Why is this sign needed? Were people going to try some third option? Yet it was obviously written by hand and attached to both sides the door for a reason, presumably to prevent some common problem. I am puzzled.

This is very blogosphere-meta-referential of me, but I have to post it anyway. Below, here’s an index of recent posts written by my physics professor in college, Dr. Mano Singham, about the US media propaganda model. They are his “informal gleaning” of key points from a handful of books on the subject. I’ve really enjoyed reading them.

The benefits of “unbalanced” media coverage
The consequences of having media monopolies
Media self-censorship
The entangled media, business, and political monopolies
The media propaganda model in action
The media filters: part one and part two
The class nature of journalists

I’ve been wanting a tagine for a while. Just the idea of pulling one out of the oven, in mid-winter, and lifting the lid to reveal a beautiful lamb and apricot dish, makes me salivate. I recently took a clay class, and I thought it the perfect time to make a tagine for myself. In middle eastern cooking, there are cooking tagines and decorated serving tagines, but I thought, “This is 2006, why can’t we have both in one?” Indeed, modern glaze can handle a 350 degree oven. So here’s the design I drew up for the tagine lid, which would look like a birthday hat:

OK, it is a bit of a twist on the tradition, but we need a little color in our winter meals here in New England.

Unfortunately, a tagine of any useful size is way beyond my potter’s wheel skills. Everything I make emerges slightly (or severely) out of round, and that’s not a good thing when you’re trying a dish and lid that fit together snugly. It would also be wider than the wheel surfaces at the pottery studio.

So, my tagine dream is deferred for now, until I find time for another clay class. Meanwhile, I made something else I’ve always wanted—a tyg:

Some people call this a mug with “love handles,” which makes me picture two lovers next to each other at the breakfast table, drinking out of it at the same time.

I also think of someone with really terrible motor skills who needs both hands to pick it up. But the best reason for two handles is to pass the hot mug between two people. And it works very well. Maybe sometimes design isn’t all about simplification? Maybe sometimes the simplest things can be made a little more complicated?

Granted, I think the tyg was more popular back when the world had more space in its cupboards for mugs with two handles, but now that everyone has a McMansion, can we bring these relics back into style? I want to see the tyg incorporated into the next marketing campaign for Starbucks: our coffee is so damn strong, you need two handles.

Look for it in Spring of 02007.

A couple weeks ago, I was at Karl’s parents’ house, and the topic of the recent Lexington, KY plane crash came up. Karl’s dad is a pilot, and he said, “The Lexington, KY airport is one of a handful of airports where two runways start at the same place, so you’re never sure if you’re on the right one.” He said this isn’t the first time—the Lexington airport has confused pilots in the past.

I’d always wondered why airports with two runways were designed in an X pattern rather than a V. Yes, the X takes up less space, and runways are very long. But the V runway setup is also inherently confusing. Now, in the Lexington crash, there are questions of which runway lights were on and which were off, questions of how much sleep the controller had, and so on. But I think Karl’s dad is right on: the real culprit is poor design.

Here’s Lexington’s airport from above (via Wikipedia):

To get to the short runway, just follow the red line down that short path from the terminal. And to get to the long runway, just follow the blue line down the same short path.

So all planes taxi out in the same direction from the terminal.

Now here’s another example—from an airport down the road in Paducah, KY:

Now, I am not a runway designer, or even a pilot, but from an everyday usability perspective, I like what I see. From above, there are five, and probably more, very obvious distinctions between the short and long runways:

• They are almost at 90 degree angles to each other.
• The main terminal is between the two runways, so pilots taxi out in opposite directions.
• But if you’re asleep or dyslexic, or for some other reason it’s still not obvious, there are two 90 degree turns required to get to the shorter runway from the main terminal, while the long runway asks a fairly straight path. This is the “Are you sure you want to delete this file?” dialog box of runway design. You have to do extra work to get to the more dangerous runway. If someone accidently takes off from the long runway, chances are there won’t be any problems, so that path can be pretty straight.
• Those big white stripes on the long runway are pretty official looking. “You’ve come to the right place,” they say. Showing up at the small runway with a commercial jet, you will probably notice the lack of stripes.
• And probably the most obvious distinction is this: there are two separate terminals! One for small planes, at top, and one for bigger planes (with the bigger parking lot), at right. And you can’t even get from the small plane terminal to the long runway without first going past the main terminal. Aside from being safer, this reduces congestion that might happen on the road to the airport, in the terminal, on the tarmac near the gates, and on the taxiway itself.

In other words, this design is really two airports in one, sharing space. But there might be one problem here that might not exist in Lexington: during busy times, a plane at the end of the short runway can’t see another plane at the end of the long runway. There are buildings in the way. I wonder what are the chances of two planes thinking they’re cleared for take-off at the same time? And if they do proceed, what are the chances of a collision in the Paducah design? I think this is an unlikely scenario, as there is a sort of “two-phase commit” that happens between the ATC and the aircraft, for any take-off or landing, that does a pretty damn good job of serializing the events.

Anyway, I can’t think of a place where wayfinding is more important than on the runway. The consequences of confusion could not be higher. So the best way to follow up this recent crash in Lexington is with a reassessment of all airports to find and remove ambiguities in runway design, and to further segregate the small planes from the jets. Go check out your local airport on Google Maps and see where the taxiways are. If there is any doubt in your mind, make your complaint to the FAA. Of course, it’s probably too expensive to redesign the V runways, but the taxi path and the distinguishing marks for each runway, from the pilots perspective, could be reviewed, improved, and tested with both new and frequent users of the airport.

We just got back from Quebec yesterday, had a great time up there. We camped in the mountains near the town of Sutton, just north of the border, on top of a hill with a beautiful view, in a clearing where they keep a few dozen cows in rotational grazing. It was absolutely picturesque.

K and I are always seeking out good food when we travel, and we didn’t have to work hard to find it here. Quebecers love their food, and there is a major food culture here. We went to one of two big farmer’s markets in Montreal, called Jean-Talon. Much of the food is local to Quebec: tons of fruits & veggies, smoked meats and salmon, a stunning variety of raw milk cheeses, breads and spreads and syrups and on and on. It’s not just a Montreal thing: Sutton has an old “general store”, La Rumeur Affamee, that specializes in local food, so we got most of our meals there. With no camp stove fuel, our dinner was very simple: local pâté (including caribou!), smoked ham, cheese, cornichons, and tomato on an amazing kamut wheat baguette.

I think some of the Quebec food culture has boosted Vermont’s own local food loyalty. On the way up to Canada, we stopped for breakfast at the Farmer’s Diner in Qechee, VT. They make simple, traditional diner food, but 95% of their ingredients are from local farms. It was delicious: local ham, eggs, pancakes with local flour (King Arthur is in Vermont) and butter. Local maple syrup, coffee with local cream. Wow.