In this blog I look beyond the obvious and try to find out why people and companies do what they do - and what it means for the rest of us. 
I type this in a moderately lucid state, finally feeling human after a bout of what I feared was Swine Flu acquired in England or Germany. Happily, I can report the test came back negative this morning, although tell that to the maid at the Marriott in Frankfurt and she might feel differently. Being sick sucks. Being sick in a German Marriott really sucks. No offense, of course.
On Thursday, I boarded an 8am flight from Boston to London – a very civilized time to travel abroad in my opinion. Much better than a god awful red eye. My CFO and his wife joined my lovely wife and I for a few days in London. We had some legal and banking stuff to do, and the fact that the Patriots were in town playing a game made the whole trip seem downright perfect.
We stayed at the Metropolitan London, a swank upscale boutique hotel that was quite nice. I met the bartenders promptly, as they are clearly my most important locals. A lot of love goes into the cocktails at the Met bar, I can attest.
My first observation was just how awful the value of a dollar really is these days. I’m not hopeful that it will improve any time soon, either. The U.S. government has done a lovely job of halting the economic free fall by printing new cash at a record rate, devaluing it as they go. It isn’t paying down any of the debt along the way, so it seems things are sure to get worse before they can get better. I think China may own us now, the way the bank really owns your house.
My 9am meeting came far too early, as it was really 4am in my mind. I sat with a few nice folk from Storage Fusion who have built a storage SRM SaaS service that seems pretty cool. It amazes me that others haven’t taken this approach yet – the barriers to success in the SRM space (or any new resource/management area) are fairly straight forward – cost and implementation. SaaS eliminates any operational/emotional commitment that a customer has to buy into. Making it so cheap anyone can afford it eliminates the “nice to have versus need to have” barrier. I might have been a bit fuzzy in the head, but hearing that these guys developed their model directly aimed at these issues was refreshing.
Walter and I went off to meet the lawyers and bankers and tax accountants while the ladies slept. Lucky ladies. We met up later at Harrod’s – which really is the most ridiculous store on the planet. They have everything – literally. The place should have its own zip code. My wife was in heaven. I needed collar stays (the things that go into your shirt collar to keep it from rolling up and flapping like one of those flying nun hats). “Bone or Sterling?” was asked of me. I didn’t know if the guy was making me a lewd offer or asking me how I was planning on paying. Apparently at Harrod’s you can buy collar stays made from bone – not sure whose bone, or what bone, but bone. Or, sterling silver because, well, you never can spend enough money on small inanimate objects no one will ever be able to see if they are used properly. Apparently you can buy a solid gold bar at Harrod’s for approximately $140,000. I didn’t.
Walter, Steve O’Donnell, and I went to the bar while the ladies went nutty. It was like catnip to a cat. Their eyes changed, I swear.
Cab drivers in London have to have “the knowledge” in order to drive. “The knowledge” is effectively knowing exactly the most effective route to get anywhere from anywhere, at any time. It takes a cab driver 3 years to earn the right to take the test to see if they merit the knowledge. I have doctors that are half as smart as many of these guys.
We connected with big Vince Wilfork and his wife for a proper “tea” in the afternoon. It was magical to watch little British ladies eating little British cookies having little British tea while an 857 lb. giant tried to squeeze through the little British restaurant to eat some food. Vince is a human solar eclipse. He took up several spots. No one told him not to.
I saw more outrageously expensive cars in London than anywhere I’ve ever been – and that includes Miami and Beverly Hills. Everyone in London must be filthy rich, because the low rent cars were all Bentley Flying Spurs. I saw at least a dozen Rolls Royce Phantoms and Ferraris were a dime a dozen it seemed. Astin Martin was well represented as the home team.
Sunday morning I slept in, after countless unnecessarily yet delicious cocktails, while others went to breakfast, apparently joined by one Harry Connick, Jr. They talked football. Harry is a Louisiana boy and big Saints fan. Saints are good this year, we play them in a month. Could be a problem. I like when celebrities are normal and nice, and he was. If I were a celebrity, I would be the kind people hate I think. We packed up and headed to our next hotel, the Wembley Plaza (Hilton), which is a total dump, but it was 100 yards from the stadium.
The streets were mobbed with people wearing every conceivable NFL jersey, from Jim Brown to Don Mackowski. Apparently, the good people of England bought anything and everything related in any way to the NFL. It was excellent. It was hard to tell who was actually playing, the clothing was so random. I felt a cold coming on.
Tip: don’t call Bobby Moore Bobby Brown by mistake or otherwise when at Wembley. A cop almost beat me to death for making that mistake. I’m still not sure who Bobby Moore is, but there is a large statue of him there so he must have had a big goal in a big game I guess. You should also not refer to him as Roger Moore, although I thought that was funny. Apparently Roger Moore isn’t very good at soccer.
The stadium is enormous, but very comfortable. The weather was perfect. I ate fish and chips instead of hot dogs (they were delicious) and enjoyed the spectacle. The Brits did a first rate job. Fortunately the Bucs didn’t, and we crushed them. Lots of bewildered English trying to keep track of what was going on – most wondering why things kept stopping.
I went to sleep with a full on cold. Woke up with the sun blazing in my non-blinded Hilton window early, packed up and set off to Heathrow. I said goodbye to the wife (she headed back home), ate a cheeseburger that didn’t appear to be made from meat, and boarded the plane for Frankfurt to attend SNW.
Every German cab driver thinks they are Formula-1 racers and drive like lunatics.
I arrived at the Marriott Frankfurt at approximately 2pm. I felt awful and went to bed. By 2am I was destroyed. I ate some medicine and passed back out. I woke at 7:30 as I was to present at an Emulex press event – but knew I was in rough shape so I sent Steve O’Donnell my slide deck in case. I showered, dressed and went up for some tea. 30 minutes later, white as a ghost, I had sweated through my suit. Gross, I agree, but I’m trying to get across the level of horror here. I went back to my room, shredded my clothes, and got back into bed, not to arise for another 22 hours, at which point I rose, bathed, dressed, did my keynote, and headed home.
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