My favorite experience was being on the stage at the Awards Luncheon on Tuesday and receiving the Section Awards in the very small section category for being the winner for Delaware Section Communications (Newsletter Editor) and for being the Membership Chair.
It is very memorable to be in front of more than 1000 AIAA members to again receive this honor.
M. David Rosenberg
Delaware Section
Showing posts with label Memories. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Memories. Show all posts
Wednesday, January 9, 2008
Wednesday, January 2, 2008
Reno -- It's an experience!
I'd been an employee of AIAA for just about a month when I had my first Reno experience. It was 17 years ago, when the hotel was still MGM Grand. I'll never forget it.
I checked in, got my key and went to my room. As soon as I opened the door, I burst out laughing! I'd been given one of the rooms that had a round bed on a platform surrounded by railing with a mirror on the ceiling! The room was the least restful room that I'd ever experienced. There were busy, unmatched, metallic floral patterns and mirrors all over the room. It was hideous. There was no clock in the room. Clearly, they didn't want you to spend a lot of time in the room. And, I didn't.
I spent all week either at the bookstore or in meetings--in rooms with no windows. I didn't see the light of day or smell fresh air again until I took a cab to the airport for my return flight home.
My second year in Reno demonstrated just how small a world we live in. I swing dance and try to find other dancers or swing music whenever I travel.
Some staff and I ventured into town to a club that played 50's music -- great music for Jitterbugging. There were a total of three people in the club when we arrived and one of them was a guy who I knew from dancing in DC! We kept him busy dancing with all the women in our group for a couple of hours.
On a more recent trip to Reno, one of the members of the small jazz combo playing at the hotel was a woman who graduated from my high school in Rockville, MD!
Small world. I wonder who I'll find in Orlando next year...
Janice Saylor
I checked in, got my key and went to my room. As soon as I opened the door, I burst out laughing! I'd been given one of the rooms that had a round bed on a platform surrounded by railing with a mirror on the ceiling! The room was the least restful room that I'd ever experienced. There were busy, unmatched, metallic floral patterns and mirrors all over the room. It was hideous. There was no clock in the room. Clearly, they didn't want you to spend a lot of time in the room. And, I didn't.
I spent all week either at the bookstore or in meetings--in rooms with no windows. I didn't see the light of day or smell fresh air again until I took a cab to the airport for my return flight home.
My second year in Reno demonstrated just how small a world we live in. I swing dance and try to find other dancers or swing music whenever I travel.
Some staff and I ventured into town to a club that played 50's music -- great music for Jitterbugging. There were a total of three people in the club when we arrived and one of them was a guy who I knew from dancing in DC! We kept him busy dancing with all the women in our group for a couple of hours.
On a more recent trip to Reno, one of the members of the small jazz combo playing at the hotel was a woman who graduated from my high school in Rockville, MD!
Small world. I wonder who I'll find in Orlando next year...
Janice Saylor
Monday, November 19, 2007
Story from ASM 2005
THE LAST HURRAH
or
TRAVELING AIN’T FUN LIKE IT USED TO WAS
The jaunt to Reno in January, 2005 was strictly an ego trip – and an expensive one, at that. About a year earlier, since its venue was in nearby Long Beach, I had submitted a technical paper to the annual conference, “SPACE 2003”. It dealt with the design of a unique emergency rescue vehicle which I had ‘invented’ in 1962 to bring back crew members from a failing space station. I had spent considerable effort, starting in the late 80’s, trying to convince NASA that such a device was needed for the International Space Station – to no avail. Surprisingly, the paper was not accepted. Now, further discouraged by the new US policy which had all but abandoned future development of the ISS, I reluctantly decided to give up the fight to legitimize my invention and submitted the paper to present at a Historical Session at my technical society’s annual Aerosciences meeting. So, this, my presumably final paper was to be the last hurrah for the Space Lifeboat. Moreover, I suspected that I would be the oldest person to ever present at this conference – perhaps a LANDMARK event!
Our flight to Reno was to leave LAX at 10 a.m. on Monday. Our Santa Fe daughter and her Santa Barbara son and his lady friend had been visiting us prior to winging it to Hawaii on an earlier 9 a.m. flight. On Sunday evening, I arranged with the usually reliable Yellow Cab company for a 5 passenger van to pick us all up at 6:45 a.m. next morning. The dispatcher said the driver would call us as he approached our pick-up point. Previous experience was that they usually arrived about 15 minutes early, so that when no one appeared by 6:50, I called in, slightly panicky. It was a mind-blowing revelation to find that she had never heard of me, but that she bet she could “have a cab there in 10 to 15 minutes”. Thinking quickly, I asked, “Do you have any cabs at the Crowne Plaza Hotel”, which is directly across a small street that runs between our buildings. She allowed that there indeed were two vehicles now stationed in front of the hotel. “Fine”, I said, “please call one and tell him to come by immediately!” “OK, they’ll be there in ten to fifteen minutes”. Being no longer able to deal with incompetence, I told her to “forget it”. I plodded across the street in the rain and commandeered a waiting cab at the hotel front entrance. The first crisis was over, but I was wet and out of breath, and short of temper!
At the airport, fortunately with plenty of pre-flight time, we ran into the vicissitudes of modern technology. You will see that this eventually led to an attack of apoplexy on my part, with an accompanying first notice divorce warning from my Dear Wife. Eskimo Airlines, our carrier of choice, has instituted a mechanized way to get their customers started on the long process of checking in baggage and getting boarding passes. Innocently enough, it started with a supposedly user-friendly computer screen and keyboard. My wife carries the tickets, so she took on the machine. The first thing it asks, once you get it energized, is “Confirmation Number, please”. Alas, there wasn’t a confirmation number on our Electronically-derived ticket. And try as we both might, by calling for “Help” on the screen and other futile stabs, we could not get past the first barrier. Thus stymied, we were not able to move on to the open Agent stations ready to immediately service those who were able to deal with the machine.
I then moved our baggage and my heightened blood pressured- body into the long line of those who also had not been able to use the machine and were waiting to be processed by a real person. In the meantime, my Dear Wife had found a minion lurking around the intransigent machine who told her that if you didn’t have a confirmation number, you merely had to type in your name. She beckoned me to abandon my position in line and join her at an open machine. Giving up our place in the queue, I joined her while we tried the new formula. And, try as we might, we could not bring up an icon which asked for our name. Not being noted for patience, the evil twin within me began to mumble under his breath – speaking unkind words about our airline-of-choice.
But, before an explosion occurred, we spotted another floating minion whose job appeared to be of an advisory nature, since he appeared to be ‘helping’ another hapless soul at the adjacent machine. I signaled audibly for help and he replied, “Wait a sec, it’s easy”. With that, I roared, “Easy!! Fer Chrissakes, I’ve been here 15 minutes, and even with my PhD in Engineering I can’t figure this dumb sumbitch out!” With that, he disdainfully declined to help me, noting that rudeness doesn’t count and that he “wasn’t being paid to take this kind of treatment!” So, I got back at the new end of the line, suggesting to my wife that she politely try him out. But he was too slick for her and told her that he knew “she was with the madman”. Eventually, we got to the front of the line and checked in; noting to the Agent that we would could be contacted at the Reno Hilton. Blood pressures back down to their normal highs, we arrived in Reno, determined to use Eskimo again only if it were the last plane out at Armageddon.
The meeting itself went well: I schmoozed with some old industry friends and university colleagues; we enjoyed the Basque restaurant that I remembered from many past meetings despite the cold and slippery slushy sidewalks in downtown Reno; and my talk went well and was well attended, including two grad students who collared me after my talk to discuss their thesis work in space rescue. So, my ego was assuaged, although in retrospect not $800 worth, and especially not after the final Eskimo Airline affront:
We were to return to LA via a noon plane, and reached the airport at 10 to begin the check in process on the evil machine. But, this time, we were armed with our confirmation number, which the Agent at LAX had provided. We started the process and all went well until it asked for the “Destination?” We typed in ‘LAX’ and it asked “Destination?” We typed in ‘Los Angeles’ and it again asked “Destination?” I felt the tightness gathering around my chest. Fortunately the nearby Agent called out to find the problem. She told us, “Oh, didn’t you know the flight had been cancelled?” No, we didn’t, although we would have known had we been at home, since that’s where they called to inform our answering machine of the change in schedule. They did put us on a 4 p.m. flight the same day, so we went back to the hotel and stewed and spent more money. Altogether an ugly experience.
To cap it off, about an hour before my talk, I had run into a very old (from the ‘60s) friend and we caught up with each other’s adventures in life. I casually remarked to him that, at almost 80, I would probably be the oldest living person to give a paper at this highly technical meeting. He replied, “I gave my talk yesterday, and I’m 83!” In true Linus fashion, “Rats”, I said.
But, there’s a happy ending! I wrote a ‘Letter from an Outraged Citizen’ to the president of Eskimo, including the text of the above story. In due time, I received a most welcome note from the airline’s Customer Relations Supervisor, lauding my suggestions for improved operations AND REFUNDING THE AIR FARE FOR BOTH ME AND THE WIFE!
or
TRAVELING AIN’T FUN LIKE IT USED TO WAS
The jaunt to Reno in January, 2005 was strictly an ego trip – and an expensive one, at that. About a year earlier, since its venue was in nearby Long Beach, I had submitted a technical paper to the annual conference, “SPACE 2003”. It dealt with the design of a unique emergency rescue vehicle which I had ‘invented’ in 1962 to bring back crew members from a failing space station. I had spent considerable effort, starting in the late 80’s, trying to convince NASA that such a device was needed for the International Space Station – to no avail. Surprisingly, the paper was not accepted. Now, further discouraged by the new US policy which had all but abandoned future development of the ISS, I reluctantly decided to give up the fight to legitimize my invention and submitted the paper to present at a Historical Session at my technical society’s annual Aerosciences meeting. So, this, my presumably final paper was to be the last hurrah for the Space Lifeboat. Moreover, I suspected that I would be the oldest person to ever present at this conference – perhaps a LANDMARK event!
Our flight to Reno was to leave LAX at 10 a.m. on Monday. Our Santa Fe daughter and her Santa Barbara son and his lady friend had been visiting us prior to winging it to Hawaii on an earlier 9 a.m. flight. On Sunday evening, I arranged with the usually reliable Yellow Cab company for a 5 passenger van to pick us all up at 6:45 a.m. next morning. The dispatcher said the driver would call us as he approached our pick-up point. Previous experience was that they usually arrived about 15 minutes early, so that when no one appeared by 6:50, I called in, slightly panicky. It was a mind-blowing revelation to find that she had never heard of me, but that she bet she could “have a cab there in 10 to 15 minutes”. Thinking quickly, I asked, “Do you have any cabs at the Crowne Plaza Hotel”, which is directly across a small street that runs between our buildings. She allowed that there indeed were two vehicles now stationed in front of the hotel. “Fine”, I said, “please call one and tell him to come by immediately!” “OK, they’ll be there in ten to fifteen minutes”. Being no longer able to deal with incompetence, I told her to “forget it”. I plodded across the street in the rain and commandeered a waiting cab at the hotel front entrance. The first crisis was over, but I was wet and out of breath, and short of temper!
At the airport, fortunately with plenty of pre-flight time, we ran into the vicissitudes of modern technology. You will see that this eventually led to an attack of apoplexy on my part, with an accompanying first notice divorce warning from my Dear Wife. Eskimo Airlines, our carrier of choice, has instituted a mechanized way to get their customers started on the long process of checking in baggage and getting boarding passes. Innocently enough, it started with a supposedly user-friendly computer screen and keyboard. My wife carries the tickets, so she took on the machine. The first thing it asks, once you get it energized, is “Confirmation Number, please”. Alas, there wasn’t a confirmation number on our Electronically-derived ticket. And try as we both might, by calling for “Help” on the screen and other futile stabs, we could not get past the first barrier. Thus stymied, we were not able to move on to the open Agent stations ready to immediately service those who were able to deal with the machine.
I then moved our baggage and my heightened blood pressured- body into the long line of those who also had not been able to use the machine and were waiting to be processed by a real person. In the meantime, my Dear Wife had found a minion lurking around the intransigent machine who told her that if you didn’t have a confirmation number, you merely had to type in your name. She beckoned me to abandon my position in line and join her at an open machine. Giving up our place in the queue, I joined her while we tried the new formula. And, try as we might, we could not bring up an icon which asked for our name. Not being noted for patience, the evil twin within me began to mumble under his breath – speaking unkind words about our airline-of-choice.
But, before an explosion occurred, we spotted another floating minion whose job appeared to be of an advisory nature, since he appeared to be ‘helping’ another hapless soul at the adjacent machine. I signaled audibly for help and he replied, “Wait a sec, it’s easy”. With that, I roared, “Easy!! Fer Chrissakes, I’ve been here 15 minutes, and even with my PhD in Engineering I can’t figure this dumb sumbitch out!” With that, he disdainfully declined to help me, noting that rudeness doesn’t count and that he “wasn’t being paid to take this kind of treatment!” So, I got back at the new end of the line, suggesting to my wife that she politely try him out. But he was too slick for her and told her that he knew “she was with the madman”. Eventually, we got to the front of the line and checked in; noting to the Agent that we would could be contacted at the Reno Hilton. Blood pressures back down to their normal highs, we arrived in Reno, determined to use Eskimo again only if it were the last plane out at Armageddon.
The meeting itself went well: I schmoozed with some old industry friends and university colleagues; we enjoyed the Basque restaurant that I remembered from many past meetings despite the cold and slippery slushy sidewalks in downtown Reno; and my talk went well and was well attended, including two grad students who collared me after my talk to discuss their thesis work in space rescue. So, my ego was assuaged, although in retrospect not $800 worth, and especially not after the final Eskimo Airline affront:
We were to return to LA via a noon plane, and reached the airport at 10 to begin the check in process on the evil machine. But, this time, we were armed with our confirmation number, which the Agent at LAX had provided. We started the process and all went well until it asked for the “Destination?” We typed in ‘LAX’ and it asked “Destination?” We typed in ‘Los Angeles’ and it again asked “Destination?” I felt the tightness gathering around my chest. Fortunately the nearby Agent called out to find the problem. She told us, “Oh, didn’t you know the flight had been cancelled?” No, we didn’t, although we would have known had we been at home, since that’s where they called to inform our answering machine of the change in schedule. They did put us on a 4 p.m. flight the same day, so we went back to the hotel and stewed and spent more money. Altogether an ugly experience.
To cap it off, about an hour before my talk, I had run into a very old (from the ‘60s) friend and we caught up with each other’s adventures in life. I casually remarked to him that, at almost 80, I would probably be the oldest living person to give a paper at this highly technical meeting. He replied, “I gave my talk yesterday, and I’m 83!” In true Linus fashion, “Rats”, I said.
But, there’s a happy ending! I wrote a ‘Letter from an Outraged Citizen’ to the president of Eskimo, including the text of the above story. In due time, I received a most welcome note from the airline’s Customer Relations Supervisor, lauding my suggestions for improved operations AND REFUNDING THE AIR FARE FOR BOTH ME AND THE WIFE!
paper abstract
SPACE STATION ESCAPE VEHICLE –
40 Years later
R.F. Brodsky*,
Viterbi School of Engineering,
University of Southern California
Los Angeles, California 90089-1191, USA
Over forty years ago, the author and his associates at Space-General Corporation, a subsidiary of Aerojet-General, proposed and won what became a 1.3 million dollar contract to develop and test elements of a one person space lifeboat for crew rescue from orbit. The customer was the USAF Materials Lab. The vehicle proposed was a 1000 pound inflatable reentry paraglider utilizing a variant of the Rogallo wing design. During the life of this contract, similar one-time-usage designs, meant strictly for emergency use by up to six crew persons, were also proposed, but were not funded. This paper will disclose the work done in the 60’s and will describe the author’s unsuccessful, to date, campaign, starting in the early ‘90’s, to have NASA consider its usage applied to the International Space Station
40 Years later
R.F. Brodsky*,
Viterbi School of Engineering,
University of Southern California
Los Angeles, California 90089-1191, USA
Over forty years ago, the author and his associates at Space-General Corporation, a subsidiary of Aerojet-General, proposed and won what became a 1.3 million dollar contract to develop and test elements of a one person space lifeboat for crew rescue from orbit. The customer was the USAF Materials Lab. The vehicle proposed was a 1000 pound inflatable reentry paraglider utilizing a variant of the Rogallo wing design. During the life of this contract, similar one-time-usage designs, meant strictly for emergency use by up to six crew persons, were also proposed, but were not funded. This paper will disclose the work done in the 60’s and will describe the author’s unsuccessful, to date, campaign, starting in the early ‘90’s, to have NASA consider its usage applied to the International Space Station
PRESENTED AT THE 43RD ANNUAL AIAA AEROSCIENCES
CONFERENCE; RENO, NEVADA, JANUARY 10-12, 2005
Thursday, November 15, 2007
Something Big is Happening in Reno This Year
Actually, many Big Things are planned for the Aerospace Sciences Conference (ASM). After 25 years, ASM is leaving Reno. To commemorate our time in Reno, we’re incorporating a “memories” board into the ASM Blog and AIAA Pavilion in the exhibit hall.
As past, present and future participants, we invite you to share your photos and stories with us. Tell us your worst travel story (we’ve all had them!)…your most successful presentation or professional contact...your most exciting pre- or post-Reno side trip…your funniest story…. If you’ve got photos or stories to share, email me at karan@aiaa.org by 12 December so I can have them pre printed on the memory wall. If you don’t have any right now think about it. There will be time and space for you to write them up on the wall which will be located in the Pavilion at the conference.
The AIAA Pavilion is new this year. It will be THE place for members to meet and greet, find out what’s new, purchase books and logo items, enter into and win drawings, and more. The Pavilion will be located in the exhibit hall next to the Cyber Café, open Monday, Tuesday, and Wednesday, 0700–1800 hrs and Thursday, 0700–1200 hrs.
We’ll kick off an exciting new membership and public image campaign, called “When Did You Know,” that could involve you!
Get excited and register today!
Thanks
KC Niedermeyr, AIAA Product Manager
As past, present and future participants, we invite you to share your photos and stories with us. Tell us your worst travel story (we’ve all had them!)…your most successful presentation or professional contact...your most exciting pre- or post-Reno side trip…your funniest story…. If you’ve got photos or stories to share, email me at karan@aiaa.org by 12 December so I can have them pre printed on the memory wall. If you don’t have any right now think about it. There will be time and space for you to write them up on the wall which will be located in the Pavilion at the conference.
The AIAA Pavilion is new this year. It will be THE place for members to meet and greet, find out what’s new, purchase books and logo items, enter into and win drawings, and more. The Pavilion will be located in the exhibit hall next to the Cyber Café, open Monday, Tuesday, and Wednesday, 0700–1800 hrs and Thursday, 0700–1200 hrs.
We’ll kick off an exciting new membership and public image campaign, called “When Did You Know,” that could involve you!
Get excited and register today!
Thanks
KC Niedermeyr, AIAA Product Manager
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