great Depression before years of war overseas battling Jew-hating madmen. Sound vaguely familiar?

But there are two glaring differences:

1) Our grandparents were more hardcore. When my grandfather was my age, he survived a kamikaze attack in the South Pacific and spent three days on a lifeboat alone with a gashing neck. (I go to the gym Thursdays. Sometimes…)

Ornery critics sneer that us Generation Y’ers are soft. That we were pampered too much as kids. We’ve been called the “Trophy Kids” because we were raised hearing “no one loses”. The Clint Eastwoods of the world have a point. When I was six years, I went an entire soccer season without even touching the ball in a game—even though I was starting midfielder. Yet I still won a trophy for “Team Spirit”. At youth swim meets, the winner got the blue ribbon, but even the fat kid who finished two minutes later got a maroon-colored ribbon just for finishing. (Trust me, I’ve got at least three collecting dust in an attic somewhere thanks to the 25 meter butterfly.)

I can tell my Dad worries that we take HBO’s “Entourage” too seriously. That we think fame and money will just happen. The reality is we don’t look like Vince (even though we’re already better actors), and we are facing years of hard work and “learning the craft”.

2) We got the sweetest toys ever. Our grandparents’ blockbuster new game growing up was … Monopoly (1935). Meanwhile, Generation Y has enjoyed the fruits and Apple of the exponential part of the technology curve. We’ve gone from blowing on “Super Mario 2” Nintendo cartridges to make them to work, to “The Sims”, to “Avatar” in 15 years.

However, this is not to say we were spared by the retail-ideas-so-dumb-they-are-brilliant department. Our aunts and uncles had the Pet Rock. We have the Snuggie:



Actor Joseph Gordon-Levitt may have made the most prescient quote about our generation. The “Angels In The Outfield” kid turned brooding thespian noted, “This generation is going to blow away every generation ever. Because we're the first ones with the Internet.” And as Social media and wine expert Gary Vaynerchuk pointed out, “The Internet is 15 years old. It hasn't even had sex yet.” (Unless it is European.)

In translation, Mom, don’t even think about taking “World of Warcraft” away from us:



Generation Y is closing in on a quarter-century, and we’ve already seen our fair share of drama. Our “there is no Santa Claus” moment happened after Bill Clinton looked us in the eye and denied he had “sexual relations with that woman” (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KiIP_KDQmXs) Learning Mark McGwire’s 1998 record homerun chase was fueled not by hard work but steroids was our “there is no Tooth Fairy” epiphany. Columbine was our more fatal Kent State. September 11th, our Pearl Harbor. No WMD’s in Iraq was our generation’s Watergate. The ultimate tragedy is 4,402 (and counting) of America’s bravest didn’t die after Nixon’s cover-up.

We see Barack Obama as one of us. He’s the cool professor. Obama’s rousing rhetoric, not being George W. Bush, and social media prowess awakened Generation Y’s sleepy political activism during the 2008 presidential campaign. We joined his Facebook group, donated money, and showed up at the polls in record numbers.

Once Obama got elected, however, we hit the snooze button again:



We still love Obama but disillusionment is starting to creep in. Change may be coming, but it’s glacially slow. Remember the iconic “Hope” poster that was a clarion call for fresh thinking? It was donated to a museum by a pair of lobbyists.



Deep down, we’re starting to think we missed the peak of the American Empire by 40 years. We quietly fear Afghanistan, “the graveyard of Empires”, is our Vietnam. Domestically, 15 months of filibustering and partisan infighting over health care reform reminded us why we hated politics in the first place. We don’t understand why “don’t ask, don’t tell” is still an issue. And don’t even get us started on Arizona:



Grown-ups I talk to are befuddled as to why we aren’t angrier. My Dad emails me gloomy Wall Street Journal articles enumerating the mountains of debt his Baby Boomers are putting on our tab. My dad laments that unpaid interns are conquering the world. He’s not alone. Economists whisper that, thanks to the protracted Great Recession, we are showing the symptoms of another Lost Generation. My school Dean Glenn Hubbard worries about Generation Y’s perniciously high unemployment rates (over 16% for 24-year-olds). He fears for twenty-somethings two years out of work can become virtually a “life-sentence”.

Despite all of the turmoil, us Generation Y’ers are still a bubbly bunch. Maybe we’re naïve. Maybe YouTube keeps us happy. Or maybe it’s that the world has doubted American generations since our Founding Fathers. And never before has the world seen a generation with our tolerance, creativity, and innovation. It won’t be easy. But I have no doubt we have the vitality and ambition to become the Sweetest Generation. And perhaps one day our grandchildren will marvel at our achievements against tall odds. Even if they never get our love for the “Jersey Shore.”