Wake the - expletive deleted - up!

Since TinRoof is off in Italy with a friend, my evenings have been a bit quiet. So tonight I've decided to finally blog about our camping trip. I figure this way I won't be distracted by blogging whilst at work tomorrow.

Our caravan left Friday night from CVille around 7pm. The crew consisted of TR and I, Marina, Rojas and his roommates and ex-roommates. (Rojas is a friend from NU days - as well as former roommate of mine). The drive was supposed to take 2 and a half hours and bring us into West Virginia. All was going smoothly until shortly after we crossed the state line. About 5 or 10 miles into WV, we came upon a backup. As most people's cars were already turned off, we decided to stretch our legs and to investigate what the hold up was. The rumor going around was that a forest fire was blocking the road ahead. I'm still not sure that I buy this, but who knows. And yet, it was also impossible to tell how far the backup stretched as it was wound around the mountains. We decided to trek down and attempt to gain a visual. But on the way we ran into someone returning from a similar journey who advised we turn back as he'd walked at least a mile with no end to the backup in sight.

Finally we decide to turn the caravan around and attempt another route into WV. TinRoof, being a transportation guru, charted our course and our car led the charge. After heading East and crossing back into VA, then South for a bit, we once again drove West towards WV. A few miles from the border, the road began to narrow. Eventually the centerline ceased to exist. All the while the roadside vegetation grew taller and wilder. The road began to ascend up and around a mountain. Although I was admittedly nervous, I remained calm(ish). That is, until the road reduced to a single lane. Yet we pressed on. TinRoof remained confident the road would lead us to WV. Instead, it led us somewhere none of us expected. To a dead end at the top of a mountain. Not just any mountain either. We later discovered this was Reddish Knob. The 2nd highest peak in Virginia. Bear in mind it was around 11:30 at this point. So we did as you might expect. We set up camp.

After a cozy few hours by the fire, the collective decided to turn in. The sky was beautiful and the air was wonderfully cool so sleep came quickly. Unfortunately it was not meant to last. Not long after 5am we were awakened by the sound of a pickup driving up the mountain. After reaching the roundabout, its driver performed a few donuts. I assumed they too had gotten lost or perhaps were just coming up to quietly watch the sunrise. My assumption was shattered by thundering country music and the piercing screeches of several drunken teenage girls.

Woooooo hooooooo!
Wake the f*** up, mother-f***ers!!

I kid you not. Suddenly our entire campsite was awake. Well, except for Sam who inexplicably slept... nay, snored... through the entire ordeal. Now I must admit, the hick, er, gentleman's sound system was actually quite impressive. Terribly loud and crystal clear. And yet as song after song bellowed from the enormous truck (they never let a song play for more than a minute or two), I began plotting these youngsters' demise. The last straw was when they played Cotton-Eye Joe. If somehow it turns out that I have been wrong regarding my choice of religion, I imagine I will find Cotton Eye Joe playing in Hell for all eternity. However as I suggested to some of the other gents that we confront these fools, I was reminded of one key fact I'd forgotten. We were just miles from West Virginia, and these kids are drunk and blasting country music. It doesn't take a rocket scientist (which I am) to figure they probably have guns. So we decided to let them be. Thankfully for us, it was not too much later that they departed. According to one of the girls, she had to be home before 6am because "my daddy wakes up at 6".

In the morning we were greeted with a breathtaking 360 view. We enjoyed our breakfast and I unleashed some of my mad camping skills by introducing biscuits on a stick. (You cook biscuits over the fire on a 5/8th inch dowel rod. Then the biscuit shell is of perfect size to fit a campfire sausage into.) Finally, we packed up and made our way to Seneca Rocks, WV (via the original route which was now clear). The rest of the weekend was much more ideal. We climbed, swam, played catch, roasted anything that was edible, and whittled. Here are a few pictures from the weekend.

TinRoof and I atop Reddish Knob. Not a bad view behind us considering we stumbled on it by accident.
Seneca Rocks. We hiked to the very top.

A couple of us checking out the peak.
The Rojas and I at the observation deck atop Seneca Rocks.

Feet down, coming out

That's what they would yell at us at the end of each parabola. Basically it let us know that we would be experiencing Gs in a few seconds and we had better get our feet on the ground; otherwise we'd be slammed down wherever we were floating. Honestly though, my feet still have yet to touch the ground.

I made it back to CVille late Saturday night after two looong days of driving. I still can't quite get a handle on what I've just gotten to do. This was an experience I'll be telling my grandkids about. Of course by then they'll be like, "So what, Old Man? I was weightless in the hover-bus on my way to school this morning!" What I'm trying to say is that this was a truly incredible experience - one that I'm having trouble putting into words (let alone humorous, entertaining words). I think I will have to let the pictures and videos speak for themselves (once I get a hold of them). I can tell you some of the specifics though. For example, here's a typical reduced gravity trajectory...
This picture shows one parabola. At the top of each parabola we'd get about 25 seconds of weightlessness. Over four days of flying we did exactly 200 parabolas. (For those doing the math... that's about an hour and 20 minutes of 0-g.) Also, you might have noticed that between each parabola (we'd usually do 10-12 in a row) we would rise and fall about 10,000 feet. I flipped when I realized that this is nearly 2 miles! Imagine a roller coaster with a 2-mile vertical drop and that's about what this was like.

I'm sure I'll have more to say on this later - but for now I've got to get some more work done before dinner. I'm supremely behind after having been out of town all week. Ah well, who cares.

By the by - for those of you wondering - I did not get sick once on the Vomit Comet.

Physiological Training (Episode 3)

Our final chamber test involved experiencing rapid decompression. Imagine for a moment you are flying on an airplane at 15000 feet (lower than most commercial planes actually fly). Since it's imaginary, I'd recommend avoiding Jet Blue. Perhaps imagine British Airways, I hear they're nice. The cabin is pressurized to a comfortable 500 feet. Suddenly, there are snakes everywhere... I mean... suddenly someone opens a window because they're an idiot (never mind asking who built a plane with windows that open - I'm sure it wasn't an American company) and cabin pressurization is instantly lost. Essentially that's what happened; except that since we were on the ground, they achieved this by pressurizing two different chambers at the altitudes mentioned above and unexpectedly blowing the door in between the chambers.

A couple fun facts regarding rapid decompression:

1. Everything that I've previously described for higher altitudes occurs just the same... just... rapidly. (for example, it gets super cold super quick)
2. Due to the sudden drop in temperature, the water in the air condenses into a fog cloud in the room, which then rushes out in a gust of air.
3. After the initial gust of equilibration, there is no continual sucking. Movies that show people clinging for dear life are inaccurate.
4. Rapid decompression cuts your TUC in half. Therefore - if you're flying at 35K feet and experience this - you've got about 15 seconds before you're an idiot (if you aren't one already). Good luck with that.

Good times. It was also at this point in the training we learned the term gangload. It seems that in such a scenario, you want to gangload your regulator before putting on your oxygen mask. To make things simple for ya'll - gangload means "flip all three switches up". Another moment in which I found humor and the air force guys found none.

Having reached the end of the chamber portion of my tale, enjoy this really old school video of some hypoxia demonstrations and rapid decompressions. Although this is an ancient clip, it isn't entirely dissimilar to what we experienced...

The 2nd day of our training was much shorter and spent entirely in the classroom. We got to learn some interesting things regarding night vision, but my favorite section was on G-LOC. G-LOC stands for gravitational loss of consciousness. Essentially it means that a pilot is pulling so many Gs that all the blood rushes to his feet and he blacks out. Here again we got to see a video montage of fighter pilots in a centrifuge G-LOCing. The weird part is the recovery. You can almost see the blood return to their upper body, extremities, and head. And they always feel just fine after. Still, there are ways to combat G-LOC including the G-strain maneuver. Basically it involves a lot of muscle tension and unnatural breathing to resist your blood's exodus to your feet. We saw videos of pilots using such techniques to pull up to 9 Gs for 30 seconds at a time. Wild, wild stuff.

Here's another old school clip of what I mean. Be sure to check out the second guy. He gets up to 9 Gs and carries on a conversation at the same time.

Well, that about wraps things up. As you can tell, it was a full 2 days. Hopefully, more adventure posts will be coming soon. This Wednesday night I'll be doing a sleep study - so maybe I can post my brain wave patterns or something. And in 2 weeks, we're scheduled to take a ride on the Vomit Comet. In the meantime, what say we get back to talking about cinnamon rolls.

Physiological Training (Episode 2)

Sorry it's taken so long to get the second installment out (btw - this will be a trilogy). But at least it hasn't been as long as we've waited for January Madness stories (if they exist).

After peaking at 35000 feet, we descended down to 25000. At this altitude it's still very cold. And a person's time of useful consciousness (TUC) is on average between 3 and 5 minutes. So I was understandably a little nervous when they instructed us to take off our oxygen masks. The idea was to be without O2 for long enough to experience and recognize our personal hypoxia symptoms. They also split us into two groups (one on each side of the chamber) so that we could objectively observe the symptoms of hypoxia in others.

They also gave us a worksheet which we were to do as hypoxia began its onset. I've scanned mine and posted it here. I find it quite hilarious. Quantum especially will enjoy noting that I only completed three of the five math problems. The fact that I couldn't do math (and got horribly lost in the worksheet maze) was probably my first clue that I was hypoxic. But I also experienced this crazy tingling all over my body - and not the good kind. So finally - after 5 and a half minutes without oxygen - I put my mask back on. I would point out that I was the last to do so in my group - but it wasn't a contest. But if it had been, I'd have won.

After recovering (which takes only about 20 seconds when breathing 100% oxygen), we got to sit back and watch the guys on the other side of the chamber do the same stunt. The guy across from me got so light urple and blue that he reminded me of Violet Beuregarde (from Willy Wonka). The guy next to him though was the only one of the lot of us who passed his TUC before putting his mask back on. Since he didn't pass out or die or anything, I think I'm allowed to say that it was kind of awesome. I had noticed he quit working on his sheet awhile ago. Then I saw his hand start to spasm. Soon his arm began to shake. At this point, the flight commander had noticed and - I might add - took the time to point out to all of us what was going on. By the time the commander put the man's mask on for him, the guy's whole upper body was rocking out. Twenty seconds later, he felt fine, but didn't remember a single thing.

After everyone had had a chance to recover, we began our descent to 18000 feet. At this altitude, the average TUC is probably 30 minutes. Once again they asked us to drop our oxygen masks. Further, they dimmed all the lights in the chamber and gave us a chart with some pictures and color wheels and whatnot. The goal here was to notice how our vision degraded over time as a low-grade hypoxia set on. All I can tell you is - a lot. At the end of the demonstration, we put our masks back on, and they brought the lights back up and I saw all sorts of colors and details on the chart that I had totally forgotten were there. My recommendation to you all, do not operate heavy machinery (or fly any form of aircraft - including fighter jets) while hypoxic.

On the startling conclusion of Physiological Training - rapid decompression and the definition of the term Gangload.

Physiological Training (Episode 1)

So much to tell; infinite blogspace to tell it in. The high altitude physiological training at Andrews AFB this week was a blast. I learned a lot and had fun (despite being scared as well). Class began at 7 am Monday morning. Primarily we learned about hypoxia. Hypoxia is essentially an oxygen deficiency to your blood and brain. It can cause many symptoms which can differ from person to person and can lead to loss of consciousness and ultimately death. Now, at high altitudes pressure decreases. Therefore, with each breath you are actually taking in less oxygen than at normal pressure - this causes hypoxia. The idea behind our training was to allow us to learn about hypoxia and recognize the situations and symptoms which could lead to its onset. We also learned how to avert its dangers (so as not to die).

One of the main concepts we learned during the morning classes was the "time of useful consciousness" or TUC. When someone passes their TUC, they do not immediately pass out; rather, they becomes unresponsive and basically... useless. Also, they get a big stupid grin on their face. Since at higher altitudes there is less oxygen in each breath you take, a person's TUC decreases as elevation increases. At 35000 feet for example - where most commercial planes fly - the average time of useful consciousness is 30-60 seconds. Thank God for cabin pressurization! At 25000 ft. the average TUC is 3-5 minutes. Keep in mind: this is the altitude at which they had us take our oxygen masks off. But we'll get to that later.

Easily the most entertaining part of the class came when we got to watch videos of people (in a controlled environment) going hypoxic and passing their TUC. My favorite video was of a hypoxic man who had been given a deck of cards which he was to look at, show, and name one at a time. The exchange went something like this...

[Man shows 4 of clubs]
Man: 4 of spades.
Flight Doc: Look at that one again. Are you sure?
[Man looks again and shows]
Man: 4 of spades.
[Man puts down card and draws 8 of hearts]
Man: 4 of spades.
[Man puts down card and does not draw a new one, but displays an empty hand as though he were holding a card.]
Man: 4 of spades.
Flight Doc: Sir, can you describe what you're feeling?
Man: 4 of spades.

I absolutely lost it while watching this video. Of course, I felt slightly like a schmuck because none of the air force guys in the training were laughing - but whatever. Unfortunately there are no hypoxia videos quite this funny on YouTube.

After lunch the real fun began. We entered the chamber. After checking our oxygen equipment and pre-breathing oxygen for a half-hour (so as to avoid the bends) we began our ascent up to 35000 feet. Along the way, I learned a couple of things. First of all, remember all that pV = nRT nonsense you learned in high school chem? Definitely true. For one thing, as pressure decreases (which it did greatly during ascent) temperature decreases. By the time we got to 35K feet, I was freezing my nips off. The other crazy thing is that as pressure decreases, volume increases. Now before you go thinking I'm a dork for telling you all this, think for a moment about the gas contained in your stomach and bowels. As you go from sea level to 35000 feet, that gas expands like crazy. So, needless to say, there are absolutely no social graces in the altitude chamber when it comes to flatulence. And I absolutely will not admit that I had Taco Bell for lunch that day. Thankfully we couldn't hear or smell a thing.
Here's probably the weirdest thing that happened on our way up: when a person goes above roughly 26000 feet, their breathing cycle reverses. Allow me to explain. Currently, when you breath, you have to actively (even if practically subconsciously) take a breath in, but the breath out happens passively as a reaction to the fact that you have full lungs. Above a certain altitude though, the reverse is the case. At this point, air is forced into your lungs with no effort whatsoever and you have to forcefully exhale. (Did I make sense?) It was so freaky. It took me a while to get the hang of it actually and I think I started to hyperventilate a bit.

On the next episode of Physiological Training, descent to 25,000 feet and the dropping of the oxygen masks. Stay tuned.

Mace and Space

Can I just tell you that this has been a totally crazy week? Now, I'm not a terribly big fan of just blogging "today I did this" and "tomorrow I'm going to do that", but some of these stories are entertaining or at least unique - so I share them now. Side note: Keep your eye on the blog for a YouTube video clip bonanza....coming soon!

So the other day, a buddy of mine got sprayed in the face with mace. Seriously. And he wasn't even attacking anyone! Actually it was a dude who sprayed him. The way he tells it, he pulled out onto the road just as someone was making a right hand turn at a nearby red light. The person should have stopped and then proceeded, but rather just went ahead and turned as though the light were green. This led them to think my friend had cut them off. In his rear-view mirror, my friend sees the driver shouting and flailing about. At the next light, she pulls up next to him. So he rolls down his window thinking they're going to exchange words. But before anything is said, the driver's boyfriend shakes up a can of mace and blasts my friend in the eyes!! Do you believe that?! Who does that? Even if he had cut them off - is this an appropriate response? Good lord!

In other news, I've finally been blowing things up this week at work. Like, for real blowing things up. Not just modeling the blowing up of things with "columns of numbers" (as Quantum is fond of saying). I spent some time this week learning the experimental procedure for the work that hopefully will validate my models. It included firing a laser at a paper (burning tiny holes in said paper) and then firing the laser at tiny carbon particles until they blew up. We got to watch it all on a high speed camera. The best part is, firing the laser is done by pressing a giant red button which then emits a terrifically satisfying beeping noise. I must say, I almost felt like an actual, honest-to-god engineer. Of course the real fun has yet to come. Some time in the next few months, we'll be taking the rig to NASA Houston to fly it on the Vomit Comet so we can blow particles up in microgravity! I'm quite looking forward to experiencing zero-g and believe you me I'll blog plenty about it (hopefully with pictures included).

Unfortunately though these flights have basically ruined my performance opportunities. The flights were originally scheduled for this month, but we have been postponed until March - likely preventing me from accepting the role in Company as well as preventing an escape to Chicago. I'll admit I'm disappointed, but I suppose when God closes a door he opens a window.

Finally, I had my audition today for the radio-style-play gig I mentioned. It went decent I suppose but I don't expect to get the part. The crazy thing is that the woman I read with had driven all the way from Baltimore for the audition! That's nearly three hours! Yee-ikes is all I gots to say.

So....uh....enjoy the weekend!