Stardate 7202016

It's the most recognizable starship in the fleet. And in July, it's docking in San Diego. Well, on the big screen anyway.

July 20th, the next installment of the franchise - Star Trek Beyond - is going to have its world premiere at Comic Con. And, if you know anything about me, you know that when it comes to Star Trek vs. Star Wars, while having great appreciation and affection for the latter, I've always been Team Kirk first and foremost.

I've also had a lifetime worth of Comic Cons. I've been to the last ten or eleven of them, and at this point, as the kids say, been there done that.

The problem is I have a film major living with me for the summer, and Comic Con is like breathing to him. So, despite the same reluctance I have every year, come July we'll be packing up the energy bars, the Stark Industries t-shirts, the camera and the credit cards and heading down San Diego way.

I wasn't excited about it until I heard about the premiere. I've actually been to one world premiere at Comic Con. That's the good news. The bad news is it was Cowboys & Aliens. The movie wasn't as bad as the critics made it out to be, but in the end it just didn't work (Note to Chung: it was still better than Interstellar). However, Harrison Ford sat in front of us and Daniel Craig was ten seats down in our row, so it wasn't a total wash.

At this point they haven't announced how the tickets will be distributed or who will get them. Maybe a lottery. Maybe lining up days ahead of time. Maybe a last minute announcement and a mad dash to the theater.

Oh, speaking of the theater, did I mention it's going to be screened at an outdoor IMAX theater, with Michael Giacchino conducting the San Diego Symphony orchestra, performing his score along side the screening? True fact. It's going to be worth it, no matter what we have to go through to get there.

Unless it's drinking Romulan ale. I hate that stuff.

My home boy

My friend, fellow blogger and professional Orca trainer Rich Siegel over at Round Seventeen published a post the other day about the joy and resulting consequences of his two daughters returning home from college.

It is the season.

His post hit home because, like the swans trying to return to Capistrano through the radioactive air of San Onofre, my college boy also pulled up stakes and managed to find his way back home from the Lone Star state. Alright, it's not exactly like the swallows and Capistrano, but you get what I was going for.

Anyway, last Thursday night I returned from picking him up at the airport. His 6pm arrival pulled up to the gate at 10:04pm - a four-hour mechanical delay was the culprit. It was a monumental inconvenience, and eviscerated any plans we had for the night. But frankly, I'd much rather the plane be deemed airworthy while it's still on the ground.

When he set foot in the house, he was beyond tired. After a four-hour delay and a two-hour time difference he's lived with for ten months, young Mr. Spielberg was a wee bit cranky. Completely understandable.

The good news is it's like riding a bicycle - a bicycle that's an eating, cash swallowing machine - the imprinted routine of living at home comes rushing back as if he'd never left.

So despite the laundry I know will pile up, the dishes that will inevitably have to be bussed by me, the floorspace that'll be taken up while he plays Arkham Knight again on the Playstation and the never-ending juggling of cars so he can visit with friends he hasn't seen in ten months, I am beyond happy he's home.

I'm happy for another reason which I'm not at liberty to talk about, but let's just say - for reasons that are nothing but good - he may not be spending his sophomore year in Texas. Not that missing the Campus Carry Law going into effect is going to bother me too much.

Side note: when I asked him a while ago what he thought about Campus Carry and if everyone at school was talking about it, he looked at me and said, "Dad, no one's talking about it. It's Texas. Everyone's already carrying a gun."

I'm really happy he's home.

Brace yourself

Way back in January, I was taking my son somewhere. I don't remember exactly where, but knowing him it was probably a movie, a panel discussion about a movie or to meet friends so they could go see a movie.

Anyway, I forgot something in the house, so I bounded up the four brick steps on our walkway, then caught my foot on the top step and went down faster than a My Big Fat Greek Wedding sequel.

I hurt my left wrist pretty bad and thought I'd broken it. So I went to our local urgent care and, after an X-ray and exam, learned it was just a severe sprain. They wrapped it up in a wrist brace, gave me some Advil and said to take it easy.

I didn't really think much more of that visit until I got the bill for it. The charge for the X-rays and exam were fine. It was the charge for the wrist brace that caught my eye: $307.55. Here's the funny part: this Urgent Care facility is next door - literally twenty feet - from a CVS drug store, which happens to carry the exact same wrist brace for $28.79.

This aggression will not stand man.

I called the billing department and talked to Eric. He was very understanding, and saw right away the charge for the brace was excessive. He was going to have a supervisor review it, and meanwhile he was putting my bill on hold. God love you Eric, you made this so easy.

What I found out was apparently Eric was a little lax on follow through.

Weeks later, I received another bill with the exact same charge. So I called again and spoke to Carlos this time. Clearly Carlos was a man of action. Unfortunately, it was the exact same action as Eric, which was no action at all.

Long story short, I spoke with Carlos a second time when I received yet another bill, and Aida when I received a collection letter. All of them told me, repeatedly, my bill would be on hold while the amount was being disputed.

I called one more time, and got my old pal Eric again. Eric and I go way back. He was shocked, shocked I tell you, to learn this matter hadn't been resolved. So he put me on hold, then put me on with his supervisor, Bob.

It was evident to me Bob the supervisor was suffering from a medical condition called full of shit.

The symptoms are fairly easy to diagnose, even for a layman.

Blatant lies like "that's what we pay for the wrist brace" and "we've already put it in the system, we can't reverse it" that are easy to shoot down. Unwilling to confront and accept facts, like when I told Bob he actually could reverse it and there was no way it cost that much. He then apparently had a psychotic break, telling me urgent care doctors never refer patients to CVS to get medical equipment, despite the fact I informed him I'd been directed there many times to pick up a bandage, gauze or some kind of ointment (never a fan of that word).

At the end of the conversation, Bob's condition must've flared up. He said he couldn't do anything, and I told him no, he was choosing not to do anything (my therapy dollars at work). Without any investigation of his own, he replied that yes, he wasn't going to do anything.

Clearly, Bob wasn't familiar with Jeff letters.

Moments after hanging up with Bob, I sat down and wrote the CEO of the hospital system that runs the urgent care. I explained the situation, why it was unacceptable, attached pictures of the proximity of the CVS to the urgent care center as well as copies of the numerous bills and the collection letter.

Bob didn't know it, but he'd messed with the wrong cowboy.

Within 24 hours, I received a call from the VP Director of Patient Billing. She was apologizing up and down the place for my experience with her department. Of course the charge was excessive, and she was removing it from the bill leaving a balance of zero. Then, icing on the cake, she informed me she'd already spoken with Bob, Eric, Carlos and Aida about how they could've better handled my situation.

I imagine Bob's medical condition resolved itself right through his pants when he heard she was calling.

She also asked if I'd be willing to come in and talk to her department - including the people I'd spoken to - and give a talk about the experience from a patient point of view, and make suggestions how it could be improved.

God knows, I love playing a big room, so I told her I'd be happy to.

The moral of my story is next time you get an outrageous bill, medical or otherwise, don't just whip out the check book and gripe about it. Write a letter - to the person at the top - and ask them to do something about it. You have nothing to lose. More often than not, in my experience, they'll take some sort of action to resolve the issue.

And if you wind up talking to Bob, say hi for me.

1 3 4 32 41

They're not lucky lotto numbers. They're not the numbers from LOST (silly reader, those were 4, 8, 15, 16, 23, 42).

No, these are the denominations of the piles of years-old stamps that have set up house in one of my desk drawers, along with years worth of free return labels from the Braille Institute, Children's Hospital and seasonally-tinged ones from the Salvation Army.

Before the post office started selling their Forever stamps - the ones immune to future postage increases no matter what price you buy them at - they used to up the rate regularly. And the only way to accommodate the new rate was to buy additional stamps to make up the price difference. Which is why the aforementioned desk drawer is lousy with unused one, three, four and five cent stamps.

When the Forever stamps arrived, self-adhesive and promotionally tied in with icons like Buzz Lightyear, James Dean and Harry Potter, the postage leftovers never stood a chance.

But it occurred to me that in my never-ending battle against clutter, piles of paper and books not organized by size or author, one mess I could easily eliminate would be these stamps that've been piling up. All I have to do is use them.

First class postage is 47 cents right now. So a 32, three 4's and a 3-center and my letter is on it's way. Of course, if you're doing the math, that's five stamps per envelope. Which is no problem if the envelope's long enough. But on the smaller one it gets a little crowded.

Using up all these stamps looks less like postage and more like a collage. If I were the recipient, I'd be very happy someone took the time to create it, and marvel at the work that went into fitting them all on there.

Unless it's one of my bills. Then I'd just marvel if the check cleared the first time.