On Ohio Living

"I hate Cleveland," said my co-worker with unequivocal conviction. Born and raised in the city there was nothing there for her in location, culture, sports and certainly not weather. How did she wind up in Columbus, I wondered. This was only my second visit to the "Apple" of America, having last been in Ohio in September of the previous year. Then the weather was agreeable and I found Columbus to be a livable enough city with a decent skyline and the apparent means to care for its citizens. What may not be available along the Ohio Turnpike or in the farming and mining belt along the Ohio River seemed to be available in Columbus for those with drive, education and ambition.

"I went to OU," she sing-songed in a light sorority sweetheart drawl. "OU" to me, a Texan, means the Univeristy of Oklahoma while Athens means the Georgia Bulldogs. I was in unfamiliar country indeed. This Athens sits in the middle of nowhere which led me, a geography buff, to instantly conclude the southeast corner of the state, not too far from the river and West Virginia and at least an economically challenged part of the state. Far removed from the relative stability of Cincinnati, Columbus or even Pittsburgh, the closest metropolitan area of any size to the south is Greensboro/Highpoint/Winston-Salem, North Carolina. On the surface this part of the country has farming, steel and coal mining, making the 22,000 strong city of Athens and Ohio University "ground zero" of the local universe.

My colleague couldn't even recall two years later exactly how she wound up in Columbus and not, say, Cincinnati if she hated Cleveland that much with Athens clearly a place to learn but leave as soon as possible. "There are 49 other states to choose from," I laughed but upon further reflection it made sense. In Columbus I saw evidence of homegrown "cradle-to-the-grave" industry in the parking lots, offices and clothing of the locals who were perhaps born in Pickerington, went to school in Reynoldsburg, attended "THE" Ohio State University, joined corporate America with some internationally powerful names and now live in Easton, Gahanna, Worthington and Westerville, all only a few minutes' drive around I-270.

To my co-worker it evidently never occurred to her to seek a career and life outside of Ohio, as foreign a concept to my own nomadic upbringing thanks to the military as can be imagined. Migrating for work, food, family or a simple change of scenery is the theme of life from the lowest animal to the Bedouins of North Africa and the Middle East. My colleague's journey around Ohio fits that description even if contained within the microcosm of one state and reminded me that similar experiences are probably more often the norm within California, Texas, New England, the Midwest, the Carolinas and Florida.

Is my own experience an example of the extreme, encompassing as it does several states and two continents? From my perspective mine is not the most far ranging example by any measure. The common denominator is acceptance of and almost an expectation that one can be raised in one or more places, move away from home for higher education and either settle in that location or move at least once again before finding a comfortable environment in which to put down roots, start a family, etc.

My Cleveland hating colleague pretty much proved that contrary to national opinion, Ohio is quite capable of providing all of that to her people and more.

Gotta go.

GumbOhio

It is not the coldest corner of the country in the middle of February but I nonetheless had a certain trepidation in traveling to Columbus, Ohio for a week on business. They promised that it wouldn't snow but The Weather Channel assured me most wickedly that the high temperature all that week would not be greater than 40 degrees. Northern Texas was already heading in to the low-60s where the citizens were breaking out big hair and flip flops again, happy to be alive and living "Deepinahearta." We so spoiled!

As mentioned part of my desire in traveling is to experience restaurants and foods only the locals know about. Well, J. Gumbo's is something that only the locals will know about but at the same time it was yet another example of "Who goes to Ohio for good cajun cooking?" Wednesday afternoon for lunch one of my co-workers acquainted us with this new establishment, built in the shell of a former Panera outlet. Squeezed in beside an orthodontist office it would easily have been missed on Granville Street in Gahanna but we arrived just ahead of the lunch rush and were served quickly.

The style is cafeteria with a large menu on the wall that divides the entrees in to four heat levels so diners will know exactly what they can tolerate within the burst of flavors served over rice. All dishes are arrayed behind a large glass sneeze-guard. Being new to the area, small samples of the dishes are available with me trying both the Bourbon Chicken and the Voodoo Chicken, the latter of which I ultimately settle on with a mix of red beans and rice, absolute staple of Louisiana cooking. My co-workers went with the Voodoo chicken and the white chili which was supposed to be only mildly spicy. Our selections were served in a large bowl with what appeared to be a full half loaf of hard crust bread for dipping.

For less than $7 per serving the price was right but my one grudge was in the size of the portions. Cajun food is served in massive quantities given that much of it is based on stews, soups and small critters; no slab of beef with two sides, it is a potent mixture of spices, vegetables, small bits of chicken and or shell fish. Maybe we only received the lunch portion but it was still filling enough with the rice and the loaf of bread.

Voodoo is a subtle form of magic and the namesake food compliments it well. Where the single-spoon sample was instantly alive with cayenne peppers and other strong spices it wasn't initially hot enough to be intimidating. My serving did not include the cayenne spice dusting that comes with the dish but my co-worker's did. The front of my face had a nice warmth to it at the end of the meal where my colleague was shedding funeral tears by the time it was all over.

The point of Louisiana cooking is not heat for the sake of it with exotic ingredients underneath but merely to evoke the feeling of being in the moment within the atmosphere. J. Gumbo's pulls in the middle of suburban Ohio.

Gotta go.

How The Eagle Flies

Three-thirty in the morning is a ridiculous hour for a wake-up call but there it was. What made it worse for me was that this was Eastern Standard Time. I had to be up for a 6AM flight out of Ohio back home to Texas, which made it two-thirty in the morning there with something like five hours of traveling to endure including the connection in Chicago. Pillow or plane? I was on the company dime so I had to go with the plane.

I wasn't completely convinced that I needed to be up that early, either. I'd packed most of everything the night before and the drive to the airport wasn't more than 20 minutes at most. Hertz even warned me that no one would be on duty before five o'clock which was right at the edge of that hour before departure when most airlines start to wonder if you're serious about making the flight. And this was "only" a commuter flight I was trying to play by the rules for!

There was a massive line for Air Tran at the crack of dawn at Port Columbus International (someone must fly to Canada) Airport serving the Ohio capital with maybe 10 or 15 people in line for the first American Eagle flight to Chicago. I breezed through check-in and equally as quick through security which for me is the sole reason for being as early to the airport as possible. I don't mind cooling my heels with an over-priced muffin and a mindless magazine if it means not having to stand at the back of dozens of uninitiated travelers fumbling with their shoes and corralling the kids. As it happened I did get caught behind a young Japanese man who didn't understand the increasingly hostile TSA agents entreating him to move down towards the scanners and not completely strip naked at the front end of the long metal tables.

But I digress. The Gate-Agent-with-a-German-Accent noticed I and another passenger were on the tall side and came from behind her podium, no less, to ask if we would prefer exit row seating on the 50-seat RJ. Wow! The other guy jumped at the offer for he and his wife but I was fine with my window seat and enjoyed the first surprise in being the only "elite" customer eligible for early boarding when the announcement was made. The fun didn't stop there, either, as the flight attendant greeted me by name and took my drink order before we had left the gate, again the only one on board to receive such service.

This AAdvantage Platinum thing I could get used to! Being the only elite member at any level probably made the difference but I appreciated it just the same. The lone flight attendant had 49 other charges to serve in less than an hour, after all. When my drink arrived, just a Coke, y'all, it was accompanied by a large bag of smoked almonds free of charge, an item that sold for at least $3.00 to anyone else on the flight if they were so inclined.

The flight was on time. Where I wasn't expecting anything at that hour of the morning and for a short hop to Chicago it made the entire flight that much better. American Airlines is not the biggest player at Columbus but the ground and in-flight crew that morning was certainly a cut above the rest.

Gotta go.