Scones with a side of Saudi oil

For the last big outing before they left for Pakistan, Saeeda and I decided to take my parents to high tea at the Peninsula hotel in downtown Chicago. Both Saeeda and I had wanted to sample their afternoon tea, after having done the same at their sister location in Hong Kong. Since my parents are big tea aficionados, we thought this would be a nice experience for everyone.

Although the hotel is tucked away on a side street off Michigan Ave., the interior of the hotel is beautiful, and is befitting of the "Peninsula" brand. Spacious, luxurious, and well appointed, it practically smacks you in the face with it's premiere status as you walk its halls. I found myself thinking if my clothes were expensive enough to be worn inside.

Tea was held in a grand ballroom space and was delicious. The china was fine, the scones perfectly warm, and the teas flavorful. The real fun that I had, however, was listening to conversations around us, one of which caught my attention the moment we sat down.

Soon after we had situated ourselves, several gentlemen in dark suits came and sat down beside us. There were three people of Arab origin, and one white gentleman, all four of whom spent some time exchanging pleasantries. About ten minutes into our tea, two more men joined the four - again, one was Arab, and the other white American. Through the discreet glances that I was able to steal, I could tell that all men were wearing the finest suits possible, and had lavish accessories to go along with them - Rolex watches, silk ties, gold tie-pins - the works. The two American men sat next to each other, and the four Arab men sat across from them.

It was clear to me that this was some sort of business meeting, and that a negotiation was about to take place between the Americans and the Arabs. After all, what better place to conduct business than over tea in a nice hotel, after which all parties can retire to their rooms and fly back to their places of origin the next day? It was the actual scale of the negotiation that blew me away. I soon began to hear snippets of conversation such as:

"We see a great future in a Saudi oil partnership"
"... that much money is going to have a significant impact on our liquidity, not to mention an effect on global markets..." (this from the two American gentlemen)
"... $2 billion ... " (the Arabs)
"... we can go no higher than ... [couldn't hear the rest]" (the Americans)

and so it went. It was really hard for me to concentrate on our own conversation, especially since this was the last time the four of us were going to be dining out together for a long time. The whole time I was thinking about the sheer amount of money that was about to change hands just a few feet from me. Who said that these things happened only on a golf course? Hogwash.

The men were still negotiating when we left, and it was all I could do to prevent myself from asking for their autographs as we walked by. After all, these guys are the real powerbrokers in our world.

It also got me thinking about what location I'd pick for my own business negotiations. I think golf is overrated, and I refuse to play the game. However, I do appreciate the concept of an athletic competition rather than tea for conducting business. So should I ever make it to the point where I need to buy or sell a company or two (or move $2 billion in global markets), I think I will do so by asking the other party out to the basketball court.

We'd start by shooting free throws, which is where I'd gauge their accuracy and general shooting form, from where we'd progress to a general shootaround. That's when I'd casually broach the topic at hand. Serious negotations wouldn't start until a game of 5-on-5. I would let my deputies hash out the details with their counterparts between plays. The heavy negotiating would take place between myself the other lead negotiator. I picture getting the ball in the low post, dribbling twice and saying, "your asking price is much too high; you're going to have to reconsider," and turning around to shoot over my man. Upon scoring (you actually think I'd miss?), I'd run back to my end of the court, giving my adversary time to compose his response. He'd dribble to his right, fake left, and dribble back to his right to drive to the basket for a layup. "This is our final offer," he'd say as he would leave the ground for a layup.

At which point I would jump from behind and swat his shot away. "I think it best that you reconsider," is all I'd say as the ball would fly out of bounds, with one of my deputies running to recollect it.

And so on it would go. So much more fun, no? Besides, it'd mean that I'd only ever negotiate with worthy physical adversaries. And after concluding a tough game of street hoops, THAT'S when we'd head for tea at the Peninsula.

Jack Bauer vs. Jason Bourne

This past weekend I saw the greatest action movie of the summer. The Bourne Ultimatum stars a dark and world-weary Jason Bourne, ready to beat people silly to get answers that will put his demons to rest. Matt Damon is phenomenal as Jason Bourne, and over the course of the three movies he has truly made the role his own. As I left the theater after what felt like a non-stop, two hour adrenaline rush, I started thinking about other uber-spies, and how they stacked up against each other. For whatever reason, the first name that popped into my head was that of 24's Jack Bauer (perhaps because I have come to find him increasingly irritating lately).

The best way to determine the better agent in anything other than a barroom brawl in a closed room is to look at the major weapons in each agent's arsenal: street smarts, tech smarts, and martial arts. I would define street smarts as an awareness of one's environment and the ability to manipulate said environment; tech smarts would be the ability to use advanced technology to one's advantage; and martial arts would be one's proficiency in combat (armed and unarmed).

Street Smarts

While both Bauer and Bourne show amazing street smarts, I feel that Bourne has the upper hand here. Bauer is overly reliant on CTU assistance for many of his infiltrations and enemy confrontations. Be it multiple gigabyte blueprints that are instantly transmitted to his PDA or his near constant voice connection to CTU via an always-charged cell phone, Bauer is constantly supported by CTU. Bourne, on the other hand, has repeatedly proven to adapt and improvise solo in order to make his way out of, or into, any location - be it highly-guarded embassies, covert CIA headquarters, or off-the-grid safe-houses. Bourne comes equipped with an innate sixth sense that lets him adapt spontaneously to whatever environment he finds himself in, whereas Bauer cannot do so without CTU assistance. Advantage Bourne.

Tech Smarts

I will not try to argue the absurdity of the technology at Bauer's disposal. Even if you disregard the fact that all of the US's spy satellites are seemingly at Bauer's disposal whenever he gets bored, even the least tech-savvy has to admit that some of the things on 24 defy common sense. My favorite remains a scene from season 1, where Bauer is looking over Chloe's shoulder while they try to figure out the connection between a plane bombing and a train derailment. Although I'm hazy on the details, I remember Bauer asking Chloe to hack into some airline's database to pull the passenger manifest for the last week (done at the push of a button), and then to hack into the train's logs for the last week (also done at the push of a button). He then tells Chloe to "merge the databases" which, amazingly, Chloe does and ... wait for it ... you actually see the visual representations of these two "databases" merging on screen. There's not enough room on this blog for me to explain how ridiculous this is on multiple levels, but unfortunately, we have to use that which we are given. And unfortunately CTU LA has at its disposal some of the craziest technology in the world.

Bourne, on the other hand, uses little to no technology, and instead gets his information the old fashioned way - surveillance, informants, or good-old physical coercion. Bourne's tech smarts come in the form of knowledge of surveillance and tracking techniques, and how best to defeat these. Case in point: the CIA's best minds spend three movies trying to track him, and Bourne is able to consistently evade his hunters. This then just comes down to what is better - having technology at your disposal, or having the ability to defeat that technology. I'm a technophile, and I have to believe that you can't outrun technology forever, so Advantage Bauer.

Martial Arts

I've been a practitioner of the martial arts for the last 13 years (with stupid b-school getting in the way of things), and although I'm no walking killing machine, I have some knowledge of the combat depicted in 24 and in the Bourne movies. Jack Bauer's single greatest martial art move appears to be his ability to yell at amazingly loud levels whenever he confronts an opponent - "MY NAME IS JACK BAUER. PUT YOUR HANDS UP OR I WILL SHOOT!" This usually turns his opponents into quivering masses of jello. If, however, this does not work, Jack will put someone in a choke hold, strike the side of their neck, or generally do something equally goofy that works every time for him. It doesn't matter whether Jack's opponent is a mall security guard or the Presidential Secret Service detail. They all fall for simple punch-kick routines.

Bourne, on the other hand, kicks major ass using impressive martial arts techniques. You only have to watch him combat the assassins sent to eliminate him to understand how lethal Bourne can be using everyday items (heck, in the second movie he beat a German assassin silly using just a paper magazine). From what 24 provides, I can't believe that a Bauer-Bourne fight would last long at all. Advantage Bourne.

Winner: Jason Bourne

So there you have it. Jason Bourne is the better spy. And I'm glad, because while 24 has devolved into a nuisance that I refuse to watch next season, the Bourne series have spent time working on realism. We see Bourne's vulnerability, we see him get hurt, we feel the pain of every punch that he lands. Bauer just runs around scowling and yelling at people.

By the way, while I was writing this, I realized that there are three "JB" initialled heroes that I know of in the same genre - Jack Bauer, Jason Bourne, and James Bond. Further, a "J" first name appears quite popular: "Jim" Phelps of Mission Impossible, "John" McLane of Die Hard, and "Jack" Ryan of Tom Clancy novels come to mind right away. Why is "JB" so popular? Why is a simple first name starting with "J" a passport to becoming a super-cop? Or am I just a victim of a selection bias?

To be the best of what's left

So summer has been passing by merrily, and I've been doing my fair share of sightseeing and Chicago-appreciating. I've also been making headway in regards to my basketball game. After a sensational outing a few weeks ago, it's been more of a struggle getting accepted by the regular players, and I've had to work hard to not make a complete fool of myself.

So the other day, I showed up at my gym, and started shooting around. Guys filtered in, until eventually we had ten and it was time to pick teams. Two people shot 3-point shots, made them, and became captains responsible for picking teams out of the remaining eight players.

Now, most of us remember the excruciating agony of waiting around to be picked to a team from days gone by, when it was either high-school gym class or the neighborhood kiddie soccer game. In fact, our youth is probably littered with such depressing memories (if yours isn't, then screw you). And no one relishes being put in that same situation again. My strategy is usually to look bored and make no eye contact with the guys picking teams, as if I want to say, "you bore me. I don't really want to play for you anyway. In fact I'm glad I'm being picked last because that'll lull everyone into believing I suck, when actually, you suck."

Here, however, I had no legitimate reason to be picked early. I've already said that everyone I play with is much better than I am. And so it came down to the last three players, with yours truly still available. At this point one of the captains decided to do away with the "I'll-pick-then-you-pick" approach, and said "ok, we'll take Sean and Faisal, and you take Mike." The other captain looked at him with incredulity.

"What? " he said. "Why do you get to pick the best of what's left? Stick to the way we've been picking the teams!"

Ah, music to my ears. I've made it to the point where I'm considered "the best of the rest." Which means there's at least one other person now who is perceived to be a worse player than I am.

Look out baby, 'cuz I'm making progress!