The International Air Transport Association (IATA), in conjunction with national aviation authorities like our FAA, maintains the master list of three-letter airport designations throughout the world. (Another group, the International Civil Aviation Organization, maintains a parallel set of four-letter codes that pilots use. For example, the IATA code for London's Heathrow is LHR, but the ICAO code is EGLL.)
The Chicago Tribune has a story today about unexpected and unusual IATA codes:
The good people of Sioux City, Iowa, just don't get any respect.
For more than a century, the city was best known for an omnipresent smell, an unpleasant byproduct of the massive stockyards that drove the local economy. Meat packers would tell their children, "That's the smell of money."
David Letterman used to joke about the town, back in the days when the local CBS television station was not carrying "The Late Show." Letterman would introduce his Top 10 list, saying it had just arrived "from the home office in Sioux City, Iowa."
And then there was -- and still is -- the Sioux Gateway Airport's ignominious three-letter identifying code: SUX. For decades, city fathers have moaned about the label. In 2002, the mayor labeled it "an embarrassment."
Dave Bernstein has heard all the jokes during his 42 years in Sioux City. But, unlike some other residents, he has taken to heart the old adage about what to do when life hands you lemons. He's making T-shirts -- emblazoned with two words: "Fly SUX."
And let's not forget Fukuoka, Japan....
Just jiggled the 30-Park Geas schedule a little. After discussing with my cousing the pros and cons of visiting Miami in August, we decided to hit two Cubs games in Atlanta, whereupon I'll pop out to San Francisco to see Dad and catch the A's-White Sucks series.
(Sox. White Sox. My mistake. Sorry, I live north of Madison.)
So, with eight parks down, and seven scheduled, we go into the bottom of 2008. National League 9, American 6.
Our best friend (nationally speaking) is 141 years old today.
And the latter half of my trip:
Four Courts
Lord Edward Street, near Temple Bar
Anyone seen Once? This is from the opening scene, on Grafton Street:
Finally, something you don't see in the U.S. much:
As promised, some photos from last week.
Nieuwmarkt:
Oude Kirk:
Spuistraat:
And this guy, obviously late of a coffeeshop:
Her Majesty the Queen has punished the unspeakably foul dictator who has ruined Zimbabwe and thrown millions into starving poverty, by stripping him of his knighthood. This, on top of her government's ongoing finger-wagging and tut-tutting, will no doubt shame Robert Mugabe into better behaviour. Morgan Tsvangerai, you can go home now.
Nelson Mandela and Barack Obama have finally spoken up, though. They are probably the two most influential people in the world on this matter, so perhaps—just perhaps—things may start to change.
In Chicago, we have an annual vehicle tax of $75. Many neighborhoods also have restricted parking zones; permits are $25. Both vehicle stickers and parking permits expire on June 30th.
I mention this because I went to renew these things in person this afternoon down at City Hall. Yes, three business days before their expiration, I stood in line. How long? you wonder. This is city government, after all.
Seven minutes.
Chicago really is the city that works.
I even had time to go to the County Assessor's Office to clear up an issue with my property tax. That adventure took—wait for it—no time at all because the receptionist walked me through the process as soon as I entered the office.
City and county services like these make my head spin. Let's review: I walked into the building at 4:15 pm, and walked out at 4:45 with my vehicle sticker, parking permit, and corrected property tax information.
Try that in any other major city in the world. Ha!
And as an added bonus, via Calculated Risk, 75% of Americans blame the Current Occupant (208 days, 16 hours, 20 minutes) for the deteriorating economy. For the record, I'm one of them.
Side note: Chicago is wikitravel's destination of the month.
I have returned from my latest travels, patted Parker, had a good night of sleep, and am offloading several hundred photos from two digital cameras. This, plus restocking my fridge, will take a little bit, so in the meantime: Paul Krguman explains why speculators have nothing to do with oil prices right now:
Imagine that Joe Shmoe and Harriet Who, neither of whom has any direct involvement in the production of oil, make a bet: Joe says oil is going to $150, Harriet says it won't. What direct effect does this have on the spot price of oil — the actual price people pay to have a barrel of black gunk delivered?
The answer, surely, is none.
Parker is two years old today. As is tradition, we all say: "awwww!"
Also, this lovely armoire separates into four sections. The largest weighs two tonnes. I know this because a friend and I moved it yesterday. My doctor now knows this also. I haven't heard from my friend, so I can only assume he paid more attention to stretching and correct lifting techniques than I did.
You may have noticed the slowdown in TDP entries over the last month or so. By way of explanation, today I'm finishing everything with my mom's house, and tomorrow I'm formally winding up her estate. She would have enjoyed that the Cubs have the best record in baseball as of this morning (44-25), and tomorrow Parker turns 2.
I hope to return to daily entries in a week or so.