Airports...

I knew I was going to forget to mention something about Montreal....

So, on the way home from Canada, I got hassled twice by security.

I'm not sure if something about me screams "terrorist" but this was the fourth time I've been stopped at an airport for a random search.

Montreal definitely takes the cake, though.

At the regular security check, I got asked to step out of line and get searched, which was fine. The airport personnel dug through my carry-on bags and searched my body. The security guard was kind of cute, so I thought of it like most of my first dates minus dinner. It very well could have been random but I've just been asked to do this so many times.

I'm not sure how to feel about it. I feel like my name is on some kind of list somewhere.

After I got the big OK to mosey on through, I got harassed -- and I mean literally harassed -- at customs.

Anybody who knows me is aware that I don't travel light. When I went to Mexico City with a class last semester, I think I was the only person who packed two suitcases for eight days; everybody else had packed one. When I go home for a weekend trip, I usually pack a giant suitcase and a separate bag for belts and shoes. I think I'm physically incapable of packing lightly.

Montreal was no different.

I packed my two largest suitcases full, had my laptop bag full of wires and books and had carried on a separate bag full of shoes and random objects. My checked luggage weighed about 85-90 lbs combined.

Getting my luggage to Montreal was fine, but getting it back, through a customs agent, was a pain in the ass.

When I arrived at the counter, the man swiped my passport and immediately said, "we have a bit of a problem."

He didn't bother to ask where I was going, what I was doing, the usual customs-counter banter. He just stared at me and said, "we have a bit of a problem."

I imagined that when he swiped my passport through the reader the computer probably popped up a screen that read "FLIGHT RISK!!" or something hilarious like that.

"...problem?" I asked.

The agent inquired about why a person who was in Canada for seven days would need 95 lbs of luggage.

"Your one bag is 54 pounds and the other is over 40," he said.

"Oh, they didn't stop me when I checked the luggage. Is there any way they could shift four pounds out of the one bag to the other to comply to those weight restriction things?" I asked.

"This is customs," he snapped back. "If it made it through checked luggage, I don't give a shit how heavy it is. I just want to know what's in the bags."

"Oh ... clothing, belts, shoes," I answered. "What else would be in there?"

"You tell me," he said, spinning around his computer monitor to show a picture of my two suitcases on a conveyor belt, bulging at the seams.

I hate when people do stuff like this. It's that age-old mind fuck that people try to play with you. Kind of like how you discipline a dog when they fuck something up. You grab the shredded piece of whatever and present it to them, to let them know they've done wrong.

It was as if he thought the sight of my two pieces of luggage would elicit some knee-jerk confession out of me like:

"OH LAWRDY, THEY FOUND THE BOMB!! RUN!!"

or

"I'm moonlighting. This is my first stab at human trafficking."

I just kept staring at this guy like he was an asshole, because, well, he was being an asshole.

"You sure that's all you have in the bags?" he asked.

"Positive. It's clear from those pictures that I don't travel light. If you're not going to believe me, go ahead and search them ... shoes, belts and clothes."

"I just want to give you an opportunity to identify any items that we might find in there if we have to search your bags," he said.

"Look sir, you're not hearing me, so hear this. I was only in Montreal for a week, but I was at a journalism convention for gay people. I went through anywhere from two to three outfits a day. Ninety-five pounds of luggage seems a bit conservative for me. I've already paid for both bags to get on this flight. If I seem a little uncooperative it's because I'm tired and haven't slept all night and I just gave you guys 50 dollars to handle these bags.

"And don't you guys x-ray the luggage? For 50 dollars, you can't just run the bag through a machine to see that it's just belts, shoes and clothes?" I followed up.

"What do you do for a living?" he asked, skipping right past my mini rant.

"I'm a student," I answered.

"Where do you go?"

"Penn State."

"What are you studying?"

"Jour-na-lis-m," I said slowly, as to indicate that I thought this man had a problem with hearing or comprehension.

At this point, I no longer cared about even trying to act polite.

"Do you work?" he asked.

"Not at the moment -- just school," I said.

"How does a nonworking student afford a week-long trip to Montreal?" he asked.

"What are you getting at?" I asked.

"...there's no dope in your bags?" he asked.

As soon as this man said the word "dope" I chuckled.

"Excuse me? Dope?" I laughed.

"Yeah."

"No, there's no dope in my bags."

"You sure?" he asked.

"YES!"

"OK, you can go," he said.

So then I met back up with the three other students whom I went to the airport with. The shit was getting heavy and I needed some caffeine, so we decided to stop at this coffee kiosk near our gate.

While Lauren, Anthony, Blair and I were in line, two airline employees (I'm assuming a pilot and co-pilot by their outfits) turned around and asked me, "What the hell was that all about? At customs? I've never seen anybody get questioned that much."

"I don't know," I said.

It was ridiculous. I'm so happy to be home.

I'm home!!

It's been forever since my last update. I'm sorry.

Montreal and the NLGJA convention were so fantastic. The weather, the people, the sights, the friendships, the work -- all amazing.

It was the first place I've ventured outside of the states where I didn't know the language. The language barrier drove me crazy, especially since French is spoken everywhere you turn.

It sort of makes me want to learn French. The language is so beautiful and melodic. I'll put it on my to-do list.

The first night we arrived in Montreal was amazing. The students got to hang out and get to know one another before our work began in any official capacity.

The convention was held at the Hyatt Regency Montreal and across the street was the newly opened (it opened the night we got there) Place des Arts, a plaza with water/light installations that synched up to create breathtaking views. The design and layout seems so simple, yet it adds so much to that space of the city.

For the grand opening of the plaza, a group of artists from around Montreal held this celebration called Le Grande Basier (The Great Kiss). Because of the language barrier, I'm not exactly sure what the underlying meaning was behind the event. It was a bunch of artists retelling, in French, of their first kiss and then some sort of skit would occur.

It was quite a spectacle. There were probably about 2,000 or more people just standing around, dancing, singing, enjoying the moment.

After every artist would pop up on these giant video screens, a scene would take place. There were acrobatics, floats, choreography, music, singing -- a little bit of everything.

I took exhaustive video of the event, so, check it out for yourself. It was an amazing thing to witness. How a community could come together and enjoy a simple space and story telling. And the event was free of charge. It seemed like something I would never see here in the states.








During one of the last numbers, the participants in the parade grabbed members of the audience and dragged them to the center to dance. I think it surprised a lot of people.





Montreal was like no other city I've been to before.

It seemed very...cohesive. Like a community full of people that were in it together. As if it were one unit working toward this goal of happy co-habitability. It was a weird experience. People were just so nice.

The nightlife was different, too.

The city's gayborhood (on the far end of Rue Saint-Catherine) was a decent size. There were more bars, restaurants and "saunas" than you could shake a stick at. We didn't get to go to a lot of them, but the ones we did were fun.

Oh, and another thing about Montreal gay bars that took all of us by surprise -- porn.

Every bar you walk into had porn showing on multiple television screens. And this wasn't softcore "Cinemax after dark" cable porn. This was full-on, gritty, shameful, watch-by-yourself porn. I think we probably looked a lot like tourists that first night because we couldn't take our eyes off of the television. At one point, I think I started blushing...and I'm not bashful.

Another thing I enjoyed about Montreal was the couple I interviewed for my video piece. I went to the home of the first same-sex couple to apply for a marriage license in Canada. They were so nice and welcoming and warm. They even gave me homemade jam after the interview as a gift. It was a really sweet gesture.

Here's a pic of the jam. I think it's...blackberry? Idk.






Either way, Michael and Rene were fabulous. It sounds awkward, but they've been together so long that it's a reminder love still exists and people can make it -- even gay guys. It seems at times that monogamy and happiness are so foreign for the LGBT community. They've been together 35 years and have been married for five years. I'm going to sound like a teenage girl when I say this, but I'm envious. I hope to find that special one someday.

Montreal was made even more amazing by the people I worked with for the week. The seven students and handful of mentors have had such an impact on my life considering we only worked for a brief time. Events such as this and meeting other bright students is like a glimpse into the future; we are the people who will be running the industry one day. It's inspiring.

If any of you seven other students is reading this right now, I just want to say thanks. We bonded, we shared, we laughed, we had fun. I can't wait until we all get to hang out again! And I hope you all "make good choices."

There are too many experiences during the past week to try and recall here. I really shouldn't have neglected this blog for as long as I did.

But for now I need to get to bed. This week is going to be full of assignments and G-20 Summit preparation.

Will update tomorrow. Promise.

Oh, and here you go. Because I thought it was hilarious.

What frightens me...

Over the past several days I've been thinking more about fears.

I've been pondering my own life and what frightens me.

It may sound like a strange topic to focus on, but do any of us really know what makes us fearful?

There are those superficial fears -- things that make our skin crawl and situations that make us cringe. But what about deeper fears? Insecurities?

The past several days have been full of examples of what I think I've pinpointed as my greatest fear: mediocrity.

Being a college student is one of the most uncertain times in a person's life. The only "constant" is this journey with pit stops for classroom lectures, exams, papers, deadlines, parties, bad dates and one-night stands.

The thought is frightening, but I have no idea what next year will bring.

I spend an excessive amount of time preparing for, attending and doing projects for class. That's my focus for the present and near future; I don't have enough energy to focus on anything else.

Yet, there seems to be this uninformed consensus that journalism is one of the easiest majors to tackle.

This is a relative assumption.

I believe that any major can be easy to accomplish.

A person can coast through college with D's and C's and probably still obtain a degree. As long as they pass the curriculum, they get shuffled through the system and are allowed to walk.

And after they obtain that degree, what is the next step in their life? Career? Marriage? Grad school?

The name of the game is fulfillment -- none of us would be in college if that weren't true. To some people that means making gobs of money. To others that could mean job security, job satisfaction, getting married or raising a family.

When people ask me what I want to do for a living, I'm not really sure how to respond.

When I was a child, I started off wanting to be a doctor, then a lawyer, then a teacher, then an accountant and now a journalist.

But I'm not entirely sure if I want to be a journalist now. I feel like I want to enter teaching at the collegiate level.

And this is the new goal for myself. I want to fast track myself to a Ph.D. -- if you want to call eight to 10 years "fast track."

I've never taken the easy route for anything. I think it's my nature to "go against the grain" if you will.

I'm a high-school drop out who carved out his own path to college. (A lot of people still can't believe this.)

Even throughout college, I've always tried to challenge myself and learn new skills, taking classes because I want to learn, not because I thought it was an easy "A."

People would often ask me, "Are you taking Russian for your language requirement?"

And I'd say, "No -- just for fun!" I took the class because I wanted to get better at Russian, and I did think the class was fun.

Yesterday, I ran into my Introduction to News Writing professor, Margaret. She is one of the best people at this campus. I love her!

But anyway, I ran into her and she asked what I was taking this semester. When I told her "entomology" she said, "Why? Why not just take biology or earth science?"

I answered: "Bugs interest me...?"

The other day in my Database Management and Organization of Data class (Information Sciences and Technology is my minor) the professor actually put me on a 20-minute "time out" from answering questions because I was picking up the slack of the rest of the class during lecture.

She had asked some easy questions that were covered in the reading. After every question, I'd scan the room, looking for somebody who wanted to answer. Nobody would raise their hand and contribute. I took it upon myself to just spit out the answers.

I'm pretty impatient. Also, I was frustrated because I'm the only journalism major in the entire class. Every other student in there is either an IST, MIS, SRA or engineering major.

This really bothers me. I hate it when people don't contribute in class for several reasons.

• It makes me look like "that kid." The kiss ass that answers every question. I mean, I'm aware that I'm a kiss ass, but I try to conceal that.
  
• It slows down the pace of the class, which more often than not is already moving slowly.
• It makes the rest of us look like we didn't do the work.
• It's another affirmation that my generation is full of lazy, binge-drinking slobs.

Even if nobody knew the correct answer, they could guess! I don't care if they get the answer right or not, but as long as they try. I hate when people have this "defeatist" attitude.

But this brings me back to my original point.

I hate feeling invisible. I fear mediocrity. I want to make an impact and be at the top in whatever I do with my life. I'm aggressive when it comes to learning. I want to facilitate conversation and thought.

The journey is just beginning for me, but that's why I'm such a grade-grubbing, challenge-undertaking, ass-kissing son of a bitch.

The work I put in today will have huge payoffs for tomorrow. Even if I don't exactly know what tomorrow will bring. Life isn't difficult, but you definitely get out of it what you put into it.

Today on the bus, I overheard a conversation between this girl and guy.

The girl had said something to the effect of, "I could study my ass off and not have a life, but brains aren't everything, ya know?"

To which the guy replied, "Yeah, it's like, I'm in college. I want to have fun."

I just chuckled and sighed a bit when I heard this exchange.