Stand and Deliver

I coordinated a 21 square meter stand at the ICT Expo in Brussels from Sunday until Wednesday this week. It went well. All of the demos were successful, we distributed a lot of literature and met a lot of people, and had some nice meetings and discussions. Here are some pictures.



The Expo location in Brussels. Note the sky color.



Our stand in Brussels. 21 square meters.



Felip Miralles, the coordinator of BrainAble, who joined us at our stand. He holds a box of Mozart chocolates, which also joined us at our stand, but not for long. I had to ask Christa to bring extras, which she did, and also did not last long.



A BCI User at our stand playing World of Warcraft. Note you can barely see she's wearing anything on her head - this is the whole point of new electrode systems.



Busy stand!



Another visitor to our stand uses the Intendix BCI speller from g.tec



She spelled the name of her company (Space Applications) with 100% accuracy! No training or screening. She was chosen randomly and never used any BCI before. She also spelled her name with 100% accuracy, but I did not get a picture of that.



ScratchBot, a curiously named robot presented at a stand near us. The yellow things are whiskers, since the system is modeled after a rat.

Brussels Pouts III

Greetings from Munich airport, where I am delighted to have made it out of Brussels. Brussels was true to form. As before, the metro was badly overcrowded, with people shoving to get on and then reposition. There was no circulation at all, leaving it smoggy and very hot. With everyone in the car sweating like cattle, you can imagine how this was for me, in a full suit. The metro line to the Expo, which was hosting our event with 6000 people, ran once per 12 minutes during rush hour. They had an airline strike on Tuesday that took out three of the eight speakers I scheduled for my networking session yesterday, and a general transportation strike on Wednesday that delayed another one until half an hour before it ended. I’m rather pleased our 90 minute session went as well as it did. For that matter, our 21 square meter stand also did pretty well, and the ICT Expo seems to have been successful overall, both for our team and for many other attendees. Many of whom, like me, will be “rewarded” for successful grant writing with: more trips to Brussels!

And we got dissed by the Belgian prince. He was at the Expo on Monday, and saw some of our friends’ stands. Ours was bigger (21 square meters was a lot), better (five different BCIs that the prince could have used), and had considerably more staff, some of whom spoke both French and Flemish. They spoke Flemish because they are Dutch, which is in fact the same language, but Belgians like to call it Flemish to confuse Americans. So the Prince could have played World of Warcraft with his brain, or spelled, or other things, but didn’t. We were miffed. It reminded me of 2 years ago at CeBIT, when we were told to prepare for Frau Doktor Merkel, and she turned around after coming quite close to us. Perhaps the Belgian prince also did not want gel in his hair, but (unlike 2 years ago) we had numerous dry electrode systems there.

Brussels does have some good (though overpriced) food, and excellent (and often reasonably priced) beer. Many parks and cool old buildings. Perhaps not a bad city as long as you don’t have to travel within it. Probably a nice city 2 million people ago. Like Los Angeles, I guess, which has a far worse mass transit system but dramatically better weather.

But I am beyond that now, in the huge Munich airport, which I generally like because (like Frankfurt, and no other airport I know), they have free hot drinks and a generous supply of numerous different free newspapers. The Allianz lounge here has free decent chairs and free electricity, though not free internet. They have a Hofbrauhaus in Terminal 2, which I think might also be in Munich. Most importantly, since I flew through Frankfurt on my way to Brussels a few days ago, I could finally attain new insight in to the maddening mystery of the urinal flies.

As mentioned many posts ago, Frankfurt airport had little flies in urinals in the mens’ restrooms. This shatters any stereotypes about the German sense of humor. (Bonus points if they put any in the womens’ restrooms. Does anyone know? I almost checked, but I doubt that scientific curiosity would have been an adequate legal defense.) I was heartbroken to see that the urinal flies were no longer there, at least around the A gates, because I really wanted to succeed where I failed before. No matter how hard I tried, I could never budge one of those little buggers. They must have super suction cups on their feet or something.

I entered one of the bathrooms here in the G gates in Munich airport. There they were! Urinal flies in every urinal, right at the aiming point! Yay! Lemme at ‘em!! They defied me again, and I had numerous cups of (free) tea before giving them another shot, and they still held on. The German reputation for tenacity is alive and well in their urinal flies. I complemented a passing Lufthansa pilot, but am pretty sure he did not appreciate it.

But I still couldn’t figure out why the migration occurred. Why would the urinal flies leave Frankfurt for Munich? Do flies like spätzle? Do flies like hiking too? Do they prefer that south German accent over HochDeutsch? Perhaps Bavarian cows drop tastier food? Are they migrating to Salzburg, or maybe even Graz? It was really bothering me until I passed a sign advertising that airport Hofbrauhaus. Of course!! It is now late September! The flies are here for Oktoberfest! And what a fest they must be having, getting kiloliters of free alcohol-soaked urine from thousands of tourists per day. (I heard that the occasional German even comes to Oktoberfest.)

It also provides a workable plan on how to finally pry one of those clinging little bastards off. All we have to do is put tape over one urinal and an “Ausser Betrieb” sign on it, then put a cup over the fly. After a while, he will get thirsty and leave of his own volition, and then we got him!! I am so excited, I could almost, well, go visit the flies again. But instead, I will go find that Lufthansa pilot, who will surely be far more enthusiastic about my genius after he hears my plan.

"Did you hear about the two flies who were having an argument on a toilet seat? One of them got mad, and the other one got pissed off."

The Buck Chomps Here

Been particularly busy since returning from the US. Most of my online posting has been here, to the page of our website with the conference I host next week:

http://future-bnci.org/index.php?option=com_content&view=category&layout=blog&id=84&Itemid=87

Another reason is that I just haven't outgrown the Munson bear feeding story. It already occupied two blog posts, months ago, and I had ample intervening time to think up something more appropriate. But it still seems like the funniest thing I could write about. Anyway.

I'll move to a totally different topic and report on feeding a buck in Colorado. It was literally my last hour before leaving for the flight. I had found some rotting apples in the street 3 weeks ago, which would not have caught my attention before last year. But, as chronic blog readers know, last year, I realized that apples (even rotting ones) can be transformed into a wonderful and totally illegal deer hand feeding experience. I chased a doe and her fawn around that day but failed to get their attention. Interestingly, deer have very little interest in rolling objects. I tried to first woo the doe by rolling apples at her. It is much harder than playing with dogs. Dogs will eagerly track and follow a ball anywhere. Deer don't pay attention to any rolling object more than 5-10 feet from their heads. After a few tries, I managed to land one right next to her left foreleg, which broke the ice. I did then hand feed her, but had no camera. So all I got later was this:



The timid doe.

So, I was sitting on the deck on my last day of Colorado, and saw a particularly majestic buck go by. Really pretty antlers. So I followed my usual approach algorithm. Turns out it is much easier to roll apples to a precise location on grass, as opposed to a solid dirt road.



Velvet buck approaches. Nice rack!




Trying to figure out whether the camera will shoot him. Well, my friend, that depunds.




Consummation




Post-prandial laugh. I think he liked the dinner theater.



Velvet buck, after first feeding, with Twin Peaks in the background.





(Brief aside - this is a picture from that mountain, Twin Peaks, which I had hiked the previous week.)

After this first feeding, I grabbed my brother to get some third person pictures. I was almost out of apples, so I decicded to try feeding some other miscellaneous fruits. These included a banana, and raspberries and other berries from my hike the last week with my brother:



Steve with wild raspberries we found (and ate) on the Neosho Mine hike.




Wild raspberries and aster flowers, ibid.



Raspberry bush, ibid.



Velvet buck - Second approach



Velvet buck eating an apple



Velvet buck pondering cranberries



Velvet buck rejects cranberries! Good boy.



Velvet buck ponders banana.



Velvet buck tries banana.

Turns out the buck did not go for the banana. Next time, I will try peeling it. You know, next time I forge a punch of pictures on Photoshop and joke about feeding wild deer, which would of course be illegal. And it would introduce a certain hypocrisy for mocking Mrs. Munson and other bear feeders.

The Tragedy of the Scented Scarf

Scene: A large cave, well lit by torches. An elderly bear sits on a massive aspen throne, wearing a wooden crown and antler shoulder pauldrons and a regal golden cape. He also wears the typical long white wool wig of a judge. Before him are a bespectacled middle aged bear and a trembling adolescent bear. A twelve bear jury is seated behind them. All are silent as Judge LordBear speaks, his voice deep but kind.

"Troubled Youngbear. You have been brought here due to allegations of inappropriate behavior with Nice Old Lady. How plead you?"

"Not guilty, LordBear."

"Troubled Youngbear. Let me be frank. There seems undeniable prima facie evidence that, as four of your brothers have accused, that you are indeed guilty. And specifically, that you ate Nice Old Lady's scarf. What say you?"

"Excuse me, LordBear," said the Bespectacled Chill Lawyerbear. "But no evidence against my client has been presented, and I must-"

"Silence, Lawyerbear!" roared LordBear, pounding his paw on his throne. "We know you visiting Lawyerbears from Humboldt have different ways, more freedom in their courts. But we will not accept it here. And no puns in my court. Bear puns are too easy. Now. Youngbear, you have a piece of blue thread trailing from underneath your tail. What say you?"

"Um."

"It is the same color as Nice Old Lady's scarf."

"Um. Yes, LordBear."

"Youngbear, this court has no time for such dishonesty. Now, you know what the Badgemen will do. They will hunt you with the Sleepsticks. They will put one Gay Tag in your ear. Who knows what else they do while you sleep. They will leave you quite far away, many days' journey from the Secret Meeting Place. And then there is the matter of justice before your fellow bears. We had a hard time choosing a fair jury of brown and black bears, for Nice Old Lady is beloved in our community. The judgment may be harsh."

"Yes, LordBear."

"Your honor, may I speak?"

"Yes, Laywerbear."

"Sir, there may be an alternate way to prevent the Badgemen from assaulting my client. In Humboldt, the local hippies are very sympathetic to bears, and they allow some leeway in their legal system. What we can do is-"

"We attack! We eat the Badgemen!" Troubled Youngbear rose and looked around the room for support, but the jury only shuddered.

"Silence, Troubled Youngbear!" LordBear angrily pounded both paws on his throne. "You will not even speak of that in this courtroom! The Badgemen also have Ouchsticks. Then you do not wake up. They have millions more Badgemen who will slaughter us for the mere association! They will- Youngbear, why are you trembling?"

"Um, I, um, I'm just so scared here in court, I-"

"Your honor, I do so apologize for this outburst," said Lawyerbear, putting his paw over his client's mouth. "I trust that my far more reasonable proposal may be aired before the court?" LordBear nodded. "Sirs, our laywers in Humboldt have learned of a powerful scroll called an Injunction. We can petition the local SPCA to prevent the assault on the grounds that my client has already endured a troubled youth, and would be further scarred by a forced relocation."

"Very well, Lawyerbear, but this theft and consumption will still anger the Badgemen."

"Please, LordBear, I have a plan. Youngbear, you said earlier that you smelled honey sauce?"

"Yes."

"And Nice Old Lady is known for feeding gourmet treats to local bears?"

"Yes. She made braised venison with cherry honey sauce demiglace and it was really good! And, and then she gave me some more, and some more. But I was still feeling a little peckish, and, and so-"

"And so you ate her scarf because you were hungry?"

"Yes."

"And you smelled honey sauce?"

"Yes."

"And the sauce may have been on the scarf?" Several members of the jury looked at each other, impressed. Even LordBear nodded sagely as Lawyerbear smugly continued. "So you just were hungry for more sauce? And as she left the scarf unattended, hanging on the laundry line, you thought it may have been a gift for you? Right?"

"Um. Uh. Right. Yes, that's right, sir." Yet LordBear frowned, for he could smell a lie.

"Youngbear! I think you are lying to this court again. And we will remember it when we dispense our bear justice." Many jurors nodded. "But now, we must apologize to Nice Old Lady. Fortunately, she has fed me many years, and when she took that sabbatical from cooking at El Bulli, I even assisted her in some dishes. So we shall go apologize now."

"Um. Sir, LordBear, I can't - I mean, we-"

LordBear's face softened. "You cannot apologize to Nice Old Lady?"

"No, sir."

"Well, Youngbear, I am proud of you. For it is right that you should be so ashamed of your actions that you cannot apologize. It shows that you are growing, and learning of responsibility. But you must go, for it is vital to become a less troubled young bear, and soon a recovering young adult bear."

"LordBear, I, um, I...." There was a sudden loud sound as the nervous young bear sprayed the chamber with terrified evacuation. Several jurors were covered, and Lawyerbear put his head in his hands.

"Youngbear!" screamed LordBear, rising and then thudding his whole body into the throne. "You have fouled this chamber!"

"I'm sorry, sir, I'm so sorry!"

"Please, LordBear, my client was so scared, and this only proves the sincerity of his remorse, and-"

"What's that glittering thing over there?" LordBear pointed to one of the jurors, a black and brown bear with something gleaming stuck in her fur.

"Oh Great LordBear," said one of the jurors, "it seems to be an earring."

"Bring it here!" She did so, and LordBear then fixed his gaze on Youngbear. "This looks like Nice Old Lady's earring!"

"Sir, I'm sorry, I-"

"Lawyerbear! You should inform your client that he may be due for a double Gay Tag. Two strikes!"

"Youngbear, this is very serious," said Lawyerbear. "Two tags! Do you understand?"

"No, sir."

"Well. You youngbears follow soccer, right? The World Cup was big news. You saw it, right?" Youngbear nodded. "Remember when I explained that one Gay Tag is like a yellow card? Now, you will have two of them! No leeway!"

"Yes, sir."

"You have to avoid people from now on! And- wait. Is there anything else should know?"

Youngbear shuddered. LordBear stood up, roared, and lumbered down from his throne to yell at YoungBear. "Speak! Out with it! What else did you eat from Nice Old Lady's property?"

"Um."

"Speak!"

"Well, look, I was still hungry, and my widsom tooth really hurt, and Cute Wigglyrump went off with some other bear, and the honey sauce smelled really good, and so I, well, everyone was talking about all the different food, and I wanted something too, and I, well-"

"Dude!"

Youngbear looked guiltily at Lawyerbear. "I mean, young sir. Please detail the full scope of your interaction with Nice Old Lady. Did you eat some of her food that she didn't offer to you?"

"Yes. Well, I mean, sort of."

"What did you eat?"

"Um. Her. Sir."

"Dude!" Lawyerbear slumped back in his chair. "You ate a bit of Nice Old Lady?"

"Yes."

"How much?"

"Enough."

"Huh?"

"Most."

The room as silent for a moment, and then the entire jury began looking at each other nervously and chatting. Lawyerbear stood up and slowly backed out of the room. "Esteemed sirs. Your honor, distinguished jurors, unknown young bear. Clearly, I have been to the wrong cave. Please accept my humble apologies as I promptly depart." He turned around and shot out of the room, followed by twelve terrified jurors. The room was then silent again.

"Youngbear?" asked the judge. "Do you understand what this means?"

"Like a yellow card?"

"No, Youngbear. Not even a red card. The Badgemen have the death penalty even for suspicion of association with mankillers. You. Me. Some of them. All dead. Just a matter of time."

"I'm sorry, LordBear."

(Long silence.)

"How did she taste?"

The scene goes dark as a gunshot is heard, followed by a muffled thud.

Lunch with Badge Man

Two pictures from a hike this morning. No bears are visible.


Last summer, when I was out in Colorado, I explained how a bear becomes a bad bear. A bear that digs through trash, lumbers too close to humans, or ignores the ample "Bear left" road signs and ambles into traffic, or otherwise seems just a bit too unafraid of our species, gets sedated and dragged to the middle of nowhere, with an ear tag as a souvenir. The second time, the bear earns another ear tag. The third - well, bears have only two ears, and not nine lives, and certainly no lawyers. So the third time a bear gets too chummy, they make damn sure it is his last.

Sadly, the injustices against the ursine community were fur-ther laid bear during a recent lunch with Uncle Junior, the local sheriff. I should preface our exchange with background information about a local who was an animal lover. She loved the local animals. Like our beloved old next door neighbor, Helen, she loved to feed the crows. Like many residents, including us, she had a hummingbird feeder. Like many people, she loved to feed other birds. Like some people, she also loved to feed the chipmunks. Oh, and also, she loved to feed the bears.

You think you know where this is going, don't you? You think that lady has to be nuts, and there's something berry fishy in that bear diet coming up: her. You think our local black bears are just wild animals, and would maul her the moment her picnic basket ran dry. You think I'd be amused by such black humor, by the pandamonium that any tail of feeding a bear must en-tail. You think I'm the kind of person who would not even paws before mocking a whole polar system just to try to paint a kodiak moment or write a witty claws.

But you don't know me. You don't know where my story is going. Yes, she really did feed the bears. A lot. And no, they were not mindless savages. She had many bear friends. Local bears knew her and would visit her regularly to be fed. Routinely, bears would go to her home and eat from her and leave peacefully. So there.

One year, the local ranger visited her home. He dropped a bombshell: feeding bears is a bad idea. And there was more: she should stop! She kindly thanked the ranger, but continued feeding the bears.

You think the story gets grizzly, but don't pooh-pooh it yet. She remained ungashed for another year. Not the least boo boo. Bears grew up and told their honeys about her, and the excited bears and their hyper mates beelined to her home. He kindness would in-cub-ate another generation of baby bears, whatever they are called. End of story. So there.

*************************************************************************************

Oh, so anyway, back to that other story. "Hey Junior," I said.

"Yeah?"

"Heard you were first on the scene at that bear eating."

"Oh, yeah. That was last year."

"Luck finally ran out, huh?"

"Yeah."

"And it was a full-fledged eating? Not a biting, or mauling, or even eviscerating?"

"Yeah."

"So that's like instant three tags, right? They hunt that bear down immediately?"

"Yeah. Well, I did."

"You shot the offending bear?"

"Yeah. We had to get three of them."

"Three bears ate her?"

"No, but it takes a while for Animal Conttol to verify the right bear. And until then, there may be a dangerous animal out there."

This seemed quite reasonable to me. I mean, I think the safety of humans should indeed be prioritized way, way over bears'. But others may disagree, and hence we have the tale immediately following this casual exchange.

Star Alliance Bold

Three hours after I posted my last blog entry, from my hotel. The trip to Heathrow was uneventful. The Lufthansa terminal had signs advertising that they usually a security line of less than 5 minutes. Great, I thought. Cleverly, they did not mention any stats about how long it took to get through the security line. It took over an hour to check in and drop off my bag.

I was then wandering around and noticed the tantalizing sign "Star Alliance Gold Lounge." I don't know how many frequent flyer miles I am from that lounge, but it is more than two. I also noticed the winning combination of a long line and overstressed employees checking ID of people to get in. Hm. One of them was complaining that they wouldn't let him in because he is only silver, creating further distraction. I guessed that I could just stroll right in there if I stand up straight, avoid contact, and look officious and confident. So here I am.

Someday, I hope to get used to such lounges, so I can look back and laugh at how pleased I was way back in the day. At the moment, I am pretty pleased, all the more so because I snuck in. The area has comfy chairs, free newspapers, and free coffee and tea. This is nice, but so far, no better than the international terminal in Frankfurt is (or was). But the lounge here has fancier, more flexible coffee machines, with more drink choices, and also more tea options. And more comfy chairs, and waiter service. Why waiters? They also have:


Grolsch blond on tap.
several beers and ciders.
several bottles of wine.
several varieties of hard liquor.
water, coke, soda, etc.
apple and orange juice
shower rooms
free laptop area
free internet and charging
free newspapers
free magazines (shitty ones)
childrens play area
croissants, cereal with milk, fresh fruit
sandwiches with fresh bacon or sausage
good coffee machines, with cookies
lots of gourmet tea
nice chairs and decorations
and absolutely nobody questioning me.

Of course, in a way, my experience is just what the Star Alliance wants. I'm motivated to get more FF miles, and am telling numerous loyal readers about it. Yes! Get more FF miles. Or, consider the alternate plan I propose here. In the worst case, they tell you to leave. And of course, this tale is purely hypothetical, like anything that I write that could be remotely used against me. The (hypothetical) fact that I am violating my usual prohibition on 2 posts in the same day just so I can post this from inside the lounge is irrelevant. Not worth the trouble to trace the IP, which would provide ironclad proof of my so-called misdemeanor.

Now for the fun part - walking out.

Londone

Yesterday was a pleasant and full London day. The hotel serves a full English breakfeast every morning, and I got some of that with labmate Josef and 2 colleagues from Barcelona. The four of us then walked quite far from our Strand Palace Hotel, through Trafalgar Square and Hyde Park, thus seeing numerous sights along the way, then walked around the museums of science and natural history before we had to head back to the hotel so they could get back to Barcelona.

I expressed to the cabbie, quite sincerely, how disappointed I was that they no longer made the incoming French trains go through Waterloo station. The only other time I went to London was 10 years ago, from Paris, with Chris Lohr. I noticed that train from Paris exited at Waterloo station, which just couldn't be a coincidence. And there's that Trafalgar Square I mentioned. But now the French trains go somewhere not named after a time the British kicked their asses. The cabbie agreed, and pointed out that the French could not elicit revenge, since there were no great French victories over the British. Right, I said. Rename it Agincourt Station or something, and there is nothing they can do in revenge. So this was fun, and we had great nationalist bonding (in front of an Austrian, Spaniard, and Venezuelan living in Barcelona). Small world.

I hit the local gym, then Josef and I were entertained by Stomp! This was a fun show, although my seat at the Ambassador Theater had literally less legroom than a United flight. I know, cause I have a lot of experience with that hated knee-gouging wall, and will gain a lot more during my most odious upcoming flight to Frankfurt then Denver then Montrose, which departs in about 4 hours.

We then went to the icebar, which is indeed made of ice and kept quite cold. They serve Absolut drinks there in little ice cups. Good fun. New. Pictures later. I was then planning to get some local Moroccan food, after telling Josef how good tajine can be, but we ended up meeting some locals, some of whom were Italians (Europe is a melting pot too). When they said they were going for good Italian food and invited us, we figured a plan change was in order. Good call. Rossopomodoro has particularly good pizza. And, more importantly, quality conversation with good people. As I said, hard to find novelty in your live entertainment, and thus all the more enjoyable when you find it for free, through good company. Viva flaneur.

And now off to return to America. The last time I was there, I enjoyed it, but it was ungodly cloudy in San Diego. I remember talking with the grad coordinator of my old cog sci department at UC San Diego (Beverley Walton, herself from this emerald isle), as she commented that she never saw a "June gloom" like this. Further adding to proof of the imminent apocalypse: I just enjoyed 5 days of fairly good London weather. Great temperatue, not humid, no threat of rain, even the odd speck of sun. Eerie. I hope Colorado doesn't freeze in the summer or rain blood or anything. At least, not until after I finisn hiking.