Well, Gilgit got cancelled. Woke up at 5:30 on Thursday morning, got to the airport in plenty of time, met the Canadians and my colleagues, drove around the runway to the helicopter hangar, had some tea, took off, got over the Margalla hills, turned around, came back to ISB. The pilots need a certain level of visibility to fly through the high passes: the heli only goes up to about 11,000 or 12,000 feet and some of the passes are above 10,000. And it's all sight-flying. The haze was intense on Thursday and I doubt we had more than a kilometer of visibility. Better disappointed than a flaming wreck.
We were going to try again yesterday but the visibility was still terrible, so mission aborted. Bummer, mostly for the visiting Canadian; the other two live here so we'll take them another time. Thursday and Friday then turned into really intense work days, culminating in me getting very pissed at a colleague for doing something very stupid and easily avoidable with one of our partners. Given that half my title is "Partnerships," this is an error that is my responsibility to smooth over and correct. Managed not to say anything rash, but I'm going to talk with the dude on Monday. He will be offended no matter how carefully I finesse it. However, he can't do that shit again, so, whatever, suck it up.
Last night I went to another leaving barbecue for the couple whose previous leaving party I used as a birthday celebration platform last weekend. Sad that they're skipping town so soon, what nice people! They invited me to Scotland and I think I'll take them up on it next year. Surely will have to be in London for work at some point so I could tack a few days on for a quick trip up north. After the barbecue I went to an 80s party at the Brit Club. Getting in was a bit of an adventure but my new buddy RL came through in the clutch and managed to talk the guards into bending the rules for SRB and me. I've described this before, but in short: Non-members need someone to sign them in. Members have a limit to the number of people they can sign in, and the limit is lower if they live off-compound. RL lives in F-8, I think. All good in the end, much dancing, some truly excellent costumes, minimal drama. My 80s get-up was solid, actually, in no small part thanks to a rad wig that RL lent me.
Also, RF returned Thursday from his two weeks in the UK. He drove me to the barbecue, so we had a little time to catch up. Apparently I am the source of gossip, mainly because I am new and physically attractive. Describing people at a gathering he'd just come from, I believe the phrase he used was, "They all think you're beyond the Ivy League." Somehow that's very British. At the barbecue, a woman came over while I was talking with the hostess, to say something to her, and interrupted herself to say to me, "You're very good-looking." And later a gay Pakistani dude at the Brit Club told me he was "enjoying the whole visual experience" of looking at me. I'd be lying if I said it wasn't nice for people to think I'm hot.
So that gossip is nice. The other gossip, which I'd been warned about by a couple of people even before I left the US, is speculation about whether I'm hooking up with anyone. It's a small scene and, again, I'm new and an unknown quantity. So on the one hand, it makes sense that people would be talking about that. On the other hand, mind your own business. Perhaps it's just the cost of the scene being so open and welcoming: Everyone is very comfortable with each other and with new faces, at least at a surface level, and that means taking the propriety filter off. Oh well. Will do my best not to participate.
Going to the gym now to squat for the first time in more weeks than I've gone without squatting since...2009? Will play it conservative. And then I need to go see a guy about a tuxedo. And get my hair cut. Errand day!
And then, tonight: The Game. May the internet connection be fast, and may the feeds be smooth and crisp. And may Michigan beat the everloving daylights out of OSU.
We were going to try again yesterday but the visibility was still terrible, so mission aborted. Bummer, mostly for the visiting Canadian; the other two live here so we'll take them another time. Thursday and Friday then turned into really intense work days, culminating in me getting very pissed at a colleague for doing something very stupid and easily avoidable with one of our partners. Given that half my title is "Partnerships," this is an error that is my responsibility to smooth over and correct. Managed not to say anything rash, but I'm going to talk with the dude on Monday. He will be offended no matter how carefully I finesse it. However, he can't do that shit again, so, whatever, suck it up.
Last night I went to another leaving barbecue for the couple whose previous leaving party I used as a birthday celebration platform last weekend. Sad that they're skipping town so soon, what nice people! They invited me to Scotland and I think I'll take them up on it next year. Surely will have to be in London for work at some point so I could tack a few days on for a quick trip up north. After the barbecue I went to an 80s party at the Brit Club. Getting in was a bit of an adventure but my new buddy RL came through in the clutch and managed to talk the guards into bending the rules for SRB and me. I've described this before, but in short: Non-members need someone to sign them in. Members have a limit to the number of people they can sign in, and the limit is lower if they live off-compound. RL lives in F-8, I think. All good in the end, much dancing, some truly excellent costumes, minimal drama. My 80s get-up was solid, actually, in no small part thanks to a rad wig that RL lent me.
Also, RF returned Thursday from his two weeks in the UK. He drove me to the barbecue, so we had a little time to catch up. Apparently I am the source of gossip, mainly because I am new and physically attractive. Describing people at a gathering he'd just come from, I believe the phrase he used was, "They all think you're beyond the Ivy League." Somehow that's very British. At the barbecue, a woman came over while I was talking with the hostess, to say something to her, and interrupted herself to say to me, "You're very good-looking." And later a gay Pakistani dude at the Brit Club told me he was "enjoying the whole visual experience" of looking at me. I'd be lying if I said it wasn't nice for people to think I'm hot.
So that gossip is nice. The other gossip, which I'd been warned about by a couple of people even before I left the US, is speculation about whether I'm hooking up with anyone. It's a small scene and, again, I'm new and an unknown quantity. So on the one hand, it makes sense that people would be talking about that. On the other hand, mind your own business. Perhaps it's just the cost of the scene being so open and welcoming: Everyone is very comfortable with each other and with new faces, at least at a surface level, and that means taking the propriety filter off. Oh well. Will do my best not to participate.
Going to the gym now to squat for the first time in more weeks than I've gone without squatting since...2009? Will play it conservative. And then I need to go see a guy about a tuxedo. And get my hair cut. Errand day!
And then, tonight: The Game. May the internet connection be fast, and may the feeds be smooth and crisp. And may Michigan beat the everloving daylights out of OSU.
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