Sunday 7th June 2009 – Snowbirds and Flocking Politicians

I may have made a great discovery.  The fridge in my room was prettywell unusable.  It froze everything (you know what I mean) I put in it.  I'm now quite used to cold beer, but beer with ice crystals in it is new, even by American standards. 

I was making one last attempt to adjust it when I noticed what could only be the temperature sensor hanging free at the back.  If, I thought to myself, idly, that was supposed to be attached to the ice shelf, the effect of it hanging out here would probably be to freeze everything.  A penny dropped: what if I stuck it back behind the ice shelf?  So I did.  And it started to work properly. 

Now, question is: did some smart alec do that deliberately because they knew it would turn the fridge into a freezer.  Is this a useful piece of knowledge for a traveller, especially one kind enough to put it right when he's finished.

 

Sunday is a day of rest.  Which means siesta.  Which, in turn, means reverting to the Mediterranean lifestyle, and going round the bar at lunchtime. 

I had even been visited the night before by an angel who, out-of-the-blue, provided me with a pre-packed Mediterranean lunch of seafood, pasta, and salad.  So, if even the angels are signalling me to go round the bar at lunchtime, who am I to resist?

The machine wants seven quarters for the Sunday paper, so I have to negotiate some change with the barman.

The growing debate here is about health service reform.  Although there is already substantial public sector provision (Medicare, for the over-65's, currently the biggest buyer of Health Services, and Medicaid, for the poor), there appears to be general agreement that reform is essential, and will include a more substantial, and different, 'public option'. 

So all sorts of reform advocates are setting out their stalls and 'barking' their message.  The 'public option' demanded seems to vary from a simple competitor to the private providers to the 'single provider', which seems to be code for something akin to Britain's National Health Service.

What I, as an outsider, find interesting is the way the politicians are fumbling to find the words that will attract maximum public support.  It is as though they were not leaders, but rather observers of the gathering flock.  They are not so much trying to direct the flock, as spot which way it is going and then find the words to describe that direction.  It is reminiscent of the immortal words of Jim Hacker in 'Yes, Minister': "I am their leader: I must follow them".

The Sunday lunchtime bar population tends to be older, and therefore more interested in this debate.  There were even some 'snowbirds', back from Florida for the summer.  But the flock has not yet formed: there is no consensus.  Which may be why the politicians are having such a tough time.

 

One of the snowbirds enlightens me about weather 'west of the Mississippi'.  I had always thought that the great contribution the Americans had made to weather forecasting was the temperature-humidity index, which, when I was in New York and Washington, told you how uncomfortable you were going to be that day. 

My snowbird tells me that, west of the Mississippi, it's not humidity, it's wind: it's not the temperature-humidity index, it's the chill factor.  That is certainly true here.  I wonder if that will turn out to be true in Oregon and California?

 

Later that night, nearly everyone is watching the Tony Awards ceremony from New York.  Actually, I think their favourite barmaid is watching it, and they just want to sit beside her.

Some theatre institution wins an award.  The presenter makes one of those truly outrageous claims for it that only the most luvvy of luvvys could utter.  I pass a remark about New York being another planet.  "oh, no", they chorus, "(the state capitol) Helena's another planet: New York's another galaxy!"