Category: World at large

Major bummer

When I lived in Michigan, I felt like I was on a different planet — far away from a “big city.” Chicago was 10 hours away and it took 14 hours to drive through Michigan. It was pretty isolated.

Moving to Chico was a huge step up in some ways. San Francisco was three hours away. Sacramento was practically next door 90 minutes away.

I sort of felt that isolation last week. My spirits were raised when TV Guide announced that they had some passes to see “Battlestar Galactica” on the big screen. The theater company hosting the screening has theaters in San Francisco.

Much to my dismay, the passes were only going to be available in six cities, and San Francisco wasn’t going to be one of them. And TV Guide was only going to give away two sets of passes in each city.

Needless to say, my balloon was burst. Ultimately, it’s not a big deal, but it would’ve been nice to see Battlestar on the big screen.

Carrying a torch …

My excitement is building as the Olympic torch is just a few hours away from returning to its ancestral home. I look forward to seeing all the intense competition during the next two weeks. Regardless of how the Games are covered, it’s always a treat to see the finest in the world compete in the field of sport.

Apparently, this is a great time to be an couch Olympian, especially after reading NBC’s press kit for its Games coverage. The Olympic motto is Citius, Altius, Fortius (meaning “Swifter, Higher, Stronger”). NBC is definitely going for more in this year’s coverage. It’s even trying to set the world record for continuous TV watching in a publicity stunt.

From the looks of it, it’s pretty impressive — over 1,210 hours of coverage on seven television networks. The networks are as varied as broadcast parent NBC to Spanish-language Telemundo. And it’s not all going to be gymnastics and track-and-field, either. NBC is promising some coverage of all the Olympic sports.

That said, NBC’s not getting its unprecedented coverage off to an auspicious start. Apparently not willing to preempt sudsy Passions, Friday’s opening ceremonies will air taped in primetime Friday night.

By comparison, Canada’s CBC not only manages to air the opening and closing ceremonies live (Starting at 1 p.m. EDT Friday), but they re-air the opening ceremonies in prime-time.

It’s true that the CBC’s coverage won’t be as comprehensive as the juggernaut that NBC is assembling (294.5 on its main network, 115 on CBC Newsworld and 150 on non-CBC network TSN). But, of all the NBC-Universal networks, I only get one — NBC. All the live sports that might air on Bravo! or USA are pretty meaningless to me. Just like I’m not too concerned about Radio-Canada‘s and RDS‘s Olympics coverage in French.

It’s no secret that I love the CBC’s comprehensive coverage of events — live whenever possible. Still, according to a Globe and Mail story, it seems the time difference is going to force the network to tape delay some coverage. I guess the fact that it would be 1 a.m. in Greece when the East Coast hits prime time is a pretty good reason.

While the CBC is resorting to airing a highlights programme each prime time, that doesn’t mean that its not airing the events earlier in the day live. I wonder if NBC would be nice enough to give us the same option?

Shooting Stars

Editor’s note: This essay was published on an earlier incarnation of this site, but didn’t make the transition for some reason. I’ve re-created it here, but I don’t recall exactly when it was published — aside from “Nov. 1998.” — RTO

Beauty isn’t skin deep

Nov. 1998.

Sometimes the best things in life are those that are inexpensive and simple. When you consider it, what is more worthwhile, a walk in the park with the sun setting behind the mountains or seeing what dribble television network officials smear across your boob tube screen.

I saw one of the most beautiful things last month when I drove for 45 minutes up into the mountains of San Diego County to witness the Leonid meteor shower. I had been disappointed that I had never seen a meteor shower in person. My love of space is deep — springing forth from tomes of science fiction and the stories of real space exploration. In the fourth grade, I was proud member of the Young Astronauts club. In the tenth grade, I brought a viewer to witness the last total solar eclipse in North America during my lunch period. To witness a meteor storm would be terrific.

My evening got off to a late start — I was doing some late research in the library. It was after midnight when I left campus to join some friends that had already left.

I was worried about the weather. Forecasts said that the viewing in Southern California would be poor. As I approached the foothills I grew worried — an inland fog had settled in. If the fog stayed, there would be no way of seeing the showers. My fears were unfounded as my car broke through the fog as we ascended the hills and I could see the stars with a clarity that I could never see in the city. At long last, I finally reached the peak of the hillside.

I got off the interstate and proceeded to drive along the winding road that lead to the peak of the mountain. I was astounded by how many people were in the turnouts of the road — there seemed to be dozens of cars. I entered the Cleveland National Forest and saw another surprise — there are honest-to-God forests in San Diego County. Tall, glorious trees lined along the road with their leaves scattered in my path. I could pretend for an instant that I was driving on a backroad in Georgia, Utah or Colorado.

Not long after my discover of trees, I saw my first meteor. The meteor blazed across the sky right above the road that I was driving on. It looked very much like brilliant fireworks streaming in the sky. I couldn’t wait to pull off of the road to see more. My search for my friends was in vain, I kept driving until I realized that I had gone too far. I turned back and made a hasty dash back towards the interstate so that I could view the peak of the show. All the while I could catch glimpses of the meteors streaming across the sky. One meteor seemed to race alongside of my car.

Before long, I had reached the largest turnout. I pulled in, careful to turn off my headlights so that I wouldn’t disturb the viewing of those that had been there for hours. I got out of my car so that I could take in a total view of the night sky. Almost immediately, I realized that my T-shirt and jean shorts were going to do little to keep the cold away from me. It was really cold, but I soon grew accustomed to the mountainous climes.

At first I wandered around alone gazing at the black sky set afire with the light of a trillion stars. The shooting stars would speed through the sky every thirty seconds. Even though each individual meteor was a different size, they all looked like miniature comets spending their last instant suspended in the air. As I stood in the crisp cool mountain air, I craned my neck so that I could scan the sky. More than once I wished that I could see the entire expanse of the sky, but the view I had was enough. I could see the vast expanse of the Milky Way Galaxy spread across the sky. I could see the Big Dipper hiding behind the summit of the mountain and the moon hanging high.

Eventually, I came around to some people trying to take photographs of the night sky. The people I talked to were very polite, probably because everyone that spent the night in the mountains had something in common — they were crazy enough to be awake at two in the morning to see a meteor storm. While I was talking to these people, I saw the greatest meteor of the evening. The meteor created a flash that made everyone pause. The meteor skipped across the sky flaring like strobe light and left a brilliant light path in its wake. I could almost hear the sound of the meteor as it crashed into the atmosphere. I could hear the people near their cars ooh, aah and cheer as if this were similar to a baseball game in a stadium. The people with the cameras quickly shifted to try and catch a glimpse of the now-departed rock. Despite all of the fun, I had to tear myself away — I needed to go back to school so that I could work early that morning.

Even though I was completely satisfied with the show that morning, there was still one more spectacle in store. I was driving home on Interstate 5 from UCSD that Friday night, I could see one last shooting star fire through the sky pushing past the thick blanket of cold impersonal city lights. As I drove on, I quietly whispered aloud the old children’s wishing poem “I wish I may, I wish I might, See the first star in the sky tonight…” When I reached the wishing part of the poem, I trailed off into silence with a sigh. I thought of all my dreams and wishes and yet not resolving to choose merely one for that long-gone shooting star.