One of the unfortunate things about the passing of time (besides hair loss) is that my college friends get together less and less often. Oh, there are still parties here and there, but it’s just a reality of life, I guess, that people go their own way.

My good friend Greg, who is the WBA/WBC heavyweight Quake II champion of the world, or something like that, celebrated his birthday yesterday. The whole Quake culture on the ‘net is a mystery to me. There are so many mods, weapons, and other add-ons for the game that it’s more like a battle of the nerds than a battle of the game junkies. Greg’s Quake “clan” is called DUH–Death Under Homer. I don’t know if he’s the one that named it, but it’s definitely the kind of thing he would come up with. When he plays on the internet, his character appears to be Homer Simpson. Greg’s fiancée threw a fun shindig at his and Rob’s place in Lake Forest yesterday. She made wet burritos, which are not as scary as they sound. Very tasty, actually, and without the El Conejo-like after-effects.

A surprisingly large number of the gang made it to the party, which was followed by a few hours at the bowling alley. It’s always cool to see everyone again, but sad that we don’t do it more often. We all got caught up on who’s doing what. Everyone in Burbank seems to be moving to Studio City, or thereabouts.

After the bowling was over, a few of us went back to Greg and Rob’s place and sang some very pathetic karioke run by a shareware program Greg got off the net. It’s a freakish little program, complete with the bouncing ball that tells you when to sing the lyrics. It was fun, but cheesy MIDI sounds can only go so far, and something about singing Metallica on top of a MIDI background is just wrong. But once you add a little alcohol, everything starts to sound much better. Even the singing.

I could never really get into the Doom/Quake scene. I’m painfully aware that I spend too many hours a day at the computer already. As the years have passed, aside from maintaining The House of Rapp, I’ve been moving toward getting as far away from the computer as possible. The more connected I am, the less I want to be connected.

Oh, and lest I forget another big piece of news, Kevin proposed to Marla today! They even have a date already: November 6, 1999 (or, as Kevin put it, 6 months 2 days and 17 hours from now). They’re probably rushing to get married before the whole Y2K bug throws a wrench in the plans. I love Y2K, you can blame it for anything. So Greg, Dan, and Kevin are all engaged right now. Must be something in the air.

This whole Littleton, CO high school shooting incident is spawning some ugly things after the fact. It’s not enough that something terrible happened, we have to pollute the healing process too. Or maybe it’s me. Perhaps the things that help other people just sit wrong with me.

Today I was visiting someone’s web site. It wasn’t a very good one, but it contained one item which caught my eye: a banner for another web site, http://www.prayforcolumbine.com. I have no problem with someone creating a site for something like that, but I found some inquiries on the site from the webmaster about weather or not people would be offended if they were to sell t-shirts and CDs to help offset the cost of the site.

Please.

The House of Rapp has every account feature known to man, and it costs me about $20 per month. Are you going to tell me that kind of expense needs offsetting? And that no internet service provider would come forward to donate web space after such a highly publicized tragedy? Some people are selling copies of memorial services, poems, and music. There’s even a “Columbine High School Tragedy Web Ring”. I know they’re not all out there to make a dollar, but there have been some noises in that direction, and it bothers me. One person has even started a movement to get a special Columbine Beanie Baby created.

The thing that really irritates me is the gun control bill that President Clinton is sending to Congress. Why must one person’s loss be another person’s opportunity for political gain? Bill Clinton is smart enough to know that gun control laws are not responsible for the shooting, but this is a chance to push an agenda, to play the political games he’s always squinting into the camera and wagging his finger against. It’s very hypocritical. It’s also very Clinton.

Guns are like cars. They are both necessary, yet can kill so easily. And if someone wants to get one bad enough, there is no law you can pass which will stop them. You could install a Lojack, Club, car alarm, kill switch, and a half dozen other theft-prevention items on your car, and if a thief wants your vehicle badly enough he will get it every single time. Guns are the same way. Pass all the laws you want, but if a twisted kid wants to kill his classmates he will find a way. Even without the guns, Harris and Klebold had homemade bombs, grenades, and other weaponry made from common household items. They spent twelve months planning this attack. Do you really think tighter gun laws would have prevented this or discouraged them?

One might argue I’m creating a false analogy, that guns are not the necessary, useful items in modern society that automobiles are. Tell that to NATO troops in Europe, or to a World War II veteran. Or to someone whose home was robbed. Or to a woman who was raped.

I do agree that automatic, and even semi-automatic, weapons have no place in the hands of the general public. They’re not necessary for sport hunting or self defense, as any single action weapon will kill whatever it hits. So ban those. Oh wait–they already are banned.

But that doesn’t matter to Clinton. He can improve his legacy by taking advantage of public emotion following a murderous rampage. Will we also restrict freedom of speech on the internet? Never mind the fact that anyone who publishes bomb making instructions is already criminally liable of conspiracy, solicitation, and aiding and abetting the perpetrators–it’s all about what the camera sees, what the sound bite will be, and how we can advance Our Great Agenda. Even after something like Columbine, that just doesn’t change, does it?

Am I wrong about Clinton? Does he really think that if a couple of laws were passed that this would not have happened? I’ve considered the possibility, but I just don’t think he’s that genuine. Sorry, Charlie.

Since I bought my plane earlier this year, I’ve been itching to really go someplace. I don’t mean a quick jaunt to a nearby locale. I mean a serious trip. Chicago, New York, Mexico, Texas, Alaska. Now that’s a flight. Since my niece Joann recently had her second kid and I hadn’t visited my brother Howard in a while, I decided on Seattle. In retrospect, not the best destination for an easy flight.

A VFR pilot’s license is not much good for flying to the great northwest. An instrument rating is really needed. But I figure I’m not in any hurry, so I’ll just hang out until the weather is decent. I knew it would be a while, but if the current forecast holds it’ll be more than 10 days of solid low clouds up there. My aircraft is not turbocharged, so I’m stuck in the lower 15,000 feet of sky, which is also where most of the serious weather happens.

So out of frustration I decided to take a day off and fly to Las Vegas. One of my best friends from the long lost days of high school just happened to have the day off, so he said he could pick me up from the airport and we’d hang out.

The weather was marginal in the L.A. basin, but once I got through the Banning pass it was clear skies and unlimited visibility. There was also a lot of turbulence, but what do you expect flying through the desert and over mountains? When the wind passes over a mountain, it goes up, and keeps going until it hits something, typically a plane like mine.

Arriving in Las Vegas was a blast. This was my first flight into a Class B airport (Class B airports are the largest ones: O’Hare, LAX, Kennedy, La Guardia, etc.). The final approach path into McCarren International was parallel to the Strip, so I got a bird’s eye view of all the new mega resorts, and was just about at eye level with the top of the Stratosphere.

I parked at Signature Aviation, were all the big private jets go. Yeah, flying into North Las Vegas airport would have been a bit cheaper, but I’m at the point where I’m willing to pay a few dollars more for good service. And man, talk about first class service! They send a van out to lead you to your tiedown space, then they chock the aircraft, give you a ride to the building, and take care of your bags. They refuel, check the oil, and even clean the inside of the plane. There are some fees associated with flying into such a large airport, but they waive them if you refuel. They have a kitchen, a great flight planning room complete with computers, phones, and 19″ screens. Also, they have places to rest, shower, and change, and (my favorite) complimentary cars to use while you’re in town. They even have popcorn and beverages for the taking.

You’d think this would cost a fortune, but it only ran me $60 for the day. In fact, all I paid for was fuel and oil–everything else was free. I think it’s such a good deal for guys like me because the large jets that fly in there and spend tens of thousands of dollars of catering, jet fuel, etc. help cover all the complimentary services we small fry enjoy. I was impressed.

Dereck, the aforementioned high school chum, and I drove down the Strip and I was amazed at how much it’s changed. Major new casinos include Bellagio, Mandalay Bay, Paris, and Venetian. They’ve also rebuilt the Sahara from the ground up, and reworked the front of the MGM Grand. Plus, the streets have been revamped. Where there used to be a road, there is none, while new highway interchanges have sprung up like liver spots on an 80 year old woman. They just can’t spend the money fast enough out there. Bugsy Siegel would have been proud.

Dereck and I had a leisurely lunch and talked about old times. Seems that this year, our 10th since graduating from high school, is going to be without a reunion! Sad. But times are changing. My high school isn’t even in the same place where it used to be. They sold the old school and built a new one out in Summerlin. I tried to find out where my old friends were, but he hadn’t talked to any of them in eons.

We had some great times in high school. I’m glad I remember those instead of the bad times. Once, we started an underground newspaper, and we’d break into the school late at night to stuff each issue into everyone’s lockers through the air vents. Dereck and I were questioned by the principal one day. He thought we had to be in on it, but we denied everything and were such good students that no one could really suspect us.

After that, they installed a security system at the school. It took us about 2 minutes to disable it, and we responded by breaking in late at night and building a brick wall in the middle of a hallway. The next day students walked through the school, and when one hallway turned to the left there was supposed to be another 200 foot long hall. Instead, they ran smack into a brick wall painted and textured to look exactly like the rest of the walls. Another time we took a car apart and put it back together in the gym. And, of course, there was the time we burned “89″ into the grass in front of the school. Wacky kids, we were.

After Dereck and I had caught up and had some chow, we drove by his place and he showed me his art work and photography. I was especially impressed by a 10′ square paper mache based sculpture called “Alien Abduction”. It was built around the plaster cast of a woman’s body, and had numerous tentacles and other things coming out of it. He had some of his photographic work on exhibit in Las Vegas recently, so I paged through some of that before realizing it was time to hit the road. On the way back to the airport, we ran into traffic as bad as anything in Los Angeles. I guess it comes with the territory.

The flight back was alright. It was much smoother, but flying westbound during sunset is always dicey, because you can’t see as well through the haze. And if the anything you’re trying to see is another plane, it can be hazardous. It beats the hell out of driving though, especially on the way back. In fact, on the return trip the GPS reciever was reporting a ground speed of 170 knots (196 mph) in level flight at 12,500 feet. Normal cruise for the Cherokee is 120 knots (138 mph). I left Las Vegas at 6:30 p.m. and was on the ground in Los Angeles at 7:58 p.m.

Thank God for GPS. The Global Positioning System is a system of about two dozen satellites that circle the earth. The GPS receiver locks on to them and triangulates your position, usually to within 50 feet or so. It’s not something you should fully rely on for navigation, but now that I’ve got one I can’t imagine flying without it. It has a moving map, and shows all airspace, roads, cities, bodies of water, airports, navigational aids, and has a database of every airport and related facility in North America.

In the olden days, when I was a little snot-nosed punk, I used to love to play tag. I could run fast, so whoever was “it” would usually get one whiff of my superhuman speed and go after one of the other kids. I almost went on to become a teen-aged comic book hero, but the name Flash and skin tight red uniform were already taken, so I had to settle for a pair of khakis and the name Ron.

Anyway, some people appear to have retained a strong love for this game, especially in Southern California, because every time I turn on the television (which really isn’t that often) it seems I’m watching the same show. I call it “Tag! You’re It!”. This show is broadcast live from a helicopter, and it involves some sort of late model vehicle traveling at high speed in front of a pack of Highway Patrol cars.

That’s right, it’s the high speed chase. But it’s usually not that high speed. In fact, it’s often zero speed. Last week during a chase some guy sat on the freeway for hours in his car, and the police couldn’t approach him because there was no cover, and they didn’t know if he was armed. I think their solution to that one was to send a robot with a telephone out to him so they could talk.

This whole chase thing is on my mind because there was yet another one last night, only this time the guy on the run was driving a motor home. A motor home. If you’re not familiar with these chases, the standard procedure is to simply follow the guy around until he runs out of gas or ends up in some alley where he can’t get away. The cops don’t really make a huge effort to cut him off, because they don’t want to provoke the driver into doing something which will injure police or bystanders. Often the driver will come to a cul-de-sac and make a U-turn. In this motor home, the guy would probably take about three minutes to turn the thing around.

“Yeah, he may be crazy–but boy, those were some nice three-point turns! Back to you in the studio, Paul…”

It really drives home the question (no pun intended) that everyone asks: do these people really think they’re going to get away? Has anyone EVER gotten away, or even lost the cops for one second? Of course not. Hmmm… perhaps a better emphasis on basic math and physics would cure this problem. A car will not outrun a helicopter. Wake up people.

So why do they do it? Are they seeking a longer prison sentence? Because if you really want to go to the slammer, you could at least find a creative way of getting there. What about breaking INTO prison? I bet no one’s ever tried that.

Like those who walk into schools and start shooting, these people are obviously unbalanced in some way. And there are crazy people everywhere. But this high speed chase phenomenon seems confined mainly to Southern California. I mean, when was the last time you heard of a chase through the streets of Chicago or Portland? Come to think of it, you’d probably have better luck in one of those other cities where the police aren’t so drilled and experienced in dealing with chases. Perhaps the smog causes an inordinately high number of bad acid trips out here.

Hey, it could happen.

I have a feeling the incessant media coverage has something to do with it. Typically, almost every local station will cut away from whatever they’re doing and follow the action, which often lasts for hours on end. As my father used to say, “monkey see, monkey do”. My favorite is KNBC, channel 4 in Los Angeles. Paul Moyer always lends insightful, seasoned commentary to the proceedings. Here’s a small sample:

“It appears he’s not stopping.”
“Eventually he’ll run out of gas.”
“Those are police cars behind him.”
“This is not the first chase on the L.A. freeway system.”

Nothing phases me anymore. Since I came back to Southern California in 1989, I’ve seen recession, fires, floods, earthquakes, and riots. High speed automobile chases across the freeway system are chump change. But I’ll bet it’s only a matter of time until someone gets the bright idea of driving a bus, 18 wheeler, or dump truck around like a maniac. And then some bloated assemblyman or congressman will use the situation for some political mileage, probably introducing a bill to make film studios liable when they produce a movie with a car chase in it.

God forbid someone should actually take responsibility for their actions without having someone or something else to blame it on.