As the date of departure drew close—August 27—Hurricane Irene also drew close. The media certainly overhyped the hurricane as the “storm of our lifetime” for the northeastern coast of the U.S. I compulsively checked the Carnival site throughout the week before the appointed day. Nothing listed—no delays, no cancellations—nothing about our cruise until two days prior when it became clear the itinerary would change. We’ll stop at Halifax first, then St. John, because Hurricane Irene would come very close to, if not hit, St. John. “No problem,” I thought. “Carnival must have meteorologists on staff who will know how this is going to play out.” Denial is a very strong emotion.

The day before we set sail, on Friday, August 26, we received a notice from Carnival that we should arrive early at the cruise terminal in New York—they moved up the departure time from 5 pm to 3 pm. So it was clear the cruise would actually take place. I wasn’t too worried, but I kept thinking, “That storm is 500 miles across, and the swirling bands are already reaching up to New Jersey and perhaps even off the coast of New York.” But denial is a strong emotion. No way were we going to forfeit the money we paid and not turn up! If Carnival canceled, we could get a refund. Otherwise, we would be out the money if we didn’t go. In retrospect, I would have gladly given up that money.

Saturday arrived and we left for New York, a three and a half hour journey from our home in the Binghamton, NY area. I won’t bore you with details of arriving and embarking—it’s a lot like boarding a large jetliner with long lines and security checkpoints. Once we were on the ship and in our room, we were so excited! The room, on deck 8, was large and well appointed. We had our very own balcony, something I paid quite a bit extra for.

We snapped pictures from the balcony of our room, looking right up some of the streets of midtown Manhattan as we waited to leave. As I snapped those pictures and gazed at Manhattan, I couldn’t help but notice the gray clouds hovering across the city, obscuring some of top floors of the tallest buildings. A light rain had started to fall. But denial is a strong emotion. What I was looking at, and frankly could not accept, was the beginning effects of Irene—right there in New York before we had even left port.

The ship finally departed around 3:20 pm and we cruised gently down the Hudson River, past spectacular views of buildings. I love New York and seeing it from the river is one of the best ways to see it. We floated past the Statue of Liberty. And then we were called to our posts for a mandatory safety lecture—so we would know how to use our life preservers and which life raft to hop aboard should it become necessary.

The safety lecture ended around 4:30 pm. By 5 pm, the pitching and rolling of the ship began. We were on the ocean and now located in the very edges of Hurricane Irene as it moved up the coast. How do I describe what we experienced? The first thing you notice is that you cannot walk two steps without stumbling like a drunk. Your hands fly out to grab whatever you can to steady yourself. In the cabin, where Judy and I decided to park ourselves thinking maybe this would only last a few hours, the dresser drawers flew open. I shut them. A few minutes later they were all open again. I shut them. The cycle repeated enough times that Judy told me to “Just leave them open!”

I also noticed glass cups and other items on flat surfaces were moving around—sliding back and forth. The little card with wet bar prices hooked around the knob of the mini-fridge rocked from side to side like the pendulum of a grandfather clock.

It felt like we were on a small roller coaster rocking side to side and pitching up and down. Every now and again we hit a wave that would cause the ship to lurch (and our stomachs to lurch with it). The ship would also shudder and vibrate as if a giant hammer had wacked it on the side. I later heard from another passenger that the swells outside were over 30 feet—no idea if that’s true or not. But I can believe it.

I kept telling Judy, “We’ll outrun this! Just hold on honey, in no time at all it will be a distant memory.” I mean, Carnival wouldn’t intentionally run us through a hurricane just for the almighty buck would they? Denial is a strong emotion.

In addition to the pitching and rolling, as the night wore on, the howling of the wind outside grew louder. After a few hours of the rocking motion, and perhaps complicated by the poor quality food we were served buffet style after arriving on board, Judy got violently sick. She vomited several times that first night. We elected not to attend dinner but instead stayed in our cabin. She could eat nothing. She could do nothing but stay in bed. I joined her around 9 pm, trying to get sleep. Judy was up by 10, vomiting again. This was not your ordinary vomit but the “puke your guts out” kind—the kind where you hurt and are exhausted because of the effort it takes.

I called the infirmary at that point, shortly after 10 pm, and no one answered the phone. I tried repeatedly for more than a half hour, but got no answer. Must have been after hours—or perhaps they were too busy helping others.

I stayed up most of the night to monitor Judy—she was sick, flat in bed. Every time we would doze off the ship would lurch and wake us up. I got virtually no sleep the first night—maybe an hour or two at most.

The sun came up on Sunday, and when we looked out the window of our balcony we saw clouds, rain and big waves. And the rocking continued. Judy vomited again Sunday morning. This time I did raise someone at the infirmary who told me to order seasick pills from room service. So I did.
I won’t belabor the point any more. The hard seas lasted until about 5 pm on Sunday, almost 24 hours exactly from the time they started until you could once again walk down a hallway without stumbling.

Because the seas calmed down, and because of the seasick pills, by Sunday night Judy could finally eat crackers and not vomit. We continued to stay in our cabin. By Monday, she was returning to normal and we started to venture out—we hadn’t even toured the ship yet and had no idea where anything was!

The rest of the cruise? It was OK. The food was terrible—and I do mean gross. We have always heard others rave about the food on cruises. Not on this one! Other passengers we spoke to complained about the food as well.

The entertainment was perhaps the one saving grace of the rest of the cruise. We enjoyed several live musical performances over the remaining cruise. We did get off at Halifax—which was our one and only stop. We spent a few hours Monday night and most of Tuesday touring the beautiful city of Halifax.

Our visit to St. John was canceled because we spent so much time trying to outrun Hurricane Irene, we didn’t have enough time to make it to St. John. Fine by us! We only wanted to get back.

By Monday, it was clear that we had wasted our money on the cruise. It was also clear that Carnival knew the seas would be rough and someone in management made a decision to send the cruise out—into Hurricane Irene—anyway. Shame on that person and shame on Carnival for sending out a boatload of people on a journey they knew would be half wasted in rough seas.

I don’t expect an apology from Carnival. I’m not writing this account to get one. I took a risk, a risk that Carnival would do the right thing by its customers. They did not. So I lost the gamble, all of my vacation money, and five days of my life, on what should have been a happy celebration of our 25th wedding anniversary.

I seek nothing from Carnival—least of all a “complimentary” cruise of my choice. I will NEVER set foot on a Carnival “fun ship” again. I publish this account as a warning to anyone considering a cruise on Carnival. Take your money, and your time, to a cruise line that actually cares about its customers and doesn’t send them out into a hurricane just to make a buck.

Will Judy and I ever go on another cruise? Not likely. At least not any time soon—until this bad memory has had time to fade. Hopefully in the future I’ll listen to my inner voice and not deny what’s right before my eyes.

The purpose of my trip was to review conferencing facilities at two hotels. My company hosts trade show events and I was there to scout out new locations. I needed to see the spaces in person, take measurements, shoot some videos and talk with the person in charge of events so I could communicate just how we want to use the space for which we will pay many (many!) thousands of dollars. I made appointments at each venue several weeks in advance to be sure I could get access to view the entire space at both hotels on the same trip.

I turned up 30 minutes early for my first appointment, but it took me 15 minutes of false starts to find the banqueting and conference office (not a good sign). My contact graciously met with me immediately, even though I was early. From the moment we started to talk, I noticed she had a Blackberry sitting on the table and it was buzzing and lighting up—constantly. As we started to tour the facilities she seemed to be in a hurry. I wanted to take some quick videos of the rooms with my Flip camera but she was rushing me around (with the Blackberry in hand) saying, “Don’t worry, I’ll send you pictures for each of the rooms.” Well excuse me, I’ve just traveled four hours by bus, having made an appointment more than two weeks in advance, specifically to take my time and look at this place! Much to her dismay, I would not be rushed.

Of particular interest for me was to see how we might fit the desired number of exhibitor booths into the allotted space. She said that she would use a special program to diagram it out for me “later” and email it. As my tour continued she actually responded to text messages on the Blackberry, even while we walked and as she talked with me! This behavior, of constantly checking her Blackberry, and telling me, “Yes, I’ll send that later by email” was to me, rude.

At the conclusion of my tour, as we sat in the hotel lobby with me asking a final round of questions, it dawned on me that we had not reviewed the room where lunch would be served—no doubt overlooked because of the speed of the tour. So I asked her to show me. I don’t think she liked it, but she pasted on a smile and we went to look. And then, with a handshake and a wave she was off, looking yet again at her Blackberry.

Contrast that with my second and final stop of the day at a different hotel. When I arrived, the front desk check-in area was crowded beyond belief and I was certain it would take me 20 minutes just to speak with someone. So I went wandering to see if I could locate the conference and banqueting office myself. I came across a hotel worker who was playing with a young child who had cornered her. The parents came along and apologized but the young lady said “no worries” with a genuine smile, and then she turned her attention to me. I told her who I was looking for and she said, “Let me go call her for you right now, she’ll need to come meet you in the lobby.” And she did just that. Less than five minutes later I was on my way with the conference manager at the second hotel.

The conference manager showed me various meeting rooms, taking time to wait for me as I used my Flip video camera, answering all of my questions. She was unhurried and focused her full attention on me. For a question I had about the exhibit space, we needed to talk to the person in charge of catering and setup, and she got him there—in person—within two minutes. I told him how many booths I would need and the general layout I had in mind for the exhibit space. He disappeared and 15 minutes later came back with a printout of a floor plan for just what I wanted! The people at this second hotel were courteous, helpful, treated me like the high-paying customer I am , and oh yes, not a Blackberry or cell phone in sight from either of them during the entire tour and discussions, all of which lasted almost an hour.

The personnel from the second hotel were “there”—meaning they were present, with me, talking with me and focusing on me and filtering out “the world” as they did so. And I appreciate that.

If you’re in business, or meeting with a friend, or whatever you do in life, this is an encouragement to be “present” with other people. Ditch the habit of constantly checking the Blackberry. Unless you’re a doctor or someone who holds life and death responsibilities, turn off the Blackberry when you’re with someone else and give them your undivided attention. Do that, and you’ll set yourself apart—and above—most other people.

Laurie decided to give up her acting career and instead attend Liberty University, which is where I met her. We were both on the same singing team (called SMITE back then).

On occasion she would help me with my homework when we were on the road traveling almost every weekend to sing in different churches. Our team of a dozen singers criss-crossed the south in a big Silver Eagle bus. I’ll never forget, Laurie once helped me with an English assignment – she helped me understand what Hemingway’s "Hills like white elephants" short story was talking about.

After college Laurie got married, became a homeschooling mom, and sadly she passed away at age 49 (in 2007) from cancer. She was one of the nicest and humblest people you would ever meet, and it was a privilege to have known her for a brief time in the 80s.

Negroponte thinks that the e-book will kill the physical book within five years. Maybe kill isn’t the right word—printed books aren’t being eradicated. But clearly he thinks that five years from now the battle will be decided. I’d consider e-books selling more than print books (not just hardbacks), with e-book sales going up and physical book sales going down as “victory conditions.” And when I put it like that, it starts sounding a lot more reasonable.*

My own previous prediction made at the Montrose Christian Writers Conference: By 2012 e-books will be 25 percent of sales in the trade publishing market. Will e-book sales be 50 percent or more by 2015? It may very well happen—I’d say even likely to happen. So on that score, Negroponte is correct. But I don’t see print books going away any time soon—not even within 20 years. One thing is for sure: E-books are coming on strong, and are an extremely important new market for authors. Especially new and “unknown” authors.

*CrunchGear (Aug 7) – It’s Futurists Versus Consumers As The Death Of The Book Is Prophesied

Another writer I worked with is Marilyn Naseth. Every couple of years Marilyn travels all the way from Minnesota to Montrose, PA to attend the MCWC. And now Marilyn is blogging: marilynelveranaseth.wordpress.com. Check out her blog! I especially like her recent post titled, “Golf and Writing.”

Another MCWC conferee was Liz Holbert. I did not help Liz set up her blog, she was already a blogger. I love Liz’s writing style, especially her humor. Liz is blogging at: zildamarie.blogspot.com/. You have to read her post titled, “Everyone’s Got a Bathroom or Two.” Laugh out loud funny. And the language she uses to describe her experience…well, I’ll let you read it for yourself. You’ll see why I’m a fan.

So many talented writers at the MCWC! It was a true pleasure meeting and working with each of you. I look forward to reading your blogs, your articles and your books. May God bless you as you keep writing…and blogging.

Being a publicly traded company, B&N is constantly under pressure to try and make its stock performance attractive for investors. And it’s falling short. So one of the options is to put itself on the auction block. Possible buyers include the founder and chairman of the board Leonard Riggio who, it’s said, is looking at putting together an investment group to buy out the company and take it private.

Even though B&N still sells some 300 million books a year, we get these startling statistics about how the B&N behemoth as fallen from its high perch of just a few years ago:

Today, Barnes & Noble has a market capitalization of just under $950 million—even after a 25% run-up in after-hours trading Tuesday in the wake of the announcement. In comparison, chief competitor Amazon.com Inc. has a market cap of around $55 billion. In 2001, Barnes & Noble was worth $2.2 billion and Amazon $3.6 billion.*

Translation: Nine years ago B&N was worth $2.2B and Amazon was worth $3.6B. Today? B&N is worth $950M (less than half its previous value) and Amazon is worth, yikes, $55B! Need I say more? Sorry to be the bearer of bad news, but if you have a Nook, sell it on eBay now and buy a Kindle. If you haven’t yet purchased an e-reader, buy a new Kindle 3 for $139.

*Wall Street Journal (Aug 2) – Barnes & Noble on Block

After dinner, I caught up with Bryan to ask him about the MCWC. This is what he said…