Team J00ster, you're the last team to arrive... I'm sorry to say, you have been eliminated from the race

Eight cities, nine flights, seven days. Gotta love US domestic business travel, where even the act of handing out a measly packet of peanuts is likely to tip the decrepit MD-80 you're sitting on right back into the Chapter 11 from whence it came.

First stop: room with a view. Santa Monica beach is a welcome sight after a frigid New York winter. I was going to say a breath of fresh air, but this is LA, so let's leave that metaphor for now.

Meltdowns, TARPs, and bailouts seem a long way away out here where the only concern is whether your suntan is perfect and your Hummer will fit all the bags your personal shopper picked up on Rodeo Drive.

Where the beautiful people shop. Which explains why Rock isn't buying.

How many beaches can lay claim to having a roller coaster? Or a parking lot bigger than the beach itself?

Sunset over Malibu.

Northward bound. Next stop the hills of San Fran. Nice hotel, too bad we arrived at midnight and left at 6am.

Now we're talking! In the US it takes three hours to crawl three blocks on a sweltering freeway; in Canada it takes 30 minutes to hop on a seaplane and get whisked literally from hotel door to hotel door. And they play ice hockey up here. 'Nuff said.

The way to travel. Sure beats squeezing into the middle (unassigned) seat on Southwest with an ample Texan on either side.

British Columbia from the air. Who would have thought something with Britain in the name could be this awesome?

General Motors Place, home ice for the Canucks on their quest for Lord Stanley's Cup.

Given their hot form in sweeping into the second round, one suspects their playoff quest will outlast their arena name.

After the endless frustrations of JFK and LAX, it's nice to arrive at an airport where the only time you're number 2 for departure is when an orca or two strays onto 22R.

Room with a view 2, a rare case where the sequel beats the original. Hey, it can work - like Empire Strikes Back. It's prequels you need to worry about.

There's something cool about a flight where the only security check is the Captain's laconic warning to watch the splash as he chucks your bag into the pontoon stowage hatch.

Millionaries row. Or it was, before the dark times, before the GFC. And before Rock walked into the neighborhood and sent the median household income the way of Lehmans.

Hard to believe such picturesque scenes are literally at the doorstep of the CBD.

Looking back at the city from Stanley Park. Yep, the man himself. He also has a rather famous cup named after him, so clearly he did something right.

Local culture in BC.

Maybe it doesn't quite make up for not having time to see the Golden Gate in SF, but still pretty darn cool. The 12km run around Stanley Park is somewhat challenging after too many days of room service, so any photo op, however contrived, is a welcome break.

Don't think that seaplanes have it all their own way on Vancouver Harbor. The big boys still have right of way.

Hang on, is that a beach? There's something seriously wrong with New York when even the Canadians are sunning themselves on the beach right about now. I mean, this is the city hosting the winter olympics and it's still warmer than NY...

Like every good Vancouver citizen, these locals are wondering where they're going to catch the next Canucks game.

Notice how this blog ends at Vancouver? That's 'cause the next stop was Denver...

The redcoats are coming!

Well, the redcoats were coming, but they got distracted by Chinatown. Appropriate really. This particular gate is conveniently located right next to the Boston bus stop, a portal to a steaming plate of dim sim.

Uh huh... Rock gets up close and personal with the local wildlife. Which is really the kind of thing best confined to that paddock behind Ag Hort.

The cool thing about Boston is there's history at every turn. The cool thing about this blog is you can hit the back button when the captions go downhill. That was your queue folks.

There's a lot of churches in Boston. In fact, it's a wonder they actually managed to spot those fabled latterns at all. One lattern or two? Uhm ok, but which steeple was it again?


Give me liberty or give me lobster! Mei puts Paul Revere's night ride to shame as she spots a steamed lobster in the distance.

This is where Patriots forged the foundations of this nation, long before they forged the foundations of the greatest choke in history when they blew the chance to go 17-0 and lift the Superbowl undefeated.



Come on chief. It's not that hard. You see that red line on the ground? It's called the Freedom Trail. All you have to do is put one foot in front of another and eventually you'll end up at Guantanamo Bay. Freedom mate, ya can't beat it.


Stand back ye! Don't make me remind you what I did to the last shipment from your part of the world. That's right honey, try the bottom of the harbor!


Ye shall raise one Starbucks if they approach by land, and two if they come by sea!


You did say they're coming by sea didn't you? Sorry mate, the line at Dunkin Donuts was pretty long eh. I think I missed the signal. Hey, have you tried those new hash browns? Pretty good eh? Now, where were we with those redcoats?

Somehow I don't think using Starbucks Iced Tea is an authentic recreation of the Boston Tea Party.

Veritas! Need I say more? Well actually yeah, you do, given your readership base is probably using Harvard Crimson to keep a steaming heap of Fishtown chips warm.

Harvard Business School. What other business school claim such financial luminaries as John Thain (Merrill Lynch, -$58.1 billion) and Richard Wagoner (GM, -$82 billion). No wonder they say a Harvard MBA puts you in a class of your own.

But by golly they have a nice campus. Must be nice to kick up the feet in front of the roaring fire in the great hall on a cold Boston day with some fellow alumni and swap war stories from out there in the real world. "I tell ya Dick, bit of a stressful day today. The golf club mixed up my booking and I had to wait 15 minutes for my tee time! Can you believe it? Do they know who I am? And to top it all off, they tell me I can't take the Jetstream to Maui tomorrow! Something about some kind of crisis or something? But at least things got better from there. The CFO tells me we only lost like 40 billion this quarter, so the ol' bonus should be in the bank. But don't let me bore you with my life, how much did you lose?"

Don't let the sunnies fool you - they're there to keep the biting frigid wind from freezing your eyeballs in their sockets.

Don't let this caption fool you - it doens't actually say anything.

Alan Shore! Now let me just craft a perfectly timed closing argument that will sway the jury to its implausible conclusion, so that I can go and kick back on the balcony and share a scotch and a flamingo suit with Captain Kirk.


Hey, where can I get the collector's edition White Light Sabre?

See what I mean about the churches?

Top of the Pru. This is the one time Rock can actually look down on MIT. Hur hur hur.

Fenway Park. Home of the World Champion Red Sox. Funny how the world only extends as far as you can drive your Hummer.


The churches versus Dunkin Donuts count is running neck and neck.

Beacon Hill, one of the most expensive neighborhoods in the country. John Hancock lived here. So did Robert Frost. Apparently John Kerry does too. Sometimes. He's still deciding.