Tearing down the Claiborne

About a year ago I picked up on a story about a movement to tear down the Claiborne Expressway in New Orleans. It wasn't clear how much momentum the idea had at the time, but this recent article from the Times-Picayune suggests that the idea might be getting some traction:

Hoping to give further momentum to an idea that has picked up a growing number of adherents in recent years, a group of local civic activists and planners today will release a detailed report advocating the removal of the elevated expressway over Claiborne Avenue.

The report suggests turning the 2.2-mile stretch of expressway between Elysian Fields Avenue and the Pontchartrain Expressway near the Superdome into a surface-level boulevard tied into the city's regular street grid, although it says even that might not have to be built in the section of the route between St. Bernard Avenue and Elysian Fields.

The document says eliminating the expressway would have numerous benefits, such as removing an eyesore, reducing noise and air pollution, increasing opportunities for public transit, and promoting investment that would eliminate blight and create economic development in the Treme and 7th Ward neighborhoods.

Although travel times for motorists who now use the expressway would be longer, the increases would be only a few minutes, the report says, and accessibility to the French Quarter and other destinations along the expressway route would "improve substantially with a better-connected street network."

The report, "Restoring Claiborne Avenue," was created for the Claiborne Corridor Improvement Coalition and the Congress for the New Urbanism, which also places the Claiborne on its list of "Freeways Without Futures." While the possible removal of the freeway was apparently greeted with skepticism by the previous Nagin administration, current New Orleans mayor Mitch Landrieu is open to the idea, suggesting that "it could reconnect two of the city's most historic neighborhoods."

The construction of the Claiborne has been blamed for dividing the communities along its path, causing economic decline to historic African-American neighborhoods such as the Treme. In this regard, New Orleans is no different than other American cities - go here to read an an excellent discussion of the devastating effects of urban freeways on inner-city communities in general and on St. Louis in particular - and is something I've extensively researched. Planners and engineers of the '50s and '60s felt that the ability of automobiles to quickly travel from suburbs to central business districts was more important than the preservation of the (largely-minority) neighborhoods through which these structures passed, a philosophy that in retrospect was very unfortunate and something that, as a transportation planner myself, I'm acutely aware about.

While I'm certainly not a proponent of the wholesale removal of urban freeways - these structures have, generally speaking, become a key part of a city's transportation network and ridding our nation's cities of all of their freeways would make them less accessible, less navigable and more congested - I think there is something to be said for the strategic removal (or relocation, as is occurring with I-40 in Oklahoma City) of some structures. The Claiborne seems to be a sensible candidate for removal simply because it is redundant - through traffic through New Orleans already is served by I-610 to the north, the presence of I-12 on the north side of Lake Pontchartrain allows interstate traffic to bypass the city completely, and in any case the majority of the Big Easy's suburban communities are on the west side of the city, in Jefferson Parish, meaning that the removal of the Claiborne would probably not affect the majority of the region's commuters. The wide right-of-way which the Claiborne currently straddles - approximately 180 feet, according to the Google Earth ruler - also presents some innovative and interesting opportunities - perhaps a multiway boulevard?

To be sure, it is unclear if the removal of the Claiborne would have the desired effect of economic revitalization in the communities through which it passes. The city is still struggling to recover from Hurricane Katrina, and in any case the city's socioeconomic woes began long before that catastrophe. This is by no means a magic bullet, and if the comments to the Times-Picayune story are any indication there is clearly at least some opposition to this idea.

What is clear is this: the existing Claiborne structure is nearing the end of its design life. Something, whether it be a new elevated structure, an at-grade boulevard, or something entirely different, is eventually going to take its place. The people of New Orleans are at least being given the opportunity to think about and discuss this corridor's future, which they were not allowed to do when the original freeway was built back in the 1960s.

The top ten post-season chokejobs in Houston sports history

A couple of weeks ago, the Houston Press presented their list of the ten best moments in Houston sports history, as well as the "five most heartbreaking." At the top of their ten best list was, of course, the Rockets' back-to-back NBA championships in 1994 and 1995.

The Press notes that after the Rockets blew large leads - at home, no less - to the Phoenix Suns in the second round of the 1994 playoffs, a Houston Chronicle headline cynically proclaimed "Choke City." However, the Rockets didn't choke; they went on to win the next two games in Phoenix to win that series, giving rise to the "Clutch City" meme. The Rockets then defeated the Utah Jazz for the conference title, and edged the New York Knicks in seven games to secure the city's first major sports league championship. The following year, the Rockets won it all in even more compelling fashion, battling their way through the Western Conference playoffs as a six seed and sweeping the Orlando Magic in the finals.

But the Press admits that "for now, the Rockets stand alone as the only team to provide Houston thrills without subsequent disappointment." The 2003 Rice Owls baseball team and the 2006-07 Dynamo might disagree with that statement, of course, but I understand the general sentiment. That, combined with some of the items in the Press's "five most heartbreaking moments" list, led me to realize that, in many ways, Houston really is "Choke City" and that one could easily make a top ten list of Houston sports chokejobs. So I decided to do so, focusing exclusively on postseason events (regular season chokes just don't carry the same baggage of disappointment).

By "choke," I mean a situation where a Houston team has the advantage - either a big lead or is favored to win - but fails to do so. Therefore, not all of the myriad disappointing outcomes in Houston sports history qualify as "chokes." While the 1979 AFC Championship, the 1980 and 1986 NBA Finals, or the 1986 NLCS might be dark moments in Houston sports history, they don't count as chokes because the Oilers, Rockets and Astros, respectively, were considered the underdogs in those matchups. Albert Pujol's blasting of Brad Lidge's pitch in game 5 of the 2005 NLCS doesn't count either, especially since the Astros ended up winning the series. The 2005 World Series itself also does not count, because even if the Astros did get swept, they were swept by a White Sox team with a better record and home-field advantage. Besides, the simple fact that the Astros made it to the World Series is good enough to keep it off this list.

So without further ado, I present the Mean Green Cougar Red list of the Top Ten Post-season Chokejobs in Houston Sports History:

10. UH vs Air Force, 2009 Armed Forces Bowl

Maybe I'm putting this here simply because the Coogs' inexcusable 20-47 loss to Air Force in Fort Worth last New Year's Eve is still fresh in my mind. But I think it belongs, considering that Vegas had the Cougars favored by five.

Sure, the Coogs limped into the postseason with a depleted defense and losses in three of their last five games. And yes, it was hard to get motivated to play the same team in the same bowl game as the year before. But with the team's pride, and a possible season-ending top 25 ranking on the line, the Coogs simply did not show up to play. Case Keenum was especially atrocious, throwing six interceptions.

Thus a 2009 season that saw the Coogs upset highly-ranked Oklahoma State on the road, win a thriller over Texas Tech at home, and climb as high as #12 in the polls ended on a sour, unranked note. I can only hope that this bitter and embarrassing season-ending loss motivates the team to do better this fall.

9. Astros vs Cardinals, 2004 NLCS

The Astros had finally done it: they had beaten the hated Atlanta Braves in the divisional series, thereby securing their very first series victory in the baseball postseason. Now they faced off against division rival St. Louis for the opportunity to go to their first-ever World Series.

It wasn't going to be easy; St. Louis was division champion and had home-field advantage. But after falling behind in St. Louis two games to nothing, the Astros swept their homestand at Minute Maid Park to take a 3-2 series lead (Jeff Kent's home run in game five makes the Press's top ten list). That meant they had two chances to seal the deal and go to the World Series. Things looked especially advantageous for the Astros considering that they had ace pitcher Roger Clemens ready for game seven, if necessary.

Alas, the Astros dropped game six to the Cardinals and, in spite of Clemens' presence on the mound in game seven, lost that game as well to yield the series and the league crown to St. Louis. Of course, considering that the Cardinals went on to get swept by the Red Sox in the World Series, thereby cementing their role in baseball history as the team to which Boston's 86-year-old "Curse of the Bambino" ended, maybe the Astros lucked out by losing. Especially since they'd meet the Cardinals again the following October, with better results.

8. Rockets vs Dallas, 2005 NBA Western Conference First Round

This is the mirror opposite of the 1994 series against Phoenix which gave rise to the "Clutch City" meme. The Rockets jumped out to a 2-0 series lead on the road, and, with their next two games at home, looked to be in the drivers' seat. Unfortunately, the Rockets simply couldn't handle such prosperity; they lost the next two games at Toyota Center to surrender their home court advantage, and eventually lost to the Mavericks in seven games. Game seven, incidentally, was a true beatdown: the Rockets got hammered, 76-116.

7. Oilers vs Denver, 1992 AFC Divisonal Playoff

The 1991 Houston Oilers had won their very first AFC Central Division title with an 11-5 record, and had taken care of the New York Jets in the first round of the playoffs. On January 4, 1992, they traveled to Mile High Stadium in Denver. Beat the Broncos, and the Oilers would be one game away from the Super Bowl.

Things started out well enough. At one point the Oilers jumped out to a 21-6 lead. But the offense got bogged down, only managing a single field goal from there on, while the Broncos climbed back to get within a point of the Oilers late in the game. And that's when John Elway worked another one of his miracles. Starting from his own two yard line, Elway methodically marched the Broncos down the field, receiving only token resistance from the Oiler defense. The highlight (or lowlight) of the drive was Elway's 44-yard pass to Vance Johnson on fourth down and ten with 59 seconds left to play. The Broncos kicked a field goal with sixteen seconds remaining to win the game.

With that, the dream of "Super Blue in '92" came to an end. This Oiler chokejob was a harbinger of things to come.

6. Rockets vs Jazz, 1997 NBA Western Conference Finals

The Rockets were one year removed from back-to-back titles and were looking to add a third ring to the Clutch City dynasty. They had even acquired Charles Barkley from the Suns expressly for that purpose. After sweeping Minnesota in the first round and finally defeating their nemesis Seattle Supersonics in the second round, they faced off against the Utah Jazz in the third round.

Maybe the Jazz were the better team that year. And, given that they were up three games to two, maybe they would have won the series regardless of the outcome of game six. But this counts as a choke simply because the Rockets were leading comfortably at home in game six - 90-77 with 6:42 left to play - when they collapsed down the stretch, allowing the Jazz to claw their way back into the game and, with the help of John Stockton's last-second three-pointer, win the game as well as the series.

That would turn out to be the last gasp of the Clutch City Rockets. Eleven seasons would pass before the franchise would notch another postseason series victory.

5. Oilers vs Kansas City, 1994 AFC Divisional Playoff

After a shaky start to the 1993 season, the Oilers rattled off an impressive eleven straight wins, which was enough to secure themselves a 12-4 record, the AFC Central Division title, a first round bye in the playoffs and home-field advantage in the second round against Joe Montana and the Kansas City Chiefs.

Once again, the Oilers jumped out early, leading 10-0 at halftime. And once again, they let the other team back into the game, allowing the Chiefs to score 21 unanswered points in the second half. The Oilers scored a late touchdown to cut the deficit to one point, but all that did was give the Montana-led Chiefs an opportunity to march 79 yards down the field. The game-winning touchdown was scored on a 21-yard Marcus Allen run.

Mercifully, this would be the Oilers' last chokejob while in Houston. Three seasons later, they moved to Tennessee.

4. Astros vs Philies, 1980 NLCS

The 1980 Astros, with a roster full of players whose names are now legendary amongst Houston sports fans - Alan Ashby, José Cruz, Joe Morgan, Joe Niekro, Tery Puhl and Nolan Ryan, just to name a few - notched their first division title with a 93-70 record and secured "Home Dome" advantage in the championship series against the Philadelphia Phillies.

From a baseball perspective, this was an exciting series, with four of the five games going into extra innings. After splitting the first two games in Philadelphia, the Astros won a true pitcher's duel in an eleven-inning game three to put them within one game of the World Series.

But they couldn't get it done. In game four, the Astros managed a two-run lead and at one point were six outs away from winning it all. However, the Astros were unable to pad that lead in spite of bases-loaded situations in the sixth and seventh innings, and in the eighth inning the Phillies scored three runs to go ahead. The Astros tied things up again in the 9th, but Philadelphia won the game in the 10th. In game five, the Astros once again found themselves in a similar situation, up by three runs with six outs remaining. In spite of the fact that Nolan Ryan was on the mound, the Phillies scored five runs in the eighth to take the lead. Once again, the Astros managed to tie the game. And once again, the Phillies managed to win in extra innings.

For most Astros fans, time and the 2005 World Series appearance might have erased the pain of this series. But, given that the Astros were playing at home and were six outs from winning not once but twice, this still counts as one of the bigger chokes in Houston's tortured sports history.

3. UH vs Notre Dame, 1979 Cotton Bowl

Long before it was the Oilers choking to a Joe Montana-led team in the postseason, it was the Cougars. The Coogs, who had managed a 9-2 record, a Southwest Conference championship and a #9 AP ranking going into the bowl, faced off against Notre Dame (8-3, AP #10) on a frigid and blustery New Year's Day in Dallas. The Irish scored the game's first 12 points, but Houston then rattled off 34 consecutive unanswered points to take control of the game. And that's when Joe Montana took over.

Montana, who had been suffering from hypothermia, spent most of the second half in the Irish locker room, drinking chicken broth. With seven and a half minutes left in the game, he returned to the field. Seemingly buoyed by the return of their quarterback, Irish special teams promptly blocked a Cougar punt to score a touchdown. Montana passed for the two-point conversion to make it 34-20. The Houston Veer offense stagnated on the ensuing position and the Irish got the ball back. Montana then marched the team on a 61-yard, five-play drive to score another touchdown and conversion to cut Houston's lead to six.

Again, Houston could do nothing on offense. And again, Montana got the ball back. However, with 1:50 remaining, Houston linebacker David Hodge forced Montana to fumble and the Coogs regained possession. All the Cougars needed to do to seal the win was to gain a first down.

They couldn't. For whatever reason, the Coogs chose to go for it on 4th and one from their own 29 rather than punt, and got stuffed at the line of scrimmage by Notre Dame. That gave Joe Montana a short field and 28 seconds to pull off the miracle, and that was all he needed. Montana found receiver Kris Haines in the endzone with no time left on the clock to tie the game, and Notre Dame, after having their first extra point attempt negated by a penalty, successfully scored on their second attempt to cap off one of the greatest comebacks in college football history, 35-34.

The Cougars would return to the Cotton Bowl the following year and redeem themselves by defeating Nebraska, 17-14, in an eerily similar fashion (a fourth-down touchdown pass with twelve seconds remaining). But the 1979 game has nevertheless gone down as one of the biggest chokejobs in Cougar athletic history, second only to...

2. UH vs North Carolina State, 1983 NCAA Basketball Championship

All these years later it's still a bitter pill for UH fans to swallow, especially considering how far UH basketball has fallen since the Phi Slamma Jama era.

Everybody knows what happened. CBS can't help but repeatedly air the clip during every March Madness broadcast. There's Derek Whittenburg inbounding the ball on a high arch, Lorenzo Charles taking the ball and dunking it over a clueless Hakeem Olajuwon's head, the buzzer sounding, Jimmy Valvano running out on the court madly screaming and flailing his arms, Cougar players crying and pounding the hardwood with their firsts... I've seen this clip so many times but simply can't get desensitized to it. Every time I see it I want to throw up.

It's easy to make excuses for the Coogs, i.e. that they were exhausted after their thrilling victory over Louisville in the semifinal (another moment on the Press top ten list) or that the high altitude of Albuquerque was taking its toll on a bunch of kids from the coast, or that Guy Lewis's decision to order the high-flying Cougar offense into "stall" mode during the second half was a mistake. But in the end, this choke occurred the way so many chokes occur: complacency. As a former player tells the Press:

"We took them seriously, but we didn't take them that seriously," says Bryan Williams, a member of that Phi Slama Jama team. "We were kids — we thought we had it in the bag already. We won that big high game and, for us, we knew we were going to beat NC State, they weren't even supposed to be there, so we knew we were going to walk all over them, and I guess everybody got kinda, well, horse before the cart."

The Cougars managed to make it back to the championship game the following year, but were dispatched by Georgetown. That was the end of Phi Slamma Jama. The Cougars haven't won a game in the Big Dance since.

1. Oilers vs Buffalo, NFL AFC Wildcard Playoff

Speaking of meltdowns caused by complacency, this one is the obvious number one. The Oilers, who led the Bills 35-3 early in the 3rd quarter, allowed Buffalo, led by back-up quarterback Frank Reich, to rally furiously to a 41-38 victory in overtime.

This game has own name - "The Comeback" - and is rated by some people as not only the biggest choke job in Houston history, or pro football history, but sports history, period. It is the very definition of "chokejob," a display of gutlessness and lack of character so jawdropping that almost two decades later it's hard to believe it actually happened. But happen it did, a feat which might never be equalled in the history of sport.

Honorable Mentions: University of Houston vs UCSB, 2004 NCAA Womens Basketball Tournament (the Chandi Jones - led Lady Coogs notched a 27-3 record, a conference title, and a #3 seed going the women's version of the Big Dance, but were bounced out in the second round, 52-56, by #11 seed UC Santa Barbara; to the Lady Coogs' defense, this was essentially a home game for the Lady Gauchos; UCSB got to host the first and second rounds of their part of the bracket) and Rice vs Troy State, 2006 New Orleans Bowl (yes, I know that this was Rice's first bowl game in 45 years. But still: a 17-41 blowout? To Troy State?)

So that's my top ten list. Looking at it, it's easy to understand why Houston sports fans are some of the nation's most cynical and jaded. What say you?

For further reading regarding the Press's top ten (and bottom five): Sean Pendergast's "best of the best" list of the Clutch City Rockets' greatest moments is here. Richard Connelly provides his reflections regarding the lists here. John Royal's own list of Houston's top ten sports moments can be read here, and a list of highlights and lowlights that didn't make the Press's cut (although a couple of them made mine) are here.

My only critique about the Press's top ten list is that it doesn't include Rice's College World Series championship in 2003.

(Speaking of the Houston Press, big-time congrats are in order to a high school classmate of mine, Troy Schulze, who has been named the paper's Arts & Culture Editor.)

On generation gaps

It's been exactly a decade since my grandfather, Dr. Horace Benton Gray, Sr., passed away in Macon, Georgia on August 9, 2000. I still miss him.

Kirby Benton Gray was born in Houston, Texas on August 21, 2004. He missed his great-grandfather by four years, twelve days and about 720 miles.

It's too bad that my grandfather's life did not overlap with my son's. For whatever reason, when I see my son I see some of "Pada" within him. I think they would have enjoyed each other and, even though nobody can be faulted, I am sorry that they never met.

Hospitalized!

I guess I could consider myself lucky that I managed to go almost 37 years without spending any time in a hospital. My luck ran out last Monday, however.

Late Friday, I had been experiencing digestive problems that I originally assumed were caused by something I ate (specifically, that steak that had probably been marinating in the refrigerator for too long). Saturday it wasn't too bad; I felt mildly queasy but was not in any pain and spent most of the day in bed. Over the course of the day Sunday, however, the generalized bloating I had been feeling began to morph into a localized pain in my lower left abdomen, a pain that gradually grew worse Sunday evening and Monday morning. It got to the point that it became painful to walk, move and even breathe. Realizing that something was seriously wrong, I left the office early Monday afternoon and went to Methodist Hospital's emergency care center on the Southwest Freeway. There they ran routine tests, gave me pain medication, and administered a CT scan on my abdomen.

The resulting diagnosis of acute diverticulitis, while not exactly common for people my age, is by no means unprecedented. The doctor at the emergency center deemed it serious - he was particularly worried about a potential rupture - so he immediately admitted me to the hospital. An antibiotic IV was started and I was transferred from the emergency care center to Methodist's main complex in the Texas Medical Center.

There I lay, from Monday night to Wednesday afternoon, having a generally lousy time. The fact that I was attached to an IV limited my mobility, so I never ventured out of my room. Getting sleep was difficult, on account of the noise and light in the outside hallway, the loud snoring from the guy in the bed next to me, the constant click-clack of the infusion pump, or the simple fact that I was in an unfamiliar place. The fact that I was put on "bowel rest" meant that I could have nothing to eat or drink - all my fluids and nutrients came intravenously. The hospital staff, to their credit, were helpful and friendly and did try to make me feel comfortable, but there's only so much they could do.

Fortunately, I had my laptop with me, and that along with the hospital's wi-fi meant that I could keep myself occupied and even get some work done. I was actually pretty productive over the course of the day Tuesday, owing to the (relative) lack of distraction in my room as well as the fact that I was essentially confined to my bed. However, by Wednesday not even my laptop could keep me from beginning to get bored and restless.

Fortunately, the antibiotics were having their desired effect and the pain in my abdomen steadily decreased over the course of my stay. Periodic blood tests apparently revealed nothing abnormal, either, because by Wednesday morning I was allowed to resume eating (albeit only "clear" foods like broth or gelatin) and on early Wednesday afternoon a group of doctors came in to explain to me that my case appeared to be "uncomplicated" and that I could go home if I so desired. I obviously chose to do so, and by four that afternoon I was given a prescription for antibiotics and was discharged.

Two days later, everything seems okay. The pain in my belly is gone, I am taking my antibiotics as required, I am cautiously easing back into a normal diet, and I even went to the office today, if only for a few hours. My next step is to see a gastroenterologist to have this event examined in more depth - why did it happen, and what (other than eating more fiber) can I do to prevent it from happening again - but I first need to check in with my primary care physician to get a referral. I also get to look forward to the bill. My medical insurance will cover most of it, but not all, and considering how expensive medical care is these days I'm probably looking at coughing up a significant chunk of change.

So now I've finally had my hospital experience. And, having had it, it's something I can definitely say I want to avoid in the future. Ergo, it's time to start making some changes to my lifestyle. The important thing for now, however, is that I am okay.

Methodist is, ironically, the same hospital where I was born.

Meet the Gulf Coast Toad

If you live in Houston (or anywhere along the Texas coast) you've probably seen, as well as heard, this guy:

When I was a kid, a hard summer rain followed by the nearby croaking of these toads meant that dozens of them would be found mating and laying their eggs in the puddles of standing water along the neighborhood streets the following morning. My brother and myself, along with other neighborhood kids, would wake up early to observe and play (or, in the toad's point of view, harass) them until they finally dispersed from the puddles late in the morning. Not long afterwards, the strings of eggs they laid would hatch and the puddles would become full of tadpoles.

But this is actually the first Gulf Coast Toad I've come across in awhile; I picked it up as it has hopping along the driveway in front of the house a few nights ago. Perhaps I don't notice them as much as I used to because as I've become older my interest in these animals has waned. More likely, however, is the fact that these toads are not as common in the neighborhood as they once were; major reconstruction of all neighborhood streets took place a few years back, and the depressions where rainwater would collect and these amphibians would congregate were eliminated, thereby reducing their neighborhood presence.

They're still around, though, as this guy attests, and I still hear them at night after a heavy rain (albeit these days further off in the distance). Given the rains we've been having over the past few weeks, they've had a lot to croak about.

Saying goodbye to Monsterchick

In the sixteen-something years I had known Laura, I had not once met or spoken to her father. That is, until Saturday morning, when he called me on her cell phone. That alone was an indication that something was horribly wrong.

He was calling from a hospital in Arlington, Virginia to inform me that something was indeed shockingly, horribly wrong. His daughter, one of my closest friends, had been diagnosed with terminal cancer. She was unconscious and in critical condition. Her immediate prognosis was very poor.

I was, needless to say, dumbfounded. Laura? I just visited her in February. She was perfectly healthy then. Or so it seemed. What happened?!

I would later learn that she had a rare form of ovarian cancer that had metastasized to her liver and lungs. It had apparently gone undiagnosed until it was too late.

I first met Laura in 1994, when we were both students at the University of Houston College of Architecture, she being one year behind me. My affectionate nickname for her - "Monsterchick" - came about as a result of a conversation I had with an irritable classmate in my third-year studio one afternoon. She did not particularly like Laura (or much of anyone else, for that matter) and referred to her as "the Laura Monster" during this conversation. Another classmate, who had been at his desk working on a project, perked up and asked "huh? Who is this 'monster chick?'" The name stuck with me.

But a "monster" Laura was not. She was playful, friendly, helpful, motivated and especially prone to laughter. We developed a strong friendship while we were architecture students, so much so that up until the end she continued to refer to me as "Keifer" - my own studio nickname that I otherwise abandoned after graduation.

As students, we did a lot together, whether it be attending concerts, going to Astros games, going out for dinner or even taking turns working the Daily Cougar crossword during otherwise-boring lectures. She frequently hung out at my house, since it was so close to campus, and enjoyed being entertained by my brother, whom she called "Foo."

We were also involved in the college's chapter of the American Institute of Architecture Students, although she much more so than me; she eventually became chapter president. I remember when she wanted to represent the University of Houston at the fall 1995 AIAS Forum - the organization's annual convention - in Portland, Oregon. However, neither the chapter nor the college had the funds to cover her trip, and she didn't have the cash on hand to pay her own way. So she asked me, the sucker with the credit card, if I could float the airfare for her. I did so, and then jokingly told her that I "owned her soul" until she paid me back. It became a running joke between us, but she eventually repaid me for the ticket - sometimes with installments of cash, but mostly through numerous lunches, dinners and pints of beer at local bars - until I finally "returned her soul" to her.

While at the helm of AIAS-UH, Laura worked with HISD to organize the "Bridging the Gap" Competition. In March of 1996 approximately 50 children from a nearby middle school came to the college. These children were grouped into teams and, with the assistance of architecture students, held a competition building bridges out of LEGO bricks. College instructors then judged the bridges based on their aesthetic and structural qualities. It was a huge success that enriched everybody involved and even made the local news, and I never saw Laura as proud and as happy as she was that day.

Even though our career paths took slightly different directions after graduation - I went to graduate school and got a degree in city planning, while she jumped right into the architecture profession - we stayed in close contact. We both ended up in the Dallas /Fort Worth Metroplex in the late 1990s - she at a firm near downtown Dallas and me at the City of Denton's Planning and Development Department - and along with our significant others continued our tradition of dinners, concerts and frequent conversation. A few years later I would move back to Houston and she would later move to the Baltimore/DC area, but we remained in frequent touch and continued to compare notes about our growing professional and personal lives.

The last time I saw her was this past February; I stayed with her when I made a short trip to DC and I had a great time sightseeing, visiting museums, eating, drinking and riding the Metro (I am a transit geek, after all) with her and her boyfriend. Little did any of us know that, even as we dined and laughed and walked through the streets of the nation's capital, she was being eaten away from the inside by a horrible, silent disease. In retrospect, her last Facebook post in early June, wherein she complained about having back pain, was an indication that something might have been wrong, as back pain is a symptom of both ovarian and liver cancer. But she thought that she had simply pulled a muscle or something. You just don't associate cancer with a lively and visibly-healthy young-woman. Which is why this is so mind-blowing: as perverse as it sounds, it would have made more sense to me if she had been involved in a serious car crash.

Mercifully, Laura's battle with cancer was short. In the early evening of Sunday, July 25th, just a day after I was informed of Laura's condition, I learned that she had passed away.

I've had people close to me die - aunts, uncles, cousins, even mother-in-law - but this is just different. This was one of my peers, one of my best friends - my Monsterchick. She was doing so well and had so much ahead of her. And just like that, she is gone.

Laura Edwards was 36.

I am still awaiting word on arrangements for her here in Texas and, as is my custom when people close to me die, I will post her obituary on this blog once it becomes available. Right now my thoughts are with her parents, her brother and her boyfriend as well as all the other people out there who, like myself, have lost such a wonderful friend.

My encounters with a giant, stinky flower

Unless you've been living somewhere underneath a Houston-area rock this month, you've no doubt heard about "Lois," the rare "corpse flower" that has been on display over the last couple of weeks at the Houston Museum of Natural Science.

If for no other reason than I was curious and wanted to see what all the fuss was about, I decided to go check out Lois for myself. Because I am an insomniac and also because I hate crowds, I decided to go in the wee hours of the morning - in this case, Thursday at about 2:45 am - to see the flower (the museum stayed open around the clock while Lois was in bloom). That worked out well; there were only a few other people there so I could spend as much time looking at the large flower (or, more technically, inflorescence, because it's actually a grouping of flowers on a single stem) at its location upstairs in the foyer before the entrance to the butterfly pavilion.
It hadn't fully opened and it hadn't given off its characteristic smell of rotting flesh yet, but it was nevertheless impressive in its size. The museum curator on hand that morning told me that it took seven years for Lois to grow from seed to flower.
Interesting enough. But I wanted the Complete Corpse Flower Experience, putrid stench and all.
So I decided to return a couple of nights later, after the flower had fully bloomed, to get a whiff of it for myself. I went back to the museum Saturday at about 3:30 am, thinking that, once again, the crowds would be sparse.

No such luck. Since the plant had fully bloomed and since it was the weekend, the museum was packed. The crowd was an eclectic mix of couples on late-night dates, groups of people who had just left the bars, and even families that had woken up early to see the flower.
The line was long and it was well after 4 am before I finally made it into the foyer to see the flower for myself. It didn't look quite as impressive as it had looked a couple of nights before - the bloom was beginning to wilt at this point - and the stench wasn't the overpowering experience I had expected. Lois did smell like decomposing flesh - if you've ever been around a dead animal, you know the smell - but the odor did not permeate the entire museum and you actually had to get pretty close to it to really smell it.
The flower gives off the scent of rotting flesh in order to attract carrion beetles in its native habitat of the Indonesian rainforest. The beetles, in turn, pollinate the plant so it can reproduce. Although commonly known as a "corpse flower," the actual name of the plant is titan arum. Its binomial name, Amorphophallus titanium, is rarely used because it literally means "giant misshapen penis."

In the interests of posterity, I had my picture taken next to this giant misshapen penis that smells like decaying flesh.
After leaving the foyer where the plant is located, visitors leave the museum by walking through the butterfly pavilion itself. I found this to be in many ways more interesting than looking at the corpse flower, because the rainforest-themed butterfly pavilion is a pleasantly evocative and mysterious space at night.
Charro, the museum's resident iguana, was in his cage for the night, tongue hanging out of his mouth as he slept. He was clearly not impressed by all the ruckus surrounding Lois.
The butterflies were obviously all dormant for the night, but if you looked carefully you could find them resting on the leaves. With the help of my camera flash I caught this blue morpho in repose. In retrospect, I wish I would have come to see the flower a couple of hours later, so that I could have been in the pavilion when the sun rose and the butterflies began to stir. That would have been a neat experience. As it was, however, I left the museum shortly after 5 am and well before sunrise.
"Lois" has since completely wilted and the round-the-clock festivities at the museum are now over.

Was Lois the Corpse Flower a revenue-generating publicity gimmick for the Houston Museum of Natural Science? Of course. Is that a bad thing? Of course not. The city's educational institutions deserve some occasional publicity, and the fact that the museum got tens of thousands of people - many of whom would likely not have otherwise set foot there - to come see such a rare and unique wonder of nature (seriously, a giant flower that smells like rotting flesh!), even at odd hours of the night, is actually a pretty admirable accomplishment.

Museum curators say that they don't know if Lois will ever put out another bloom, so it could be a long time before Houstonians have another opportunity to encounter a giant, stinky flower.

Meet Houston's new baseball coach

Although I'm a few days late to the party, I'd like to add my voice to those welcoming Todd Whitting to the University of Houston - or, more accurately, back to UH - as the school's new baseball coach.

Whitting replaces Rayner Noble, who had been at the helm of the University of Houston baseball program for sixteen seasons. Under Noble's leadership, the team reached the NCAA Super Regionals three times. He leaves UH with an overall record of 551-440, making him the winningest coach in the program's history. In recent years, however, Noble and the baseball program had fallen on hard times, including back-to-back losing seasons (27-31 in 2009 and 25-32 in 2010) for the first time since the mid-70s. That led UH Athletics Director Mack Rhoades to decide that it was time for a change. I thank Ranyer Noble for his service and wish him well, and I also hope that Noble's departure means that we will no longer have to endure any more bitter, infantile screeds from the parents of former UH players.

Whitting played for the Cougars in the early 1990s and then served as an assistant from 1995 to 2003. During that time he helped the UH program achieve a 305-195 record and six NCAA postseason appearances including those three Super Regional appearances in 2000, 2002 and 2003. Whitting had spent the last seven season as associate head coach at TCU, where he had similar success; while he was there the Horned Frogs notched an overall record of 305-134, seven NCAA postseason appearances, and, this past season, th program's first appearance at the College World Series in Omaha, Nebraska.

Whitting makes it clear that his goal is getting his alma mater to Omaha as well. As he told the Chronicle's Steve Campbell:

"Our program was on a national level," Whitting said. "But I really felt like there was unfinished business here. When we clinched to go to Omaha at TCU, a lot of the thoughts on my mind were the former players on the 2000, 2002 and 2003 teams. A big motivation for me to take this job is to finish up business we didn't take care of then.

"I want the University of Houston people to have the Omaha experience. It's something that will change your life forever. As an alumni here, as a former coach here, now the head coach here, I want these people to experience what it's like to drive to Omaha. When you land in Omaha and those people are waiting for you, and you get in the bus and you have that police escort to the field every day, and the kids with the autographs, the cameras in your face, and your kids feel like they're rock stars. It's the pinnacle."

"I've been preparing for this for seven years," Whitting said. "I've been waiting for this day for seven years. I have a plan that's ready to go into place. Hopefully I'll have a staff that's as good as anywhere in the country. Because of the commitment of this university, I have the ability to put together a tremendous staff."

For whatever doubts I might have had about the way Mack Rhoades handled the basketball hire, I think he clearly knocked this one out of the park. Feedback about the hire from UH fans on message boards and blogs who follow Cougar Baseball more closely than I do has been uniformly positive. Todd Whitting clearly has the credentials and the motivation to turn UH baseball around and make it the top-tier program it was just a few years ago. So I happily welcome coach Whitting back to Houston and am hoping to see great things for Cougar Baseball.

Jack in the Box's Really Big Chicken Sandwich: where's the outrage?

A few months ago, a lot of controversy was generated by KFC's Double Down sandwich: a chicken, bacon and cheese sandwich notable for its lack of a bun. It was decried as being the epitome of gluttony and poor health, a new low for an America struggling with an obesity epidemic. Health experts fumed; bemused pundits blogged. Comedy Central's Stephen Colbert called it "the warped creation of a syphilitic brain."

Amidst all the furor about the Double Down, salon.com's Francis Lam made an interesting observation: if the Double Down had been a traditional sandwich, i.e. with a bun, would anybody have even noticed?

In retrospect, though, the really funny thing about the Double Down is not that it exists, not that it's a dare pretending to be a lunch, but that it would be nothing special if they added a bun to it. Think about it. It'd be like, "What's that? A double chicken sandwich? Pffft. Snooze. Any jackass can make a double chicken sandwich." Somehow, by taking off the processed-food bread, KFC made this thing look deadly.

As if to prove Lam's point, Jack in the Box has just unveiled its Really Big Chicken Sandwich. Like the Double Down, it features two breaded chicken breast fillets, cheese and bacon along with a mayonnaise-based sauce. The only difference between it and a Double Down is that it includes a bun (with some lettuce and tomato as well, perhaps to give it the appearance of being healthy). One reviewer identifies it as a cross between a Double Down and a McDonald's Big Mac.

But healthy the Really Big Chicken Sandwich is not. It clocks in at 748 calories (compared to the breaded Double Down's 540 calories), 44 grams of fat (the Double Down has 32) and 1834 milligrams of sodium (the Double Down delivers 1380). The Really Big Chicken Sandwich also provides a boost of simple carbohydrates (i.e. sugar) that the Double down does not by virtue of its white bread bun. Just about the only metric where the Double Down does worse is cholesterol: it provides 145 milligrams while the Really Big Chicken Sandwich "only" provides 85. On the whole, however, the Really Big Chicken Sandwhich is clearly less healthy than the KFC's Double Down.

Yet, unlike when the Double Down was introduced, there has been no controversy. There have been no reports of outrage from nutritionists. Public health experts are not lining up to admonish Jack in the Box, as they did KFC when the Double Down made its debut. The Really Big Chicken Sandwich has not triggered a new wave of bemoaning for America's unhealthy fast food culture.

In short, Jack in the Box has unveiled a menu item that is worse than the supposedly unhealthy and hyper-gluttonous KFC Double Down, and nobody seems to care. The Really Big Chicken Sandwich is, well, just another sandwich.

Amazing what a difference one little bun can make.

Maggots are falling (from the overhead bin) like rain!

Yes, I'm riffing off a GWAR song. But with stories like this, it's just too easy:

Maggots falling from an overhead bin from a spoiled container of meat forced a US Airways flight to return to the gate so the bin could be cleaned.

Passenger Donna Adamo said she noticed a couple of flies on the Monday flight when she got to her seat but didn't think much of it. Then, as the plane was taxiing, she heard a passenger behind her causing a commotion and refusing to take her seat.

"Then I heard the word 'maggot' and that kind of got everybody creeped out," she said. "All of a sudden, I felt somebody flick the back of my hair and on the front of me came a maggot, which I flicked off me."

A passenger had the container in a carry-on bag and brought it on Monday's flight heading from Atlanta to Charlotte, N.C., said US Airways spokesman Todd Lehmacher. The pilot announced that they were returning to the gate because of a "minor emergency on board" and the flight attendants told everyone to sit down and be calm, Adamo said.

"I felt like they were crawling all over me because it only takes one maggot to upset your world," she said. "And as they're telling us to stay calm and seated, I see a maggot looking back at me and I'm thinking, 'These are anaerobic, flesh-eating larvae that the flight attendants don't have to sit with.' "

Ick. Just ick.

Of course, the big question I have is why somebody was carrying a container of spoiled, maggot-infested meat in their carry-on luggage to begin with. Or why, given the foul odor that such an item would inevitably give off, nobody detected this person's tainted carry-on baggage at the TSA security checkpoint, at the gate prior to boarding or on the plane itself.

Really, it is a story that is as bizarre as it is disgusting, and I'm wondering if there isn't more to this than what is being reported.

But, as one commenter on the story notes, it does give us a new term: "carrion luggage."