Encore! Encore!

As the last of the people on the waiting list went into the Planetarium (see blog below), I saw a group of people tearing down the hallway. I panicked. I had just packed 83 people into one that the fire codes said could only handle 83. "Officially" I couldn't enter at this point. This was a group of eight more people. I knew they weren't going to get in.

They were completely out of breath, having dashed down to the planetarium -- it's kind of a hike. "Are we too late?" one of them gasped.

I told them that they were. We were totally filled up.

"But we made a reservation!" I've heard that before.

"I'm sorry," I told them. "I've filled the room." AND I knew there were no reservations on there for 8 people.

"Oh, man, and our friends are parking their car and coming down now."

There were more of them?!?!

"How many more?" I asked. I was just curious now, I knew there was now way they were going to get in.

"Eight more." SIXTEEN all together. That's 20% of the entire room. There really was NO WAY they were getting in.

"THEY didn't have a reservation, but we brought them along. We thought there'd be room."

They seemed like nice people. I quickly ran over to my office and grabbed 16 free passes to the Planetarium. I handed them out and told them, "I'm sorry, you just got here too late. But if you ever want to come back, it's on me."

And then, I did something stupid. I was about to go into my THIRD show of the day. I rarely make it beyond 3 in one day. It was a SATURDAY, too, for crying out loud. But, I told them, "Listen, if you want to wait here during this show, I'll let you use those today. I'll do a show just for you guys, if you want right after this one."

They glanced around, obviously thinking about it. They started to discuss the merits of the plan.

I told them, "Listen, I have to get this show going. If you're here when I get out, I know you want the show. If you aren't I know you decided against it."

So I went in and did the program. Those 16 people haunted my brain the whole time. I was doing my best ESP push to the outside.... "Go home... you don't want the show... go home.... you don't want to wait... "

The show ended, and I gingerly opened the door to let out the crowd, and to see if they waited. Please don't be there. Please don't be there... I wispered as I pushed the door open.

Sixteen faces were staring right back at me as I opened the door. They were all sitting in a semi-circle on the floor around the doorway, as if to say "There is no escape!"

So I did a fourth show just for them.

I really need to work on my telepathic skills.

I Have A Reservation About This Whole Thing

Last weekend I had shows open to the public. It's part of my Shapes in the Sky series, which are story-telling shows mainly for kids. They tend to be popular, and this time it was no exception.

I did two shows. There are 80 seats in the Planetarium. Show #1 attendance: 86. Show #2 attendance: 83. Little kids sat on laps.

SO, it was crowded.


People can make reservations ahead of time -- they call, give their name, and how many are coming, and we reserve a spot. They pay when they arrive -- we have no way to take credit card information or anything, so the reservation is sort of on the honor system. If you make a reservation, you're supposed to show up, but there is nothing to motivate you to actually come. SO, many times, people make reservations and do not arrive.

So we have a waiting list, sort of like at a restaurant. You tell me your name and how many, and I put your name on the list. When I am about to shut the door and start the show, if any reservations went unfilled, I call names down the list and let people in. SO FAR, I have NEVER had to turn any people away. Even if it means a small child has to sit in a lap.

I had just opened the door and started selling tickets for the 3:00 show, which was the second show. The third family in line (2 adults, 3 kids), came to the register, and I asked, "Do you have a reservation?"

"Yes," the father told me.

"What's the name?"

He told me, and I perused the list, but did not find his name anywhere on there.

"I'm sorry," I told him, "I don't see your name here."

"But I do have a reservation," he told me.

"I don't know what happened, sir, but we are sold out for the show. I can put you on the waiting list, and I'm quite sure you'll get in. But, right now, it's all I can do."

"But I made a reservation!" He started getting angry.

"I realize that. You're the first on the waiting list, I'm sure it will be fine. I don't know what happened to the reservation, there must have been a mix-up."

"Well, it might not be on that list because I made the reservation for the 1:00 show." He said it with attitude. As if I should have known that somehow.

I just blinked at him a few times. " 'scuse me?" I tilted my head as I asked him that. I probably looked like an inquisitive puppy.

"I made the reservation for the 1:00 show. BUT I MADE THE RESERVATION." He was yelling at me now.

"But that show is over. You missed it. The reservation is lost."

"Isn't it the same show??" he yelled.

"Well, the content is the same. But it's a different show." I think he trying to slick-talk me into letting him in immediately.

"BUT I MADE THE RESERVATION," I thought he was going to reach over and start choking me. I was kind of hoping one of the people on the line might come to my rescue and try to explain the problem. They just stood on line chatting, not noticing that the guy was approaching a homicidal rage. AN INSANE homicidal rage, since he had no idea that the show he reserved for and the one he was trying to get into were different.

"No, you didn't," I told him, starting to get a little attitude myself. "You're on the waiting list, please go stand over there and wait."

He brought his family behind me, and spent the next 15 minutes pacing back and forth right behind me. Eventually it got to the point where I was closing the doors, and he was, of course, the first on the waiting list and went right in. He was still fuming as he entered.

The Worst Way To Start the Day.

Sometimes I do programs in the evenings. Today is one of those days -- I have a program at 6:45. When that happens, sometimes I come in late, because I'm only supposed to work 35 hours a week -- beyond that I get comp time. I actually have 36 hours of comp time built up right now (YEP, I can take a week off... if a week ever occurs where I have no scheduled programs!).

Anyhoo, I was home kicking around in my pajama pants, listening to some music, and doing some puzzles in Games Magazine. I was relaxing. It was a little after 11:00 am.

The phone rang.

"Hello?"

"Hi, Chris. This is the college. You have a group here that says they are here for your 11:00 show."

"Oh." LONG PAUSE. "I see."

"Yeah."

"I guess I'll be there as soon as I can. That'll be about a 1/2 hour."

"OK, thanks."

There is nothing, nothing that can unravel a happy state of contentment like an unexpected, panicked burst of ohmigod adrenaline.

So I fled into the shower, washing my body with my right hand, the hair with the left hand. That state of preparation was completed in a less than 2 minutes. Then a quick shave occurred. Then out the door in a flurry of motion. The cat was freaking out.

I got to work, ran down the hill that the seniors in the previous blog decided not to brave, and burst into the dome. I did get a full round of pity applause.

I just wanted a relaxing morning. **==sigh==**

They didn't make it.

I had a group of seniors scheduled for today. The senior groups are some of the best. They love learning new stuff, they are impressed with the Planetarium, and they are the most vocally appreciative about what I am doing. Of course, they tend to fall asleep in the Planetarium, but even that helps to make it a fun time.

I was waiting by the door to the Planetarium for them to arrive. It's quite chilly out, and it's a decent hike down a steep hill and across campus to get here.

They were already late when two of the student aides from Campus Life came up to me telling me that the seniors were on campus, and they were last seen entering the Phys Ed building. There is an elevator in there that will allow them to bypass the steep hill. Some of them started loading into the elevators to get down to the Planetarium.

The student aides were trying to be helpful, and suggested that they could call security to help them down the hill. Security is vary short staffed lately, and didn't have a security officer to drive them down across campus. By now the person who organized the trip was getting ornery. So the student aides suggested that they get maintenance to drive them down -- the maintenance people have little golf carts. At this point the organizer said, "Forget it. The seniors are getting hungry. I'm taking them home."

So, the seniors cheerfully filed back on to the bus and left.

SHEESH! The shows I look forward to tend to be the ones that don't ever actually happen.

A Second Opinion

I was at the original Mr. Astronomy Guy homestead this weekend for a family gathering. I wanted to get a second opinion about the blog listed below (go peek at it now, in case you haven't yet). I dragged my mother up to her computer room, and brought up that blog entry. The pictures popped up, and before she even read ANY of the text she told me: "Geez, that second one looks like somebody's butt."

Valentine's Day Greetings From Space!

Around this time, often two pictures of craters on Mars appear. I am using them both in my public shows tomorrow.

I would like to present them to my loyal Blogreading public!

The first is a pretty famous heart shaped crater on Mars...

Figure 1

How very quaint, ain't it?

The next looks like this:

Figure 2

I like this one. Figure 1 is too skinny for my tastes. This one is a nice full-figured heart, bursting with hearty goodness! BUT, the people in the Career Office across from me disagree. They all think it looks like a butt. A butt with some kind of disease. A diseased butt.

This is not going to deter me from using it in my show!

"Hey kids! Check out what I have for you! Two Valentine treats from Mars! A heart! And a butt!"

Beware of low flying objects.

During the Girl Scout program described below, I mentioned the New Horizons mission, scheduled to be launched in 2006, expected to get to Pluto late in 2016.

As the people were getting up, one of the dads came over to me and asked about it...

"Why does it take 10 years to get to Pluto?" he asked.

It's not that odd of a question -- Pluto is quite a ways away... right now, about 3 billion miles away. It's really a distance greater than most of us can imagine. I told him that, and mentioned that we can get spacecraft going just so fast... this is simply the technology we have right now.

He looked at me with a determined look on his face... and then he said, "Well what about UFO's? The come from other star systems! They can't take nearly that long."

I laughed. Right in his face. It was a big old snort laugh. I might have even spit on him, a little bit.

And then I realized that he was not kidding.

So I did the only thing I could do... I said, very slowly, "Uhhhhh..... Well. There is that."

He then said, "AH! You don't believe in UFO's do you?"

I said, "Well, certainly people have seen objects, that appear to be flying, and were unable to be identified, so, by definition, they are Unidetified Flying Objects. AND, with so many other stars out there, most of which probably having planetary systems, there is a decent chance of intelligent life existing elsewhere in the universe. I'm just not sure they are watching us, abducting random folks, and crash landing on an irregular basis."

I was a little afraid I would offend the fellow, but he just got a little knowing smile and nodded his head saying, "Yeah. It's probably just the government."

"Yeah," I said, in the exact same tone as his.

If I've learned anything here, it's to NOT continue a conversation of this ilk.

The dead zone.

I just got out of a program for 8 girl scouts and their dads. 16 people all together. Not really worth coming in on a Saturday, but, hey, it's my job. I was supposed to be having some Boy Scouts immediately after (right now, actually!), but they seemed to have decided to skip the trip. So, since they stood me up, you get to hear a story...

These were 8 and 9 year old girls, and they seemed pretty into it on the way in. They appeared energetic and enthused, and we shared some fun banter as we waited for everyone to arrive. They seemed like a fun bunch.

While I was waiting for some of the kids, before the program started, the girls who were there kept breaking out into spontaneous countdowns: "10...9...8.." etc.. "...2...1...BLAST OFF!" They were so into it! I knew it was going to be a great show.

Once the show began, it was as if they had each downed a half bottle of NyQuil. They were dead. I couldn't get them to participate at all. During the program they were dead. I kept asking questions and getting SILENCE. The only thing that would have made me feel more alone would have been tumbleweed accompanied by the sounds of crickets.

I always ask stupid, but fun, obvious questions to keep their interest. For example, when I discuss the moon, usually kids love to scream about 'Craters!'. Not this bunch.

Usually kids love to yell out the directions... when I put the N, S, E, and W up on the dome, and I ask them to tell me what the N stands for, they go "North!!" crazy. But not today.

I was doing a wonderful job, too! As enthusiastic and exciting as ever. But I just couldn't rile them up...

I had a mental flash to Ben Stein in Ferris Bueller's Day Off.

"Beuller."

"Beuller."

"Beuller."

"Beuller."


A little later, I had on a picture of Mercury and was about to talk about its lack of atmosphere. The picture I show has obvious craters all over the surface, so I tried one of my usual participation questions -- "What else did we look at that had craters...?" This was going to be my last question if they didn't answer... And, of course, they did not.

I turned around to look at the group and discovered the problem. The Mercury slide shed just enough light on the girls so I could see their outlines. And there were 8 brownie girl scouts -- all with hands raised at full length, twitching enthusiastically, almost standing out of their chairs in excitement to be called on.

They had been trying to answer the questions.

"You just have to yell out the answers," I told them. "I can't see your hands in the dark!"

They glanced around nervously, and slowly put down their hands.

"SO, let's try that again!" I was so happy now! The problem was solved! "What else did we look at that had craters...?"

Silence for a minute.

"Ummm..." one girl said, in a volume just beyond a whisper. "The m...mm....moo.....The moon...?"

"YES!" I said, trying to give her a little confidence. "The moon!"

But it didn't matter. Apparently they had been so drilled with a Raise Your Hand To Speak mentality, that they really didn't want it any other way. I should have been happy at the well-behaved nature -- I know I always complain about the unruly ones -- but I wanted excitement and fun in there. There was none.

I though that the only hope I had left was when I showed the rocket launch headed to Mars. They were so excited practicing countdowns before the show that they would definitely be into it, I thought. So as the countdown began, I started chanting along with it, in hopes that they would join in... "10!....9!..." but my hopes were dashed. A couple kids sort of whispered the countdown, but there was no enthusiasm there.

And, I swear, as the numbers went on, there was one girl who raised her hand most of the way up before each countdown number. As if she wanted to be called on to say what was coming next...

"6!...." I yelled along with the film.

Her hand went up, as if she was thinking "OOOH! Pick me to say 5! Pick me to say 5!"

"5!...."

Her hand went down for a split second and then back up, "OOOH! I know this one! 4! Pick me for 4!"


It was all a bit odd.

And it has sucked the life right out of me. I have another program in 2 hours. Yeeps. I'd better brew up some coffee.

On the other side of the podium.

Three times a year I get to sit in the Planetarium and watch. I don't have to talk, I just watch.

In March and October, we do a Music Under the Stars where I introduce a musician (or musicians) that perform in the Planetarium. Those are wonderful -- the dome makes the sound amazing. So that takes care of TWO of these shows...

The third is a Havdala (sp?) program. Excuse any factual incorrectness, but I think it is a celebration of the end of the Sabbath day. I am not Jewish (I really don't have really any religious affiliation!), so this is simply what I have gleaned from the service itself.

For this program, one of the ex-astronomers (who will be referred to as "J", using the 'standard' Blog anonymity abbreviation) comes back. For which I am thrilled! I get to just watch! I can help twiddling a knob or two, but basically I just get to sit and watch. It's wonderful.

Mostly, I'm happy because they sort of throw a bunch of people together, and throw together the program at the last minute. I can't work like that! I need to know what I am doing and saying and have it well rehearsed at all times. AND I am a control freak -- I don't share the spotlight well. I would be smacking people all over the place to get away. They're nice enough people, but I don't like the general public behind my control panel.

And this year, the kids were just pretty miserable. They were loud, obnoxious and all-around rude. And they were just NOT participating. J was trying to get the to participate, but they were just not having it. But they were very happy to scream things out...

I forget exactly what the question was, but a kid yelled something like "If we are in an orbit moving around out there, how come the stars don't change their orientation from our point of view?" It wasn't nearly that coherent, and I don't think that was the exact issue, but it was something like that....

J was trying to give an answer, but the kid apparently didn't actually care, nor did anyone else want to help. She was trying to explain how great distance makes things appear to move less, so she asked (again, this is not a quote, but the gist is there), "Did you ever notice the moon sort of stays in place? You can be driving down the road, and the trees fly by, and the mountains in the distance move slower, and it looks like the moon is following you...?"

Silence.

"Ever notice the moon looks like it follows you?" she tried again.

Cold dead silence.

"Ever see how the moon looks like it follows you?"

Finally a couple kids muttered, "Yeah."

"So, why does the moon follow you like that, do you think?" J asked them.

Extended silence.

Finally, one kid decided to give it a try. In a dark voice he suggested, "Because the moon's a stalker."

I think I'm in the process of being stood up. Stupid boy scouts.

What a good time to catch up!

Long time, no Blog.

It's been a busy week. And I was going to "catch up" on some blogging yesterday (Friday), but we got froze out! A day off was nice, but the Blog has suffered. I apologize on behalf of the weather.

Anyway, I am here today, Saturday performing 3 (three) programs. One will be here soon.

But in between, Blogging shall occur!

You have been warned...

Off to greet some brownies!

A realization.

If you have not read the previous post, directly below this one, please do it now. I'll wait...

Done? Good.

I now know the difference between 10 year old girls and 10 year old boys. The girls can be creative and unusual without it being a goof-off laugh riot. The boys.... not so much.

It was actually quite strange -- exactly one day after the girl scout troop came in and raided my brochures, some boy scouts came, and also performed a brochure-raid. I really don't think that has ever happened, and now it has happened twice in a row!

And soon into program, one of the boys took his rolled up brochure and used it...

...in a completely difference fashion from the girls.

I was talking about Orion, and when I mentioned his name adn displayed the picture, he held his rolled up brochure up to his mouth, megaphone style, and shouted "Orion!" I was as if he were my late-night-talk-show sidekick.


Mr. Astronomy Guy: "...and here is Orion."

Random boy scout: "ORION!"


Of course, all the boys erupted into cackling laughter. SO, this was the new "thing". They ALL had to do it, everytime I showed something.


Mr: Astronomy Guy: "... this is Jupiter."

21 rowdy boy scouts: "JUPITER!!" **--cackling laughter--**


And it did continue throughout the remainder of the program.

This seems pretty consistent with other shows -- when one boy does something that is attention-getting, even if it is actually interesting and funny, he (and the rest of his minions) has to beat it to death. The girls can enjoy themselves as well, but they handle it with much more grace and maturity.

At least I know I wasn't like that when I was 10. I wasn't. Seriously. I was mature and proper.

I still am.

OK, except for that fart blog from a couple days ago.

A new view.

I had a batch of girl scouts one evening last week. Girl scouts always give me some blog fodder.

As usual, some scouts showed up 20 minutes early, the rest were late.

The early bunch were wandering around the dome, and they stumbled over the brochure dispenser. For some reason, 10 year olds love brochures. They all took at least one; many grabbed a few.

The program was going smoothly -- they were a fine bunch: courteous, attentive, and appreciative.

When I got to the first planet, Mercury, one of the girls took a rolled up brochure that she was holding, and put it up to her eye, and pointed it at the slide up on the dome, as if it were a tiny telescope. The girl next to her then did the same.

By the time I got to Venus, they were ALL doing it. Everytime I put a slide up, the 'telescopes' went up! If I put another slide on the other side of the dome, they all swung the telescopes over in that direction. It was kind of as if they were watching a tennis match (thanks, Nick!).

I would have thought that this would have been a hysterical thing to them. But it wasn't! I would have imagined that every time they put up their 'telescopes' they would have at least giggled a little. Not so. They did it as if it was a functional and expected thing!

At the end of the program I thought about mentioning it, and asking them about it, but they had been so 'professional' in their telescopy that I didn't want my comment to make it seem odd or silly, so I just let it go.