I was in Florence at the time with my mother, panicking as the hotel employee, her hands flying recklessly around my face, repeatedly yelled at me, “Non è funzionata! Non è funzionata!”

It all started when I tried to tell her that we returned to our room from a morning of sightseeing to find our door not only unlocked, but wide open.  Surely we hadn’t left it that way.

Something obviously got lost in the translation.

“Non è funzionata! Non è funzionata!”

Random and irrelevant Italian words kept popping into my head as I frantically tried to find a different way to get the “conversation” back on track.  Finally, I realized she was saying something about a new light bulb…so, I just blurted out, “No! È funzionata prima!”

I had told her the light bulb was previously working. So much for reporting our security breach!

And so it began – my weeklong adventure in Italy, full of one communication crisis after the other as I navigated my way through situations without relying on my native language, agonizing over word choices for fear of stumbling into another “broken light bulb” conversation, and trying hard to communicate as clearly, respectfully and effectively as possible (something I have been doing as part of my summer internship here at STARKMAN – only in English. Pheeew!).

While I enjoyed my time in Italy with all its rich culture and ancient history – which, as a history major, I had been studying since high school – I must admit I had a few moments of culture shock.  Communication is not just about language, of course, as we “say” just as much about ourselves and where we come from through our non-verbal cues as we do through speaking.  From body language and facial expressions to how we dress, socialize and use our personal space…all of it is a treasure-trove of meaning for those who study people and cultures.

Accordingly, my experiences in Italy taught me something about both the country I was visiting and the one I had left behind.  It is only by stepping outside the known that these differences become crystalized.  Following are a few that I stumbled on while traveling in Florence.

When it comes to things like train schedules, hotel chains, and post offices, things in America are, generally, consistent and reliable. You know what to expect and are fairly certain you’ll, indeed, get it the way you expect.  That goes for our social institutions and public services, as well as for how commercial entities market themselves.  As an intern at STARKMAN, for example, I’ve seen firsthand the diligence with which corporations ensure that their customers “experience their brand” in a similar manner regardless of whether it is online or off.

It was a different story in Italy.

Take something as simple as hotel maps. When my mom and I checked into our hotel, we received a local neighborhood map. Having managed to lose it while exploring the city, we requested a replacement the next day from the concierge. But, the map we were presented with did not resemble – in no way, shape or form – the one we had been given the day before. It was not that they had run out of the earlier map, so much as it was that their stack consisted of maps of all different sizes, shapes and types – some of which were not even of the surrounding area. In contrast, I’m fairly certain that the Marriott has one standard map vendor for its New York hotels and regardless of which hotel you’re in or what time of day it is or how many times you ask, there’s likely only one map they will hand to a guest.

Similarly, on one particularly hot afternoon, my mother and I stepped into a small convenience store to buy a bottle of water; nothing in the shop had a price tag on it. The next day, the same bottle cost an extra euro. No explanation. It was just an extra euro. Well, I guess that explains the lack of a price tag! As I would come to learn, Italians seem to do (or charge, for that matter) whatever they deem appropriate at that moment.

Even signed shop hours were open to interpretation. A shop I wanted to visit was closed one afternoon and had posted that it would reopen at 3 PM; I purposely came back at the appointed hour and waited until 3:30 before giving up. This happened to me numerous times. While it was easy to bark at their perceived poor customer service standards, there’s a bigger lesson to be learned no doubt about cultural differences regarding the importance and value of time. But, I will leave that for the sociology majors.

USPS, You Have my Stamp of Approval

They say at home that southerners can always tell New Yorkers by their impatience; I think I understand that now, due to the experience my mom and I had at a post office in Florence.  Mailing a letter or buying stamps in Italy was, for us, a bit like a trip to Motor Vehicles – lots of lines, lots of people, lots of waiting, lots of confusion. After waiting for 30 minutes in what turned out to be the wrong line, we finally got to the front of the right one.  Despite the irrelevance to the question I was actually asking (I think), the clerk just kept repeating in Italian, “how many stamps?”

When we finally gave in and bought stamps, we had to go to yet another line to actually mail the postcards. By the time we left, I think it is fair to say that we were more confused than when we had entered – and more than a little frazzled. Had there been anyone from the Carolinas, Georgia or Mississippi in that post office, they’d have pegged us as New Yorkers in a heartbeat.

And a New Yorker I have certainly been this summer!  What I have come to realize, however, is that the way we live our lives and go about the day-to-day business of sharing a community, country and culture says something about the things that matter to us – what we find to be of value or noteworthy. Far too often, when people travel outside their homeland, they tend to evaluate whether the cultural differences they encounter are better or worse than what they know back home. I admit that my first reaction to the post office debacle was that Italians should learn from the U.S. Postal Service how to organize their business – that we have it figured out so much better. Yet, ask an Italian visiting the big post office at 33rd & 8th what they think, and I’m sure they’ll have the same reaction to the newness of it that I did.

Needless to say, my experiences in Italy and my interactions with Italians taught me a lot about them and myself.   Indeed, in each situation I found myself in, I become more aware of the intricacies of communication and the preconceived biases we carry as part of our cultural baggage.  It did not take me long to notice that, while interacting with me or observing my behavior and conduct, the locals were often also interpreting me through the lens of my “Americanism,” passing judgment on my country as much as they were on me.   To avoid further cementing the impression that Americans are “irrispettoso, scortese, e odioso” (disrespectful, rude and obnoxious), I admit I tried to do a little “reputation management” for my home country.   (Hmm… I wonder if I can I put Interim Unofficial U.S. Ambassador to Italy on my resume?)

In a way, this experience may have been the beginning of my interest in public relations and, in a very roundabout way, to what I now understand to be the notion of brand management.

Despite the numerous mishaps and unexpected surprises I had during what would come to be an unforgettable adventure, my long-held passion and love for Italy remains steadfast (after all, I will be graduating with an Italian minor in December). But, perhaps most importantly, despite my attempt to act, dress and speak like “una signorina italiana” (an Italian young lady), I left very much an American – granted, one with a newfound appreciation for our postal service, hotel maps and price sticker practices.

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Here’s why:

BENJAMIN STEAK HOUSE

http://www.benjaminsteakhouse.com/media/benjaminsteakhouse.html

Opening a 150-seat restaurant on a non-descript block on 41^st between Madison and Park took guts.  Previous restaurants in this space inside the Dylan Hotel didn’t last long, including Britney Spear’s ill-fated NYLA.  When Benjamin Steak House first opened, business was indeed quite slow.

Never one to follow the in-crowd, I gave the restaurant a try and immediately appreciated its outstanding food, responsive service, and friendly staff.   I admit to becoming something of a regular.  I knew others would eventually catch on despite its off-the-beaten path location and told Prelvukaj he better remember me when they get discovered.  “Mr. Starkman, you will always be guaranteed a great place in this restaurant,” Prelvukaj promised with his inimitable smile. Viktor, the restaurant’s amiable manager assured the same.

Prelvukaj and his partner, Arturo McLeod, both hail from Peter Luger’s, a Brooklyn-based restaurant that has long been famed as being one of the top steak houses in New York.  Prelvukaj was its former maitre d’ and McLeod was one of its chefs.  Benjamin steaks are from the same quality cuts of meat and are prepared in the same family style manner; but whereas Peter Luger’s is infamous for its surly service, Benjamin prides itself on treating customers with old fashioned respect.  And if you eat there often enough, the place becomes like ”Cheers” – everyone knows your name.

In addition to serving some of the best steaks in New York City, it offers a wonderful salmon entree and the side dishes are highly recommended, including its non-greasy onion rings and homemade potato chips.  Hungry yet?

Benjamin also has the best Happy Hour deal in New York City.  Even premium drinks are half price at the bar from 4 p.m. to 7 p.m. and the bartenders at Benjamin are quite generous with their pours.  Kenny, one of the restaurant’s longstanding bartenders, is unquestionably one of the best mixologists around.  If you can drink more than one of Kenny’s to-the-brim martinis, you’ll need to take a cab home. 

Benjamin has long since been discovered, but Prelvukaj is a man of his word.  Jackie and I ate there last night and, just as Prelvukaj promised me three years ago, we’re still getting one of the best tables in the house. 

PERA

http://www.peranyc.com/

 I still remember with great delight the email Jackie sent me about a new restaurant called Pera that had just opened in a space across the street.  One of the local tabloids had run a piece that morning on its opening and its chef and co-owner, Jason Avery.  We knew Jason and were excited he’d come to midtown.

Prior to October 2001, S&A was based on Wall Street directly across the street from a five-star hotel called the Regent Wall Street.  At the time Avery was the executive sous chef and the chef de cuisine at its restaurant called 55 Wall Street.  Jackie and I frequented that restaurant – it had a Happy Hour in the spirit of Benjamin’s – and Avery always took especially good care of us. 

Avery is well on his way to getting the recognition he deserves as one of New York’s most talented chefs.  I can confidently recommend everything on Pera’s menu, ranging from its inventive salads to its daily specials.  Lamb is among the restaurant’s specialties, and it took Avery months to wean me off his lamb burger before I would sample his other dishes.  Avery is always concocting new and interesting appetizers and entrees, and he recites them with a certain relish and zeal that underscores the pride he takes in his craft.  I once mentioned an appetizer of peas and feta cheese that I had sampled and loved at my favorite restaurant in San Francisco; Avery made the dish even better.

Pera has an interesting and fairly priced wine list and the service is always quite attentive.  The restaurant has an open kitchen, and Avery is always quite visible supervising the line or interacting with customers.  Avery treats all his guests like royalty, which is why I frequent the place at least three times a week.

So a tip of the hat — or should I say toque? — to Benjamin Prelvukaj and Jason Avery.  Your restaurants are probably the greatest things that have happened to the neighborhood since Grand Central Terminal was first built in 1871.

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An egregious example of this misplaced and often smug superiority was evident in this blanket statement made in a Wall Street Journal op-ed by Peter Kann, the former Dow Jones chairman who nearly drove that company to ruin:

“The Internet is not filling news vacuums either.  There are hundreds upon hundreds of online sites and blogs that claim to provide news, but virtually none of them even pretend to pursue the traditional news role of newspapers, which is to invest in professional staffs dispersed around a community and across the country or the globe to cover, analyze, and only then comment on, events.  Actually, all they do is comment.”

Yes, the Internet is indeed filled with wanna-be journalists and mischievous trolls who simply publish trite pablum or grossly reckless commentaries simply for the sake of getting noticed or causing a stir.  But mainstream publications produce more than their share of irresponsible drivel as well, such as this “investigative” article published in the San Francisco Chronicle or this doozy published in the Orange County Register.

The American public clearly isn’t impressed with the content produced by mainstream media: According to a September Pew Research survey, just 29% of Americans say that news organizations generally get the facts straight, while 63% say that news stories are often inaccurate.  But hey, even Pulitzer Prize-winning reporters like Kann apparently don’t have to let the facts get in the way of a good argument.

In truth, many of today’s bloggers are increasingly establishing themselves as authoritative sources of news and commentary in a variety of industries.  Blogging is not a mere trend; its advent has proven to be a significant mile marker in the evolution of mass communication.  Any organization that believes otherwise is deluding itself.  Brett Snyder, who pens the “The Cranky Flier,” airline industry blog, best personifies the new breed of blogger who most threaten the survival of mainstream journalism.

I’ve closely followed Snyder’s work for the past two years.  A former industry insider and self-professed “airline dork,” he is wise to the industry’s shenanigans and isn’t afraid to call them on it.  Brett’s readers also are remarkably well-informed and civil in their comments on his observations.  If you want to understand the airline business, “Cranky” is truly a must-read.

As for Kann’s dismissive claim that all bloggers do is comment, sometimes informed commentary is decidedly more valuable and insightful than the original “reporting” trumpeted by Kann.  To wit, Snyder’s initial post regarding the crash of the Air France flight from Brazil stood in stark contrast to the speculative reporting of mainstream reporters.  He derided the “million different theories” he had seen about what happened, cautioned readers that “none of the theories that keep being flung out there by the media seem to make sense on their own,” and forewarned that the true cause of the crash may never be known. By comparison, among the speculative stories published by the Wall Street Journal were this one, this one, and this one.  More than six months later, we still do not know what really happened.

Unlike a lot of mainstream reporters, Snyder isn’t above admitting he might have been wrong, as he recently did in a post discussing Virgin America’s announcement that it posted an operating profit (as he put it himself, he’s “been a harsh skeptic of the viability of Virgin America since the beginning”).  When is the last time you can recall a mainstream publication openly admitting without public pressure or the threat of a lawsuit that it may have gotten something wrong?

Snyder tells me that not one mainstream publication has ever approached him about a job.  Given that he lives in suburban Los Angeles, which is heavily impacted by the airline industry, you might expect the Los Angeles Times or Orange County Register would be fighting to scoop him up, but therein lies the judgment of the leadership of mainstream publications.  Hmm… is it any wonder the owner of the Orange County Register in September filed for Chapter 11 bankruptcy.

Blogging about airlines may be his passion but, like everyone else, Snyder needs to make ends meet.  To that end, he recently launched Cranky Concierge, an airline planning and travel problem-solving service that I wholeheartedly endorse.  Snyder recently figured out a way for me to fly business class from New York to San Francisco on my preferred flights for less than $250. Trust me: the guy knows his way around the system. And if anyone can solve your air travel dilemma, it’s him.

A tip of my hat to you, Cranky.  Dork or not, it’s conscientious bloggers like you that should have the mainstream media now reaching for the overhead oxygen masks…

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Meet Lauren Olney, our Holy Cross intern this year.  Although Ms. Olney is well travelled and has lived in world-class cities as London, Toronto, and Rome, like S&A co-founder Jackie Condie she takes great pride in being – ahem — a Jersey Girl.   Ms. Olney believes the much maligned Garden State unfairly gets a bad rap and argues there is much more to New Jersey than storage tanks, strip malls, and nail salons. Here is Ms. Olney’s recommended PR positioning for the Garden State (We decided to let it slide that she chose to attend a college in Massachusetts). — S&A Staff

“New Jersey.”

What pops into mind when you see or hear the name? A vision less than flattering I bet… including smog and big poofy hair perhaps?

Now, imagine living there and telling out-of-staters. Imagine seeing their expression turn sour. Imagine meeting a man in Rome – who first asked if the state of Seattle was above New York – knowing people “no like New Jersey.”

Trust me, it’s not easy.

People have poor opinions of New Jersey, as the media often captures the dramatic, not qualifying, aspects of the state. Thus, the general public is left with several common misconceptions, leaving a lot to be desired of New Jersey’s reputation management skills.

Myth #1: “What people see in Newark is what the rest of NJ looks like”

New Jersey is not just factories and roads, but few people venture beyond the Turnpike or airport to see aspects like the twenty percent of Jersey’s productive farmland. Does the average American know that NJ ranks 2^nd in blueberry production, 3^rd in spinach, and 4^th in bell peppers among many? Or that the state has the most horses per square mile? I once visited Central Jersey, and with open fields and large farms, and at first I had to ask if we were in the same state. Houses were modest, clothing choices were understated. Certainly, “The Real Housewives of New Jersey” featured nothing of the sort.

Myth #2: “New Jersey has the worst drivers in the country”

Despite what some people may think, New Jersey residents are tested the same as other states, and aren’t really the worst (sorry, New York.) New Jersey has the highest population density per square mile, thirteen times higher than the national average. That means everywhere, including roads, are more crowded. How does anyone expect us to be docile or forgiving on the road? To endure such a dense setting, one must anticipate and use survival-of-the-fittest maneuvering tactics. Hence explaining outbursts of aggression?

Myth #3: “Everyone from NJ is like The Soprano’s, or the Real Housewives”

“Joisey” accents, sprawling Vegas-like mansions, Italian-American family life, and criminal organizations are what these shows make New Jersey seem like. I (despite my dreams of being Italian) am a combination of Irish and Slovak heritage. My neighborhood also is very diverse, which isn’t unusual given that New Jersey ranks among the highest religiously and ethnically diverse states. There always has been a broad Italian base in Jersey, but the Asian-American population currently is the fastest growing in the state (and they aren’t in the Sopranos…?)

Myth #4: “Nobody from New Jersey is very smart”

Many people think that New Jersey residents are unintelligent. But it may be a surprising fact that NJ is tied for second with Massachusetts for the highest number of high school graduates that go to college, and placed sixth for percentage of residents who completed a Bachelor’s degree. With the statistics as back up, New Jersey is one of the smartest states.

Myth #5: “Nothing good ever happened in New Jersey”

New Jersey was once known as “the Crossroads of the Revolution” as it housed more battles than any colony during the Revolutionary War. Princeton became the nation’s capital for four months, and New Jersey became the first state to ratify the Bill of Rights. Among other New Jersey accomplishments, are the first drive in movie theater, Miss America pageant, brewery, can of condensed soup, submarine, boardwalk, and the first solid body electric guitar. Our state housed the first organized baseball game, first professional basketball game, and the first intercollegiate football game. Famous names such as Thomas Edison, Clara Barton, Grover Cleveland, Frank Sinatra, Stephen Crane, Paul Simon, Chelsea Handler, Bruce Springsteen, Jon Bon Jovi, and Derek Jeter were all from the state. Nothing good? The facts beg to differ.

So, please, the next time we tell you we’re from New Jersey, hold back the urge to give us the same, distinctive response. Our reputation needs to be improved by shedding more light on our positive attributes, because proudly, we have many. And, even though nobody likes us, there’s a reason why we have one of the lowest depression rates.

Instead, perhaps an old New Jersey state slogan says it best: “come see for yourself.”

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In those days, martinis at The Library Bar were made stirred, not shaken, and generously served in glass pitchers. My martini arrived arctic-cold with no discernible taste save for its slight hint of dryness. It burned soooooo good. I felt like a grown up.

I’ve lived in New York for two decades now and in all that time – and despite the city’s reputation for having the best of everything – I have yet to find a place that serves one that rivals the mastery and flair of The Library Bar. Gotham is sadly lacking on the quality bartender front. You have a better chance of getting hit by lightning than randomly finding a bartender who knows how, or will take the time, to serve a properly dry martini. Even some of the best and most expensive restaurants employ rank amateurs.

Fortunately, there are some notable exceptions. And one of them is Abdul Tabini, a longtime bartender at The Odeon who is beloved by Tribeca locals not only for his significant mixology talents, but also for his warmth, charm, and unbridled discretion. I suspect James Bond, a character known for his impeccable taste for the best of everything, particularly his martinis, would be most appreciative of Tabini’s handiwork with a bottle of gin or vodka, a few olives, and a splash of vermouth (although Bond would no doubt disapprove that Tabini also believes a good martini is stirred, not shaken).

The Odeon is, of course, the landmark New York restaurant that flashes in the opening credits of “Saturday Night Live” and was featured on the cover of Jay McInerney’s novel “Bright Lights, Big City.” From the day it opened nearly 30 years ago, the restaurant has always managed to attract a trendy crowd of artists and bold-faced names without making mere mortals like me feel somehow out of our element. Despite its impressive pedigree, The Odeon lacks pretension, which I suspect is one reason for its continued success. For at least the last 14 years, martini-master Tabini was another.

In the mid-nineties, 22-year-old Tabini left his native Morocco for the States with no more than a few dollars in his pocket and a handful of English phrases in his vocabulary. He quickly found work at The Odeon as a barback (essentially a bartender’s assistant), where he thrived. He kept his eyes and ears open, quickly learning both the language and the art of bartending. Tabini was promoted to bartender within eight months; I am proud to be counted among his first customers.

To describe Tabini as being a bartender would be tantamount to describing Alfred Hitchcock or Steven Spielberg as mere film directors. He does not simply pour drinks by rote following recipes long-ago locked in his head. There is exceptional art and pride to what he does, approaching each empty glass much like a sculptor must approach an unmolded piece of clay – as an opportunity to create a uniquely wonderful “wow” moment.

In addition to his sheer flair for making a great drink, I also very much admire Tabini’s inimitable warmth. He has a remarkable memory for details and always seems genuinely interested in how things are going for me and my friends, especially “Chuck” who was one of the regulars many years ago before work obligations took him out of the neighborhood. Tabini also is incredibly discreet: I’ve yet to hear him say anything about anybody to anyone. Whatever happens in front of Tabini stays with Tabini. The guy is a real class act.

This Saturday night will be Tabini’s last shift at The Odeon, a day that the regulars have looked toward with mixed emotions. While we hate to see him abandon his cocktail shaker and swizzle sticks and wave goodbye, he leaves to start Ward III, a 46-seat restaurant and bar he’s opening with two former colleagues around the corner at the site formerly occupied by QDT at 111 Reade Street.

Although Tabini’s myriad regulars earnestly pledge they will frequent his new joint, many also admit they will miss seeing him at The Odeon. “He’s like family,” confided Tommy, a local producer and director. “It’s devastating,” chimed his friend Patricia (before reminding me again to be sure to mention in this blog post that he makes the best martinis).

It takes real guts to leave a secure job to open a restaurant at the best of times, and even more so in the midst of a major economic downturn. Tabini says he isn’t afraid. “You can’t give up just because it’s a bad economy,” he says. “We believe in ourselves.”

Having enjoyed his company and his drinks for the last innumerable years, I must say I believe in them, too.

Tomorrow we drink to your continued success, Abdul. Bottoms up!

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According to the New York Post, Starwood – whose properties include the Westin, Sheraton, St. Regis, Le Meridien, and Four Points hotels – has reportedly notified affinity program members that it plans to dramatically raise the number of reward points needed to get a free night at more than 200 of its properties – in some cases by as much as 133%. I never got the email notice supposedly sent to members, so I’ll have to trust the Post on this one.

If it’s true, it’s a big disappointment. Unlike the major airlines, which almost never let me use my frequent flyer miles when I want to, I’ve had great experiences with the Starwood program. Rooms are almost always available where I want to stay and on my preferred night(s). I must have stayed at one of my favorite hotels in the country, the Westin on Market Street in San Francisco, using Starwood points more than a half dozen times in the last year. It would have been half a dozen and one times, but there was an occasion last summer when I was told the hotel was fully booked – even though I was able to subsequently get in by securing a room at the same hotel for the very same night via hotels.com. (Hmmmm… so much for no blackout dates, eh?)

As one blogger pointedly noted, it appears that the Starwood program has been incredibly successful and the company now wants to “steal back tons of Starpoints.” Having used my Starwood card almost exclusively since I received it more than a year ago, I feel cheated. If Starwood wants to change the rules of the game, I’m sure the fine print that came with the sign-up sheet gave the company the right to do so. What may be legally permissible, however, is not in this case customer service-wise. The latter would dictate that those of us who essentially invested in the company by using its co-branded American Express card should be permitted to continue redeeming existing points under the prevailing terms when we signed up for the card.

Assuming Starwood won’t be adding such a grandfather clause, I hope other disappointed program members join me in boycotting the company’s properties. As Starwood is certainly not alone in upping its point redemption requirements recently, I am not sure which, if any, major chain will become my new favorite. There are plenty of quality independent hotels to choose from; perhaps I’ll give some of them a go. Who knows – maybe I’ll even find some with the marketing smarts to offer special discounts for disgruntled Starwood refugees in need of a new hotel to call home.

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It’s not just a weather thing. I love California. If not for some immovable practicalities, I’d pack up and head up there tomorrow – earthquakes, fires, and landslides be damned. For now, I’ll just have to resign myself to visitor status.

Beverly Hills is just one of the many places I like to visit there. Don’t get me wrong – without question, I’m totally a fish out of water there. I’m not a posh guy, I have no clue what’s “hot” or trendy at any given time, I don’t shop in exclusive boutiques, and I don’t get dazzled by celebrities. Hmm…maybe that’s the appeal – the people and lifestyle there are so foreign, I’m drawn to it like a tourist from a small town in Arkansas is drawn to the top of the Empire State Building (And no, I’ve never been. Seriously).

Outsider or not, I’ve been there enough times to get a feel for places to go and places to avoid. Here’s a quick peek at some of my faves:

Where (and Where Not) to Stay

I typically avoid pretentious, trendy hotels. The rooms are often small, the service snotty and often unprofessional, and too often the bar or restaurant is closed because of a private party. I usually go with a Westin property, except when I’m staying in the Los Angeles area.

The Avalon

My favorite hotel is called The Avalon, a retro-style boutique just minutes from the heart of Beverly Hills. The place is indeed fashionable (and, for the record, the bar was closed for a private party one night during my last visit), but the service at the front desk and the restaurant is incredibly friendly and efficient. Think East Coast polish without the accompanying snide attitude. It boasts a romantic outdoor pool and a highly endorsable restaurant called the blue and blue. While the menu is somewhat limited, the food is creative, delicious, and artfully presented. Even their burger is amazing.

Sadly, The Avalon was fully booked one of the nights I was in town (darn those Grammys!), so I checked into Maison 140, which is owned by the same company. Let’s just say you wouldn’t know it to stay there.

Maison 140

Maison 140 bills itself as an “intimate” hotel, which I’ve learned is the hospitality industry’s precious little euphemism for ridiculously small rooms that are badly in need of a major renovation [note to reader: photo to right is actual size]. The hotel staff is a tad snooty, save for this charming woman from Fiji who works the graveyard shift at the front desk. Admittedly, Maison 140 is better situated than the Avalon (it’s located right in the heart of Beverly Hills, around the corner from the famed Peninsula Hotel) and the easy-access self-parking is a big plus, but it’s still a far cry from The Avalon. If you can’t get into The Avalon, I’d recommend the renovated Residence Inn about a mile down the road instead.

Where to Refuel

Peet’s Coffee

As I’ve noted before, I’m a big fan of Peet’s Coffee, a chain of coffee shops mostly located on the West Coast (count your blessings, Starbucks).

The Peet’s on Beverly Drive in Beverly Hills is filled with customers from the moment the doors open at 6 a.m. I couldn’t help but notice that the Starbucks down the street was nearly empty when I passed by. The same is true in San Francisco and Boston: at the Peet’s I visited in those cities, the closest Starbucks were invariably empty.

If I was in executive management at Starbucks, I’d be worried about Peet’s potential expansion plans. If I was a shareholder, well, I would have bailed out of the company a long time ago.

Urth Caffé

If you are hankering for a healthy breakfast and are willing to pay a premium to eat organic, I highly recommend Urth Caffé, which is right across the street from Peet’s. If you are looking for a comfortable perch to watch the beautiful people of Southern California and their dogs, this is the place.

Massimo Ristorante

New York is widely regarded as having the best restaurants, but I got to tell you, the Los Angeles area is definitely a close second. One of the best meals I’ve had in recent memory was at Massimo Ristorante located right off Rodeo Drive. Despite its upscale location, the place welcomes us mere mortals. In fact, my cousin and I were seated at one of the best tables in the house. Everything at Massimo was perfect: the perfectly chilled martini, the atmosphere, the décor, the service, and of course, the food. I can’t wait to go back!

Where to Walk … Or Rather How Not to Walk

Jaywalking is a fact of life in New York. If there’s a break in traffic, you go for it. One of Beverly Hills’ finest was kind enough to remind me last week that it is a big no-no everywhere else. I believe the term he used was “illegal”.

It was a glorious sunny day and I was in the heart of Beverly Hills’ shopping district. Spotting an interesting clothing store across the street, I stepped to the curb and looked left, looked right, looked left again (my mom taught me well) and then trotted across to the other side.

You don’t do that in Beverly Hills. Just ask Johnny Depp.

A motorcycle officer witnessed my civil disobedience and pulled me over… near the dress shirts in the clothing store. He was quite angry. Apparently, he had called to me to stop and wasn’t pleased that I ignored him. The truth is, I honestly didn’t hear him. He demanded my driver’s license, asked me a battery of questions, including the purpose of my visit and what I did for a living. I apologized profusely for my transgression and begged him not to write me a ticket. Alas, he spared me the ticket, for which I am very grateful.

Imagine getting a ticket for jaywalking while inside some snooty store. Oh, the indignity…

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But there is hope. I have found a smart, engaging airline public relations executive who is quite remarkable not only for her media smarts, but also for her savvy ability to permanently disarm one of her company’s critics. I’m talking about Abby Lunardini, director of corporate communications for Virgin America.

My dealings with Ms. Lunardini began last month when I contacted her for comment on an item I was considering about Virgin America. Without going into details, suffice to say that it probably wouldn’t have been a blog post that Ms. Lunardini or her bosses would have treasured.

As you know, I had already written some critical things about my experiences with this upstart airline, and had exchanged emails with senior management in the past. I wasn’t sure what type of reception I’d receive from Ms. Lunardini, but I assumed she knew the history and would, accordingly, hardly count herself among the blog’s biggest fans.

Ms. Lunardini defied my expectations. There was no cold shoulder, no blatant or subtle hostility, no Target-esque brush off of a mere blogger, and no tersely worded official statement or tight-lipped “no comment” in response to my less-than-favorable inquiry. Her professionalism, sincerity, and responsiveness were quite impressive.

But what really stands out is the way she subsequently used the opportunity provided by our dialogue to follow up on a request I made months ago to a Virgin America flight attendant for an autographed photo of Sir Richard Branson for my colleague Jackie Condie, who absolutely reveres the guy for his business acumen and PR smarts. Ms. Lunardini let me know that the photo request had not been forgotten and that she was hoping to get the photo signed when she saw Sir Richard at a party the company was throwing to celebrate the launch of service to San Diego.

Now here’s where I must confess to having an utterly shameless moment: I couldn’t help but ask Ms. Lunardini if it might be possible for Jackie to attend the San Diego celebration and meet Sir Richard in person. Not only did she oblige, she insisted that I come to the party as well. And so Jackie and I briefly found ourselves in southern California this week enjoying weather that should be considered sinful in mid-February.

Let’s just say Ms. Lunardini throws a heck of a party.

With help from an impressive group of representatives from the D.C. and Beverly Hills offices of Ogilvy Public Relations Worldwide, the flawlessly executed party at a trendy San Diego hotel was done in real style and class. Everything was to the king’s taste.

The party was filled with interesting people, ranging from Chamber of Commerce folks to Virgin America vendors. We also met a woman who made a critical video of Virgin America after her flight was delayed for some five hours. She, too, had been invited to the party.

Despite all the pressure Ms. Lunardini was clearly under, she still found time to make good on her promise. When we gave our names at the door, a representative from Ogilvy without looking at the list attentively said to Jackie, “Oh yes, you’re the one we need to make sure meets Mr. Branson.” You would have thought we were VIPs.

Just after 9 p.m., we were instructed to go to a quiet area upstairs. A few minutes later, we were introduced to Sir Richard who shared a few words and graciously agreed to pose for a photo with Jackie. Later we learned he was actually rather sick with the flu. You’d never have guessed it.

I’ve worked with Jackie for more than 10 years and I don’t recall a time she’s ever looked quite so thrilled. Ok, well, maybe at her wedding. Some people have asked us if spending a few minutes in his company was really worth the hassle and aggravation of making a cross-country trip in two days. Seeing the look on her face as she shook the man’s hand, there is no question about it. Definitely yes!

So many thanks Ms. Lunardini for an experience Jackie and I will never forget, and for changing this blogger’s perception of airline PR people. Like Virgin America itself, you are clearly a standout in your crowd.

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Daily Newspaper Dropping F Bombs

Crazy as it may seem, Toronto has four daily newspapers – not bad for a city of only 2.48 million residents (five million if you include people living in the ‘burbs). As far as city dailies go, they are considerably better than most local U.S. newspapers when it comes to depth and breadth of reporting. Then again, I may not be the most impartial judge; I was once a reporter with The Toronto Star.

In my day, The Globe and Mail, which fashions itself as “Canada’s National Newspaper,” had a decidedly conservative bent. Picture an uptight, pipe-smoking, cardigan-attired, scotch-sipping WASP male sitting in a leather armchair in a wood-paneled study bedecked with a prominent photo of Her Majesty Queen Elizabeth II and you pretty much have an idea of the typical Globe reader, at least in my mind.

Well, either my mental image was way off base or The Globe certainly has dramatically expanded its readership. In a story I admit I don’t quite understand, the newspaper unabashedly drops the F bomb multiple times without the usual ellipsis that most mainstream newspapers use to denote curse words. Granted the word in question is part of the formal name of the organization being profiled (the, ahem, “Fuck Death Foundation”), but I’m pretty sure that the old geezer in the armchair who suffered a major cardiac event after seeing such common crudeness in his beloved paper would argue that’s just splitting hairs.

U.S. Currency No Longer Welcome

For at least the past two decades, stores throughout Toronto gladly accepted – and gave a significant premium – on U.S. currency. The Canadian dollar, or Loonie as it is called because of the bird engraved on the dollar coin, at one point was worth some 35 percent less than the greenback, making Toronto a comparatively inexpensive place for Americans to visit.

But the Loonie has soared like an eagle against the U.S. dollar in recent months, closing the gap that most Canadians and professional currency-watchers had long taken for granted. Last week during my trip, the Canadian currency reached a record $1.10 against its American counterpart. Canadian consumers are understandably euphoric about the shift in currency buying power, and are flocking in droves to take advantage of it. Border crossing waits are reportedly as long as five hours, an added bonus for Canadian travelers. You see, Canadians seemingly derive great pleasure from waiting in line; most do it with great regularity and equally great patience. You could say that after hockey, it’s the national pastime. (Yes, even more so than curling).

Anyway, back to my trip. Obviously, I read newspapers and knew before I went north that the dollar-to-dollar exchange rate was no longer what it used to be and that I would have to take a hit if I stuck with American currency. What I wasn’t prepared for, however, was just how many places would simply no longer accept the greenback. The Loonie has been fluctuating to such a degree that stores don’t know how to calculate prices for people who want to pay with American money.

Perhaps I’m mistaken, but I thought the cashier at the sandwich shop said “thanks, but no thanks” to my U.S. dollars with a particularly defiant and gleeful tone. After years of having their Loonie punishably discounted, I guess it’s understandable if Canadians want to strut a little, but as The Globe and Mail might say, just watch that f*@%ing karma.

Banks No Longer Keeping Banking Hours

Canada is a country not known for the diversity of its financial institutions. There are just five banks holding more than 90% of the country’s financial assets. Growing up, there was no real differentiation among them when it came to pricing, products, and services. Think of it this way: They were about as consumer-centric as your local cable company. Regardless of the name on the door, bank branches were uniformly open Monday through Thursday from 10 a.m. to 3 p.m. and open until 4:00 on Fridays. In hindsight, the only customer-friendly effort they made was to make sure there were never enough tellers to service the long queue of people looking to conduct transactions. Remember, Canadians like lining up.

But apparently that’s all changed. In a story that jolted me more than my Tim Hortons java, I read that banks are extending their lobby hours, with two banks announcing that select branches will even have Sunday hours. Talk about a paradigm shift!

I will bet you ten Loonies to one Greenback that the rest of the Canadian banks quickly follow suit. While other things about the business of banking may have evolved, I’m fairly certain the herd mentality they share is not one of them.

And Finally… Anne Murray is Not a Lesbian

I’ve never cared much for the music of Anne Murray, but I’ve long admired the singer for not getting caught up in her own press, as the saying goes. Stories about her always left the reader with the impression of a decent, down-to-earth, proud Canadian who never let the fame and fortune swell her head. No doubt it is because of this benign image and reputation that landed her a line in that South Park song “Blame Canada” a few years back. She is deservedly a national icon.

But apparently even Ms. Murray has some skeletons in her closet. She recently confided to a Globe and Mail reporter that, 40-something years ago, she had a two-and-a-half-year affair with a much older married man who also happened to have two kids. She later married – and subsequently divorced – the guy. In the story, she also denied rumors that she is a lesbian. Supposedly these rumors have been circulating for a while, not that I ever heard them. Admittedly, this is hardly scandalous stuff given the current antics of Paris Hilton, Britney Spears, and their ilk, but keep in mind that Anne Murray’s image is deeply, deeply entrenched as that of someone far more squeaky clean and, well, dull. I guess Canada’s songbird wasn’t so innocently sweet after all.

Still, as much as things appear to have changed in Toronto, it was comforting to see some things remain the same. Despite Toronto’s emergence as a world-class cosmopolitan center, liquor and wine can still only be bought at a government-controlled store. Early Saturday night I went to one to pick up a bottle of wine. Estimating a 20-minute wait at the checkout, I decided my sister would get her house warming gift on my next visit. Canadians in general may like waiting in lines, but I do not.

Hmmm… maybe Canada’s not the only thing that’s changed over the years.

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I’m sitting on an airplane (Virgin America if you really must know) and watching yet another inane demonstration on how to fasten a seatbelt. What gets me is that after the demonstration, passengers are advised to shut off all electronic devices, including laptops, cell phones, and pagers (pagers? Who still uses a pager?).

Is it just me, or is there something ironic about being left to our own devices (no pun intended) when it comes to operating the sophisticated technology stuff they say interferes with the flight controls, but apparently we need a choreographed walk-through on those complicated seat belt buckles.

Yeah, Anthony, I know: “My name is Eric and I am an airline blogging addict.”

9 of 9

• Googling Weak Journalism
• The Irony of the New York Minute
• Out of the City and Into the Woods
• Seeking a Cure for The San Francisco Treat
• Top 10 Ways to Help Hotels Go Greener
• Clearing the San Francisco Air (Part One)
• Clearing the San Francisco Air (Part Two)
• If You Are Going to San Francisco
• A Demonstration We Can Do Without

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I’m quite open about my fondness for San Francisco and for what locals refer to as the Bay Area. The region attracts some of the smartest, weirdest, and most passionate people in the nation, and if you love the outdoors as much as I do, it’s a delightful playground.

I confess to getting a rush every time I drive through Silicon Valley and see signs for places like Cupertino, Mountain View, Santa Clara, and Palo Alto. New York might be the nation’s center for finance and culture, but in Northern California they actually create things. At any given time, the guy or gal I’m passing (I drive like a New Yorker) could be a designer at Apple, a programmer at Google, an engineer at Intel, or a senior R&D executive at HP. Or the person who has made an absolute killing selling black mock turtlenecks to Steve Jobs. The folks out here have literally changed the world, and it’s exhilarating just to be among them.

Over the years, I’ve developed some fairly strong opinions on the best places to stay and eat in San Francisco. I always appreciate travel suggestions, so I thought I’d share a few of my own. I’ve limited my recommendations only to places in the financial and Union Square area, but if you have the time, I strongly encourage you to venture out into the city’s wonderful neighborhoods.

Where to Stay

The Prescott Hotel

San Francisco is filled with boutique hotels that are usually described on places like TravelAdvisor.com as having “charm” or being “quaint.” I generally avoid these hotels because too often “charm” means small and “quaint” means there is no view. One of the best known in this category is The Prescott, which is owned by the Kimpton Group (heck, they even refer to themselves as a boutique hotel on their website). I once booked a room at The Prescott Hotel, but checked out minutes later. The room was uncomfortably small and overlooked the side of another building. To be fair though, a lot of guests love the place (I will tell you how I know that in a minute).

Westin Market Street

My favorite hotel, on the corner of Third and Market, is a recently converted Westin. I’ve been staying here for more than a decade, first when it was the ANA Hotel and then The Argent. I like the place because the sizeable rooms have floor-to-ceiling windows, afford wonderful unobstructed views, and get flooded with natural light throughout the entire day. Third and Market also is an ideal location because it borders the financial district and Union Square, the Moscone Convention Center, and the Museum of Modern Art. AT&T Park, home of the San Francisco Giants baseball team, is an easy 15 minute walk. The Peet’s Coffee, Whole Foods, and the Verizon store I raved about earlier are all nearby.

I never cared much for the staff at this hotel under the previous ownership, but a no-nonsense hotel management firm out of Dallas has taken over the property and is fast making improvements. If you can afford it, or are fortunate to get upgraded as I once did (thank you Starwood Preferred!), I highly recommend the 06 line of rooms on the higher floors, which are end-of-the-hall suites.

Third and Market has quietly become Starwood row, as there also is a St. Regis, a Sheraton, and a W within blocks. I’ve never cared much for the W chain, but the one in San Francisco is quite a happening place, particularly for twenty-somethings. The Four Seasons also is located just off Third and Market.

If you prefer to stay in Union Square, I was quite fond of the Pan Pacific Hotel, but it has since been taken over by the JW Marriott so I can’t vouch for the property.

Places to Eat

Kokkari Estiatorio

A client took me here in June and I couldn’t wait to return to the wonderfully delightful Greek restaurant. I’ve never been to Greece, but I’m told this place is quite authentic. Everything is wonderfully fresh and delicious. And despite being one of San Francisco’s most popular restaurants, the staff is pleasantly down-to-earth and extremely accommodating. The restaurant also has some fabulous wines in the $40-$50 range. Given the quality of the food, Kokkari is quite reasonably priced, at least by New York standards. Take my advice and go when you’re next in town. You’ll thank me later.

Aqua

For many years, Aqua was my absolute favorite restaurant anywhere. Although it was always pricey, it served some of the most glorious foods I’ve ever tasted in one of the most beautiful dining rooms in the country. But then executive chef and partner Michael Mina left, now operating his namesake restaurant at the Westin St. Francis Hotel (as well as others around the country). Aqua subsequently expanded, opening new locations and introducing a prix fix menu. While the restaurant remains popular with the trendy crowd, the food no longer has the same pizzazz, and given the paltry portions, seems a tad overpriced.

Having said that, I still recommend Aqua for its signature tuna tartare dish, which unquestionably is still the best I’ve tasted anywhere. You can have it classically prepared or with a blend of moroccan spices, lemon confit, and fresh herbs. Fortunately, you can order the dish a la carte. I highly recommend going to Aqua to sample its tuna tartare and a glass of wine (it’s a great place to meet for a drink) and then go somewhere else for dinner.

Postrio

Wolfgang Puck’s Postrio is another popular local restaurant but, as the travel experts at Fodor’s write, “Gone are the days when Postrio was the destination.” The restaurant is located in the aforementioned Prescott Hotel, its home since opening in 1989. Overall, I’m as underwhelmed by the food served in the main dining room as I am by the hotel that houses it. Its bar food, however, is another story. The place makes its own gourmet lamb, veal, and duck sausages that are served with various sauces and pretzels. The magnificent three sausage dish costs all of $11, making it quite possibly the best gourmet food deal anywhere. Postrio’s sandwiches also are quite good, and I also recommend the mixed greens salad, for its freshness and generous size. Postrio also serves reasonably priced wines by the glass.

I frequently meet Prescott guests at Postrio, all of whom seem to quite like the hotel.

Dottie’s True Blue Café

It’s always dangerous to use superlatives, but I’m quite comfortable using one when talking about Dottie’s. This neighborhood joint serves the best – the very best – American breakfast anywhere. Jacob, our creative director, seconds me on this as do, it seems, many others. A few words of caution: The restaurant borders San Francisco’s rather seedy Tenderloin district and a line often begins forming even before the tiny place opens. Trust me, their fresh-baked muffins and the world’s most perfect pancakes are worth the trouble.

I’ll leave it to others to tell you where to shop and which tourist “must sees” are worth the price of admission. I’m just the Lodging and Food & Wine Guy.

8 of 9

• Googling Weak Journalism
• The Irony of the New York Minute
• Out of the City and Into the Woods
• Seeking a Cure for The San Francisco Treat
• Top 10 Ways to Help Hotels Go Greener
• Clearing the San Francisco Air (Part One)
• Clearing the San Francisco Air (Part Two)
• If You Are Going to San Francisco
• A Demonstration We Can Do Without

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While I’d like to believe that Mother Nature has finally gotten to the hospitality industry, I cannot help but be cynical about the hotel industry’s collective environmental epiphany. Do they really care about the planet… or about attracting more eco-friendly consumers who, it just so happens, tend to be more upscale and affluent? And as for the little card they leave by the bed suggesting you reuse your towels and forego clean sheets? I’m sure the fact that they stand to save millions of dollars each year on laundry suds by not having to do all that washing anymore has nothing to do with it. Don’t get me wrong, I’m all for trying to protect and preserve our natural resources. I think it’s great that hotels are encouraging their guests to be a little less self-indulgent and more planet-aware. I’m just not buying their motivation behind it.

In the end, I suppose the fact that hotels are pushing more environmentally benign practices is more important than why they are doing it. So, with that in mind, let me offer a few additional suggestions to facilitate the greening of hotels, motels, and inns everywhere:

1. Eliminate your obscene Internet access charges for guests who agree to receive an electronic copy of their bill instead of a loooong paper printout – entire forests will be saved!
2. Give Earth First! free use of your conference centers and lobbies to stage their awareness protests and offer your best corporate rates to the group’s members.
3. Rig your plumbing and lighting so that guests must listen to pre-recorded environmental messages from Al Gore before opening a faucet, flushing the toilet, or turning on a lamp.
4. Replace the tiny liquor and wine bottles in the mini-bars with full-size ones to lessen the burden of all those little plastic containers on community recycling efforts. Of course, the hotel should absorb the cost of the bigger bottles as their way of “paying” the world back for its plastic footprint.
5. Stop offering pay-for-view movies. That only encourages guests to watch television, which in turn causes more electricity consumption and leads to excessive couch-potatoism.
6. Permanently set all your televisions to the Discovery Channel and allow guests free viewings of An Inconvenient Truth.
7. Instead of offering your Jewish customers airline mileage or hotel affinity points, make contributions on their behalf to the Jewish National Fund’s EZ Tree Program.
8. Tell USA Today you are no longer willing to accept free bulk deliveries of the newspaper and stop selling newspapers and magazines in your gift shops. If guests are in need of news, they can get it on the Internet thanks to your free online access. More forests will be saved!
9. Encourage guests to take home your logo emblazoned bathrobes free of charge. Otherwise you will have to wash them repeatedly, thereby undermining your water saving efforts.
10. Offer special discounts to guests who agree to take showers together. This, too, will aid your water conservation efforts.

Who knows? Maybe one day we will witness the spectacle of Paris Hilton accepting a Nobel Prize on behalf of the hotel chain whose name she bears.

Now that’s hot!

5 of 9

• Googling Weak Journalism
• The Irony of the New York Minute
• Out of the City and Into the Woods
• Seeking a Cure for The San Francisco Treat
• Top 10 Ways to Help Hotels Go Greener
• Clearing the San Francisco Air (Part One)
• Clearing the San Francisco Air (Part Two)
• If You Are Going to San Francisco
• A Demonstration We Can Do Without

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Is there a clinic that treats Rice-A-Roni Jingle on the Brain?

Now repeat after me:

Rice-A-Roni, the San Francisco Treat. Rice-A-Roni the flavor can’t be beat…

4 of 9

• Googling Weak Journalism
• The Irony of the New York Minute
• Out of the City and Into the Woods
• Seeking a Cure for The San Francisco Treat
• Top 10 Ways to Help Hotels Go Greener
• Clearing the San Francisco Air (Part One)
• Clearing the San Francisco Air (Part Two)
• If You Are Going to San Francisco
• A Demonstration We Can Do Without

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Allow me to play Travel Guide

Locals tell me that Middletown, so-called because it was a resting place for stagecoaches traveling between Calistoga and Clear Lake, had long been dominated by extremist “America Love It or Leave It”, far-right Bible-thumpers. In earlier days, however, it attracted a less godly crowd. The treacherous road through Mount St. Helena into town was once the preferred launching site for countless stagecoach robberies. While police haven’t reported too many horse-drawn hijacks in recent decades, there’s still trouble to be found if you know where to look… or what to ask for. A few years ago, I had the audacity to ask this heavily tattooed, motorcycle-leather-wearing, menacing-looking guy working the register at the local gas mart if they sold contact lens solution. He let me know with one threatening glare that “real men” don’t wear contact lenses, at least not in Middletown.

But alas, that may no longer be the case. Middletown has been quietly undergoing a transformation in recent years. The area is increasingly becoming popular with artists, artisans, and New Age people who appreciate the area’s mountainous beauty, peaceful tranquility, and ideal climate (well, except for winter when it rains a lot). The 1600+ acre Harbin Hot Springs resort has become the biggest employer in the area and a wealthy high tech entrepreneur is launching a New Age time-share. The long-timers don’t care much for the newer arrivals, but they live a peaceful co-existence. Think of this place as a rural Switzerland for the left and the right.

Middletown may be small, but it boasts some eating and drinking establishments worthy of note. There is an upscale restaurant called Boar’s Breath, which is run by a couple named Frank and Suzette Stephenson. Frank, the chef, prefers to laden his dishes with lots of butter and cream (no tofu and sprouts here), so the selection is extremely limited if you are on a low fat diet. Frank served a steak special one evening that was as good as any I’ve had at New York’s best brasseries. What also impresses me about this place is how they mix drinks – It’s one of the few places I’ve ever been to where they take the time and effort to chill a martini bone cold. They also serve some excellent wines by the glass, including those from nearby Langtry Estate & Vineyards (which now incorporates those formerly under the Guenoc Estates label).

Two other must-tries are the gourmet coffee shop called Mugshots Espresso and a specialty sandwich shop called La Sirena (go for the tuna salad sandwich!). A woman named Diana, who emigrated to Middletown from Holland, owns both. Although there is nowhere to buy a daily copy of The New York Times in Middletown, a copy of the Sunday edition is delivered each week to Mugshots. Consider yourself forewarned: You will have to fight me for it when I’m in town.

Middletown’s supermarket, Hardesters, is also the town’s hardware store. I can’t speak much to the quality of their lugnuts and wrenches, but their fresh produce is far superior to what you would expect at some of the best gourmet food stores in New York. Granted, this is California, so maybe that’s not exactly a big surprise. Hardesters has a pretty extensive selection of gourmet food and other products, including – thank goodness – contact lens solution. Another great feature: there are no lines at the checkout, one of my pet peeves. I wish I could shop here every day.

If you are a beer aficionado, The Mount St. Helena Brewing Company is definitely worth checking out. The restaurant and bar brews its award-winning beers on site that are served up for a mere $2 a pint on nights when football games are on. The place also serves a pretty darn good chicken parmigiana sandwich and the pizza also looks pretty tasty. Unfortunately, I will probably forever remember this restaurant as the place where I watched the Yankees’ pathetic 2007 series ending loss to the Cleveland Indians (not that anyone in the place cared but me). The restaurant’s owners are looking for a beer distributor, so if you know someone in the business, maybe you can help them out.

If you are looking to spend the night in the Middletown area, I highly recommend Spirit Lake Bed and Breakfast about 20 miles north, which is run by an engaging couple named Peter and Elaine Marie. They bought and built their property after seeing an ad in the Penny Saver News. You would be hard pressed to find anyone who will make you feel more welcome than Peter and Elaine. As an example of just how small the world really is, they also own a B&B in Hawaii that, as it turns out, is literally next door to my cousin’s house!

However, all is not ideal ideal in Middletown, like most places. The town and surrounding area are vexed by chronic unemployment, which is being blamed, at least in part, for the growing drug problem. Crystal meth labs are rampant here, creating a virulent colony of drug addicts who need to beg, borrow, and steal to feed their addictions. Diane informed me last week that she has to remove seating she had put in front of her sandwich shop because it had become a place of choice for these drug addicts to congregate.

Peter and Elaine aside, many people in the Middletown area are not particularly friendly or welcoming of outsiders. To be fair, that’s a common enough reaction among the Old Guard whenever a town’s humble character and quiet way of life are perceived as threatened by aggressive land development and the resulting influx of new residents. My colleague Jackie sees the same thing happening in her backyard down by Princeton, NJ (it pains me to admit this, but Jackie is actually a born and bred Jersey Girl).

Having lived in New York City for nearly 20 years, I’ve grown somewhat immune to standoffish locals, so I can deal with chilly Middletowners and not let their somewhat icy demeanor dampen my affinity for their town. Next time you are in the Napa Valley region, it’s worth the 20-minute drive up Mount St. Helena to check out Middletown and the Lake County region. Just make sure you’re well-rested. The dangerously steep and winding road leading into town is a real doozy that would test even the great Grand Prix racer Jackie Stewart’s driving skills!

3 of 9

• Googling Weak Journalism
• The Irony of the New York Minute
• Out of the City and Into the Woods
• Seeking a Cure for The San Francisco Treat
• Top 10 Ways to Help Hotels Go Greener
• Clearing the San Francisco Air (Part One)
• Clearing the San Francisco Air (Part Two)
• If You Are Going to San Francisco
• A Demonstration We Can Do Without

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But the truth is that New Yorkers tolerate some of the most – if not the most – apathetic customer service in the nation. Forget the notion of a New York minute if you need to pick up toiletries or a gourmet coffee – it’ll cost you 15 of those minutes at least. And if you need technical help at a wireless store or, heaven forbid, need to cross a bridge or tunnel? You’ll need to set your watch to count off in quarter-hour increments. Despite what Don Henley may suggest, everything can change in a New York minute … but only if you’re not stuck in line at Duane Reade, Starbucks, or the George Washington Bridge.

I’m always reminded of this myth/reality disconnect whenever I am in San Francisco. California is famous for its slower pace and less stress lifestyle, yet residents here enjoy a prompt level of customer service that far exceeds the standards found in New York City, even at the most everyday of establishments. Generally speaking, there’s an attentiveness to customers and an urgency to help them complete their transactions and get them on their merry way that is in stark contrast to life in the Big Apple. No exaggeration, it’s akin to culture shock to this beaten-down NY consumer. Budgeting extra time to stand in long lines is part of my daily ritual.

Consider the evidence:

Walgreens vs. Duane Reade

Like Duane Reade in New York, there seems to be a Walgreens on every block in San Francisco. That’s where the similarities end.

The managers of San Francisco-based Walgreens seem to realize their customers want to shop in a clean, logically-organized, uncluttered, friendly store, and that they have better things to do than stand aimlessly in line once they’ve found everything they need. If the queue becomes more than three or four people deep, cashiers call for backup without reservation. Employees performing stockwork and other functions drop what they are doing and open a register to move the people through the line quicker.

While there are a few Walgreens in New York, the city is unquestionably dominated by a chain called Duane Reade. Poor customer service is Duane Reade’s hallmark. Forget death and taxes, the only thing you can REALLY bet the house on is that you will never, ever go to a Duane Reade store in New York and not wait in line – even if there are no customers in the store. You’ll simply have to wait while the cashier finishes talking to her colleague, changes the receipt paper, or perhaps fills the coin slots in the till, breaking open the individual coin rolls and counting out every last quarter, dime, nickel and penny packed in them before ringing you up. I am not exaggerating.

Peet’s vs. Starbucks

There is absolutely no debate among coffee aficionados that Peet’s Coffee & Tea, an expanding, locally-based chain whose stores are predominately in California, is far superior to Starbucks when it comes to deep roasted coffee goodness. But their baristas are also worthy of praise.

People who work at Peet’s take great pride in their product – and it shows. They are friendly and energetic, and quick to pleasantly greet you and take your order. The flavor of the coffee is consistent and fresh, and is seemingly made with considerable care rather than with the soulless push of a button. Soothing classical music can be heard in the background. While lines sometimes do form during peak times, it’s not for a lack of hustle on the employees’ parts. It’s simply the popularity of the product. Most important, Peet’s has a pure gourmet coffee shop feel to it. When I walk in there, I don’t put up my guard that they are going to try to cross-sell me 18 other types of products.

Starbucks in New York has essentially become just a fast food chain – minus the “fast” bit. At the store in my neighborhood, the lines move maddeningly slow, they frequently pour coffee that isn’t fully brewed, and on more than one occasion, they actually didn’t have any coffee ready. The baristas like to blast music through tenth-rate quality speakers and while there may indeed be people who truly enjoy “The music of Starbucks,” I’m not one of them. I go to a coffee store just to buy coffee.

Verizon San Francisco vs. Verizon New York

Verizon may be synonymous with bad customer service, but someone forgot to tell Muki, the manager at the company store at 768 Market Street, just off Union Square. I’ve had to visit the store on numerous occasions, and have been impressed with not only the speed of the service but with the knowledge of its tech support people (maybe it has something to do with San Francisco’s proximity to Silicon Valley). I’ve always managed to get in and out of the store within 10 minutes.

Verizon stores in New York are a service nightmare. A while back my colleague Jeff had some problems with his cell phone that required frequent lunchtime visits to the Verizon store near our office. Whenever he announced he was heading over there, we all knew to block out a solid two hours before he would be back and available again for meetings, conference calls, etc.

As an aside, when I casually mentioned to an employee at the Market Street store how much better the service was than Verizon’s New York stores, he remarked, “You know we just had someone else here from New York who told us the same thing.”

Whole Foods on Fourth Street vs. Whole Foods New York City

Whole Foods is a retail delight for anyone who prefers to eat healthy, fresh food. The one on Fourth Street in San Francisco has these wonderfully prepared hot foods and a comfortable seating area to sit and enjoy them. Now here is the best part: I’ve visited the store at peak times and I’ve never had to wait in line. There are plenty of open registers at all times, and cashiers manning them are quick to get you on the move.

While the stock selection and prepared foods are equally good in New York, it’s the untraditional one line to check out that earns the Whole Foods stores their demerits. Simply, it takes too long to check out. Literally, the hot bowl of soup you were looking forward to enjoying for lunch is lukewarm by the time you pay for it and grab a seat. I suppose I could try going at an off-peak hour, but it seems more logical to accommodate customers who want to eat lunch at lunchtime. The New York Times did a profile late last June on the advantage to Whole Foods way of queuing people in one main line and then feeding them to registers as they free up – like they do it at Motor Vehicles – but the “longer the line, the shorter the wait” experience they talk about is nothing I’ve ever appreciated first hand.

The Golden Gate Bridge vs. The George Washington Bridge

Okay, I don’t have hard statistics to back this claim up, but the toll booth collectors at the Golden Gate Bridge run circles around their counterparts at the George Washington Bridge. Maybe they have performance goals and better attitudes, and maybe they just get the credit for what’s really a function of better designed roadways to keep the traffic flowing. The bottom line is that crossing the Golden Gate is comparatively quick and easy.

When I travel back from the Napa region, it is usually on a Sunday evening. On occasion there have been some extremely long backups, but it’s never taken me more than 20 minutes to make it through to the tollbooth. Once you get there, the collectors seem decidedly more polished and engaged, focused solely on accurately processing your transaction. A collector told me the working goal is to have cars pass through in ten seconds or less.

Back on the other coast, Sunday night backups on the George Washington Bridge can easily take more than an hour out of your life, especially in the summer. While part of the delay is no doubt due to the sheer volume of cars trying to squeak through, partial blame must lie with the distractions with which the tollbooth operators surround themselves. They chat on their cell phones, converse with each other by yelling across the lanes, and play loud, pulsating music while supposedly doing their jobs. While there are certainly other advantages to signing up for the E-ZPass automated toll payment system, there is none more persuasive than the promise of not having to deal one-on-one with human toll collectors who make you feel like you are an interruption to their fun.

I read somewhere that the expression a “New York minute” was coined by a guy from Texas who described it as “… a nanosecond, or that infinitesimal blink of time in New York after the traffic light turns green and before the ol’ boy behind you honks his horn.” I can only imagine what the definition would have been if he had taken the subway instead and based it on time standing in line at Duane Reade.

2 of 9

• Googling Weak Journalism
• The Irony of the New York Minute
• Out of the City and Into the Woods
• Seeking a Cure for The San Francisco Treat
• Top 10 Ways to Help Hotels Go Greener
• Clearing the San Francisco Air (Part One)
• Clearing the San Francisco Air (Part Two)
• If You Are Going to San Francisco
• A Demonstration We Can Do Without

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