Writers' torture: Waiting for your script to be read

For a writer it never gets easier.

Waiting.

You’ve turned in your script to the producer/network/studio/agent/manager/professor/best friend.

And now you wait for the response.

And wait.

And wait.

And wait.

And wait.

You’d think in time it gets easier. It never does.

You generally calculate in some reasonable reading time period. They’ll read it over the weekend. But you still think, if they were really interested they’d read it tonight. Why aren’t they reading it tonight?

The longer you receive no answer the more you think they hated your script. He just can’t bring himself to tell me how much it SUCKED! You start doubting the script, yourself, your religion, everything. You begin going through the script, re-examining every line. Jokes that just last week you thought were bulletproof now seem really lame.

Then you reach the point where you wonder, should you remind them? And if so, how? This depends on the relationship.

I would say this, try to find out what the reader’s behavior pattern is beforehand. It might save you a lot of time and anxiety. There are some producers who just don’t give you feedback. On a show we once worked on, we turned in our first draft and heard nothing. Weeks went by. The producers put our script into mimeo for the beginning of production and still said nothing. I was walking to the parking lot that night with one of the producers, and neurotic insecure writer that I am, I asked him what he thought of our script? He looked at me like I was crazy. His answer was “Well, we kept most of it, didn’t we?” From that day on I never expected feedback from any script we turned into him (which is good because we never received any). But we knew he was pleased so that was good enough.

I’ve known writers who thought they were getting fired at the end of the year only to get promoted. They had no idea where they stood. For some producers, that's their style.

On the other hand, there was Larry Gelbart. Here’s one of the many reasons I loved that man: You’d turn in a draft to Larry at the end of the day. Two hours later he would call you at home to tell you how much he liked the script. He understood the butterflies all writers experience waiting and went out of his way to be sensitive to that. When David Isaacs and I were running our own shows years later we adopted that same practice. If a writer turned in a draft we made the time to read it and respond right away. It’s how we liked being treated; it’s how we felt we should treat others.

All I could say is hang in there. And don’t build a “Jack story”.

What’s a “Jack story”? Well, it’s often attributed to comedian Danny Thomas and I’m paraphrasing but it goes something like this:

A guy’s driving down a country road late at night and gets a flat tire. He opens his trunk to discover he has a spare but not a jack. Up ahead he sees a light. There’s a house about a half-mile up the road. He decides to hike there and see if he can borrow a jack. He figures the owner of the house will gladly let him use it for a few minutes. Why wouldn’t he?

But as the guy trudges on he wonders -- maybe the homeowner won’t be so neighborly. After all, he is a stranger. Maybe he’ll be suspicious. Maybe he’s the kind who doesn’t like anyone touching his tools. He lives way out here in the middle of nowhere – he’s probably anti-social, probably a real asshole. The more the guy considers these options the angrier he gets until finally he reaches the house, rings the bell, the owner answers, and the guy says, “Screw you! I don’t need your fucking jack!” turns on his heel and marches off.

Your script is just as good if it’s read the first night or second week. So relax and have faith in yourself. Now, if I could just learn to believe that myself.

This was a re-post from 84 years ago. 

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Friday Questions

Rolling out the weekend with some Friday Questions. What’s yours?

VP81955 starts us off with a screenplay FQ:

I've been told that when you're suggesting musical or song & dance segments, you should not specifically list the song (and certainly not play choreographer -- that's why God made Toni Basil!), but write "in the style of 'Pump It Up' by Elvis Costello (or whatever)." At the same time, I understand the screenwriter for "Guardians of the Galaxy" -- whom I'm guessing is far more experienced regarding this stuff than I am -- insisted on several '70s songs for the soundtrack. How would you suggest a neophyte screenwriter handle this situation?

The issue about specific songs is that the studio will need to secure the rights. And that can get complicated and expensive.   Good luck getting a Beatles or Springsteen song.  It’s generally better to leave yourself some options.

In the case of GUARDIANS, ‘70s music was key to the character. But they had enough wiggle room that if they couldn’t get “Go All the Way” by the Raspberries they’d be able to get clearance for something comparable.

For your screenplay you could suggest a specific song and add:  or something like it that the studio could clear without needing to sell off the backlot.

As for choreography, be sparing for several reasons. It’s hard to convey and the last thing you want to do is bog down your reader with extensive stage direction. As you said, it’s Toni Basil Magic.

David wonders:

John Astin so under-rated. Have a question - I remember that MTM series (short as it was) and remember the Astin character had a thing where he always said the full name of Mary's character. When you develop a character do you also develop those "hooks" (is that the industry word?) or does it evolve during the creation of the show, as you hear the characters interacting in real time?

You do look for quirks that help define a character. The best of these come from observing real behavior from real people.  When David Isaacs and I are creating a character we'll often say, "What about that thing that Fred does?"    (Poor Fred, we use him all the time.) 

But again, the point is to help inform the audience as to who the character is. It’s not just giving him a funny catch phrase or goofy walk just to have him stand out.

Actors are always looking for these “hooks” to lock onto a character. Sometimes it’s a speech pattern, a physical quirk, a piece of wardrobe, or even a certain music genre preference a la GUARDIANS.

As a writer, the more specific I can make a character the easier it will be for the actor and the audience to get what I’m going for.

Another helpful hint for writers -- take acting classes and improv workshops.  Learn to develop characters for yourself.    I always recommend Andy Goldberg's improv class.  It's the one I'm in.

Micah queries:

Ken, you've diversified so much of late with playwrighting (a word?), TCM hosting. I'm curious if you've thought about doing a podcast? Given your broadcasting chops, storytelling and showbiz connections, I'd think you would be pretty successful with it. Have you considered that at all?

I have. I would like to do a podcast. I just need the equipment and someone to show me how to use it, how to upload it, how to link to it from my blog. I am not computer savvy (a nice way of saying I’m a blithering idiot). I also worry a little about the time and obligation a podcast would require.

Oh… and just what the hell I’d say on one of these things?

But I’m definitely interested.

From Allan V:

Like yourself, I have also called games on-air (high school, not MLB), and like yourself, I like to use the occasional profanity in my casual, everyday speech. What approach did you use to keep from accidentally blurting out an f-bomb or similar word when things get exciting during a game? Frankly, I was always a bit worried that I might let one fly during the heat of the moment.

I can only speak for myself. I am always conscious of the fact that I am “on the air.” Usually I’m listening to headphones so my voice sounds a little amplified and that provides a constant reminder that I’m in broadcast mode.

I have been known to drop a profanity or two during my daily life. But when I’m in the booth I try to curtail the casual use of such language. However, I know announcers who take great delight in saying the most disgusting things between pitches – clicking the mic on and off. That’s a high wire act I choose to avoid. All you need is one slip up.

Back in the ‘90s when announcers were calling a game on TV it was carried by satellite to the station and anyone who had a dish could access it. The mic was always on and there have been instances where announcers have sworn a blue streak or been extremely candid assessing a player’s lack of talent during commercial breaks only to have a few thousand listeners (including the kid's parents) scattered around the country eavesdropping. Oops. I forget the particulars but Al Michaels once got in trouble during a World Series by saying something between innings that was not meant to be broadcast. Double oops.

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Ellen DeGeneres should shut the fuck up

ONE BIG HAPPY is a new NBC comedy that premiered this past Tuesday night.  As you'll see from this trailer, it's Ellen DeGeneres' company that's producing it.  So naturally she's the spokesperson.  As you'll also see she says this show is "like MASH but funny."

Oh really?

Oh yeah, Larry Gelbart would be humbled by great jokes like:

"What is so unusual about a Lesbian and a fighter pilot having a baby?"  
"He is not a fighter pilot."  

And then a cock joke.   This is the TRAILER. 

Now let's look at some of the reviews:

Telling a blended family tale that I feel like we’ve heard many times before, and in far better ways, One Big Happy delivers stereotypes galore where a script should be. With frat-boy-level pee jokes and unfunny quips about lesbians, straight guys and Brits all over the place, it creaks along like the worst aspects of Three’s Company – and that’s just in the first few minutes.
-- Deadline Hollywood

One Big Happy, an amateurish bungle of a comedy, has a single idea that's impossible to miss: the script hammers it home so strenuously, the writers must think we're as dimwitted as their creations.
-- USA TODAY

One Big Happy is a loud, frantic sitcom so eager to please, you may want to avert your eyes. That’s assuming you continue watching past an early punchline, which I will now quote in full: “Vagina, right on the chair!” 
-- Yahoo TV

As a sitcom, it’s as retrograde as it gets—a Three’s Company retread where instead of getting starkly different personalities, the characters get different sexualities. (Or, in Prudence’s case, an accent.) Hijinks barely even ensue, replaced instead by broad lesbian clichés and stereotypes that are only recognized as jokes when the unsettling, maniacal laugh track kicks in.
-- The Daily Beast

It’s no longer unusual to find nontraditional families on television and for people in those families to be having babies. Apparently the makers of "One Big Happy" an intelligence-insulting sitcom that begins Tuesday night on NBC, haven’t noticed, because every minute of their show screams: “Hey! We’ve got a pregnant lesbian! Bet you’ve never seen that before!”
-- NY Times

Basically every punchline involving Cuthbert's character revolves around her being a lesbian and having lesbian footwear and clothes and interests.
--HitFlix

What the fuck was Ellen thinking?  Not only is her comparison to MASH absurd, insulting, and makes her look like an idiot, it also throws her writer/creator Liz Feldman right under the bus.  Granted, Ms Feldman does herself no favors by filling her show with crass vagina, pee, and cock jokes, but still -- I don't think her goal was to eclipse the comedy of an iconic series set in a war zone.

I think the best you could say is that she meant the line as a joke.   Y'know, she was trying to be Ellen but funny. 

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Turning Japanese

Here's the final chapter of my trip to the Far East.  Parts one and two were posted earlier this week.

Once we were allowed to enter it was great. But immigration in Japan was even worse than China. Disclosure forms, passports, plus they took our photos, fingerprints, and temperatures (via some thermal camera). Still better than Carnival where they take your temperature rectally.

After two weeks in Mao Tse-Tungland, it was a pleasure to be in a country where the people were warm, friendly, and relatively happy, Pink Lady still performed, and you could use a bathroom without having to be deloused.

First stop was Kagoshima, home of many cows. And I’m told an active volcano. Couldn’t see it through the rain and fog. The cruise director was calling out buses for the tours and instead of Kagoshima said, “Bus four ready for Highlights of Iwo Jima.”

But Kagoshima was so welcoming. Serenading us from the dock was a brass band of preteen girls in pleated uniforms who called themselves “the Little Cherries.” Not the name I might have chosen but they were completely adorable and the ceremony was very touching.

And when we arrived in Kobe there was another band to greet us. But they kept playing “It’s a Small World” so I don’t know if they were being hospitable or just passive-aggressive.

Went to Osaka Castle, first erected 4,000 years ago. Then it was destroyed in a war and rebuilt, then it was hit by lightening and burned down, then I think Godzilla stepped on it, and now it’s been rebuilt yet again. This was a pattern on the trip – going to ancient castles and temples that were reconstructed in 1975.

Dusk found us strolling through the Dotonbori District with its colorful street vendors and buildings that all had dragon and crab statues over their entrances. It was like going to Toon Town.

We ducked into a place for some sake and maybe some genuine Japanese sushi. But that meant large intestine, first stomach, third stomach, fourth stomach, and aorta. Besides, how authentic could they be if they didn’t serve California Rolls?

Kobe beef is not allowed to be exported. So don’t believe it when the Sizzler serves “Kobe” beef.

Dined in one of the ships fancy specialty restaurants, Signatures. This was also my muster station in case we hit an iceberg. Jackets were required – either sports or life. We had a table of nine. Entrees are delivered with a flare. Nine waiters arrive with dishes under silver covers and they all remove them at once. I set it up so that when the domes were proudly lifted everybody said, “Wait, I didn’t order that,” “I think you have my order,” “Does anyone have my scallops?” The poor waiters were totally confused. I’ll probably never be allowed back on the ship.

Met up with friend-of-the-blog, John Doodigian, who is now an English professor in Kobe. He graciously offered to show us around town. Wound up on the Moto Machi shopping street. Fortunately it’s covered since once again it was cold and raining. This was another trip highlight – seeing how the real people lived and shopped. Not many tourists buy family tombs.

Kobe oddities: The Mafia headquarters is around the corner from the police station. There are cat cafes where you can dine and pet kittens, there is a KISS-FM (like every other city in the world), skulls are very popular as is Audrey Hepburn (there is a ROMAN HOLIDAY fortune machine in the mall), they have a Costco, and the former governor of California was also the spokesman for Cup of Noodles (I hope the Japanese could understand him better than we could).

Said goodbye to Kobe (oh, if only the Lakers could) and ventured to the open seas. On my last cruise I hit a cyclone with 120 m.p.h. winds. This time only 70 m.p.h. gusts. All that was missing was the Captain and Tunesia singing “My Heart Will Go On.”

Arrived in Tokyo on the 70th anniversary of the day we bombed them. No welcoming brass band at that port.

I absolutely fell in love with Tokyo. It’s everything a major city should be. Actually it’s everything six major cities all jammed into one should be. 12,000,000 people live there (practically on top of each other) and I’m relieved to report not one of them dressed as idiotically as Ichiro. Fortunately, the ‘Pee Wee Herman in Scotch-plaid with pork pie hat’ look did not catch on. (Of course, now that he’s in Miami he’ll blend right in.)

I couldn’t believe how clean Tokyo was. The streets were spotless. If they did a Japanese version of THE ODD COUPLE it would be Felix and Felix.

Rain, wind, cold, and even sleet our first day in Tokyo. Day two (our last), was glorious however. The sun came out and it was a perfect day. Overslept and missed the tuna auction at the Fish Market, even though I still needed souvenirs to bring back home.

Our tour guide that final day was awesome. Masashi knew the city, the history, the customs, and spoke very good English (having graduated from Oklahoma State).

He took us to my favorite sacred shrine – the Tokyo Dome, home of the pesky Yomiuri Giants. Screw the fact that we were too early for the cherry blossoms to blossom – I couldn’t see a baseball game! Oh yeah, we saw the Imperial Palace – home of emperors and shoguns, lots of significant history, yada yada, but the baseball season hasn’t started yet. Other stadiums in the league include the Yahoo Dome and Kleenex Miyagi.

God knows what we had for lunch but it was good and I’m still alive. I wanted to get to the Maid Café. The gimmick here is that the waitresses all dress in cute little maid outfits and say things like “Nice to have you back my master.” Way better greeting than “Welcome to Subway!”

The Akihabara district must be nerd paradise. Shops sell electronics, figurines, comic books, retro video games, and anime costumes. And the front of every skyscraper has an opaque mural of an anime Japanese girl with giant bazooms. There’s an actual name for these cartoon women. I think it’s “girlfriends.”

Here’s a fun game to play with the kiddies in Tokyo – see how many Fords they can spot.

There are so many active volcanoes in Japan that Space Mountain at Tokyo Disneyland has been known to erupt.

Flew home on American Airlines. In Business Class they hand out little cloth bags of toiletries. On the inside flap it said TWA. My first thought was I hope the plane engine doesn’t say Braniff.

All in all, this was an amazing trip that will leave me with cherished memories and respiratory problems for years. Thanks again to Regent cruise lines, Artful Travelers, and the Little Cherries. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to sleep for four days.

For more travelogues, check out my book, WHERE THE HELL AM I?  TRIPS I HAVE SURVIVED.  Just go here.   It's the only travel guide you'll ever need.  

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Bonus post

Along the way I took some photos of signs. 

This was at a Chinese restaurant in Beijing.  Do they have unlevened bad fish for Passover?

You thought I was kidding.  They do sell insurance at the Great Wall.

We needed a sign to point the way because the Great Wall is so inconspicuous. 

An NBA store in Shanghai.  They're big Brooklyn Net fans there. 

After praying to the Jade Buddha stop by for some java.  

Last call everybody.

Typical China.  It begs the question:  If not the toilet then where? 

That's good advice anywhere.

There's always a KISS-FM.    Miley Cyrus must be heard!

Not Frogs diner.

No, it's not a sex shop. 

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Big Noses

Here's part two of my trip to the Far East.  Part one was yesterday. 

Took the “Shanghai by Rumor” tour once we had arrived. Rain, fog, and steamed-up windows in our bus. Shanghai is now very modern (I understand). There are over 3,000 skyscrapers (I was told).

Apparently, the Chinese call all Westerners “Big Noses.” (It’s not just “us” for once.) This we learned from our delightful Chinese tour guide. I’m sure it’s a sign of affection, as is harassing us in immigration and blocking the internet. I constantly felt I was the center of attraction. First of all, I do have a schnoz, plus I’m 6’ 2”, which made me a giant. People were constantly staring – the way you would if you saw Kim Kardashian in a library.

We went up to the Jin Mao Observatory on the 88th floor and saw… nothing. The town was completely sopped in. Save your money. For the same experience visit Visalia during Tulie Fog.

Day two was better. Granite grey but no rain. Debby, Lauren, Bonnie, and I set out to explore Shanghai. We strolled the Bund along the riverside, visited a Jade Buddhist temple (the incense was so thick I thought I was back in my dorm room), scarfed down delicious dumplings at Din Tai Fung (very authentic and even better than their branch in Arcadia, California), and shopped at a local marketplace. “No, I don’t want to buy a fucking watch! Or matching Hello Kitty luggage!”

Miscellaneous observed oddities of Shanghai: There’s a wedding chapel in one of the subway stations. People hang their laundry and pork products on the same clothesline. The symbol for “don’t honk your horn” is a bugle with a line through it. So it looks like “no trumpet playing in Shanghai!” There’s an NBA store. Next to the Buddhist temple is a sign for “Zen Coffee.” Latest fashion craze for young women is glasses frames with no glass in them. (What’s next? Contact lenses with no lenses?)

There should be an app for clean bathrooms in China.

Every night in every lounge aboard the ship the same musical act seemed to appear. A lithe singer was a foreign accent and a keyboard player who looked like Stan Freberg. I called them Captain and Tunesia.

Next up was Xiamen (pronounced: I have no idea and was there for two days.) Happily, Chinese immigration did not subject us to cavity searches. Xiamen was one of the highlights of the trip. First of all, it was 70 degrees and sunny. We scrambled off the ship like Chilean miners. Xiamen is known as the Miami of China. Judging by the number of people wearing long pants on the beach I’d say Miami is the perfect comparison. This was a lovely resort town – pearl white beaches framed by palm trees and giant skyscrapers that are probably 80% vacant.

There are high-rise apartments with spectacular oceanfront views, and Porsche dealerships. How is it that Communists are making more money than me?

Went to a teahouse for an authentic sales pitch (I mean “ceremony”). One tea boasted that it “relieves your freckles.”

According to the Xiamen travel guide: “West Hexiang business street is named as a petty bourgeois street with kinds of brand shops.” What Big Nose can resist knock-off Old Navy outlets?

Loved Hong Kong! Skyscrapers and temples are wedged between mountains and waterways, and they have a restaurant with robot waiters. Boarded a cable car up to Victoria Peak and saw – ready for it – nothing. Fogged in again. At least I hope it was fog. Some days the pollution is so bad they put masks on the statues.

Took a sampan boat ride around the Aberdeen harbor. These are the small wooden fishing vessels that you’ve seen in APOCALYPSE NOW. Many have dogs that ride along with the fishermen. It’s certainly not a great environment for pooches but I’m sure they’re grateful every time they pass those jumbo floating restaurants.

A MUST-see is Hong Kong’s “Symphony of Lights.” For twelve minutes every night at 8:00 the skyline comes alive with multi-colored lights, laser beams, and searchlights all synchronized to music. (For some reason “Stars & Stripes Forever” was left off the program.) Even in the mist of carbon emissions it was phenomenal.

Excellent urban planning. There’s a 118-story building on a landfill. I guess the one word not in the Cantonese vocabulary is “permit.”

If I’m ever on death row, for my last meal I want the roast duck at Yung Kee. And then I’ll probably send them back for more of that dipping sauce. Warning: They don’t take the Diner’s Club Card.

There’s a scene in the movie WHERE’S POPPA? where an African-American is trying to hail a cab in New York and is bypassed for a guy in a gorilla suit. That’s how I felt in Hong Kong. A Chinese person could be two blocks away and still get my cab. One word that IS in the English vocabulary: “Uber.”

Lauren and Bonnie left us in Hong Kong, but we were joined by another fun PBS crew – Steve Johnson, Mark Bailey, and Rory Kennedy. Her documentary THE LAST DAYS OF VIETNAM had just lost an Oscar, so we had a lot to commiserate about since I lost a Writers Guild Award in 1981 for our “Terry Runs Away” episode of OPEN ALL NIGHT. The pain never goes away, Rory.

If Xiamen is the Miami of China then Kaohsiung is the Havana of Taiwan. It’s where the squalor meets the sea. Rundown shoddy housing, old industrial plants, seedy marketplaces – and this was the SCENIC tour. They get 20,000 earthquakes a year, but only 40 are of any significance. The other threat to structures is sneezing.

Some great business enterprises though. One joint sold “Stupid Ice Tea.” We passed by the “Seizure Warehouse” and “Wine and Champagne Monopoly Store.” Also “Shark Bites Toast” and “Judy Wu’s Regal Beagle.” All of them – coming to a petty bourgeois street near you.

Our voyage headed north to Taipei. And the Foul Weather Frolics continued. Rain, fog, cold. By then I was templed-out. Waved to the tour buses then went to the taco bar. So for Taipei I got nothing.


The final chapter follows tomorrow.  My book of travelogues, WHERE THE HELL AM I?  TRIPS I HAVE SURVIVED is still available on Amazon.  Get yours today!  

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Slow boat to China

Okay, it's travelogue week.   Here's the account of my recent sojourn to the Far East.  The highlights: No one caught SARS, or Ebola.   Enjoy.

My wife, Debby and I staggered into Beijing after 28 hours of traveling. We arrived on the Chinese New Year. To celebrate, everybody sets off fireworks (I’m surprised Chinese people don’t all have seven fingers), and their primary TV network aired a five-hour variety show (no, not the Oscars) that was seen by literally one billion people. When NBC learns this there will be dancing bears on HANNIBAL next season.

China blocks out much of the internet – like gmail, Google, my blog, and really subversive sites like THE WEATHER CHANNEL. Okay, I could see the government not wanting its citizens to know if they should dress warm, but really, censoring my LAST FIVE YEARS review?

Met up with our traveling party that included Kevin Corcoran and Josh Murray from Artful Travelers (who arranged this great cruise), Lauren Prestileo (from PBS’ AMERICAN EXPERIENCE), her Claire Danes-look-alike cool friend Bonnie, and my longtime colleague and chum, David Lee, the co-creator of FRASIER.

In the summer, the pollution in Beijing is so bad you have to wear a mask. The sky is the color of Matthew Perry's spray tan. No such air quality problem for us. Instead, it snowed.

That made sightseeing a bit of an adventure. Our little group strolled around Tienanmen Square (riot free I’m happy to report – they didn’t want to get the tanks rusty) and the Forbidden City (the emperor’s summer home). Pagodas galore along with unlimited gardens and courtyards. Just when you think you’ve come to the end you’ve got a dozen more. Think: Derek Jeter’s Florida home but less opulent.

There are 9,999 1/2 rooms. I have to assume the ½ is a half bath. Back in the day many of the rooms were filled with the emperor’s concubines. Again, think: Derek Jeter. After awhile I could just hear the emperor saying, “Jesus. Any chance I could get a blonde? Just once?”

We decided on Chinese food for lunch. You can’t swing a dead cat in Beijing without hitting a Chinese restaurant and then having it served to you. Among the menu items we did not select was “levened bad fish.” No one spoke English, which made it very difficult to use our Open Table coupon to pay for part of the bill.

I’ve been accused of being blasé and I suppose that’s true. Take for example the Great Wall of China. It was certainly a “good” wall, very impressive. But “great?” The jury’s still out. Of course it was completely fogged in the day we saw it and the snow had turned to ice so every step was treacherous. This apparently is not unusual. At the ticket window they actually sell insurance.

Beijing is not right on the ocean. I wondered how a cruise liner could dock there – unless it was the world’s largest Duck Tour. Turns out the ocean is a two-hour drive. Unless there’s fog. The soup was so thick they shut down the highway. We turned back and an hour later pulled into a rest stop. The driver said there may ultimately be traffic so we should use the bathroom. How much traffic? Two to five hours. Yikes! I don’t know where this Godforsaken rest stop was but I can say with complete assurance I was the first Jew to EVER use their facility. Israeli Mossad agents aren’t put through anything that rigorous. Ugh!  Eventual time of trip: four hours. I’m really starting to re-think buying that vacation condo in Beijing.

Was thrilled to finally board the Seven Seas Regent Voyager. Generally, there are two kinds of cruises – first class and floating trailer park. If you are going to cruise, Regent is the line you want.

Once we set sail and headed up the Yalu Sea I wanted to call our Chinese restaurant in Beijing and ask if they delivered.

First stop was Dalian -- 36 balmy degrees and sunny, but “sunny” there meant nuclear winter. An eerie haze hung over the city. Everyone on the ship had to be transported to immigration for a face-to-face security check.  We had to show passports and a few people were detained while their walkers were scanned.    

“Hey, it’s China, Jake.”

There is a large city square surrounded by modern high-rise hotels, beautiful architecture – and no one in the street. Completely deserted. Picture a Bill Cosby concert on the senior quad of Wellesley.

Next stop was Korea, which was very meaningful to me because of my years on MASH. We tried to get a tour of the DMZ but were told it’s closed to tourists on Monday. Huh? The gift shop workers have the day off?

North Korea was only twenty minutes away, but they’re closed to tourists too.

Checked out Gyeongbokgung Palace in Seoul. Very no frills. It’s how I imagine the Forbidden City if it was built by New Jersey contractors. They also featured a folk art museum, which had one room devoted entirely to Levi jeans in Korea. The king was a relaxed-fit man.

Shopping in downtown Seoul was very vibrant and fun.  The country has really grown and is thriving. Agriculturally, their chief export is Hyundais.

Meanwhile, two pedestrians were swallowed by a sinkhole. They vanished down a crater that was reportedly 10-feet deep. (They were rescued and are okay.) Maybe New Jersey contractors DID rebuild the city.

Tuesday was a sea day and I gave my first presentation. The following morning a passenger paid me the ultimate compliment: “We really enjoyed it,” she said. “We were soooo surprised.”

All conversations on the ship included the words Boca, Obama, and meniscus.

Part two is tomorrow.  And more travelogues can be found in my book, WHERE THE HELL AM I?  TRIPS I HAVE SURVIVED.   Don't leave home without it.

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