"Touching The Void"

Touching the Void is the story of a true life mountaineering adventure. In 1985, two young British climbers, Joe Simpson and Simon Yates made an attempt on the West face of the Siula Grande in the Peruvian Andes which was a route that had never been successfully climbed. The climb and the return journey have since become one of the most enduring tales of the mountaineering community.

The climb is challenging and dangerous, but they succeed in reaching the summit. However, as any mountaineer will tell you, reaching the summit is less than half the battle - most accidents and deaths happen on the way down. And it is no different for Simpson and Yates. Bad weather and poor planning has them in trouble right away, but disaster strikes when Simpson has a fall and breaks his right leg at the knee while they are still very high on the mountain. That is pretty much a death sentence and Simpson is almost resigned to it when they come up with a strategy of Yates lowering Simpson down the mountain in 300 foot sections. It is not easy, but they make progress until Simpson falls into a crevasse. Yates, who is sitting way above him on the mountain and supporting Simpson's weight has no way of telling what happened and eventually does the only thing he could practically do: cut the rope, causing Joe to fall further into the crevasse with no hope of climbing out with a broken leg and no food or water.
What follows is an astonishing tale of survival - both on the part of Simpson and Yates. It is also an examination of what really matters and the power of the mind over matter. Yates returned from the trip to a predictable storm of criticism over his decision to 'cut the rope' (and indeed, is still known as "The Guy Who Cut the Rope"), but Joe Simpson always defended him staunchly. He finally wrote this book in 1998, largely to defend his friend. The book is well written, but looking up mountaineering terms ahead of time (or keeping a dictionary handy) will make for easier reading.
Simpson and Yates returned to Peru in 2002 to film a documentary style recreation of their climb and far from being cathartic, Simpson had a terrible time during the filming and was later diagnosed to be suffering from Post Traumatic Stress Disorder (PTSD) - 17 years after his harrowing journey. The movie version is also to be recommended - it glosses over a number of details as all movie versions do, but the impact is more visceral and seeing the mountains and crevasse and hearing Joe and Simon talk gives it a great deal of verisimilitude.
Compelling and engrossing though the story is, we must accept that it is at best an ersatz experience for the lay reader - by Simpson's own account, he could not find the words to express the utter desolation of those 4 days on the Siula Grande.

The Tooth Fairy

Arjun stirred as I carefully lifted his pillow and searched around for the little plastic baggie in which he had saved the first tooth that he had lost earlier that day. I was playing tooth fairy, but with a mild sense of unease. I removed the tooth and replaced it with five 1-dollar bills, feeling at once a sense of satisfaction from fulfilling an expected role and a disquiet from the con (albeit harmless) I was perpetuating.

In the morning I pretended to be amazed at the generosity of the tooth fairy (Arjun had rather doubtfully expected one or two dollars the previous night) and congratulated him on his find. An unexpected (but not altogether surprising) effect was Abhi being upset that he hadn't gotten anything and bursting into tears. I pacified him by contributing a dollar to his (broken) piggy bank. Arjun was pretty stoked by the whole thing but I wasn't feeling particularly thrilled.

Looking into Arjun's trusting eyes, all round with the wonder of it all as he recounted how the tooth fairy had taken away his tooth, I really had to question why we did this. As adults we tend to tell many little lies to kids, rationalizing that it is all for their benefit: either they get some comfort from it or they just can't handle the truth. One common situation this occurs is when kids go on their endless "why" questions spree. I learned quickly that what I was comfortable with was to give them the most truthful answer that I could. And if I couldn't explain it to their level (or satisfaction) then that is exactly what I would tell them - that I cannot explain it any better. This eliminates the need to remember what I had told them and having to answer the question, "But why did you tell me that...?" At the same time, I do believe that childhood is a magical time that never comes back and I don't want to be one of those humorless parents who insist on exposing their kids to the "realities of life" (in their estimation) as early as possible. And so, I continue to push the fantasy of Santa and now the Tooth Fairy.

Maybe I am making too much of this and there is no significant impact from these little lies, but I cannot help thinking that every time a child realizes that he or she had been subject to a deception, some trust is lost. It is not the sort of stuff that leads to therapy sessions or even resentment (at least I hope not), but there is still a loss. But then, maybe that is what growing up is all about: taking off the rose colored glasses.

At least in this case, the matter resolved itself. In the evening, I received a call from Malini - apparently, Arjun had found out from his friend Suraj that it was no tooth fairy that had placed the money under his pillow, but instead it was me. He was upset and confused. As is his wont, he was in tears and asked if the tooth fairy did not take his tooth, then who did? And what would happen to all the teeth? Malini consoled him and said that we would talk after I came back home. Eventually we decided that it was best to just explain the truth and not prolong the deception. It turned out to be fine - he accepted the explanation and didn't seem terribly put out. He was happy to get his tooth back - apparently what had bothered him was not the actual lack of existence of a tooth fairy, but that given this fact, there was no good explanation to what had happened to his tooth. And so goes another little rite of passage through childhood. I am thinking that, at least in our house, Santa's days are numbered.

Our Microwave Handle

Our family room couch is almost 11 years old and while it has held up remarkably well, there is a big tear between one of the cushions from which some of the stuffing has been slowly coming out. Furniture shopping is about as enjoyable as pulling your nails out, but more boring. But there came a time when we agreed that it could not be put off any longer. Of course, it wasn't as simple as just getting another couch - would we have to change our end table, our coffee table? The moment you overcome the mental barrier to doing any kind of significant home improvement project is a dangerous one for any homeowner: it signals the advent of a freewheeling consideration of every other project that had been ignored either due to a lack of urgency or just plain old apathy. It was no different for us.

Ok, so we are going to get a new couch, but what about that sliding screen door? It doesn't close properly and its upstairs cousin is all torn. Maybe we should replace the whole sliding door? Oh, what about the curtains then? We had installed them about six years ago and the exposed mounting hardware had always been an eyesore. I was a bit more tolerant of them, but Malini had never really liked how the curtains had turned out. But, but, Malini goes, what I really want to fix is our garage floor. We had attempted to epoxy-coat it twice with rather indifferent results (those episodes deserve a blog of their own) - now it was a peeling, stained mess that mockingly reminded us everyday of our futile attempts to make it presentable.

So I started making some casual inquiries - a post on the 'classifieds' mailing list at work yielded some leads and also some alarm at the potential cost. Multiple home visits from various flooring, blinds, and door folks ensued and after much back-n-forth, it was decision time. Should we do it all? Or maybe just the garage floor? Or maybe just replace the couches and bide our time? Eventually, I gave into the siren song of a new and improved house and decided to do all three projects.

We lined up all the contractors and the projects mostly finished on schedule and remarkably, they were all trouble-free and almost completely satisfactory. When I think back on it, it never fails to astonish me that we did three, rather expensive home improvement projects that we had not even contemplated till we decided the couch must go. Now have new wood blinds through out the house, new glass doors upstairs and downstairs, a beautifully finished floor and cabinets (oh yes, this was another incidental addition to the project) in the garage, but the couches? Well, I put some duct tape on the tears and we are still using them.

"Flashes Of Darkness"

Flashes Of Darkness
Tears of joy?
Tears of sorrow?
No, no,
Tears of spite.

Bear no ill,
Not vindictive,
Mayhap a twinge of envy.

Desire -
But a step forward,
After so long,
But then, why?

Flashes of light,
Light?
No, darkness -
For where else is a devious mind?

A quick silver laugh,
Turned on the crow,
By vipers more potent than nature's of kill-
The forked tongue lurking behind.

Those silvery tinkles,
But hisses of ruin;
Pats on the back
But bites of hate;
Myths explode -
of goodness in any.

No return for help?
Perhaps this hope is wrong;
But what else is human life?

What? Injured feelings?
No, too much for mere injury!
Trusts betrayed -
Whose but mine?

Blinded by -
Shiny mists and glamorous clouds,
Who but me?

A streaking flash,
Knife in the back;
By wolves in friendly hues -
Are there really such as they?

Them - the wolves,
Do no strings of lofty love
Tug ever at their hearts?
Do no kindly emotions
Stir within their beings?
Or is it only for the crows?

No, no - not mine to censure -
For what unknown lurks in me?
Believe to believe in goodness yet -
Can I?



This is how I expressed myself at age 16. :-) This one is a bit special though - actually won the poetry prize in a competition held by the East Cultural Association in Bangalore.

A Fleeting Life

6-year old Arjun to Malini: "Amma, what happens when somebody dies?"
Malini: "They go back to God."
Arjun (after mulling over it): "When does he send them back?"
Malini: "He doesn't. He keeps them with him."
Arjun (in tears now): "No! He doesn't keep them! They'll come back!"
How do you respond to that? All Malini could do was to try and calm him down with some platitudes.

When I heard the above exchange, my immediate thought was that at least in this respect Arjun takes after me. Malini was a bit startled hearing this, but matters of aging and death have always bothered me - even as a kid. Very early I sensed the transitory nature of life and this used to affect me greatly. My sister and I grew up in various cities outside Kerala, but would visit most summers. Those were carefree days and I would look forward to spending days and days playing with cousins and other kids in the village. Then one summer everything was different: the same games that had so fascinated us just a year ago seemed juvenile and uninteresting. The kids I used to play with, all seemed to have other interests and didn't care much to hang out with this once-a-year visitor. One of my favorite cousins was several years older than me and I could sense the distance that developed as she reached 'marriageable age.' I can still recall the sense of betrayal I felt when I learnt that she had been secretly seeing somebody. I realize now that I was being selfish and should have been supporting her instead of being upset. Not that my support would have counted for much - her family opposed that marriage and she eventually married somebody else. Her story is one of life's unexplained tragedies - she is bright, goodlooking, loving, and with nary a character fault, but the thwarted marriage was only the start of her miseries. They continue even today.

For several years after Malini and I were married, I was ambivalent about having kids. Sure, I enjoyed playing with children and I could charm almost every child I met, but was I prepared for all the non-fun stuff? I had a clear-eyed view of what having children meant and was not convinced that I was up for it. There was always pressure from parents and relatives of course, but I could resist that. Then my BIL gave me a reason that resonated with me: Its through our kids that we renew ourselves. Suddenly I found a way to deal with my always-present undertow of melancholy over the changes that time wroughts.

And that is what happens now: As I watch Arjun and Abhi do their antics and enjoying life, my worries about the passage of time fade to the background. Of course they never really go away - Attending Arjun's kindergarten graduation, I had to fight my thoughts about how he was changing and would soon be ready to fly the coop. Malini sometimes tells the boys, "I just want you to stay like this and never grow up." A sentiment expressed by and shared by many a parent, for sure. At such times, I keep silent - I know exactly how she feels, but the pragmatist in me refuses to give voice to such thoughts.

Much has been made of the 'power of now' (something our yoga master Sashi often alludes to), but there really is no better way to live life. Of course, this is easier said than done.

The Reverse Brain Drain

NPR had a report this morning about what they called the "reverse brain drain." Basically, Indians going back to India. Here is a link to the audio file: Listen

There is the usual talk about the (x+1) syndrome and some inane stuff about this lady who is making her kids pick up their own toys and not ask their maids (yes, in plural) to do so. Why? Because, "You are American, and this is not how I am bringing you up." What caught my attention was the story of the family that moved from San Diego to Chennai (to a beach front bunglow, no less). The husband is somebody whose parents are settled in the US and was actually born and brought up in the US. Now that he has moved to India with his family, his parents who have remained in the US (with the rest of their extended family) are asking him when he is going to return! There are no easy answers in life, are there?

The Wisdom of Sashi

While I have been mulling over a series of blogs about the teachings of our yoga teacher Sashi, this particular post was triggered in direct response to this post from Vanee: time & money. Her basic thesis is that citing the example of highly successful (& hence busy) people taking the time out for exercise (or other seemingly non-critical tasks) to guilt people like us into making time for regular exercise is essentially hollow. I will circle back to this later, but for now I want to focus on the narrow point of exercise or more generally taking care of our bodies.

This indeed is the inspiration for the title of this blog - I am really ghost writing for Sashi here. One recurring theme in Sashi's class lectures is how we ignore our bodies. It has taken years of listening to him to actually start hearing him. The truth is that we are controlled by our brains/minds and don't always do what is good for our bodies. But our body is the only real thing that we have. I am sure that this argument can be extrapolated to all kinds of people, but I am speaking just to our demographic - highly educated and financially sound. We can find all manner of rationalizations to avoid taking care of our bodies (& I do), but that does not make it ok. I certainly believe that wealth makes a huge difference to our priorities (its been a running theme in my political blogs), but I also believe that all of us have sufficient money to avoid making that a constraint to regular exercise.

Ultimately it does come down to priorities, doesn't it? Human beings are a very smart race - we will find a way to medicate ourselves to longer and longer life spans independent of whether we treat our bodies right or not. But that is besides the point - the question is really whether you believe in the power of your body to heal itself and take care of itself. More importantly, do you have the discipline and self control to allow this to happen? This is hard - its far simpler to pop a pill or get a tummy tuck, but to the receptive person, the rewards are much greater. Unless you are a professional body builder, there will never be a time when there is nothing else to do but exercise. We can wallow self pityingly on the difficulty of waking up a bit earlier to get some exercise in, but that's all that really is - self pity. Or in the words of Sashi, "poor me", "why me?"

Actually, I think our use of the words "exercise", or "work-out" are a good hint about why we fail at this. This is not something 'additional' that we have to do, but the price we have to pay for our lifestyle. Stop using your car, couch, bed, and start growing your own produce and you can safely avoid what we call exercise. Hardly possible today, is it?

Back to the success story examples - my thesis is a bit different than Vanee's: My contention is that the reason they are able to devote time to exercise or other mundane tasks is the very same discipline and drive that made them successful in the very first place.

On gold, Rolexes, & the meaning of life

I made my maiden visit to Srini & Shubha's house this past Saturday and a Pongal themed pot luck dinner was preceded by some unusually animated discussion. The topics seemed innocuous enough - purchasing fakes (watches) from China started us off and for some time the debate was about how easy or difficult it was to tell the fakes apart. A surprisingly forceful Sanjay expressed the thought that he couldn't see any reason for buying such expensive watches. My counter was that it was useless to try to see a practical or pragmatic reason behind most decisions made by human beings. I contended (& still do) that practical considerations account for a very small fraction of the rationale behind most of our choices. Sanjay and Srini were quite vehemently opposed to this claim and examples and counter-examples were thrown around. I asked Sanjay about his MR2 purchase - which to my eye is not a practical choice - but he was quite firm in his conviction that that was not the case. I had clearly touched a nerve here (perhaps he had had to defend this choice before?), so I let that subject drop and moved on to my favorite current gripe - the Indian obsession with gold jewelery.

I have never been a big fan of gold (no doubt influenced by my father's opinion on this) to the point that the only time I have actually seen all of Malini's gold jewelery is on our wedding day. Except for a couple of small pieces, we left all of it with her parents in India. A recent article about gold in the National Geographic reminded me of my distaste for the Indian obsession with gold. I was rather dismayed to learn that my home state of Kerala is in fact the epicenter of this obsession and resultant trade.

On most occasions, people just gloss over my overwrought arguments ("Oh, there goes that loud mouth again..."), but not this evening. Folks were skeptical and wondered why I found this desire for gold so troubling. (In a confusing move, Srini challenged my stand on gold with my choosing to work at Qualcomm. I am still puzzled. :-)) The question was posed, "So what's so wrong with liking/buying gold jewelery?" I was about to expound on how obvious it was when I realized that I had not thought it through. I tend to have instinctive reactions and have learned to trust my instinct, but could I now defend it?

I was able to crystallize my thoughts - its what the obsession over gold does to people that bothers me. People at every economic level spend a substantial amount of money to feed this obsession and this of course unfairly affects the people at the lower levels. So many poor families get into life long debt in trying to put together enough gold for their daughters' weddings. This is money that could be used far more effectively to raise their standard of living by investing in say, more nutritious food, better housing, education, etc. What makes this more pernicious than other society-imposed compulsions is (as the article makes clear) that the impact is beyond just the consumers. The mining and extraction of gold is done at a huge cost to people and the environment.

As human beings we are constantly searching for meaning - either explicitly or implicitly. We want to feel that our actions and choices are justified by some overarching theme or principle. I contend there is no such thing - each of us but a random jumble of wants/desires/compulsions and it is fruitless to attempt any rationalizations.

As the discussion wound down, Sanjay had an interesting thought to share. He wondered if we were affecting some essential balance in the make up of our physical environment by all the extraction of minerals and other materials. Would we at some point in the future be spending our efforts on putting back all that we have taken out? A little too Jack Handey perhaps, but still food for thought.

Going With The Flow

Surprising as this may sound to some folks, I am not one for planning. Sure, given a trip or some immediate task I'll do as much planning as the next guy (maybe a bit more), but when it comes to the "big" things in life, I am mostly likely to just go with the flow. Since I am wont to be less than generous about my motivations, I have generally put this down to laziness. Or perhaps even a reluctance to face facts and make hard decisions. If you just go with the flow, then you have to put in less work up front and there is less scope for disappointment.

I am curious - how widespread is this approach? Do most people have a "life plan?" Did you know what you wanted to do in your life, when you wanted to reach the traditional milestones (graduate, job, marriage, kids, house, etc)? How many people know today what they want to be doing 5 years from now, 10 years from now?

Much in my life seems to be the result of some accident and some of these have had a profound impact on how my life has evolved. A good example is how I got a job at Qualcomm. In late 1992 and early '93 the job market was bad, especially for non-residents who needed an H-1. So my search was mostly limited to the big names - Microsoft, Intel, etc. In those days on-campus interviews at Va Tech worked as follows: Companies would shortlist students for the interview from all the submissions they got. If all spots were not taken, anybody was free to sign-up for those spots on a first-come-first-served basis. This was only on one day of the week - Wednesday, I believe - and on that day, students would line up very early in the morning (sometimes as early as 3am) to ensure that they got the spot they wanted.

Now, one week in January '93, Mr.Murty (Vinay) wanted to sign up for some company, but he didn't have a car and it was too cold to walk to school. I had a car, but wasn't really interested in signing up, especially since I already had an interview with Intel lined up. Vinay gave me the hard sell (promised me a donut I think) and I went along. Even though we got there around 5am, there were already several people in line. After chatting with some of them I realized that all the spots for the company I was targeting would be gone by the time my turn came. I had to find an alternative, even if only to justify sacrificing my sleep and standing for 3 hours in the cold. I went over the list again, but couldn't identify any company. As I wondered what to do I noticed another mutual friend who had just joined the line (it was past 7.30am now). I went over and asked him what company he was targeting. He replied, "Qualcomm." Me: "Really? What do they do?" Friend: "Not really sure, something to do with communications." Well, as you can guess, I ended up signing up for the one spot that was open.

Then came the day of the interview and I still had no real clue about this company or indeed what position I was interviewing for. There were two interviewers - one for hardware and one for software and as luck would have it, the spot I had signed up for (without any awareness of it) was with the software person. I obviously did well enough to get an invite to San Diego. (The h/w interviewer invited nobody back.) I knew I had done ok on-site because I was asked to meet with a manager later in the day and indeed the recruiter confirmed this after I got back to Blacksburg. But for a while there was no offer. Apparently, Franklin who personally signed all offers during that time, was not too happy about making a software engineer offer to somebody with an EE degree. Finally the recruiter (Michelle Fleck) pulled a fast one on him - told him that I had another offer (which of course I didn't) and that they would lose me if he didn't sign the offer. He relented and here I still am, almost 16 years later. Ilan Peer used to be the CBS SW lead then and pretty much the first thing he told me was, "We had to fight a lot to get you here."

There were any number of things that if they had turned out differently, would have resulted in me not coming to San Diego. Heck, if I had actually gotten an offer from Intel (which was very close) or Microsoft (not so close) I would almost certainly have taken those over Qualcomm.

So then, we have the question: Is everything just "meant to be" and we are mostly fooling ourselves if we think we are in control? Or is this thought too disheartening and we attempt to plan and establish order just to feel like we have a say? Maybe the Matrix was not too far off!

Chasing after sunk cost

One trait that distinguishes humans from animals is that humans care about 'sunk cost' while animals don't. There is actually serious research that underscores this: See paper. Basically, we humans tend to keep investing in lost causes simply because we have already invested in them. This is clearly self perpetuating - the more you invest, the more the unwillingness to pull away. Animals don't seem to exhibit this behavior - a predator chasing its prey will pull up and stop if the prey starts pulling away and not simply keep going because it has already chased the prey for a while. Marketers love to study such compulsions on the part of humans because it gives them insight into what kind of campaigns will succeed. I am wondering if this insight could apply to a number of our everyday actions.

Take the obsession with not wanting to "waste food." This is often used to justify shoving down that last morsel, well past the point of over eating. The sunk cost in the food is not going to come back whether the food is consumed or not. That starving child in Africa is not going to be satiated because you overate. Will consuming the food in a manner unlikely to yield the intended benefits really constitute "not wasting?" Or are we simply investing more resources (weight gain, bloating, indigestion, or whatever else one gets from over-eating) to justify the already sunk cost (of the prepared food)? Perhaps a more rational response would be to monitor what actually gets consumed and then prepare the next meal accordingly.

Another instance that may be particular to parenting goes as follows: you take the effort to plan an outing (park, zoo, beach, where ever) that you think will appeal to the kids. You get there and they are not that interested in the available activities. How do you respond? Many parents get all worked up and angrily announce that if they don't start cooperating and having some fun, then darn it, this is the "last time we'll ever take you anywhere!" Of course, it is the frustration talking and of course, part of it is for the effect - maybe this threat (even if clearly unenforceable) will get them to realize that all this effort was for them to have fun. I contend that this is just another case of taking on additional cost (loss of composure on your part, kids feeling bad about being yelled at, etc) in order to justify the sunk cost of planning and executing the outing. Better solution? Enquire calmly why they are not enjoying the outing. Suggest that they should have told you before you headed out. Remember this for the next time. Also, remember that kids don't always have to make sense - can we adults explain all our actions/reactions at all times? (ok, this last point doesn't have much to do with the main theme of this blog, but it kinda felt germane.)

My yoga master is often commenting on how humans have made their bodies slaves to their minds. I believe this is the fundamental cause for the above described irrational behavior. The positive thing is that we can use the power of that same mind to realize this and not repeat such actions. Can we really be totally rational? Of course not - that would make us robots and not very interesting. But watch out for the cases of chasing after sunk cost in your day to day life - I am willing to wager that you will find them to be more common than you might have expected.

Dutch Courage

I took a flight to San Jose earlier today and originally this was going to be a mildly humorous post about the minor mishaps I had getting to my flight, but that can wait for another time. I seem to be always dashing around airports and gates - there is got be a blog in all those near misses.

Anyway, our flight boarded relatively early for a commuter flight, but as we were getting ready to leave, one more guy joined us and occupied the seat across the aisle from me. What struck me immediately was the smell of alcohol coming off of him. He was dressed quite well - suit, overcoat, and a top hat, but seemed a little fidgety. I put it down to the drink. I focused on my magazine and didn't pay him much attention. After take off, he had a murmured conversation with the flight attendant who then brought him some vodka. I overheard him say that he had flown from NY to Chicago, Chicago to SD, and now SD to San Jose.

I was listening to some podcasts for most of the flight and didn't really look much at our friend. I did notice that he got another little bottle of vodka just before we started coming in. I had to switch everything off for the approach and it registered on me that the flight was coming down quite rapidly and that made me a little queasy. Apparently that was nothing compared to what was happening to the guy across the aisle. Something was clearly bothering him - his eyes were screwed shut and he seemed to be fighting something down. Occasionally he would puff as if to work through some pain. Sometimes he would violently shake his hands and other times he seemed to be fighting down something welling up in his throat. I was fairly convinced that the guy was going to hurl. Seeing him struggle, I was wondering whether I should offer him the barf-bag - surely he knew about it? He was so close to me that I was sure I was going to get the brunt of it if he did puke.

His mannerisms got increasingly panicky and didn't really stop even after we landed. I saw him scrounging around his coat pocket for something - probably something to throw up into, I was convinced. I kept glancing at him (mostly to be prepared when he decided to hurl) and as we were taxiing in, he was still clearly unhappy. I realized he had noticed my glances when he suddenly looked my way and said, "Sorry about all that, I am just not a good flyer, especially in such a small plane." That explained a lot - what we had been seeing were near-panic attacks.

Silence followed and I felt compelled to ask, "Do you just get nervous during take-offs and landings?" No, he said, it is pretty much the whole flight, especially in such a tiny cabin. Then he added, "My fiance and her daughter were killed in a plane crash last year. Since then it is hard for me to fly." I didn't know what to say. He took out a picture of a kid, kissed it, and put it back in his wallet.
Eventually the door was opened and he sprang up to leave - I let him go ahead since he clearly had a more urgent need to be off that plane. As we were leaving, the cockpit door was open. He walked up to the door, reached into his coat pocket and took out some money. I was thinking, is he going to tip the flight attendant who helped him with the drinks? He wasn't. Instead, he reached into the cockpit and handed the money to the pilot with the words, "Pilot, thanks for bring us in safely. Have a drink on me." So much for first impressions.