Mark L. Van Name's Blog, page 257

The Balloonaganza Report

Doesn't capitalizing each first letter just make a title look more official? Maybe that's why I hate that practice in day-to-day corporate work, though I took advantage of the effect above. Anyway, enough meta-rambling; on to the post proper.

As it turns out, giving away dozens of balloons is not simple.

I had originally planned to do it outside, in a parking lot, but it was cold, very cold, around 30 degrees, so that would not have worked; the balloons would have shrunk in no time. No problem. New location: a mall's food court would work perfectly.

Of course, then you need the mall's permission. I settled on Triangle Town Center, because it has a ground-level, large, open food court with several entrances and exits, which I wanted available should mall security not like us. I found the mall management number and called them. No luck: they don't work the weekend. I then called mall security. No luck: they didn't answer. Their voicemail menu gives you two choices: leave a message and they'll call you back in two to three days, or declare it an emergency. Neither would work for me.

I had to plan on being busted.

I had five helpers, so I did a little time-and-motion analysis. With that many balloons in your hands, you can't give them out in a second or two; just wrangling them takes time. Plus, you have to allow time to walk to another person and to ask them. You'll get some families, though, and they will take multiple balloons more quickly than individuals. Allowing 30 seconds a balloon seemed safe.

Mall security would spot us almost immediately, but by the time they verified they had no record of us, dispatched someone, and that person moseyed on over--the wouldn't hurry, because who really wants to brace a bunch of people giving away balloons--probably ten minutes would have passed. Then, the person to whom they were talking would have to refer them to me, and then I would stall them, and so on. That could take another few minutes.

Still, erring on the conservative side seemed right, so 10 to 12 minutes was what I had to plan on us having.

So, 2 balloons a minute, 12 minutes--some optimism is in order, given the goal of making people happy--yields 24 balloons per person. Six of us would be there, so call it 12 dozen balloons. Perfect.

Or not. The first Party City store I contacted refused to inflate that many balloons in one day. They would inflate only six dozen balloons. To persuade them to do any at all, I had to pay in advance, so I did. I then called a second Party City, repeated the conversation, and ordered and paid for the other six dozen.

I arranged with the two cars of friends where to meet, and we were in business.

At 3:00, Allyn and I met Jorge and Nora at the first Party City. My six dozen balloons were ready--as were four dozen more they had inflated just to be helpful. I didn't have to take them, but if I hadn't, I would have screwed the manager who'd made the call to prepare them, and causing her grief was not in the spirit of the event. So, I took them. We now had 16 dozen (192 for the math-impaired) balloons to distribute, which by my analysis was too many, but so it goes; we were rolling now.

We crammed our ten dozen balloons into a minivan and a SUV, and off we went to the second Party City store. I picked up the next six dozen balloons, and we crammed them into a smaller, SUV-like vehicle and the minivan.

At each of these Party City stores, we also gave away some balloons. Each person who took them was happy instantly, smiles and laughter playing across their faces. My favorite was a very large man at the first store who waved his hand and scowled, then came back a minute later and said, I could really have a balloon?

Me: Yes.

Him: What's the catch?

Me: None at all.

Him: Why are doing this?

Me: No good reason. Just doing it.

Him: Okay. I'd like a balloon.

He left smiling broadly and clutching his red balloon.

We caravaned to the mall, unloaded all the balloons, and distributed them. We learned then that dealing with all those balloons and taking pictures at the same time was going to be very tough indeed. Still, we tried to get a few happy snaps, such as this one of me holding a ton of them in the parking lot. (As always, click on an image to see a larger version.)


The light in my eyes caused me to scrunch up my face and look down, and the balloons I was holding wouldn't all fit in the frame, but you get the idea.

In front of me were Jorge, Allyn, and Nora, leading the way toward the mall.


Across the parking lot, Steve and Merrie were getting their balloons out of their car.


In we went, giving out balloons as we walked.

Balloons definitely made people happy.

Kids laughed and clapped. Cynical teens acted too cool for balloons, but then admitted they'd like one and smiled when they grabbed the ribbons and were holding their balloons. Grown-ups said they wanted them only for the kids but often took one for themselves anyway.

I had figured I'd enjoy giving out the balloons, but I hadn't anticipated just how much fun it is to make others happy. Here are Jorge and Nora, with Steve in the background between them and Merrie's hand on the left, in the early stages of the giveaway. We all found it great fun to give away balloons.


I kept to the inside of food court, so mall security, which did indeed swoop down on us, first had to talk to others, who referred them to me. The young guard, who clearly wanted a balloon (and admitted as much when I asked him but pointed out that taking one could cost him his job), said we had to get permission. I explained that we had tried and all that I had done.

Meanwhile, others kept giving away balloons, and I did, too, to kids who came over to me. The guard didn't like that, but he didn't want to be the bad guy in front of a bunch of children.

He said we had to stop soliciting. I pointed out we were not asking for anything or naming any cause. He asked why we were doing this, that surely we were soliciting something.

Nope, I said. We were doing it for no reason, no cause, just doing it.

He said we still had to stop.

I asked for five more minutes.

After shaking his head a bit, he said he'd try but doubted he could get us that much time.

We tried to pick up the pace of giving away the balloons. That's harder than it sounds, though, because with so many balloons the ribbons get tangled.

The guard returned. He said we couldn't solicit. We argued some more about what that word meant. He gave in but said we had to leave because it was private property.

They were right on that point, so I relented.

We moseyed toward the door, handing out a balloon here or there as we went.

As we neared the door, the manager of the Chick-fil-A, a nice fellow in his thirties, came over, shook my hand, and said, "It is a wonderful thing you are doing." He was smiling broadly.

We handed out a few more outside, but then a security vehicle approached, so we strolled to our cars.

A forty-something woman approached me in the parking lot and said, "Could a grown woman have a balloon?"

"Absolutely," I said as I pulled out one for her.

She walked off smiling.

We agreed to go back to the nearby Party City and try to give away some more.

As we drove out of the parking lot, we saw other cars leaving, red balloons in their windows.

We gave out a few more balloons in the parking lot at the Party City, but the cold was hurting them and us, so finally we stopped.

Purely by happenstance, it was Jorge's birthday, so I took him and the gang for ice cream.

We had about 18 balloons left, by the way, so we did better than my analysis suggested we would but could not move fast enough to distribute all four dozen of the unanticipated extras.

Not a problem. They're now in my conversation room, some hovering above the floor, some up in the highest part of the canted ceiling, lovely reminders of a short time of making a very large number of people very happy.

Balloonaganza - the short form

I'm exhausted (despite what the timestamp says, it's about four in the morning late Saturday night as I write this), so I'll save the full report for tomorrow. For now, though, I think this photo, which Allyn snapped while carrying balloons and when we were only partway through our giveaway, will give you an idea of how it went. (As always, click to see a larger image.)


Balloons really do make people happy.

Want to join me in a random act of kindness?

As I watched that second Mumford & Sons video (see the previous post), a realization hit me: it's been way too long since I committed a seriously random act of kindness. The video, of course, made me think of balloons, which make people happy.

So, I'm going to give away some balloons.

You can join me if you'd like.

Here's the deal. Tomorrow, Saturday, January 22, 2011, I'm going to appear at 3:00 p.m. at some heavily trafficked location with at least a hundred bucks worth of balloons. I'm then going to give them away to people who walk by. If they ask why, I'll say whatever comes to mind, maybe "Just because," or perhaps, "Because balloons make people happy."

If you want to join me, email me--directly if you have my address, otherwise via the
I don't have enough blog readers to call this a flash mob, and I know those are oh so very yesterday, so I'm just planning to do it on my own. If you want to join me, though, I'd be happy to have the company, so email me.

I'm hoping to make some people happy.

You need some more Mumford & Sons

You know you do. Admit it.

Try this official video of the awesome song, "The Cave."



One more, you say? Sure. Enjoy this video, a fan piece, I assume, that just made me realize it's time for some random acts of kindness.



More on that random acts bit in the next post, which will follow in an hour.

Are you a good brain or a bad brain?

At work earlier today, I had the pleasure of reading, courtesy of Bonnie showing me this article, one of my favorite phrases of recent days:

Increased Cheese Payload

Say it out loud. Go ahead. I'll wait.

It feels good, doesn't it? It's hard not to smile as these words come out of your mouth.

More important to me than the phrase itself, though, are all the questions it brings to mind. What types of vehicles, other than these peppers, deliver a cheese payload? Where else might this phrase apply? What would my cheese payload be? Would people pay for drugs that increased their cheese payloads?

And, bam, I'm in adult and not-for-work space, which is unfortunately where I wandered while standing in the lab and marveling over this phrase.

I couldn't stop myself, though, from continuing to ponder the cheese payload. What's going to happen, after all, when these giant poppers hit the market?

More accidents, that's what. Today, when you bite into a too-hot popper, the cheese sprays out and burns you--but it's a small amount of cheese...excuse me, a small cheese payload. With these big boys, the accompanying larger cheese payload could burn you seriously. Think of all that squirting hot cheese...

...and, bam, I'm back in not-for-work territory. When I hit this point today and starting contemplating the phrase "squirting hot cheese," I knew it was time to leave the company of others before I started saying what I was thinking.

One thing is certain, though: the first time I see a giant popper for sale, I'm buying it. I want my increased cheese payload.

Time for a "Little Lion Man"

Just because you need it. I sure do.



These guys are awesome. I thank Sarah for turning me onto them.

On the road again: Boston, day 7

Travel days are rarely fun, and they're usually far less fun when it's snowing in your departure city and airlines are canceling flights right and left. That was the situation this morning, but it all worked out amazingly well, for which I am thankful. The cab ride to the airport was uneventful, our flight was smooth and departed less than an hour after the scheduled time, and thanks to our pilots, I landed only half an hour late. All things considered, it was a superb travel day.

Of course, an avalanche of work hit me when I walked into my home office, and I'm still digging out, but that's the norm for first days back. I hope to catch up tonight and then be back at full speed tomorrow--or at least be very close to that state.

To those tasks I go now.

Nifty post on how Dan Dos Santos created the cover for The Wild Side

Check it out here.

On the road again: Boston, day 6; Arisia, day 4

I had the very first autographing session of the convention, so it seemed somehow fitting that I would be part of the last joint reading panel today. As you might expect from an event starting after noon on the day when most fans were checking out, no one showed up to hear me or Michael Ventrella read from our works. Staring at an empty reading room is always a bit rough on the ego, but it's happened to me before, and it'll happen again, so I'm reasonably used to it. In this case, it was nice to get to meet and chat with Michael, who as it turns out plans to interview me at some point for his blog.

The daylight hours before and after the reading largely went to work, as you might expect.

The evening brought a fine dinner at the always wonderful No. 9 Park. Most of the meal was excellent, as always. The two foie dishes were amazing, and the cheese course was the best of this trip. The dessert, however, was weak and not up to the rest of the meal. Still, No. 9 Park remains, for me, a must-eat place when in Boston.

More work awaits, then packing, and tomorrow morning is work, then travel home.

On the road again: Boston, day 5; Arisia, day 3

I passed most of the daytime in useless indulgence: more sleep by far than normal, reading, a bit of TV movie watching, and of course some work. Okay, the work part wasn't an indulgence, but I needed to do it.

Dinner again took us to Cambridge, this time for a meal at East by Northeast, whose chef, Phillip Tang, won Boston Magazine's 2010 Best Up-and-Coming Chef award. The menu accurately refers to the dishes as locally sourced and Chinese inspired. We sampled quite a few of the small plates--the whole menu is tapas-style--and enjoyed them all. None, however, blew us away. I wouldn't recommend a special trip just for this place, but if you're in town, it's worth a try.

Because the restaurant doesn't offer desserts and because we've wanted to try the place for some time, after dinner we walked the couple of short blocks to Christina's Homemade Ice Cream. With great ingredients, over fifty flavors available, and a growing national rep, this place was tailor-made for an ice cream lover like me. Sadly, though I enjoyed the flavors I tasted, none had that magic that so many of Jeni's ice creams provide. If I lived here, I'd eat Christina's sometimes, but more often, I'd mail-order Jeni's.

We rushed back from dinner for my 9:30 panel on the singularity and how SF writers should deal with it. This panel sat right in the middle of the other two I've done here, with the audience frequently trying to take over and the moderator gamely trying to wrest back control. We unfortunately had one audience member who knew everything and wanted to lecture on all of it, at one point talking for over ten straight minutes until the moderator finally was able to get him to surrender the floor. The discussion also wandered all over the place and never seemed to muster a clear focus, but most of the audience stayed and seemed to have a decent time.

More than any other convention I have attended, Arisia has many panels that end up blurring the line between audience and panel. Sometimes I think that is a horrible idea, and other times, it seems wisely democratic. Regardless of what I feel, however, if I'm going to keep being on programming at this con, I better get used to it.