Uh oh. Not another multi-part dissertation?!?!???!! Well, there’s just no other effective way to describe all the incredible things we experienced down at the “world wide waistline.” To do it justice, I’ve got to spread things out over a number of installments. I also need to say that we have a lot going on here at home right now, so there might be a few days or so between posts. Here goes!

No one wants to miss an international flight because of some unexpected last minute problem, so we planned an overnight stay in Miami to allow a little wiggle room before heading to South America. All together, there were five of us on the trip: Nancy, her brother, her sister, her sister’s husband, and me. Things went pretty well for Nancy and me, but my brother-in-law (a T2) had “alarm clock issues” in Atlanta and missed his flight. I found the numerous, larger-than-life “MIA” insignias at Miami International Airport ironically apropos as we tried unsuccessfully for hours on end to contact him. He had also forgotten his cell phone.

We left for Quito, Ecuador without him after finally learning that he would be joining us the next day. With a full reservoir, I was pretty well equipped to handle whatever meal would be served on the plane, and I’ve become pretty adept at testing covertly without leaving my seat. If I was superstitious, I might have been concerned about sitting in 13D, but I instead put my energies into deciphering the Ecuadorian Customs Declaration Sheet that we were asked to complete before landing. What exactly do they mean by “A live house pet, without prejudice of the relevant sanity regulations?”

Our after dark arrival in Quito (pronounced KEY’ toe, and would that make the residents Quitones?) had us traipsing through a cramped, strange airport in rather chilly weather. At 9,000 feet above sea level, it can get cool, even if you’re at the equator. Our Celebrity Cruises guide led us through all the necessary protocols and out to a waiting bus in the midst of hundreds of tightly packed subcompact cars. From my seat, I watched a middle aged woman perform a 15 point turn (yeah, I counted) to squeeze her car into the smallest parking spot on the planet.

We had read that caution should be taken when walking through cities like this. Tourists already have targets on their backs for would-be thieves just by the way we dress and walk. As our bus motored through the route to the J.W. Marriott Hotel, it was easy to see just how possible it is to fall victim in Quito’s dark and dirty streets and alleys. I was glad to have taken the time back in Florida to cover all the NIKON emblems on my camera with small pieces of black electrical tape so as not to “advertise” my DSLR. I had also swapped out the NIKON strap with something nondescript from years ago.

The J.W. Marriott was an oasis in the middle of some tough looking neighborhoods. The area isn’t a war zone, but there were armed police in camouflage fatigues and flak jackets walking a beat on the premises at all times. The window in our fourth floor room appeared to have been hit by a projectile of a relatively small caliber. Aside from these minor concerns, the accommodations were quite good. But we had to remember to use bottled water for drinking and brushing our teeth.

I woke up in the middle of the night to do a test. When I sat up in bed, my head became very dizzy, and remained so until I climbed back under the covers a few minutes later. My hope was that I was simply adjusting to the altitude, and not suffering from something I’d eaten or drank. Fortunately, by morning I was rid of the dizziness for good.

Celebrity and The Marriott provided a very nice buffet breakfast where guests could have an omelet made to order, along with many kinds of fruit, cereals, meats, juices, and other foods. At home, I always have at least one cup of coffee, and often two cups, but I opted for only a small amount of juice so as not to tempt fate into messing with my stomach. I stuck with scrambled eggs and a single pancake with no syrup, and bolused accordingly.

The schedule for our Saturday in Quito had us on the bus again early for some sightseeing, lunch, and a visit to the equator. El Crater is a restaurant on the rim of the Pululagua volcanic crater high in the clouds over Quito. The thick mist prevented us from looking down into the crater, but the atmosphere of the restaurant was light and casual, so we enjoyed ourselves and the Ecuadorian food just the same.

Earlier, our tour of the city stopped at several interesting places including the Presidential Palace, the Plaza de Independencia, and most notably a pair of astonishing cathedrals. The first was the Quito Cathedral, with its stone construction and massive twin clock towers. We stood awestruck beneath the enormous animal figures protruding from high up on the façade. Inside, stained glass converted morning sunlight into rainbows of color splashed throughout the cavernous structure.

Next was the Jesuit Cathedral, where we were restricted to staying in a group with our guide, and prohibited from photographing the interior. The opulence of this building’s inner chambers is almost too much to describe. Every ornately carved square inch of Baroque artwork was expertly covered in gold leaf, and we sat in pews to listen to our guide’s oration. We were looking at more than a ton of gold throughout the building, which was built over the course of 163 years. Outside, I shot some photos before continuing to a small plaza where we learned more geographic details about Quito, the Galapagos Islands, and another city named Guayaquil.

A little before noon I had a low sugar while in one of the plazas, but a few tabs were enough to keep things from getting out of hand. I fared better than one older lady who lost her footing on one of Quito’s difficult sidewalks. She fell, chipped a tooth, and tore her pant leg, but recovered sufficiently to continue. With all the miles of rough terrain on this trip, it was a wonder that no one sprained an ankle somewhere along the way, especially given that most of the people on the trip were older, less nimble, retirees. After lunch at El Crater, our group moved on to the equator for photos and shopping.

It was very windy, and we all took turns being photographed standing on the zero degree latitude line. Several souvenir shops sold everything you would expect them to offer, and we picked up a few beaded necklaces and some postcards for very little cash. Ecuador makes use of U.S. currency, so there was no need for any exchanging beforehand.

Back at the Marriott, Nancy and I relaxed with a Cosmo in the beautiful and spacious lobby before boarding the bus one more time for dinner at Quito’s beautiful old Opera House. After dinner, a local gentleman entertained us by singing several selections from various operas before switching over to a few more contemporary numbers.

On Sunday morning, we were relieved to find that Nancy’s brother had finally arrived safely and was enjoying breakfast before we were to leave for the airport at 9:45am. Security was a breeze, and we climbed aboard a TAME Airlines plane for the 600 mile journey to Baltra Island. The airstrip at Baltra is barely more than that – an airstrip. While there are some comfortable lobbies with sofas and a bar inside the terminal, we were never more than a couple hundred feet from the runway, and without air conditioning, all windows in the building were left wide open for wind and noise to flow through.

At this point, Celebrity was managing our luggage for us, so all I had to worry about was my carry-on bag. In the documentation that we had read back home, there were weight restrictions of 30 pounds of checked luggage, and 14 pounds of carry-on per person. I spent a fair amount of time carefully weighing everything we needed to bring, and it was no easy feat to come in at or under the limit. Thankfully, the dress code for the cruise was 100% casual, so there was no need to pack a suit jacket and dressy shoes. We were led to believe that the weight issues were brought about by the small type of aircraft that would transport us from Quito to Baltra, but it turned out to be a full size airliner, like an Airbus. Our bags were never weighed by TAME, and there were more than a few groans of disgust when our group learned that the checked baggage limit was actually 40 pounds, not 30.

A rickety old bus transported us from the airport to a dock over about a mile and a half of paved road. At the dock, a couple of sea lions paid us no attention at all as they slumbered on bench seats that were originally intended for tired human arses. So we stood sweating in the hot sun watching them both catch forty winks.

Life vests were distributed in preparation for our first ride aboard a Zodiac, the vehicle of choice for passage to and from our mother vessel, the Celebrity Xpedition. On Day 1, I enjoyed the novelty of boarding the ship by way of an aft platform, but within 24 hours, this method would become second nature.

Now the fun was about to begin. For most cruises, setting foot on the ship means the start of R&R, but not on this one. We had barely climbed aboard and attended the mandatory muster station drill before the ship relocated for our first excursion to North Seymour, a small island where we followed a trail of a mile and a half in length. Our first guide was naturalist Ivan “the Terrible,” and it became quickly apparent that the naturalists knew their jobs exceedingly well, and carried out their duties with enthusiasm, passion, and good humor.

We had been told that as soon as we hit the shore, we would encounter sea lions, and that everyone would start taking pictures. We were also told not to use up all of our film and memory cards because we were going to see a lot more of them throughout the week. Among the wildlife that stood literally inches away from us on that first tour were Sea Lions, Marine Iguanas, Blue Footed Boobies, Frigate birds, and Swallowtail Gulls. It was evident that everything we had read and heard about the Galapagos Islands was true. The animals exist with no fear of humans, and they inhabit these islands in numbers that allow for thrilling experiences to all visitors.

With our first walking tour under our belts, we returned to the ship for a shower and dinner in the Darwin Restaurant after a briefing from the cruise director in the Discovery Lounge. There we learned that the next day’s itinerary would have us aboard a Zodiac on the high seas at 7:00am sharp for a sunrise venture around a little old thing called Kicker Rock.

About a year ago, NancyTW caught wind of something called a Blue Footed Boobie, and in her love of living things, began exploring ways for us to experience these and other beautiful creatures in a place where they exist and thrive in abundance: The Galapagos Islands. Before long, she had booked us on a ten day trip that included time in Quito, Ecuador (with its dizzyingly thin air for us sea-levelers at an elevation of over 9,000 feet,) an opportunity to straddle the equator while having our passports stamped 0-0’-0” latitude, and two-a-day excursions onto fascinating islands so incredibly full and teeming with animals that it made me wonder who was watching whom.

We’ve been on our share of seagoing vessels, but nothing prepared us for this type of journey. The Celebrity Xpedition supports fewer than 100 passengers, unlike the megaships of ultra-polished “brass & glass” that are fabulous floating cities for thousands of vacationers at a time. And while most cruises are geared toward overfeeding and pampering, this was quite different. While the food was good, and daily rub-downs were available to those who wanted them, the central focus of the cruise was on unique wildlife in its own setting.

Let me start by saying that I actually lost weight on this cruise. Each day, we found ourselves on two scheduled excursions, one in the morning, and one in the afternoon. We could decide for ourselves on the varying levels of “intensity,” and always opted for the high intensity. Because most of the islands are uninhabited, there are no docks, so in each location the ship stayed at anchor up to a mile from shore. Groups of sixteen or less would ride a Zodiac boat from the stern of the ship to the shore for either a wet, or a dry landing. The wet landings were fun, but always made me a bit nervous for the backpack full of camera equipment, Capri-Suns, glucose tablets, and blood testing supplies that I carried everywhere we went. One strong undercurrent and I could easily have ended up in the drink. Then there was the mesh bag of snorkeling equipment we each had to man-handle for swimming after the walking tours. So our hands were full most of the time.

Surprisingly, and pleasantly so, my sugars never rose out of control during our time aboard the ship. A few times, though, I had to break out the Smarties to ward off an oncoming train wreck. I went as low as 32mg/dl on one lengthy island hike, and my only symptom was losing the ability to concentrate on the right lens aperture on my Nikon. As usual, NancyTW was there to suggest that I eat a few carbs, pronto. Something about being a world away from emergency medical help on a remote, uninhabited mound of volcanic ash in the middle of the sea, 600 miles off the west coast of South America made my ears perk up to the cogent words of the person who has saved my sorry rear end more than just a few times. I ate while continuing to walk, and came around quickly with no disruptions for the rest of the group.

Incidentally, the Galapagos National Park Service restricts visitors from carrying food to the islands, but apparently a degree of common sense is used to provide some leeway for people with certain medical conditions. All that was required of me was to tell the naturalist who was leading my group at the start of each trek that I have diabetes and that I am carrying some juice. Not one of them made an issue of it. In fact, upon returning to the Zodiac one afternoon after nearly three hours of walking, Manuel, our naturalist, smiled and very quietly asked me how I was doing.

On several occasions, we were given the opportunity to snorkel following our walking tours, and we took every advantage. In our wetsuits, the 70 degree water felt refreshing after hoofing it in the heat and sun of the southern hemisphere. The rock formations beneath the waves are as staggering as those above them, and along with the beautiful schools of fish, we rubbed elbows with fast, playful sea lions that seemed to welcome us into their home. One of them approached me unknowingly from the left side and stared me straight in the face when I discovered him there. Sea turtles abounded, and we also hoped to spot a Galapagos shark or two while snorkeling, but had to settle on seeing them from the confines of the ship later in the evening. (Those fish up in the present banner are Galapagos sharks, and we were told that they don’t bother humans.)

Before snorkeling, I always tested first, and munched down a few Smarties if needed, then disconnected the 522 and stuffed it into my backpack. The last place I wanted hypoglycemia was 100 yards off shore in the heaving waters of the Humboldt and Panama Currents. In such places there’s no room for mistakes, and Nancy & I stayed close by one another for safety. On our walks, I tested often, which was easily and privately done by simply falling a few yards off the back of the group as we walked single file through paths and trails. As long as I didn’t venture off on my own, things were alright. The National Park Service requires visitors to remain on the well-marked paths and to always be accompanied by a guide.

In the coming posts, I’ll be putting up more photos of some of the beautiful creatures we saw, and I’ll also share a few stories from the trip.

In July of 1982, when I was in the hospital for four days becoming New England’s newest diabetic, many family members called, stopped by, sent cards, and otherwise let me know they were concerned and wishing the best for me. Aside from my Mother and Father, there was one other relative who checked in on me personally in room 204 every single day that I was there: he was my grandmother’s brother, my Mother’s uncle, whom we all affectionately called “Uncle Ben.”

From the time I was just a child, right up until I saw him last year, he was always trying to make people laugh, and although the stroke that he suffered a while back slowed him down some, he made it his business to venture out in very cold weather to show his respects to my Father’s side of the family early last year when my Dad’s mother passed away. He didn’t have to go, but he did, and such selfless and respectful gestures hold great meaning for me.

Uncle Ben died this past Saturday at the age of 78, and though I cannot travel up the east coast to attend his service this week, my many memories of him remain very fond ones, and he and his wife Connie will always be in my thoughts and my prayers.

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Traffic will be a little light around GDAT!! for the next few days or so as I tend to some things that need tending to. In the meantime, I’ll check in when I can, and will get back to regular posting very soon to fill you in on some exciting things that are going on in the interim.

Small potatoes and bigger fish.

Those are the two phrases that came to mind whenever I was asked about the status of my complaint over the last couple of years. When some poor little pee-on has his feelings hurt in south Florida by a cantankerous, ill-tempered manager on a power trip, it’s small potatoes in Washington, D.C. They have much bigger fish to fry than mine. And, though this may come as a surprise, I have to tell you I honestly believe that the owner of a private business in the United States should have the right to decide what does or does not go on in his or her establishment, within reasonable lawful parameters.

Private business owners ought to have the right to refuse to do business with anyone for any reason, no matter how stupid or disgustingly discriminatory that reason may seem to be. If I own a restaurant, I should be the one who decides whether my patrons may or may not smoke inside my establishment. If I don’t want red heads inside my barber shop, that decision should be mine to make, too. Similarly, if I own a movie theater, I should have the same right to dismiss anyone who will not abide by whatever standards of conduct I decide I want upheld in my place of business.

But there are two sides to this coin, and patrons in a free society retain the right to vote with their feet, and with their dollars. If non-smokers don’t like eating in my restaurant because it smells like an ash tray, I must be prepared to accept the loss of revenue (and possible failure of my business) when those consumers opt for a meal at the smoke-free diner across the street. If I haven’t given a haircut all day in my barber shop because people are going across town to the barber who happens to like red hair, that’s my tough luck.

And if I am so depraved as to make an overtly unnecessary show of banishing clean, peaceable, money-spending patrons from my purely hypothetical smelly rat hole of a cinema, then I must be willing to face the preventable reality that those respectable, well-bred customers will never again voluntarily give me their dollars for the opportunity to soil their laundered clothing on the sticky, maggot covered accommodations in the degenerate cesspool I call my purely hypothetical theatre, while stewing amidst the festering, toothless, lice infested, knuckle-dragging, drunkards I so ably attract and who’s rent money I so greedily covet and pocket as my own filthy lucre.

That’s the risk I take in deciding how to mismanage my own private enterprise, and that’s why a boxcar of free passes to my purely hypothetical, stinking little B-movie empire would never be enough to win back the decent clientele to whom I have subjected my brainlessly excessive, hot-headed policies.

But no, that’s not exactly how things are done here in America. Instead, we have calls for laws so invasive as to proscribe even the kinds of popcorn oil that may be used by private concessionaires. So the fact of the matter is that if laws exist to protect people like us from being denied those simple pleasures that everyone else can and does enjoy, I can and will avail myself of those same laws when they are violated at my, or my loved one’s expense.

Even if it takes 26 months to learn that it was all, pretty much, for naught.

After reading the letter from the Vice President of SunStar Theatres, I concluded that Mr. Kaufman had provided no concrete assurances that my three reasonable remedial suggestions would be met. His understanding that I was “refused entry . . . because (I) had a backpack” shows that he was clearly unaware of what happened in his business on that day. My wife and I purchased tickets, entered, and were explicitly thrown out of the premises in a disturbing, disruptive, and gratuitous flaunting of oppressive authority in full view of patrons and employees because I had a small fanny pack containing orange juice and glucose tablets to manage my diabetes.

I subsequently wrote to my USDOJ contact person, Ms. R., in an e-mail:

<<e-mail to Ms. R. at USDOJ>>

9 November 2007

Re: Complaint

Dear Ms. R.:

Please be advised of my receipt yesterday of a correspondence (see attachment) from Barney Kaufman, V. Pres., of SunStar Theatres, LLC. As it applies to my complaint regarding the alleged violation of the ADA by SunStar Theatres and Vicky McGee, the letter is wholly unsatisfactory and unacceptable as a resolution to this issue.

In my complaint to the Department of Justice dated 10 October 2005, my suggestions for remedy included the following:

· Training or retraining all employees of SunStar Theatres Naples, LLC to become familiar with the provisions of the Americans with Disabilities Act

· A current copy of the ADA Title III Technical Assistance Manual covering Public Accommodations will at all times be kept on the premises of SunStar Theatres Naples, LLC

· Signed letters, to my wife and me, from 1) the owners and/or officers of SunStar Theatres Naples, LLC and, separately, 2) Ms. McGee, wherein each acknowledges their violation of the ADA and Ms. McGee’s intemperate and unnecessary treatment of paying customers, and also wherein each affirms a prompt and thorough reevaluation of their policies and practices in order to identify and correct any and all inconsistencies with the requirements of the ADA.

None of these reasonable suggestions have been satisfied. Although Mr. Kaufman makes reference to “new guidelines as per the enclosed letter for our managers and employees,” no such enclosure accompanied his letter to me. I am left to wonder if such vague “new guidelines” include employee training pertinent to the Americans with Disabilities Act.

No mention of an ADA Title III Technical Assistance Manual was made.

Mr. Kaufman’s letter failed to acknowledge any violation of the ADA, the forceful, uncalled for treatment of my wife and me, and a thorough reevaluation of policies and practices to comply with the ADA. Mr. Kaufman’s letter, in fact, contains no mention at all of the Americans with Disabilities Act.

Also, while Mr. Kaufman included a handwritten directive to “Vicky” at the bottom of his letter to me, the requested separate letter of similar acknowledgment from Ms. McGee has yet to arrive.

The content of the letter I received yesterday indicates that Mr. Kaufman is not fully aware of the events that led to Ms. McGee’s unwarranted ADA violation in her humiliating dismissal of two cooperative, paying customers on 9 September 2005. While I understand it to be in good faith, Mr. Kaufman’s offer of free movie passes is of no substance in satisfying this complaint.

I will consider this matter closed when all of the above listed reasonable requests have been fulfilled. Thank you for your attention in bringing this case to an acceptable conclusion.

Sincerely,

<<End of e-mail to USDOJ>>

A little more than a week later, I called the DOJ, and was told that the complaint is being closed because Mr. Kaufman was deemed to have provided sufficient substantiation of policy adjustments at his theater that would ostensibly prevent a similar situation from recurring.

That is a wonderful thing. But when I brought up the three reasonable remedial suggestions that I had taken considerable time to research, I was provided no concrete written assurance from Mr. Kaufman indicating that his vague allusion to “new guidelines” (if indeed any had truly been written) would be based on anything in the actual Americans with Disabilities Act.

Strike one.

There would be no requirement that an ADA Title III Technical Assistance Manual covering Public Accommodations be kept at the theater for reference.

Strike two.

Finally, I was told by my USDOJ contact person that no business owner is ever going to voluntarily admit to a violation of civil rights under the ADA.

Strike three.

I anticipated as much. Nancy often tells me that if I keep my expectations low, I will never be disappointed, and that’s the somewhat cynical perspective I took on this whole ball of wax from the start.

In a couple of days, I’ll conclude this series with some final thoughts on private enterprise, consumers’ rights, and the laws that we think are designed to help us.

A couple of weeks or so after hearing from the DOJ, I received a single page letter from Barney Kaufman, Vice President of SunStar Theatres, Naples, LLC. Except for some extraneous personal information and parts of the SunStar letterhead, which have been edited out, the letter is just as it arrived, with Mr. Kaufman’s handwritten notations in two different colors beneath the text.

Please note that the handwritten mention of “Jeff” refers apparently to another employee, and not to me. It should also be noted that although the letter references items that were supposedly included in the mailing, no other enclosures were received with the letter. (Click the image for a larger copy.)

In my next post, I’ll tell you what I had to say about Mr. Kaufman’s letter.

As an aside, on the 26^th of November, 2005, about two and a half months after our expulsion from the theater at the hands of Ms. McGee, the Collier Sheriff reported in the POLICE BEAT column of a local newspaper, just above the DUI arrests, a dispute that took place inside the same theater.

It described an argument between a customer and a manager that deteriorated into “obscenities and screaming in front of youngsters,” and ended with punches being thrown -- and even a death threat -- when a manager “pulled (the customer) out the door.”

Involved in the fracas, according to the newspaper, was none other than Victoria McGee.

Actually, “Booted” will continue tomorrow morning with Part 4.

In the meantime, check out Kelly’s post at Diabetesaliciousness for a great way To Just Maxx out the Joslin Diabetes Center’s fight against diabetes.

What do you call a lab test that doesn’t require blood? Check out today’s Diabetic Terms & Conditions to find out.